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orange-waterfalls · 3 years ago

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Unnecessary Feelings

The Host x gn!reader

ty anon for the request

A/N: BRO. Bro. Bro I. I am so proud of this one don’t even look at me. Also happy spooky month! Might do something with that, idk though. This is more of another character study with the Host, I’ll be honest. I still think it’s pretty cute, though. I didn’t read back through this, lmk about any mistakes. Enjoy!

Word Count: 2.4k

Unnecessary Feelings

Host isn’t particularly looking for a relationship, of any sort. Not necessarily. It would be nice, but it isn’t at the forefront of his mind. It’s not that important. Change is weird. He’s been in his same office, writing the same kind of stories, with the same kind of people. That’s fine. He likes that. He likes his novels, his protagonists, and his office.

He explained all of these things to Wilford and Darkiplier, but neither was having it. That’s how he ended up staying at the manor for a while, while his place was being “renovated”. He didn’t know how much he trusted Wilford to “renovate” correctly.

Wilford likes pink. A lot. Host doesn’t. He can't see it, but he knows it. Pink was loud. Pink smelled like raspberries and icing and cherry blossoms and shrimp. It sounded like fair music and joyful screaming and chalk scraping on the ground. It felt smooth and soft and squishy. It tasted like sugar, sugar, sugar, too much to be healthy. Pink made his brain hurt. He doesn’t like pink. Wilford likes pink. Wilford… Wilford fucking loves pink. And Wilford will say it’s pink, and Host will know it’s pink, and even though he can’t see it, he’ll be upset that it’s pink. He doesn’t like pink. He doesn’t know how to say it. So he doesn’t. And he copes.

He takes the opportunity to talk to the others staying at the manor, which was pretty much just Dr. Iplier and… you. Dr. Iplier was a… reasonable man. He was boring. Very boring, really. He directed every conversation to discuss your health or a weird patient he had recently, neither of which really interested the Host. He didn’t enjoy talking to Dr. Iplier too much.

You, however…

Were also kind of boring?

Well, you mostly just wandered around, reading, cleaning, sleeping, not doing much else. He didn’t initiate conversation and neither did you. If you sat next to him on the couch and he sat a little straighter and breathed a little faster, that was simply a coincidence. And the urge to talk to you about his novel for hours was simply boredom. And the desire to listen to you talk for hours was… it was none of your goddamn business is what it was. He didn’t like you, but he didn’t dislike you either. He felt nothing. You made him feel nothing. This didn’t mean anything.

Really.

It didn’t.

But, entirely too fast, Dark and Wil were done. Or rather, whoever they hired was done. Which was good. Host bid you two goodbye. Dr. Iplier told him to drink plenty of water but not too much, and you told him you’d keep an eye out for his newest novel. He felt like he should be blushing right now, he felt it in his face. Nobody commented, so he assumed he didn’t. He felt a thing happen in his chest as he looked at the two of you.

He didn’t like either of you, and if he kept telling himself that, maybe it would come true.

He received a new office. It was much cleaner and brighter, and he actually had room to think. There was an espresso machine in the corner atop a pink table, a “dandelion” yellow couch next to it, a pastel pink desk against the opposite wall, and a few “motivational” posters on the baby blue walls. At least from what he’d heard. Wilford did his best to explain the room. He appreciated that the walls were not, in fact, pink like he expected.

He had to walk around a few times, keep track of his steps, and get used to the new layout. It’s a good room. Clean. No nails sticking out of the floor, no rats scurrying around, no cobwebs, no holes, no nothing. Clean and quiet. Clean. And. Quiet.

…

He fucking hates the goddamn room.

Who likes silence? Who enjoys that? Who wants to be stuck in a suffocatingly clean office with nothing but their thoughts for hours at a time? Homicidal people, that’s who.

Ignore the fact that he has homicidal tendencies and has almost killed/has killed several people, that doesn’t matter right now.

He can just sit and deal. He can take the office, try to coax the rats into coming back, buy some spiders, and write. No big deal.

Except what if he didn’t deal? What if he told them he hated it and couldn’t work in these conditions? What if he was forced to stay at the manor again? What if he could… talk… and interact with people? Without anything barring him from doing so?

He’s… not lonely.

He’s not lonely.

He’s not.

But if he stays in the manor again while Wilford talks about how he has no taste and Darkiplier decides to be in charge of the renovation now, that’s not his fault.

Bim, Eric, and you were staying at the manor when he had to. For the second time. Bim had a thing for rom-coms and dramedy movies, and Eric had started to pick that thing up. You and Host also watched the movies, but whether you actually liked them was beyond him. Usually, you made fun of them together. He couldn’t see them, but he could hear a lot of the ridiculous dialogue. He could drop two random people in a closed-off room together and they’d have more chemistry than half of these Hallmark Christmas Movie couples. You were very quiet during “To All The Boys I Loved Before”, however, so either you loved it or you hated it. He couldn’t really tell.

You two talked a little less than before, you being preoccupied with Eric. Host was fine with that. He could just… talk to you whenever you were done. But you apparently had a low social battery and trapped yourself in a room whenever you were done talking to Eric. That was fine. Host didn’t need to be happy anyways.

He may or may not have showed up at your door first thing in the morning sometimes to get the chance to talk to you. You didn’t know, so it was fine.

But Eric and Bim were smart. They picked up on the Host’s… “feelings” and desire to talk to you. If either were in a room with you and Host, they immediately left so that you could talk. It worked, and Host was happy, but he felt kind of bad.

No. No he didn’t. He felt no emotion towards anyone or anything. The suit he bought for Bim and the journal he bought for Eric meant absolutely nothing. It was a business transaction. You can’t prove anything.

Somehow quicker than before, the room was fixed. Again. And you, Eric, and Bim saw him off. Eric’s voice sounded wet and Bim sounded a little sad as well. You sounded… fine. But he had a suspicion that you knew you were going to see him again soon. And Host was not upset, of course not. And if he was thankful his eyes weren’t exactly working properly because otherwise he might have shed a few tears, it was completely unrelated. You can’t prove anything.

The new room was completely black and white. Black laptop and a white desk with a black chair. White walls and a black floor. A white couch against the wall. No espresso machine this time, which slightly disappointed the Host.

Darkiplier sounded proud when he explained the room. Host could see why, it sounded very pretty. Which he tried to say when he turned to Darkiplier. But his traitorous mouth instead said:

“Host asks if this room is meant for the Host or you?”

The Host was teleported back to the manor this time. Wilford was standing out in front, Host knew because he heard the man’s distinct yell of surprise. He also smelled gunsmoke and wine.

“Wilford.”

“Host. What are you doing here?”

“The Host asks what you are doing here?”

“... I asked you first.”

“The Host asked you second.”

“... business. You?”

“... business.”

“Ah… well, cheers.” Quick footsteps get quieter as Wilford runs away. Host stood for a moment, debating whether or not to apologize to Dark. Before he could decide, the door opened.

“Host?” You asked. Host instantly felt himself straighten up and ball his fists.

“Hello.” He said stiffly.

“Another renovation?” He heard the smile in your voice and forced himself not to smile back.

“Host assumes so.” He nodded.

“So…” You sighed.

“So?” He tilted his head.

“Are you coming in?” You asked. Host let himself smile as he walked into the manor.

He didn’t see you all too much for the rest of the week, and he was severely disappointed. There wasn’t really anybody staying there, just a few people visiting over a few days. Yancy, Illinois, and maybe Bing, if the sound of a skateboard at 3 in the morning was any clue. He was pretty much alone. And that was fine. He was usually alone. He was used to it. This was fine.

Maybe he should stop lying to himself so often.

All too soon, he was on his way back. Again. You were the only one to see him off this time.

“Well… um…” You started. The tension between you two was like a punch to the gut. You were perfectly fine before. What happened?

“Host bids you farewell,” He nodded politely and turned around. Maybe if he left quickly, it wouldn’t hurt as much.

“Wait, Host!” You called. He froze. “I’m, uh… I’m coming with you.” He spun around to face you.

“Host… asks what you mean?”

“I wanna… see your office. I mean, if I’m… allowed to visit?” You said meekly. Host felt his heart quicken.

“The Host would love-like that,” He coughed as he corrected himself.

“Ok, good,” He could hear the smug smile in your voice. Damn him and his… feelings.

The commute to his thrice-new office was almost silent. Neither of you said anything. You most likely wanted to wait for the Host to start the conversation, but he didn’t want to bother you if you didn’t want to talk. It was a little awkward. But after a while, it became comfortable. He liked just being in your presence.

He thought that was what he would miss most about the manor.

You both stood outside of his office door when you arrived.

“Well… here we are.” You whispered. Host nodded solemnly. “Do you want to do the honors.” Host lifted his hand to the doorknob, feeling himself shake. He clutched the doorknob, not moving an inch. He could feel your eyes on him. You were worried. This was fine.

You could visit. But what if you didn’t want to? What if you saw his stories? What if you thought he was cruel? He was, but not to you. He would never be to you. He could stop. He could write different stories. He could write a romance! It would still affect people’s lives, but for the better? At least until the story ended and he had no control over it. What if you wanted him to stop? He couldn’t just stop. Would you give him an ultimatum? You wouldn’t… would you?

“Host--” You started. He whipped around to face you.

“The Host does not want to enter the room.” He said, voice wavering a little. He cleared his throat. Embarrassing.

“What? Ho-”

“The Host wants to talk to people. The Host… wants friends. The Host wants to stay with you and the others.” He grits out. God, this was pathetic. Was he begging?

“Host, open the door.” You sighed. The Host froze. What? Why were you… what?

Oh. So that was it. You were seeing him off… for the last time. You didn’t… you… didn’t like…

Right. Yeah. You were a polite person. He should’ve known.

“But…” He trailed off and faced the floor.

“Host, I really think you should open the door,” You said, the smile clear in your voice. His eyebrows furrowed. Well, you didn’t have to be so eager about it, Jesus.

The Host grabbed the doorknob and threw the door open with a crack against the wall.

“Jesus, man!” Bim’s distinct game show voice sounded from inside the room. Left front corner. “What’s got your boxers in a bunch?”

“I always thought he was a boxer-briefs man.” Dr. Iplier said from the opposite side.

“I can confirm that he is, in fact, a boxer-briefs man.” Google said from the same place as Dr. Iplier.

“I honestly would’ve thought commando.” Eric’s voice was muffled, as if he was facing away from everyone else.

What… What the fuck?

“What. The fuck.” He said loudly. You clapped a hand on his shoulder, making him jump.

“Surprise! We’re invading your office. Please don’t resist.” He could, again, hear the smirk on your face. He almost wanted to be mad. Almost.

“What?” He turned to you. You let go of him and stepped in.

“We fixed your room! You got your bland-ass beige walls, your hardwood floor, cobwebs, dust, and I think there’s a rat somewhere in the walls…”

“His name is Remy!” Eric said happily.

“Sorry, Remy is somewhere in the walls.” Host didn’t move, still processing this whole situation.

“The Host… doesn’t understand…” He rubbed his temples.

“Well, you seemed… lonely. And we like spending time with you. So… we’re gonna spend time with you!” Bim explained.

“You don’t have to do things alone anymore. Just… call someone up and we’ll come hang out.” Dr. Iplier said.

“Only if you ask, though.” Eric added softly. Host didn’t move for a long while.

The others began to fidget, thinking they did something wrong. Eventually, he took a breath, and everyone else held theirs.

“Is… is the Host’s equipment still here?” He asked.

“Your writing stuff? Yeah, it’s on the desk.” You answered. Host went quiet again, thinking.

“Do… You guys want to help the Host write something?” He mumbled.

“Hell yeah we do!” You clapped your hands once. Host made his way over to his desk. All the others, including you, crowded around him as soon as he sat down, pushing each other to get a good look.

This was slightly claustrophobic and pretty uncomfortable…

…

It was perfect.

#the host x reader #the host x gn reader #the host x gender neutral reader #x reader #x you #the host markiplier #the host #x gender neutral reader #x gn reader #markiplier alter egos x reader #the author markiplier

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theodorevg923 · 3 years ago

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Night Time Terrors of the Sun

Sun/Moon x Raylie

Another short I wrote back in early February for Raylie. 1100 words.

⚠️ toddler crying angst

Master List

Raylie stumbled her way to the daycare. She had seen it before, passed by it a few times with her daddys. They told her to never go in, but she didn't care. She couldn't find her dads and the pain hurt. She didn't really know what she was feeling. She just knew the moon would help her. She had to find him. He helped her before when she was lost. And she lost now.

Raylie finally found it. She shoved the door open, which was very hard being so small. She wiped her nose on the sleeve she wasn't chewing on. The walk down the hallway was dark and spooky, picking up her pace until she was running. She stopped before a giant statue showing something with a sun for a face. Maybe Mr Sun could help her find the moon.

She looked around frantically, spotting a giant green slide. Maybe that was it. She stumbled over. Looking down through the netting, she saw a giant playground. Wiping her runny nose again, she sat on the slide, pushing herself in. Railey landed into a giant hole full of small plastic balls. She cries out, falling over. She couldn't get out.

"Hello new friend! Are we having a sleepover? We could finger paint, or draw pictures, I have glitter glue! Or we could play games!" A giant clown picks Raylie up and out of the sea of balls. His face is that of a sun, with rays sticking out of his head. A big wide toothy grin smiles at her.

Raylie whimpers, kicking her legs out. "I have to find Mr Moon. C-can you help me? Please Mr. Sun?" She stumbles over the words through tears and sobs. She pulls her sleeve to her mouth, chewing on it. She chewed so frantically, she bit her hand.

The sun being twirls bis faceplate. "No no no! We can't do that. Its daytime! Time to play with glitter glue and googly eyes!" The sun puts her down on the ground, squatting down with her. Raylie craned her neck, starting up at it. It had red and yellow pants, with a matching tutu around his waist and neck. Mr. Sun was very tall, even squatting down, it towered over her. Bells with ribbons were tied to its wrists.

"Please Mr. Sun, I need Mr. Moon. I'm lost and he found me before and he kept me safe. And I'm lost again." Fresh tears pour out, wiping them away with her sleeve.

"No!" The sun yells, becoming frantic. "There is only one rule! The lights stay on, on, ON!"

Raylie stumbles back, starting to fear the sun. Suddenly she remembers something her mommy told her. 'If you're ever lost in the dark, look up and the moon will keep you safe.' That was it. She needed to turn the lights off. She looked around frantically. She spotted something on the wall, it had a picture of the sun on top, the moon on the bottom. Ignoring the sun, she ran as fast as she could to the picture.

Before Raylie could get far, the sun picked her up. She screamed, scared out of her mind. "No, no. Let's play over here." It carried her over to a small table, sitting her in a chair. As soon at the sun let her go, she ran. Hiding behind a desk. She heard it yell. She looked around, trying to find the picture again. There it was, just in reach. She ran to it, sobbing and stumbling.

As soon as she hits the moon picture, she hears a scream behind her. She shuts down, slamming her hands on her ears. Sitting in the dark, afraid to move. She sobs harder, wailing in fear. A large hand grabs the back of her outfit, lifting her up. She screams, afraid it's the sun.

"Naughty, naughty child." The voice growls, deeper than the sun's. "It's past your bedtime."

Raylie keeps her eyes screwed shut. Whimpering softly. "I-I'm sorry Mr. Sun, I need to find Mr. Moon." She cries, trembling suspended in the air. The thing holding her sets her down on the ground. She peeks out, trying to see in the dark. "Mr. Sun?"

"Raylie?" The dark voice growls. She swings her head around, trying to find what called her name. She spots 2 red eyes high above her.

"M-Mr. Moon!" She stands up, stumbling backwards onto her butt. All the crying and running had worn her out. "I've been looking for you." More tears spill out, so happy to have found him.

The moon squats down in front of her. "What are you doing here? Aren't you afraid?" He tilts his head, the red eyes drilling into her. She nods her head frantically.

"I had a nightmare and I couldn't find my daddies. So I can to find you but Mr. Sun wouldn't help me." Raylie grabs her tail and starts chewing on it, her sleeves too soggy.

The moon reaches out, picking her up gently. He pulls her close, rocking her softly. "Mr. Sun? You must mean Sundrop."

Raylie yawns, tired after the nightmare and adventure. "He told me to keep the lights on, but Mommy said if I ever need help, to find the moon. So I had to find you." She snuggles into the moon.

He stands still, having not helped a child to sleep in so long. Slowly, as the girl in his arms drifts off to sleep, he sits down. He rocked her softly, singing lullabies to her. He really should return her back to her parents. But just for a moment, he wanted to hold her.

Just before the lights are to come back on, the moon stands up and steals paper and a pen from the security desk. He scribbles something on it, then places the paper in her hands. He knew Sundrop would see it and know what it ment. He sighed as the lights flickered on. He let go, for the first time in so many years, he didn't fight the change.

Sundrop woke up, fearing the worst. But he felt something squirm in his arms. She was still there, still alive. And in his lap. Which meant she had been in his lap. He spotted the folded paper in her hands. He grabbed it, staying quiet for the sleeping girl. He opened it, seeing the dark blue ink scrawled on it. If he had tears, he would be crying. Just 5 words were written down, but it was enough. 'Be nice to my starlet.' A crescent moon at the bottom.

Sundrop gently squeezed the paper to his chest. He was back, his twin that he and so many others feared for so long. Moondrop had finally come back to him. Thanks to this little lion cub. He knew things would never be the same, could never go back before the glitch. But it was a start.

Stay Cruel Till The End - Theodore

Posted Apr 14 '22

#theodore923 #fnaf fandom #fnaf #fnaf oc #fnaf sun and moon #fnaf sundrop #bad sundrop making her cry #moondrop #fnaf moondrop #fnaf security breach fanart

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ivi-prism · 3 years ago

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Also...can i beg for some fluffy headcanon of any of your aus? I dont know what its happening with this fandom that is obsessed with the prompt of "human trafficking" and in this moment i can't handle it if i dont know if there will be a happy ending or it would be finished... the worst thing is the fanfics were so well writing and the prompts are so interesting that i cant helped and time to time i ended reading.

Why is this fandom so cruel with the hermits?

The fandom is obsessed doing WHAT?? 0-0

Lets seee many of my au’s are dsmp focused or hc x dsmp sooo some fluff for Svetla hmmmm

Cute/ wholesome family found headcanons about the Hermits inside canon reloaded au

- Grian needs weight blankets to fall asleep and often if he starts having a panic attack weighing him down is the way to go to calm him down. So cue to different hermits hugging the anxious birb man until he calms down or Gri sleeping somewhere with his huge wings summoned to work as a weighed blanket while a Hermit stays close either just holding his hand or just running their hand across his wing to keep Gri grounded

- The Hermits are unsure if the convex likes cake because they are vexes or if is just Scar and Cub being Scar and Cub, but ehatever the case is if a Hermit is trying baking some goods they will often give some to the Convex, especially if they are trying a new recipe

- TFC is old… like very old. Adventure man has been alive for centuries by this point and he enjoys just doing his chill thing on his own, still he often gets visited by Hermits passing by and they usually stay and talk to him for hours! Even if he is mining another Hermit can stick close and just talk to TFC.

Some of his favourite moments are when Hermit pets just go to him and hang oht with him. Jellie in particular often finds her way to being TFC’s lap cat whenever she isn’t with Scar or doing her own important things

- Iskall, Doc and TFC helped Ren greatly to learn how to get around with his prosthetics and how to take care of them. Still sometimes he has nightmares about what happened but Doc is often close to help calm him down. Falsie will come at least once a week to check on her friend as well

- if you want to have odly philosophical conversations go hang out with Jevin. Being a sentient slime that is veeeeeery old has given him some wisdom he usually doesn’t share but sometimes Hypno or XB will come by to chill and they will keep company to Jevin while he rambles on some deep philosophical stuff

- Mumbo just gets so many hugs. He is one of the youngest Hermits and so many of them saw him grow so Hermits sometimes just look at this tall mustachoid man and go “ah yes my pride!” And hug him because how could they not?

- i like to think Hermits threw a welcome party to Gem and Pearl when they officially joined and that Grian was a sentimental mess reuniting with Pearl

- Xisuma edited a clock so it is always shiny and bright so a) Bdubs can always know what time it is and b) make the very dark and spooky night less scary

- Doc sometimes hisses at creepers to ask the lil guys to please not explode stuff… The creepers often explode more frequently closer to Doc to spite this weird looking brethren of them

- Hermits often ask Cleo for help to stitch holes in the clothes since sewing a lot of costumes and her limbs have made her very good at this. Don’t tell anybody but every Hermit has at least one clothe item that has a very cute embroidery with flowers on it done by Cleo

- Zed gives headbutts of appreciation :D. He also carries bandaids with him cause mad science projects often lead to minor accidents and also to slap them on the forehead of anyone he headbutts too hard

- Impulse got the habit of head butting as appreciation from Zed and he might have knocked one or two boatem residents unconscious when he went overboard. Boatem are very understanding

- Wels and X often talk over their doppelgängers. They share an understatement the other Hermits don’t and they often support each other

- Joe has written poetry for all Hermits in the server. Including gifting some poems in galactic to Grian and Xisuma

- Etho often hides Iskall’s blueprints and notes from Vault Hunters just to mess with his roomie

- Every time Hermits return from MCC they often get icecream… no matter how they did their friends back home get them icecream

- People hand cold mugs to Tango and he automatically warms them up, that is also the way Keralis and Bdubs make him step back from work sometimes. He always stops to warm the mug to later realize that mug is for him so he just joins them on a break

#asks for ivi #svetlavona #canon reloaded au #this are more whomesome/ funny/ cute #hope it helps :D

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seodami · 3 years ago

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Dearest treasure | KTH

Summary: Every kid in town was afraid of Kang Taehyun, the old -slightly creepy- man living alone for years and years in the same run down house. Every night he would go into his backyard with a shovel and dig a hole into the earth. No one knows why and there are kids rumouring about him burying people. Jungwon was a bright kid, wanting to find out the truth behind this widely spread rumour for a school project. And what he found out would change his life forever.

Genre: fluff, angst, flashbacks, story of life, snippets of life, tiny bit humour

Warning: old Taehyun, mention of death, mention of suicide/suicidal thoughts, death

Word count: 10152 (all 3 parts together)

Pairing: Kang Taehyun x reader, (Yang Jungwon)

Note: Wow okay so this story took me a while to write and I listened to hours of das music to finish this🥺 this was honestly an emotional rollercoaster. But I’m so glad it’s finally finished so I can post it on here yayyy!!! I hope you like it an enjoooyy (please tell me if you cried I would really appreciate your responses haha bc I did)

Main Masterlist

2089 (present)

Jungwon took a glance down towards the camera clasped tightly in the palm of his hand. With a heavy breath, his eyes slowly moved up to the big house in front of him. Former white paint - now a dirty grey almost everywhere - was already peeling itself from the walls, dozens of thick ivy tendrils sneaking up to the dirty windows and even further. It looked just like the old spooky houses, Jungwon had secretly seen in horror movies his parents were watching. And it especially felt like it as well.

The cold wind was slowly whirling around the dead leaves on the ground, freeing the view to numerous mounds of earth spreading over the whole front yard and probably even backyard. Some were fresher than the others. Some were older than the others.

Jungwon could feel a wave of goosebumps hushing over his body, clearly not only being the cold winds fault. With one last reassuring nod to himself, he courageously made its way over the small path through the chaotic front yard towards the old wooden front door.

It had terrified him when he was a bit younger to even lay eyes on this house, let alone go any near it, and quite truthfully, Jungwon still felt a tiny wave of fear coming through. He had heard many things around this neighbourhood and school...creepy theories as to why the old man living inside this house was seen digging holes in his garden. From murder to even paranormal activities, everything was possible, referring one of the older kids at school, Park Jongseong, who tended to love scaring innocent young students with these stories. And he even heard parents trying to discipline their children, threatening them to pay ‘Killer Kang’ - that was the old man’s unfortunate nickname - a small visit if they did not behave. It was as if this small town didn’t have anything else to talk about than a lonely, slightly creepy, man. And if he remembered correctly, he never saw or heard anyone even trying to talk to him. So what did they know?

Jungwon heard a lot. To say the least, he questioned himself quietly if he should have just chosen another topic for his video and interview for a school project. He could have. But something deep down told him quietly not to judge too quickly, not to judge a book only by it’s cover. His parents and his grandmother taught him that early on and it stayed with him ever since. He wanted to give this poor scrutinised man a chance to actually explain himself. Why was he always digging these holes into the ground? Maybe he really was a serial killer and this would be Jungwons biggest mistake, but where’s the fun in not even trying? Right? He could only lose, well...his life...

The 14 year old boy quickly shook his head, trying to stay positive. And then he finally pressed the rusty bell on the side of the door. He heard nothing at first, it was as quiet as it could get, no steps, no talking, no TV. The eerie feeling hanging in the air didn’t make it any better for Jungwon to stay calm and not giddy. “You can do this! He’s not even creepy.” He tried to hype himself up.

He almost wanted to ring again, as his heart sunk. Damp slow steps were coming closer and closer, making him hold his breath unconsciously. The door opened in an awful slow motion, revealing the old man everyone was afraid of. White hair framed his sunken in face full of deep wrinkles. He used a walking stick to stand, his position was crouched forward, so he was about the same height as him, maybe even a bit smaller. And when Jungwon met his eyes, there was a glint in them, that almost scared him off like all the other kids would have. But he stayed put.

The man didn’t say anything, just stared at him, awaiting him to explain this very unusual visit. Nobody had ever dared to ring his house. Not even the mailman thought of doing so.

“Good Morning Mr Kang. Uhm ...I am Yang Jungwon.” The young boy began with slightly unstable voice, trying to get a hold of himself. “I am a student at Namgang Highschool and we are currently doing individual video projects containing an interview with someone we find fascinating and want to learn more about. And...I was wondering if...if maybe it would be possible to...interview you?” Jungwon managed to squeak out, hiding his trembling hands from Mr. Kangs boring hawk eyes.

He still hadn’t said anything, looking up and down the underaged student. Then his eyes met his shaky ones again. “Is this a joke again, boy? Because I have no tolerance for silly boy pranks.” He finally muttered out in a harsh tone, letting Jungwon flinch the slightest. He quickly shook his head, implying that this was his last wish to do.

“No sir, no I swear this is a very serious question and project. I wouldn’t dare to do anything but.” The boy rambled, now fiddling nervously with the hem of his uniform jacket. The man pulled his glasses somewhat higher on his nose before he gave the student a hesitant nod.

“You are the first person for years daring to come talk to me...” he noted absent minded, eyes wandering behind the boy to check if there really weren’t any stupid kids hiding inside the bushes. “How...extraordinary.” He muttered, clinging onto his walking stick as he began turning around.

“You said fascinating people, boy? I have to disappoint you, there is nothing interesting about me, I dare say.” A small sigh left his mouth, beginning to close his door slowly but Jungwon was quicker. What had gotten into him? Was it the surprise at his not so cold attire or maybe has he just gone crazy? But Jungwon wanted to know more about his story. There had to be more.

“Sir, no please. You may think so but quite frankly you are the talk of town every day.” Jungwon began but got stopped hearing the other one scoffing displeased. “Killer Kang...I know this nickname they all give me. Do you use it too? I don’t want to have anything to do with people like this.” His tone got harsher again.

Jungwon frantically shook his head again. “I don’t. I would never. This is the reason why I chose to interview you in the first place. I want to hear your part about everything. I think it is only fair to give you a proper chance to explain. They just don’t know.” He gave the man a pleading look. Mr. Kang hesitated again, letting the boys words sink in. He didn’t seem like he could harm a fly, he thought. Was is worth the struggle?

He didn’t know what or why he was doing it but the next thing Jungwon saw was him walking slowly into the house again, leaving the door open. Should he follow? A quick look over his shoulder told him he should. Jungwon couldn’t believe he really meant it so he still stood unsure, fiddling with the silver camera in his hands, metal cooling against his sweaty palms. “Are you coming, or what?” The now softer voice of the white haired man asked still trotting forward in a steady pace.

This woke Jungwon immediately out of his trance, stumbling clumsily stuttering and rambling while thanking him over and over again. He had made it.

He entered the dark hallway, suddenly being hit with a strong smell of a typical musty grandparents house. It remembered him of his own grandmother’s one, where he spent almost half of his childhood. With one swift movement, he gently shut the door and followed the tracks of this houses owner without forgetting to put his shoes off. There were some stacks of newspaper laying around randomly, old picture frames hanging on some of the white and dark green walls and old brown rugs adorning the cold floor. He noticed a small picture of a young lady in a baby blue dress, sitting on a self built swing while smiling ear to ear. But he quickly moved on. It was as every other old people’s home, Jungwon thought.

“Boy, say, do you want a cup of tea? Or water?” The young student heard the now calm voice asking him, seeing as they arrived in the living room. An antique looking glass chandelier was hanging right in the middle, brown couches placed generously inside the big room. Jungwon was surprised. He expected to shake with pure fear in his veins, but why did it feel like he was just visiting his grandparents? A friendly visit. That was the first moment he knew he misjudged the famously feared old man.

“No thank you. I was wondering if I could maybe...film the whole thing? The interview? I prepared some questions already if that is fine with you.” Jungwon timidly pulled out the camera behind his back and soon enough some pieces of paper. There was a moment of silence, Mr. Kang just looking speechlessly at the innocent and oh so polite brown haired boy. His heart already told him, despite his inner conflicts, that he was a nice boy. A really well-behaved kid. He could tell him, he could understand, and maybe even help. At least that was his hope.

“You are really something else. Jungho was your name?” With small steps he wandered to one of the couches, plopping down painfully slow with a nasty crack of his bones into an already deep hollow on the couch. Just like his grandparents. Jungwon by now was really overwhelmed by the mans compliance and...kindness?

“It’s Jungwon, Mr. Kang.” He added, earning an understanding nod from his side, followed by a motion of his hand for him to sit down. “Of course, of course. You can set up the camera on the table if you have to. It was a long time ago since...anyone filmed me.”

It didn’t took long for the eager student to put his camera on the table in a good angle. His script was already sprawled all across his lap and with nervous looks in between, he asked the man if he was ready to begin the interview. Jungwon was aching to know the truth behind the misunderstood lonely person in front of him. He finally wanted to clear the unpleasant rumours about him, wanting to know what really was behind his actions.

“Ready, boy.”

Jungwon clicked the red recording button on his camera, sitting down on the couch behind it. And he did not waste any time to start.

“My first question for you Mr Kang, has to do with your widely spreaded nickname. As you told me earlier, you were already aware of such name. What do you think about it?”

It was the second time, he heard him scoff in annoyance. “It’s ridiculous what people tend to gossip behind someone’s back when they are bored. Whoever believes these ignorant, mindless comments should go to school again and get educated. This nickname... ‘Killer Kang’ -“ he stopped to caugh out loudly, repositioning himself more comfortable in his seat before continuing to talk. “ - holds absolute no truth in it. I can’t seem to think why somebody even invented it.”

Jungwon immediately nodded in agreement, earning a small nod from the man himself. “That was exactly my point. It looked almost like people just invented some crazy untrue theories when they cannot seem to understand a certain...action.” He tried to find the right words. “It’s probably nothing new to hear, but people around this town, I think they came up with this name solely to...to find an explanation as to why...the holes...I mean you digging them with a shovel in your garden...is that...” he lost his voice in the end of his sentence, not wanting to say any wrong words.

But Mr. Kang just nodded, looking out of the window with a distant look. He suck in a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “It’s probably not the answer you or all the people would like to hear. All the foolish theories. It’s something far more...simple.” He looked over to Jungwon, soft eyes under the thick crease above them. He was ready to tell someone. Just anyone. He longed for a conversation for too long, maybe that is why he agreed in the first place.

He was so lonely.

“Let me tell you my story right from the beginning. I hope you do have some time, boy, it might be a longer story.”

And then he began to tell his story. Your story.

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twstdreams · 4 years ago

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Stolen Treasure

Could I please request Yandere Pirate Savanaclaw chasing after a potential lover who’s a first mate pirate to a captain from another crew? Female pronouns if you don’t mind plz and you can do whatever format you like. So glad to have you back hun!

I’m very happy to be back! Enjoy your spooky treat, sweetie.

Warnings: yandere, blackmail, betrayal, bombs, swords (not explicit)

Leona Kingscholar

Leona is attracted by your tenacity and smarts. Everyone knows your crew is unruly but efficient and none of them question you as first mate. Only someone with both skills and charisma can pull that off

And most importantly he heard that you enact all of your captain’s plans flawlessly which exactly the kind of help he wants.

Except, like most first mate’s, you’re not about to give up your position so easily. It took time, a couple challenges, and work to get your crew to respect you and you like having the second most power. Why would you throw that all away for some lazy lion?

You reject him soundly and without regret. Unfortunately for you, the next day your ship is nothing more than soaked sand at the bottom of the port. You’re good at keeping your crew on track but just as the ship has fallen apart so has your crew.

Leona looks all too smug when he notes your sudden unemployment and you have the unnerving feeling, no you know deep inside, that this trail of bad luck will continue

For better or worse, you’re the treasure Leona has decided on and he’ll turn anything that gets in his way to sand

Ruggie Bucchi

Ruggie keeps an ear to the ground so he’s heard your name floating around once or twice. A first mate that can adapt with the sea and all the trouble it brings. Everyone says you ensure no one in your crew ever goes hungry

But the real moment when you capture his heart is when he sees you give some street kids food. You make them do some menial task and then pay them thrice fold in food

What more could he ask for, really? You’re the first mate of your ship, so he doesn’t have to worry about you being a little too fragile for the life of a pirate. You give to the kids when you can but also make sure to take care of your own

The only thing he has to do is disband your cute crew! It’s no easy task for any normal person but Ruggie’s unique magic allows chaos to descend in the crew you’ve so carefully crafted together with care and mutual need

Ruggie interferes and supposed mutiny after mutiny occurs. People suddenly losing control of limbs and slashing others, wrecking food, spilling treasure, and more out of character behaviour.

There are too many odd unexplained events and it destroys the trust aboard the ship. Some people think it’s a curse, others a ghost, rumours of a secret faction, whispers of how it’s a hidden plot to steal the treasure, or drag the ship to the depth of the seas. The trust built together crumbles and by the next port so does your crew

You’re ready to drown your sorrows in alcohol, sweets, whatever to stop your brain from replaying all the little things that went wrong when a chuckling hyena beastman asks why you have the long face

You briefly inform him that you’re job searching and while the words that leave his mouth are everything you need to hear, the smile on his lips creates an unsettling feeling that refuses to leave. Why does his grin look so much like the one that haunts your dreams?

Jack Howl

Jack is impressed by your integrity and power. The seas have a separate set of rules, written and unwritten, but there is a line and he doesn’t appreciate those who cross it. But you stick to your guns and your personal set of morals, which Jack respects

What he finds even more attractive is how you guide your crew. First mate is a position that is hard earned and he knows that your ship, though on the smaller side, is filled with people earning their share

And so, in acknowledgement of your skills that caught his attention, your ships go to battle. No one questions the honest Jack when he says your ship is filled with treasure worth pillaging and the intel he’s gathered, though no one asks when or why he did, leads to an all out battle

Your ship is attacked and it’s a ferocious battle. Canons fired, swords drawn, but Jack is nothing if not hardworking. To you, this is a random unprovoked attack. To him, this is a battle for his future mate and something he’s prepared for throughly.

As your ship sinks, so does your pride and when Jack offers you a hand all you want to do is chop it off rather than take it. But just like how your crew needs to abandon the burning ship filled with holes, you too do not have any choice but to take his hand

#twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #savanaclaw #leona kingscholar x reader #ruggie bucchi x reader #jack howl x reader #tw // yandere #tw // violence #tw // betrayal

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jungshookz · 4 years ago

Text

Halloween in CeeWorld

I’m pretty sure I’m supposed to post this.

These drabbles were in Cee’s drafts, so... if I wasn’t supposed to post this, blame it on Y/N.

Enjoy. Or not. It doesn’t really matter to me.

the little ghost (ceo!yoongiverse)

“alright, let’s get this quarantine hwalloween party started!” you clap your hands together as you step into the living room before rubbing them together excitedly, “is everyone excited??”

“as excited as i’ll ever be,” jungkook huffs as he leans back against the sofa chair, “i can’t believe we’re celebrating halloween indoors like a bunch of losers-”

“you’re very much welcome to leave-” yoongi butts in, “and then stay isolated in your own apartment for two weeks after you’re done partying as part of the safety protocol-”

“quick question- why does jungkook get to be the one with the goggles?” jimin gets up from the couch before putting his hands on his hips, “i look way hotter in them-”

you frown lightly before rolling your eyes, “does it matter who gets the goggles-”

“yeah! the goggles ties the entire costume together-”

you and yoongi exchange knowing glances when jungkook and jimin start to bicker over who should get the goggles and you know that if you don’t cut it off right now that they’ll continue to argue until the end of time

“where’s my little ghost?” you interrupt loudly, cupping both hands around your mouth as a makeshift megaphone, “oh, spooky little ghost...”

a moment of silence ticks by and suddenly-

the sound of rapidly approaching little footsteps echoes down the hallway and you grin excitedly, dropping down onto your knees before reaching up to adjust the inflatable proton-pack you have on your back

pap-pap-pap-pap

hwayoung bursts out into the living room wearing a plain white sheet with two holes cut out for her eyes and you feel your heart basically bust out of your chest

you already saw her in her costume earlier when you were getting her ready but

god

it gets you every single time!

you were debating on cutting two holes for her pigtails but then you’d figure she’d look less spooky that way

anD you were going to cut two holes for her arms but that would completely ruin the look of the costume as well

everyone knows ghosts don’t have arms or ponytails

“ᶦ ᵍᵒʰˢᵗ, ᵐᵃᵐᵃᵎ” hwayoung practically ramS her little body directly into you and you laugh lightly when she bounces up and down on the balls of her feet

she leans forward to boop her nose against yours through the sheet, “ᶦ ᵍʰᵒˢᵗ!”

“oh my god-” yoongi snorts, bringing his hand up over his mouth when hwayoung blinks up at him through the sheets, “that’s… that’s hilarious.”

holy shit

that’s so cute

“i have to admit, i thought a blanket ghost was a lazy costume idea, but-” jungkook nudges you aside before looking down at hwayoung with a grin, “look how cute she looks!”

“i know!” you clap your hands before letting out a sigh, “it was actually pretty hard cutting out the eyeholes into two perfect circles.”

“aw, now i’m sad that we don’t get to go trick or treating! we would look so good walking out on the streets-” jimin groans, reaching down to pat the top of hwa’s head, “the ghostbusters with this little itty bitty super scary ghost-”

“ᵇᵒᵒᵎ” hwayoung sticks her arms out from under the sheets and you let out an exaggerated gasp as if she actually scared you

(you don’t miss the way jungkook jumps but you choose not to point it out)

“okay, now what do you say?” you get up off the ground, everyone immediately going off to their designated candy stations at your signal

yoongi’s in the kitchen, jungkook’s in the laundry room, jimin’s in hwa’s bedroom, and you’re the lucky one who gets to accompany your daughter on her candy-collecting journey

“do we know if hwa’s allergic to peanuts yet?” jungkook pokes his head around the corner before holding the bag of mixed candies up, “i think i should eat all the reese’s peanut butter cups just to be safe-”

“ᵗᶦᶜᵏ ᵒʰ ᵗᵉᵃᵗᵎ”

“nuh-uh-” yoongi opens the kitchen door, “what do we really say?”

hwayoung pauses and you frown lightly as you think about his question as well

what does he mean what do you really say?

you really say trick or treat when you go trick-or-treating

what else are you supposed to say??

hwayoung suddenly perks up and reaches up to wrap her hand around your pointer finger to get your attention

you look down at her, “yes?”

“ᵗᶦᶜᵏ ᵒʰ ᵗᵉᵃᵗ ᵖᵉᵃˢᵉᵎ”

“trick or treat, pleas-” you turn around to send yoongi a playful glare, “yoongi, no one says please when they go trick or treating-!”

“we’re not raising an animal, y/n-!”

hello, playboy (secretary!yoongiverse)

yoongi doesn’t really understand why halloween is such a big deal

he’s pretty sure it’s just an excuse for people to go out half-naked anD for people to get completely wasted without being judged

sure, he supposes it can be fun for people to dress up and stuff, but at the end of the day, think about it!

you’re wasting money on a costume that you’re literally only going to be wearing ONCE a year and then you’re probably never going to wear it again because you can’t wear the same costume twice in row because everyone knows that’s lame

he’s, personally, never had to worry about costumes before because he literally?? doesn’t dress up or do anything for halloween

but things have changed now that you’re the boss

and one of those things is celebrating halloween with a fun costume party

admittedly, he enjoys company parties because he gets to drink free booze and eat free food all night (last year they served these mini buffalo chicken sliders at the christmas party and he still dreams about them from time to time)

and yeah, it’s nice getting to mingle with his colleagues and not having to worry about any office work

but costume parties are so lame!

he knows you’re only throwing it because you’re trying to prove to people that you’re a fun boss, but if anything, this costume party will make people think you’re trying too hard to be a fun boss, ultimately making you the lamest boss ever

...no offence, obviously

he tried to explain that to you because he,,. really doesn’t wanna see you get hurt again but if there’s one thing that he’s learnt about you, it’s that you’re very stubborn

anyways

he’s waiting for you because you’re changing into your costume in your office and then the two of you are going to head up to the rooftop together

“yoongi, i need you to-” yoongi looks over when you open your office door slightly before sticking your head out, “is that your costume?”

yoongi reaches up to brush his fingers over the flimsy devil’s horns he clipped into his hair before nodding, “yeah. i’m a demon. duh.”

“that’s… yeah, those are devil horns, alright,” you snort, “you didn’t even- c’mon, you’re still wearing your clothes from work-”

“then i’m a secretary from hell.” yoongi lowers his voice before wiggling his fingers spookily, “what did you need me to do?”

“i can’t zip my dress up. do you mind…?” you ask sheepishly and yoongi nods and turns to shut off his monitor seeing as you guys are almost ready to go

“sure thing. also, just a reminder that the party started, like, ten minutes ag- woah.” yoongi turns back around and feels his mouth go dry when he sees the costume you’re in

hello, playboy

he didn’t know that this was the costume you were going with

holy shit

the little black satin dress that you’ve got on is hugging your figure in a way that he’s,.., never seen before,..,

and you usually wear heels to work but these stilettos are making your legs look,.,. wow

black stockings usually aren’t the first thing he thinks of when he thinks sexy but you are most definitely changing his mind about that

“eh, it’s fine.” you sigh before spinning around and moving your hair to one side, “i don’t think anyone cares if i’m even at the party or not, anyway.”

yoongi swallows thickly when he notices the little cotton tail that’s glued onto the back of the dress

nice touch

very nice touch

his brain is telling him to move but he finds that he’s frozen to the spot as his eyes slowly trail up your bare back

you turn your head to glance at yoongi over your shoulder, “yoongi?”

he’s always thought that you were pretty, so that’s not something that’s suddenly being revealed to him or anything

and he’s always thought that you were cute (especially when you make a fool out of yourself trying to get his attention)

but this?

you look… sexy.

really, really sexy.

“yes! sorry, i just- that’s-” he clears his throat and shakes himself out of it, “that’s not true…” he steps forward before gently taking the zipper, “i would care if you weren’t there.”

the zipper glides smoothly against the silky satin as he pulls upwards, yoongi making sure not to snag any loose strands of hair or anything along the way

jesus christ

and you smell good, too

“okay, you’re good.” yoongi steps back and folds both his hands in front of him, “zipper’s, uh, good to go.”

“thanks- also, you’re only saying that because you have to.” you turn around before rolling your eyes playfully

“saying what?”

“that you’d care if i wasn’t at the party.” you repeat, reaching up to adjust the little collar you’re wearing around your neck, “i know everyone hates me, yoongi. you don’t have to sugarcoat it.”

“i’m not sugarcoating it!” yoongi scoffs, watching you struggle with the buttons in your cuffs for a moment before automatically reaching out to help you, “…and who cares what they think, anyway? at the end of the day, you’re the boss.” he nods firmly, looking up at you, “now lemme hear you say it.”

you chuckle nervously before looking away, “i’m not gonna-”

“come on...” your heart skips a beat when yoongi hooks a finger under your chin to turn your head back to face him, “just once? for me?”

god

he really knows how to pull your strings, doesn’t he?

you let out a sigh

“i’m the boss.” you mumble sheepishly, reaching up to scratch the back of your neck

you’re the boss

...you’re the boss.

you have the power to fire all of these people. (not that you’re going to, but... you know)

so why are you so scared of them??

your brows knit together and you stand up a little straighter, “yeah… i am the boss…!”

“that’s right!” yoongi chirps, nudging you aside so he can quickly turn your office lights off and shut the door for you, “now, we’re going to go up to the party and we’re going to have a good time and you’re not going to sit there worrying about what other people think about you-”

“yeah! i’m not!” you grin, reaching up to fix the bunny ears sitting on your head

yoongi smiles before holding his arm out for you, “c’mon, bunny. let’s go show everyone who’s boss.”

sweeter than frosting (lveb!jooniverse)

“i’m back!”

you look up from your mixing bowl when you hear the front door slam shut

yoongi glances over his shoulder before looking back at you, “are we really going to spend the entire day baking?”

you nod before shrugging as if telling him that it is what it is

you usually get a lot of orders whenever it’s a holiday, and halloween is no different because,.,. duh

halloween parties all over the city!

the thing is, you didn’t think that you’d get a lot of orders this year because of social distancing and all of that, but you were sorely mistaken

you have forty-five orders today and you’re pretty sure you’ve bitten off way more than you can chew

your average is like fifteen orders a day

obviously you’re super grateful for the business because money is good and nice and helps to pay for bills or whatever but

woW

these are a lot of orders!!!!!

and you have to do everything by yourself!!

yoongi’s actually supposed to be helping you, but his version of helping you is sitting on his ass and occasionally handing you a tool every now and then

at one point you asked him to hand you a piping bag and he handed you a spoon which??? how?? did he even???

how did he mix up piping bag and spOON

he also eats whatever leftover bits you shave off the top of a cake or whatever frosting is unused

so, all in all... not very helpful.

it’s nice to have company, though!

yoongi even suggested to put on a spooky movie to keep the two of you somewhat in the holiday spirits while you work your butt off

he insisted that you guys watch something really scary and super bloody so he’s.,,. not entirely sure how you ended up convincing him to watch wallace and gromit: the curse of the were-rabbit

“how’s it going in here?” namjoon steps into the kitchen and almost instantly the corners of your mouth turn up in a bright smile

he offered to be one of your delivery boys today to help out and you would’ve jumped his bones right then and there if it weren’t for the presence of yoongi and hoseok in the living room

he’s just!!!!

he gets more and more perfect every single day :’)

“going okay...” you gesture to the multiple mixing bowls around the kitchen, “halfway done!”

“mm, would you look at that.” yoongi mutters to himself as he keeps his eyes glued on the laptop screen, “that is indeed a were-rabbit...”

“are you- are eating the frosting or are you helping y/n frost the cupcakes?” namjoon pauses to look at the bowl that yoongi has cradling to his chest, yoongi humming as he sucks off the remainder of the frosting off his spoon

“eating!” “helping.”

both you and yoongi speak up at the same time and you two look at each other before exchanging knowing glances

“eating.” “…yeah. eating.”

yoongi leans over to pause the movie before turning in his stool to look at namjoon

“waht are you thuppothed ta be?” yoongi asks, the spoon hanging from his mouth carelessly as he turns to look at namjoon

namjoon perks up when he realizes that he must be referring to his super fun halloween costume

he reaches up to brush his fingers over the little beansprout clip he has in his hair with a grin, “a sprout!”

he was trying to think of a creative plant-based costume but there weren’t a lot of options for grown adult men like himself

there was a broccoli costume that he could’ve pretended was a tree, but… it’s very clearly broccoli

so this was the next best thing!

and it was pretty cheap too, so that’s a bonus

“i think it’s cute.” you giggle, leaning up to press a kiss to namjoon’s cheek, “very cute!”

“mm, i think you’re cute-” namjoon grins cheekily, slinking an arm around your waist and pulling you in closer so that you can give him a proper kiss

“-!”

yoongi immediately groans and looks up towards the ceiling, “god, you guys are sick-”

“uh, says the one eating frosting by the spoonful-“ namjoon pulls away for a split second and laughs lightly when you turn his head to get him to kiss you again

heh

:-)

wa-hoo! [roommate!taehyungiverse]

“alright, people, let’s get this show on the roa- oh, jesus-!” namjoon immediately spins around as soon as he barGEs into the apartment, his face going bright red

he just got a very good look at taehyung’s bare ass which was the last thing he was excepting when he walked in here

well

maybe not the last thing he was expecting

“what the fu- ever heard of ringing the bell?!” taehyung rolls off of you before pulling his overalls up so that namjoon doesn’t see both his ass and his dick in the span of three seconds, “this isn’t even your friggin’ apartment anymor-” he turns to look at you, “hey, why does namjoon still have a key, anyway?”

you get up off the couch before pulling your skirt down a little, “in case we both lose ours! he’s also my emergency contact number.”

“okay, but- wait, why aren’t i your emergency contact number?” taehyung frowns, placing both hands on his hips

…

“okay, we don’t have time to do couple’s counselling- are you two ready to go or not?” namjoon turns his head a little to make sure that everyone’s clothed and no body parts are carelessly hanging out

phew

he’s in the clear

oh, jesus

what makes things worse is the fact that you guys are dressed up as mario and luigi

THEY’RE BROTHERS

AND BROTHERS DON’T DO WHAT YOU GUYS WERE JUST DOING

“yeah, yeah, we’re ready to go-” taehyung raises a brow as he sticks his green hat back on, “why are we even going barhopping anyway? it’s not going to be fun having to get our temperature checked every time we go into a building-“

“it’s halloween!” you hand him his mask (you guys stuck the moustaches onto the mask, which you think is a pretty clever way to deal with the whole mask wearing situation) “and now that conditions are slightly better, we have to take advantage!”

“c’mon, mario, get your heels on-” namjoon claps his hands to get your guys’ attention, “i’m parked out front and i do not want my car getting towed-”

“okay, gimme a sec-” taehyung gives your bum a swat when you bend over to step into your heels and you let out a gasp as you shoot straight back up with pink cheeks, “taehyung!”

“what?” taehyung raises both his hands in defence, “i couldn’t not smack it-”

namjoon’s face twists in discomfort

he’s completely fine with the pda

what he’s bothered by are the costumes and the mental image of luigi smacking mario’s ass that’s now burned into his mind forever

he’s… going to stay away from super smash bros for a while.

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maxineswritingcenter · 3 years ago

Text

Bray Road - Fox Mulder x nonbinary!reader part 7

TW: Remains

It was so interesting how different things can change how you feel. On (Y/N)’s cheek they could feel the soft cotton their dad’s blue sweater he liked to wear. They remembered laying their head on his shoulder after they fell asleep in the car on a long trip. On their right, their fingertips brushed an objected that made them remember their mother’s wedding ring. They remembered fiddling with it as a small child, moving it from side to side on their mother’s finger because it was too big for her slender digits. They smiled to themself, surrounded by familiar feelings and senses.

But...how?

(Y/N)’’s blood ran cold as they opened their eyes and was met with the skeletal face of their father. Looking to their left, they saw their fingers playing with their mother’s wedding ring on her skeletal hand. (Y/N) screamed, scrambling across the dirt floor to move away from the remains of their parents. Both of their clothes were in tatters, covered in blood, bugs and rats crawling through the skeletons. Roots of trees rooted them to the dirt walls Their bones were brown, their hair was straw like and white.

“I thought you would like to see them.” Winterfield came from the shadows, much less hairy than he had been earlier that night, “Give you the closure you deserve. Twenty-five years of waiting to find them.” He walked towards them with his arms behind his back, he wore black sweatpants but was bare everywhere else. Their eyes were brought to their arm, a cotton swab was tapped to their arm, tell-tale signs of an injection. (Y/N) glared at him.

“What did you do to me?!”

“I gave you what you needed!” He came closer, “I gave you the ability to become stronger, faster, healthier. To be perfect.”

“I don’t want to be a monster!”

He chuckled at their words, “A monster. That is exactly what I said to my maker. I was only fourteen when I was turned. I was a weak, frail child, sickly. I was dying and my family brought us to our lake house for one last vacation. And that’s when he found me and made me what I am. He made me strong again, so strong that I killed him myself after my bloodlust started attracting the locals and he called me dangerous. I realized after that that I needed no one, so I killed my family. But I became lonely, I wanted to share this gift that been given to me. I decided that I would make more, taking children like you and make them strong, for them to realize their true potential. It took years of trial and error, but finally I perfected the transformation. By introducing canine DNA into their systems, they were more likely to take to the gift.” He kneeled down in front of them, “You were my vision. A sickly child that could be healed by the transformation. But your parents took you away. I had to get rid of them, you understand.” He stood again, “They would not let you get better.” He grabbed a hold of their arm and tugged them into standing, “Just one bite. And you’ll be like me.” He looked up and they followed his gaze above, a lattice work of roots on the roof of the cave, revealing the moon near its peak. He looked back down, bringing their arm closer to his mouth where sharp teeth.

“Wait!” They said, causing him to pause with his mouth open.

“You want this to be perfect, don’t you? You should wait until the moon is as its highest.” (Y/N) rambled.

“You’re right.” He smiled, dropped their arm, “I should also prepare what you’ll have as your first kill. But then again, once the thirst starts, it won’t end well for your partner. I am so glad you finally understand. And soon, we will see the world through the same eyes.” He made his way back into the shadows.

(Y/N) bought Mulder time, but would it be enough?

After getting back out of the woods, Mulder led the Elkhorn sheriff’s department back to Winterfield’s home, the idea being that he would take her back to the cellar where the other body was found. But maybe... that wasn’t the case. He made an abrupt right turn onto Stuart Drive.

“Where the hell are you goin’, agent?” The sheriff’s voice crackled in over the walkie talkie they had given him.

“Bray road has been this guy’s feeding ground, I think he’s taken (Y/N) there to turn them. Once they becomes a beast, they’ll associate the road with food, he’s starting the cycle over with (Y/N).”

“Bray road goes out for miles, how are we going to find them?” He asked.

Mulder thought a moment, “We spread out in a fifty mile radius around the site of the most recent killings. I think that he took Jason there before dumping him back on the road since he was the only one left alive.”

When they made it to the area, the officers surrounded Mulder as they looked over a map.

“We start here and branch out. Please use your weapons with the silver bullets, your regular rounds will not work. We are looking at a monster, not a man. He is to be treated as an on-site shot. He is extremely dangerous and will kill you. Agent (Y/L/N) is top priority. Go out in pairs and keep your flashlights on when it gets dark.” He sent the officers on their way. The sheriff came up to him, cocking his shotgun.

“Lead the way, Agent Mulder.”

After a while into their search of the woods, the sheriff spoke up.

“So, do you think he’s already... bit, Agent (Y/L/N)?” Mulder had put off thinking of this, not wanting imagine them turning into a monster. Thinking about it though, (Y/L/N) was smart. Smart enough to get him on a case with them when he would only work with Scully or alone. (Y/N) believed in the truth and fought for the justice that their family deserved. He looked up at the sky, seeing the moon was getting closer to its apex.

“(Y/L/N) is smart, I’m sure they bought us some time.” He said, then tripped over a root in the ground. The sheriff caught him by the shoulder and steadied him.

“Whoa, there, Agent. Gotta watch out for those roots. These trees have root systems that go out for miles, they can make some pretty big sink holes too.” He said. Mulder looked down at the thick tree root that caught his shoe and an idea popped into his head.

“Are there any large sinkholes in this area?” Mulder asked.

“I do believe, about a mile or so that’a’way.” The sheriff motioned to the west.

“I got a hunch.” Mulder said, the both of them making their way towards the sinkhole.

When they made it to the sink hole, they found a large gaping hole in the Earth, there were deep grooves around the rim that seemed to be created in a clawing motion.

“I think this is where he’s been hiding,” The sheriff was down on one knee, looking at the foot prints in the soft dirt, “Looks like he’s left here recently, but he could be back at any second. You go down there and get Agent (Y/L/N), I’ll keep watch.” He stood. Mulder nodded, carefully scaling down the wall on the sink hole using roots and natural footholds in the dirt. He go the bottom, and flashed his light down to reveal a tunnel. If (Y/L/N) was any where, here was probably a good place to search.

He made his way until he saw light again, a voice caused him to pause.

(Y/N) was sat against the wall of the cave, watching the moon move across the sky. Winterfield would be back any minute and they would turn into a monster just like him. Tears burned in their eyes as they looked back at their parents. One of their father’s arms had been ripped away and half of their mother’s face gone.

“I’m sorry.” They said, biting their lip to try and stop crying, “I promised you I would never come back here. But I had to find you. I had to find the truth.” They hiccupped and laughed sadly, “I guess I did it though. The mystery is solved. But I’m going to be a monster just like him.”

“(Y/L/N)?” They stood up quickly at the voice, fearing that Winterfield was back. But to their overwhelming joy, Fox Mulder appeared in the moon light.

“Mulder.” (Y/N) breathed out, running to greet him at the tunnel mouth, wrapping their arms around his neck and hugging him tightly. After the excitement subsided, they realized they were hugging their superior and that really wasn’t appropriate-

Mulder pulled them closer, hugging them around their waist. They were quite sure he could feel their heart pounding. He created space between the two, placing his hand on their cheek. His green eyes were filled with happiness and his sly smile graced his face.

“You found me.” They whispered, leaning into his touch.

He nodded, “Yeah, us spooky people gotta stick together.” He looked over, seeing the skeletons in the corner.

“Is that...?”

They pulled away, and looked at them, “Yeah, that’s mom and dad.”

“I promise. We’re going to give them the proper funeral.” He said.

“I’m afraid, Agent Mulder.” Both the agents frozen at the growling voice that came from the shadows of the tunnel, “The only funeral will be yours.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Read the final part here!

Likes, Comments, and Reblogs are appreciated!

We’re coming up on the ending, what’s gonna happen?!

Bray Road taglist:

@theres-a-dog-outside-omg

@nyotamalfoy

@bi-andready-tocry

#fox mulder x reader #xfiles fic #maxineswritingcenter

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kosmosguk · 4 years ago

Text

Imaginary (m) | preview

Pairing: ghost Kim Taehyung x Reader

Word Count: ?

Summary: It’s been over 15 years since the first time you saw him. He had been the same age as you then, with somber eyes and a distinct splatter of red on his torn white shirt. When you realized nobody else but you could see him, you called him your imaginary friend. Several years later, you had almost forgotten your memory of him, until he shows up as the unexpected addition to the old abandoned house that you’ve moved into.

Warnings: death, gore, manipulation, abuse (both mental and physical), yandere themes, alcohol, explicit language, SMUT, reader and taehyung have sucky childhoods

A/N: No idea when this will be released! I just wanted something spooky with taehyung as a breather from Lineage and this fic emerged (though I’m only 2k into writing it). Hopefully, this will be released by the end of the month, unless I get back into my creativity mode for Lineage.

Your teeth roughly tore off the wrapper of the cherry sucker, spitting out the plastic into the palm of your hand and cramming it into the pocket of your jacket. It was chilly, and your fingers seemed to freeze themselves around the paper stick of the lollipop. You kicked out your feet, hearing the creak of the metal rings of the swing as it rattled under the shift in weight.

Your mother was late, again, and your daycare teacher had left to grab something from the classroom. All of your classmates had parents that picked them up on time, except for you. You huffed out an agitated gust of air, shivering slightly as you burrowed further into your coat. You wanted to go home, wanted to wear something warm and watch cartoons where brightly colored characters smiled and laughed and distracted you from how otherwise quiet the house was.

You were so bored.

The wind picked up, pushing strands of your hair wildly, and you glanced up. Your eyes widened at the figure huddled by the slides. You didn’t see him earlier. If you knew, you would’ve gone to play with him. You pushed yourself back in the swing before jumping off it, sneakers scraping against the rough playground floor as you landed.

The kid didn’t move as you got closer to him. The only thought you had as you got closer was whoa, the kid must be freezing. You were numbly cold in your thick coat, and your classmate was only wearing a white shirt. Maybe he lost his coat. You know if you lost your coat, your mom would be super mad. Was that why he was hiding under the slide? So his parents wouldn’t see him that he lost his coat.

“Did you lose your coat?’’ you were standing behind him now.

He turned around. Huh? You never saw him before. Was he new? No, he must be part of a different grade since he looked older than you. Also, he was prettier than the other boys in your class, that was for sure, but his eyes looked a lot like the look your mom had whenever she drank some kind of strong-smelling liquid—you didn’t know what it was, but it smelled bad and she always got just a bit meaner after half the bottle was up—glanced at the framed picture of your dad…sad.

“No,’’ he spoke. He had a nice-sounding voice, you thought to yourself. Quiet and calm. “I’m not cold.’’

You wrinkled your nose. Was he some kind of superhuman? You shouldn’t ask. In the cartoons you watched, superhumans always went to huge lengths to make sure no one knew their real identity. You never really understood that. If you had magical powers, you would want everyone to know that you weren’t someone to be messed with. Your gaze fell down to his shirt, and your eyes widened at the sight. There was a large ripped hole in the middle of his shirt, right by the bold image of a cartoon Pomeranian, and you spotted the stain of red on his stomach. You knew that boo-boos hurt. You once fell down and scraped your knee; you remember, though you wished to forget, that you cried in front of your whole class and had been teased for being a crybaby for a week.

“Doesn’t that hurt?’’ you asked, pointing at his stomach. His gaze flickered down, and you felt even worse when you noticed that he even looked sadder than before. You quickly dropped your hand—your mom always told you that was rude, and after seeing the pretty boy look even more sad, you swore to yourself you’d never do it again.

“It doesn’t hurt… Not anymore,’’ the boy shrugged.

“Well,’’ you fumbled around in your pocket and pulled out another cherry sucker. “Candy always makes me feel better when I’m sad. Here, take it.”

You heard your name being called and looked towards the direction and spotted your mom waving at you. Without thinking further, you ran towards her. You didn’t notice how the sucker fell through the boy like he was nothing but wind and onto the ground.

“Who were you talking to?’’ she asked when you caught up to her side. You turned to point at the pretty boy, who was still watching you with somber eyes.

“A classmate. Can’t you see him?’’ you answered, grabbing onto her sleeve and tugging it. You crunched down on the cherry sucker, a dribble of red liquid oddly similar to the splatter on the boy’s shirt running down the corner of your mouth.

She looked at the direction you were pointing in, her eyes confused albeit the exhaustion in them. She reached out to wipe the saliva on your face.

“(Y/n), sweetie…,’’ her voice cut off as she glanced down on you in concern. Her finger was still pressed against your cheek, but the nail seemed to pinch your soft flesh. She was afraid to say the next words. Not with the mixture of concern, anxiety, and plain old fear that boiled unpleasantly in her throat. You glanced up at her, innocent eyes a sharp contrast with her own eyes.

She couldn’t say it. Couldn’t admit it to herself. She simply reached down and grasped your hand tightly, fingers stitching together just a bit too tightly to simply be the faint caress of a mother’s nature.

She pulled you away from the playground before you could take another look to see if your new friend was still there, leaving behind the words that she couldn’t bring herself to say in the chilling air.

Sweetie, there’s no one there.

#yandere taehyung #taehyung x reader #yandere bts #bts smut #yandere lemon #preview #bts x reader #bts fanfic #yandere male #yandere smut #taehyung smut

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spicycreativity · 3 years ago

Note

The Core Four (Logan, Roman, Virgil and Patton) are somewhere spooky, old house, in the woods, etc etc, and it's a place where poltergeist/demon/ghost/devil/spirit/whatever you want Remus resides and haunts and is scary and evil in. (Or they summon him) And he's like "Ooh time to mess with them muahahahaha!" but he sees Patton and gets like this "Cute boy!" And gets interested in Patton instead.

Boop

Words: 2k

Pairing: Pre-slash Intruality

Other notes: College AU, mild Vitaminwater slander, somewhat based on my own college experience of being straight edge and bored all the time and also owning multiple fist-sized chunks of quartz crystal purchased from the tent outside the gas station down by the on-ramp on the far side of town 🥴 Our abandoned dorm building was not haunted, tho

Content warnings: Mentions of underage drinking (not depicted), mentions of overdosing (non-graphic), Remus is sexually forward toward Patton, swearing, innuendo, etc. Still, I'd only rate this T

While it was rooming assignments that brought Roman, Patton, Logan, and Virgil together during the first weeks at university, it was their mutual unwillingness to break any sort of rule that kept them together. While their peers were drinking smuggled alcohol and racking up write-ups from the RAs, the foursome would sit on Logan and Virgil's side of the dorm suite drinking Vitaminwater and attempting to entertain themselves with board games and Netflix. This, predictably, got old quickly and weekends soon became a desperate battle to stave off boredom and existential ennui.

The fraying thread of Roman's patience finally snapped the night Patton suggested Pogs. The lack of adventure had chafed at him longer than it had the others and he secretly longed for some sort of thrill, even if it meant breaking the rules.

"Ugh," Roman threw himself backwards onto the pillow he'd stolen from Logan's bed, nearly knocking over Patton's mostly-full bottle of grape Vitaminwater. "We're seriously so lame that we can't think of anything better to do than Pogs?"

"Hey," said Virgil from atop his bed, and shook a few drops of açai-blueberry-pomegranate sugar water onto Roman's forehead.

"Sorry, Patton," Roman added, wrinkling his nose at the unpleasant sensation. "No offense, but I'm just so bored! I was expecting more adventure when I finally left my dreary old hometown."

"I thought you told us you were from Los Angeles," Logan said, tossing a package of Wet Wipes down onto Roman's chest. "And Virgil, I understand why you would want to teach Roman a lesson, but please try not to stain my pillowcase."

"What do you wanna do, Roman?" Patton asked, adjusting himself where he was propped up against one of the legs of Logan's bed.

"I don't know! All I know is that I have the most boring Snap story out of everyone in my stupid 100-level History class. Remy went surfing the other day. And he's from Nebraska! How does he know how to surf?"

"There it is," Virgil said.

Roman sat up again and opened up the Wet Wipes so he could clean off his face. "Lightning round! Suggestions. Go!" He pointed at Virgil.

"Um," said Virgil. "Uh-- Sca-- Uh, horror marathon. Horror movie marathon."

"Ugh, no." Roman pointed at Logan.

"Studying."

"Oh, come on. Patton?"

"We all go to bed early so we can wake up and get breakfast together before the dining hall runs out of waffle batter?"

"Guuuys." Roman pointed at Virgil again.

"Man, I dunno, Roman! Like I'm the expert in what looks good on a Snapchat story."

"You're the one who's bored," Logan added. "Why don't you suggest something?"

"That's not how it works!" Roman shot back. "I'm the-- the arbiter, the czar! You're the idea guys."

"Okay, fine!" Virgil leaned over the edge of the bed to better give Roman the evil eye. "How about we break into the shut-down dorms with a ouija board and try to contact the spirit of that kid who OD'ed in the bathroom?"

"That's the spirit," Roman said.

"Ha," Patton said weakly.

"Wait," said Virgil, already desperately trying to make eye contact with Logan. "I was kidding. You can't be serious."

"No, no, that's a great idea! Virgil, go get your ouija board and whatever other spooky shit you have tucked away.

"We're going now?" Patton squeaked.

Logan sighed and swung his legs over the side of the bed. "Roman, anything you post to your Snapchat story can potentially be turned in as evidence and used to incriminate you. I suggest you leave your phone behind."

"Wait!" Virgil ran his hands through his hair, agitated. "You can't possibly be on board with this."

"I'm not," said Logan. "I am offering Roman advice for the same reason high school nurses' offices offer condoms: not as an encouragement, but as a safety measure. Either we all agree to go now or we all agree to go tomorrow night after Roman spends the whole day pouting and whining--"

"Hey!"

"So I suggest we just get it over with," Logan concluded.

"Seriously?" Patton was already pale and shaking, holding a stray hoodie of Virgil's close to his chest.

"It's okay, Patton," Virgil said, offering him a reassuring smile. "I'll let you wear my horn of protection amulet."

It took just under an hour to get everyone changed into darker clothes and outfitted with protective symbols from Virgil's collection. In addition to silver amulets and charms, he had handed out fist-sized chunks of quartz crystal to all of them with careful instructions not to lose them, as he wanted everything back at the end of the night.

But soon (all too soon for Patton) they faced the looming silhouette of the abandoned Monroe Hall. It was in surprisingly good repair despite the lack of security cameras and floodlights to deter intruders. In fact, the only light came from the blue emergency callbox situated a few yards down the path.

"We, genius," Virgil said, turning to Roman. "How do we get in?"

"I don't know!" Roman tossed up his hands. "I'd Google how to pick a lock but somebody" --he glared at Logan-- "made us leave our phones in the microwave."

"I already told you, it's a functional Faraday cage and--"

"Yeah, yeah, how about we save the science lectures for 8:00 am on Tuesdays and Thursday," Roman said.

"That was oddly specific," Virgil muttered, trying and failing to exchange a glance with Patton, who was staring at the ground and turning over the quartz crystal in his hands. "Wait, I've got an idea." He took his own chunk of quartz out of his pocket and slammed it through the glass door, sending a shower of tempered glass clattering onto the tiled floor inside. Then he stepped through the hole and beckoned the others in after him. "Let's go."

Patton made a muffled sound of fear and grabbed onto Logan's arm. "You don't really think there's a ghost, do you?"

"Of course not," Logan said, leading Patton inside and following Virgil to the stairs.

"Wait!" Roman jogged ahead to lead the charge. "Are we not gonna talk about Virgil just--"

"Found a broken door and stepped through it?" Virgil interrupted, bumping Roman with his hip. "No, we are not."

Roman led them up a flight of stairs and down a corridor similar to the one in their own dorm building. All the doors they tried were locked, so they set up the ouija board in the hallway outside the bathrooms.

"Okay, gang," Virgil said once they were all sequestered around the board. "Pointer fingers on the planchette."

"Not our whole hands?" Roman asked.

Virgil shot him a sideways glare. "I'm sorry, are you the expert on the occult?"

"Are you?" Roman asked.

"Relative expert," Virgil said, sticking out his tongue. "Now. Pointer fingers on the planchette."

"I really don't know if this is a good idea," Patton said, extending a shaking hand.

"You should be more afraid of campus security," Logan said. "Although from the state of the building, it appears that we are the first to successfully enter."

"Nothing's happening," Roman complained, his eyes on the planchette.

"We haven't asked a question yet, genius," Virgil sneered.

"It seems rude to barge into someone's house and just start asking questions," Patton said. He looked up, addressing the ghost. "Hi!"

The planchette jerked and began to shake. Anticipating Virgil's accusation, Roman held up his other hand. "It's not me!"

"Shut up!" Virgil snapped. "It's moving."

They read the letters out loud together as the planchette began to move around the board: "N-I-C-E." Pause. "C-O-C-K."

"Oh, come on." Virgil grabbed the planchette and threw it at Roman's face. "Not funny."

"I swear that wasn't me!" Roman said, smacking the planchette down. It clattered across the board and came to a stop by the number '2.'

"Roman," Patton chided, "it's really not nice to mess with us like that."

"You too?' Roman said. He turned to Logan. "Come on, Specs, you know it wasn't me."

"I know it wasn't a ghost. I know it wasn't me. I know Patton and Virgil aren't likely to make that sort of joke. Therefore, I can safely posit that it must have been you. Although I wouldn't make an accusation without more evidence."

"Oh, come on!" Roman put his hand on the planchette despite Virgil's noise of protest. "Hey, spirit. Can you do something else spooky so my friends stop accusing me of--"

What happened next was equal parts anticlimactic and chilling: Roman's eyes turned green and began to emit a gentle glow. He was silent for only a moment before turning to Patton with a chipper smile. "Hey, hot stuff! Nice cock."

"Whoa" said Virgil, scrambling backwards toward the wall. "What the fuck."

"He invited me in!" said Roman, or more accurately, the ghost possessing Roman's body.

"Oh my God," Patton said. "That's not Roman."

"Yeah, no shit!"

"I'll give him back in a minute," said the spirit. "I just had to shoot my shot with hottie over here. What's your name, sugar?"

"Uh," said Patton, glancing wildly at Virgil (who was fumbling in his pocket for his holy water or his salt, whatever he found first) and Logan (who was actively blue-screening). "Patton?"

"Nice to meet you, Patton." The ghost stuck Roman's hand out for a shake. "Name's Remus. Has anyone ever told you you're kinda DILF-y for a college student?"

"N-no?"

"Well, you are."

"Thanks, I guess." Patton sat back and pulled his legs up to his chest in an unmistakably defensive pose. "Um, is there something that you wanted, Remus?"

"I already told you!" Roman's face beamed in a way it never had before, his eyes twitching strangely in their sockets. "I just popped in to shoot my shot. So?"

"He's propositioning you," Logan hissed.

"I…" said Patton, panic whiting out his mind. Unable to find words, he held up his left hand to show off the silver band on his ring finger.

"You're married?" Roman's body leaned forward to read the engraved writing. "True love waits."

"It's a purity ring," Virgil explained, finally extricating a small vial from the tangle of cords and chains in his pocket. "And this is holy water."

"Wait," said Remus, "are you guys exorcising me? Cause I swear I'm gonna give you your friend back. I'm dead, not evil. Also," he turned to Patton, "is that a no?"

"Yes!"

"Wait, so you do wanna bang?"

"No!"

"Alright, alright, damn." Remus leaned Roman's body back, putting up his hands in a defensive gesture. "You know, I was gonna go full poltergeist and try to see if I could make you all cry, but I changed my mind when I saw Hot Pat-tato. Soooo, you're welcome."

"Yeah," said Virgil, "I'm not sure we should be thanking you for taking over our friend's body. Give him back, by the way."

"Wait!" said Patton. "Remus, why aren't you at rest? Is there something we can do to help you move on?"

"Nah," said Remus. "To be honest, I just wanted to haunt the crap out of some dumb college kids."

"Need I point out," Logan said, "that you are also a dumb college kid?"

Virgil looked around at the empty halls, walls of closed doors, the dusty spiderwebs hanging like streamers in the corners. "Wait. There's nobody to haunt."

"Yeah," said Remus. Roman's shoulders shrugged. "It's been kinda lonely and boring.

"Sucks to suck," Virgil said, brandishing the sealed vial of holy water. "Okay, time to go."

Remus sighed and crossed Roman's arms over his chest. "Fine. I didn't really want to haunt you guys anyway."

"I might…" Patton twisted up his mouth thoughtfully, rubbing his fingers along the quartz crystal in his pocket. "Maybe I'll come back and say hello sometime."

The grin that unfurled across Roman's face was so familiar that Patton nearly hugged him. But his eyes were still that slightly luminescent green, still twitching and rolling like he was trying to take in every detail of the world all at once. "Really?"

Patton nodded and held out his hand palm-up. Roman's hand was icy, but Patton forced himself not to flinch as he brought his head down and kissed Remus' knuckles. "Really."

For a moment, there was silence. Then came a gentle warmth, and confused brown eyes staring down at Patton, who only had time to gasp before Roman tilted his head in confusion. "Um, Patton? Why are you holding my hand?"

#you are contractually obligated to point out any formatting errors or typos #sanders sides #sanders sides fanfiction #intruality #college au #spicywrites #patton sanders #remus sanders #anyway i am forever entertained by the idea of ONLY projecting my idiosyncrasies onto the characters and none of my psychological trauma #hence the overshare about college #you can know every exact details of what i did from ages 18-21 but i will never ever tell you how my parents fucked me up #no bummers! funny shit only!

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phantomphangphucker · 4 years ago

Text

Ectober Day 7: Hero - But It’s Not Funny

*a sequel to Realities Little Joke For Infinity* Highly recommend reading that first but it’s not exactly necessary.

Tony has a bad habit of adopting strays. Particularly the stupidly heroic kind that were too reckless and too selfless for their own good. So of course he wasn’t going to just ignore the random teen that literally saved the universe only to disappear into the future. Even if said teen was somewhat dead and the only hero left in a world and time that seriously needed more.

Tony grins as he finally gets the connection to work, making his face appear on the strange future teens laptop; or whatever tech people used in whatever time this kid’s in. Going a bit wide-eyed and wheezing when the first thing he sees is Phantom -in alien PJ’s, because of course the first thing he sees on the kid who showed up in a t-shirt and jeans to an active warzone is pjs- shrieking and jumping a foot off the ground while holding a full pot off coffee; which predictably sends the contents of said coffee pot flying into the air and splattering all over the teens face and floor.

Phantom looks to the screen slowly, with steaming coffee dripping off his chin, hair and eyelashes, “seriously?”.

At that Tony can’t help but bend over laughing. Straightening up and looking at the coffee pot, “what were you even doing walking around with a full coffee pot?”.

“Well I was going to drink it. But now it’s as empty as my wallet”, Phantom looks down at the pot and grumbles, “ya know what? Fuck it. I’m still gonna drink it”, then pointing his finger around and telekinetically making all the droplets of coffee on him and the floor float back into the pot.

Tony watches, a little disgusted, as the kid practically takes a full swing of the previously spilled coffee, shrugs, and sits down by his own screen; feet clearly pulled up onto the chair seat as well and coffee pot cradled between his knees and chest. Tony eyeballs the coffee pot, “you’re really going to drink that huh?”.

Phantom shrugs, “I know what’s on my floor”, looks down at the carpet and shrugs again while muttering, “a Zone damned biohazard of blood n’ ‘plasm that’s what. Oh!”, eyes widening a little, “and a sock with a questionable stain”, looking back to the screen, “‘s not like I can get sick anyway. I could drink this shit outta a radioactive waste barrel and be fine. Prob’ taste like shit tho”.

Tony wheezes both amused and pained, “please don’t kid”, that... that would definitely make him gag.

Phantom chuckles, “don’t intend to”.

The two sit in silence for a bit. Tony taking in the teens appearance. There’s hand-shaped bruising coating his neck, one of his fingers is clearly broken, and there’s a pencil-sized hole going clean through the other hands palm. Phantom doesn’t even seem to care about the state of his body, considering how relaxed he seems and the PJ’s. Plus, no way would Tony be carrying anything, including a full pot of coffee, with his hands in the state Phantom’s are.

Phantom yawns, Tony noticing that he’s missing more than a handful of teeth, before Phantom asks, “so...why’s the past tin can face-timing my laptop?”.

Tony puts on a smile, so it was a laptop. Neat. “future or not, I’ve adopted you as one of my brats. I remember you saying there wasn’t superheroes in your age”, waving his hand around, “no older generation to guide the newer. Well you're getting the older generation now”, shrugging and smiling more genuinely, “plus underroos won’t stop talking about you”. Understatement of the century, Peter was thrilled to meet another teen hero, and wouldn’t stop going on about what powers he might have or if he even has anyone to support him. The latter Tony cares about more.

Phantom wheezes, “whom the fuck is ‘underroos’?”, shaking his head, “so ya wanna be my mentor of sorts and help me blast my foes from the past?”.

Tony smirks and nods, this kid’s humour sure was something else, “exactly. And you met before, the kid? Peter?”. Sure it had been a few months but he couldn’t have seriously just forgotten?

Phantom tilts his head, “the red and blue teenager?”.

Tony grins, “you got it, kid”, eyeing the teen's hands again, “your hands gonna be fine?”.

Phantom waves one hand around, chugging more coffee, “eh don’t worry your metal ass about it. I heal like crazy”, stretching his feet out and resting them on the desk, “I’m just putting it off a while on my hands ‘cause the broken ribs and missing bits of spine are kinda more important ya know?”.

Tony rubs his temples, “Jesus Christ”, just how much damage can this teen sustain? That kind of injury should kill a person.

Phantom laughs, probably at Tony’s pained expression, “don’t worry about that either! Not like I can die twice! Haha!”.

Tony looks back to the screen at that, feeling a bit more serious, “yeah, Thanos said something like that. That you were dead but alive. And you confirmed it. What did he even mean?”.

Phantom purses his lips, “well I could explain but that also could mess with the time stream and could result in some weird immoral science crap”. Tony doesn’t get a chance to comment on that as Phantom turns his head to the side and whines exaggeratedly at the thin air, opening his mouth as wide as looks physically possible, maybe even past that, “tiiiiiiime dadddddddyyyyyyy, will this break the time stream? Your problem child has a proooooobleeeeeeem”.

Tony wheezes into his hands, “Christ”, and stares dumbfounded as a giant hourglass with purple sand comes out of nowhere and smacks the teen in the face, making Phantom fall out of the chair with a thud.

Phantom groans and begins laughing, righting himself and spinning the hourglass around, pointing the bottom of it at the screen, it reading ‘you’re fine’. Tony is so not reading into that, kid had someone like Strange in his corner. Phantom sits back down, lifting up the hourglass like it’s a weight, “Kay Kay Kay, so I’m a halfa right? Unique creature, that’s what I am. A fucked up little science project gone wrong, or right. Your choice. My folks screwed up in the lab and boom!”, he sticks his limbs out comically before righting himself and catching the coffee pot he effectively tossed in the air, “a whack-a-mole of electricity and a wormhole decided to stop my tiny little heart. Also restarted it too though! So it’s cool”, tilting his head, “wait... didn’t I already explain this?”.

Tony sighs, “sort of. We were in the middle of a war”.

Phantom quirks an eyebrow, “your point? That was, like, the bloody third one I’ve been in”, rolling his hand around, “first there was the High Ghost King, his fifty-thousand odd skeletons, and objects of near-unlimited power. The alternate future where an evil me single-handedly annihilated humanity, talk about traumatising having to fight yourself literally”, tilting his head, “and no clue if the plant guy with his army of mind-controlled people and plants or the sleep guy with his army of Walkers, counted as ‘wars’. And eh!”, snapping his fingers, “there was that guy I stole the Reality Gauntlet from! He took over the planet and turned people into clowns and shit. So that might be big enough to count as a war, even if it was just him versus me. But then the tornado guy caused storms all over the planet too so would that count then too?”, shrugging, “eh whatever. I’m sticking with three. Pariah would have eventually destroyed the Zone, which woulda ended the universe. Dan was actively on his way to ending all life in the universe, probably all death too. And grape guy, Thanos, was about to annihilate half the life in the universe which honestly would just end all life eventually... maybe”.

Tony stares at the kid before wheezing some more and falling backwards, “Christ”, righting himself and his chair, “there is something seriously wrong with your life. Like, seriously wrong”. Apparently the future was a freaking mess and fixing its crap was all on one random teen's shoulders. All because the kid died, which somehow gave him superpowers, and decided to make something good out of that death. Talk about unfair. And messed up. Really messed up. At least Tony had his team and they had each other, “please tell me you have some kind of support?”.

Phantom grins and nods eagerly, “got my guy in the chair techy, he destroyed a sataliget once! My rich activist goth, she sued one of my enemies into oblivion. And a ghost hunter who only sometimes tries to murder me and got a nanobot supersuit running through her veins; she can lowkey kick my ass if I hold back enough to avoid accidentally killing the living”, wagging his finger at the screen and getting really close, “us dead fucks are borderline indestructible immortals, halfas even more so”, leaning back and shrugging, “can still die, or fade it’s called for the spookies, though. Well, most can anyway. Timedaddy’s straight-up immortal. But if they died then, well, then the universe would literally implode from the time-stream collapsing”, and makes a little explosion sound and motion with his hands. Oh fuck, the kid was really just a damn kid. And from the sounds of it, his entire support was three teenagers. Ah Hell. Oh and some time being, ghost?, that just left him to his own devices.

Tony shakes his head, “you know what? That doesn’t actually make me feel any better”.

Phantom shrugs, drinks, swishes the coffee around, “don’t know what to tell you, man, my entire existence is pretty fucked up. My archenemy is my uncle, wants to adopt me, and gave me his inheritance. My girlfriend has a solid murder boner for me. My parents get giddy at the idea of dissecting me and are actually worse about that the odd time they’ve been successful. The kids’ at school think I’m their personal punching bag. The government would love to shoot me full of missiles and bombs. Pretty sure my sis is just using me for her research paper on ghost psychology or whatever. And my friendships are pretty much based on the three of us just being really weird”.

Tony groans, this kid probably needed more help and support that literally any other teen or hero. “ClockPops is great though. We play chess”,

Tony blinks, mentally pausing, “you... play chess? Seriously?”, this kid seemed to have more issues sitting still than Peter did. Tony finds it hard to believe he can sit through even half a game of chess.

Phantom nods and grins, “yup. Switched the pieces out for shot-glasses once, it was great. One of my teachers is cool too. He crossdressed and pretended to be his own sister to get me to try harder on a test; it worked better than it had any right to”.

Tony blinks and breathes, “your life”, shaking his head because it sounded like the future was just pure insanity, “well now I’m here and while I’m a bit reckless and a recovering alcoholic, I’m not insane”.

Phantom chuckles, “I’ll probably prove to be a bit much for you then. I’d have to be stupid to not think I’m not at least marginally nuts. Nowhere near frootloopy but eh”.

Tony sighs, being self-aware enough -or just not giving enough of a damn- to recognise that was both impressive and depressing. Impressively depressing. “A few of us Avengers are trained doctors and psychologists outside of being experienced heroes. So kid? You’ve got all of us. At least for verbal advice. Strange already went and basically confirmed that paying you a visit wasn’t a smart idea”.

Phantom snorts and rolls his eyes, sipping a bit more before staring down the pot at the small amount left. Speaking into the pot, “oh yeah, I can just imagine all the time problems that could cause. I’m surprised this is okay”.

Tony can’t help chuckling at the slightly silly image, though he’s not sure why the kid doesn’t just drink what’s left, savouring it maybe? “Same. Strange looked at me like he was questioning my sanity. He’s probably going to pester you about the Clock guy you keep mentioning”, grumbling to the side, “I just hope Loki will keep his trickster mitts off you”. Because fuck, they’d probably get on like fire and more fire. Which yeah, slightly horrifying mental image. Probably inevitable though. Loki was already impressed, amused, and interested by Phantom and literally everything the teen did after showing up. Seriously though, who’s first thought when fighting giant spaceships with mouths and other horrifying shit, is to turn it into bouncy balls and worms??? And a smoothie for a reward? For effectively saving the universe? Kid was a trickster, dabbled in death kind of literally, and ‘gave precisely zero fucks’. Loki would have a field day and probably be a horrid influence. Though thinking of it, Phantom might be a bad influence on Loki. Loki generally had reasons for anything beyond mild messing with people. Phantom seemed more likely to just go buck wild purely because he could. Even if he seemingly had a heart of gold and more self-sacrificial bones in his body than actual bones. Seemed like his entire world/time belittled and beat the shit out of him, and yet he gladly got dissected and lost chunks of his freaking spine for them. At least he had the power to back it up.

Tony quirks an eyebrow at mist, or something, leaving the kid’s mouth before Phantom goes wide-eyed and Tony jerks as an actual literal swear-on-every-ironsuit-and-the-entire-tower cartoonish rocket smashes apart what he’s assuming is-was a window; sending glass flying everywhere... and Phantom flying off-screen, the coffee pot going up in the air and sounding like it smashed apart on the ground.

Tony can practically hear the glare in Phantom’s voice, “hey! You spilled my damn coffee!”, while a robot blasts into the room, breaking more glass and bits of wood from the looks of it.

The robot pauses, seems to frown apologetically before shrugging, “apologies whelp, but it is no matter! You won’t need such things after I skin you!“. Tony chokes and gags a little at that. “Also-”, pointing to where Phantom probably is, “-that was practically empty”. Tony then stares as Phantom comes back in screen -looking all black and white- only for the robot to shoot a missile at him immediately, Phantom just sort of shrugs and lets the missile hit him in the face. This kid seriously really didn’t give a damn about his own well being.

And not even seconds later Peter walks in out of the blue, face lighting up as he notices the screen and probably Phantom’s very noticeable self on it, and dashes over. Obviously noticing Phantom’s current situation, “oh Phantom! Kick his butt!”.

Phantom does a silly thumbs up at the screen and immediately gets stabbed in the shoulder. Tony watches in slight disbelief at the kid looking at the knife, saying, “oh! You got a new knife! Shit is the handle engraved?!?”. And the robot actually stops and replies with a wide grin, “it was a valentines gift from Ember! Impressive right?”.

Tony and Peter both blink at the fight effectively stopping as Phantom pulls out the knife and looks it over, seeming impressed, “actually yeah”, pointing almost aggressively at the robot, “you got her something too right? You’re fucking horrible for that man”.

The robot rolls Its eyes, how metal is moving that organically Tony has no clue. “Of course whelp, those drum sticks you can sing into”. Phantom facepalms and Peter actually shakes his head in disappointment. Though Tony agrees, that was awful. But who talks with their enemy -who wants to skin them for peat's sake!- about presents?

Phantom makes a tsk tsk sound, “you dumbass, she got you a sick-ass knife and you got her a knick-knack? Seriously?”, Phantom walks off-screen, the two watching as what they’re assuming is cash flys over to the robot and Phantom returns on screen, “go by some flowers to make up for that crappy present. And for the love of everything, don’t get roses”, waving his hand around, “that’s so cliche. Go with tulips and forget-me-nots”.

The robot inspects the cash before flying off-screen, presumably back out through the window It destroyed, “I will have your pelt next time, whelp!”.

Phantom chuckles, shouting back, “sure you will, Skulkie! Ghost Zones greatest hunter”. Tony and Peter can feel the sarcasm in that. “Also! No you don’t have to ask! An engraved knife would be a wicked Christmas Truce present!”. Tony sighs when a ball or something slams into Phantom’s stomach and sends him flying off-screen.

Peter leaning towards the camera, “woah! You okay?”.

Phantom’s laughter echoes horribly, “right as rain! Mind you, it’s not actually raining”, righting himself and pulling himself up into the previously knocked over chair, “don't mind Skulker, he’s a poacher and I’m rare. Practically one of a kind actually. A poachers dream prize. His girlfriend has a mind-controlling guitar and occasionally attempts at world domination”. A ghost-shaped guitar floats on-screen, Phantom grabbing it, “she gives awesome presents though”, and gives the guitar a good couple strums.

Peter’s eyes go wide, “you can play the guitar?!?”, tilting his head and asking what is in Tony’s opinion a more important question, “wait, your enemies buy you presents?”, tilting his head back, “oh man that’s awesome”. Tony just shakes his head with a smile, teenagers.

Phantom grins and strums some more before the guitar floats off-screen, “all my enemies do”, shrugging, “for the Christmas Truce and my death-day anyway. But that’s normal. A ghost culture thing. Even the prison warden guy, whose got special torture weapons set aside just for little ol’ me, buys me some kind of present. Heck! Even the eyeballs do! And they’ve repeatedly tried to assassinate me”.

Tony blinks, “kid, that makes no sense. But I’m glad they’re at least occasionally nice to you”. Hell knows Phantom needs someone to be nice to him.

Peter tilts his head, “what even is a ‘death-day’? Sounds dark”.

“Oh nothing special, just the day I died. Like a birthday! But for death! A real dead-ringer of a holiday!”, and laughs loudly before rolling his eyes at Tony, waving his hand around, “eh, I’m kinda their king so be kinda a dick move to not give me gifts on literally the two biggest holidays”.

Peter practically shrieks, “WHAT! You’re a king! Oh that is so cool”. Tony blinks, “you did mention something about being the guardian of death and Earth”.

Phantom laughs some more and finger-guns while winking at Peter, “yup! Very important, much power”, and grins stupidly before pointing to the air above his head; a green floating crown bursting to ‘life’ with green mist or something wafting off, followed by a black cape with a flaming white collar and large flaming green skulls pinning it closed with a shadowy chain.

Peter cheers immediately, then adding, “Loki would love this!”. Tony points at him, “no. I want to keep that one as far away as possible for as long as possible”.

Phantom snickers, “I have chronic bad luck, so don’t count on that working out for you. Spidey probably has better tastes than you though, Ironass”.

Tony shakes his head with a smile, “you like making up names for people huh?”.

Phantom grins meanly, “it pisses people off. Which makes them easier to hit”, and holds up a fist, smacking a hand on his bicep.

Tony can’t help but laugh at that, “you got a point kid!”, though that was stupid reckless, and effectively confirmed him being tricky. One of Tony’s tech toys starts beeping so she moves to check it out. Peter taking his place in the chair. Glancing back at Tony before looking back to the screen, “hey I’ve got a question, teen to teen. What’s being a hero to you? Why do you do it? It just... it seems like your only suffering for it. Waaaaay more than normal. And not making stuff much better for it”.

Phantom hums, spinning around in the chair, “a hero's not afraid to give their life, and anything worth doing is worth getting hurt for. I do it so others will not suffer. That is all. It doesn’t matter if things change or not. If there’s still unnecessary violence and pain, then it is still a hero's place to grab their fists around it and pulverise it to Hell and back. So long as cruelty exists I will be there to stand against it. With a smile on my face and a laugh in my heart and Core. Because there is no greater joy, no greater choice, no greater path, than self-sacrifice for the sake of another. Regardless who they are, what they are. Good or bad. Young or old. And whether they support you, or not”, Phantom nods, puts his hands behind his head, cape bunching up, and looks to the side, “and maybe someday things will change. I doubt it, but who knows. But if things do, if that kind of future is on the horizon, then I think I’ll rest. Until then, I’ll be here. Doing what I do and suffering immeasurably for it. Until the world doesn’t need ‘heroes’ anymore. Till it doesn’t need me anymore”, looking back at the screen, Tony having walked back over slowly though the kid doesn’t pay him any mind, “so I guess, being a hero to me is being the embodiment of a brighter future. To absorb the suffering of the world”, sticking a finger up, “like a paper towel!”. Tony chokes at that a little; though the kids' sudden seriousness and introspection was just as startling as last time.

Tony shakes his head, “you make it sound like you’re immortal, kid. Also, that’s what a team’s for, to help share the load. The burden. Sure your ideals are noble and probably needed, but you can’t help anyone if you destroy yourself”.

Phantom smiles but something about it seems almost... sad. “In a way, I am. A ghost can not die and a human can not fade. A ghost ceases to exist when they fade and a human when they die. Yet I can do neither. So that raises the question, what is ‘death’ for a halfa? An idea? An ideal? A reality? Or just pointless conjecture. And besides, for a ghost to fade they must satiate their Obsession. Be satisfied with the fulfilment of their existence”, pointing to his chest, “and my Obsession? Protection. To protect is a physical and mental need for me. And it will never be satisfied till there’s nothing left needing protection. And it is thus that I will always be here”, shrugging and chuckling, “likely anyway”.

Tony blinks, that... that changed a lot actually. It also explained a lot. This wasn’t some kid playing hero, or even an experienced hero just doing what’s right and their job. This wasn’t someone stuck in a bad way and doing what needed to be done purely because no one else could. This wasn’t someone trying to do good to make up for their sorted past. This was someone wise beyond their years, with little to no regard for themselves, and a living -half-living- embodiment of the word ‘hero’. Watching the teen turn his head at someone -likely his mom- shouting that supper was ready. There was a rocket-powered fistfight minutes ago and his parents’ didn’t even check on him. Christ that was depressing. But it also made him want to help this kid out all the more.

Phantom turns back to the screen, “whelp that’s my queue then I guess. And let me guess? This-” gesturing at the screen, “-is gonna become a thing? Which totally cool, little warning next time. And keep this mind, walking the straight and narrow takes more time than I got. I will steal, mildly harm, trick, and lie, as I see fit”.

Tony rolls his eyes, he’d expect no different from a kid basically left up to their own devices, “we’re all guilty of that, kid”. Phantom just laughs as the screen goes dark.

Tony leans back, well fuck, he wasn’t prepared for the kid to have shit that bad. And the King situation definitely threw him through a loop. He’ll have to talk to Thor -not Loki, dear God not Loki- about that. Being a hero and a king.

Regardless, they’re gonna help the weird spooky future kid out. And Peter absolutely liked Phantom, which hopefully wouldn’t be a bad thing. Hopefully. (And it wasn’t, if you ignored Peter carrying out more than a few pranks on Phantom’s behalf).

End.

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destinys-lies · 4 years ago

Text

Great Job, Internet! by destiny’s lies

Disclaimer:

Boku no hero academia and its characters do not belong to me, but Kōhei Horikoshi. Any images used are credited to their original owner(s).

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Prompt:

Day 3: Haunted—Superstition

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Author’s Note:

Just an Izuocha drabble to help improve my writing skills. I chose to do superstition.

A friend of mine (she wants to be anonymous) helped me out a lot with this story, so thanks! She made it really fun for me to write this. Also, she says, “Don’t break glass.” I hope you guys enjoy this story!

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Synopsis:

Izuku knew death was inevitable but he didn’t expect for it to come so soon and be so painfully stressful.

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Izuku sat alone on the couch, staring at the television screen. A show about haunted houses was playing. He was never the biggest fan when it came to the spooky and paranormal, but he had to admit, it was interesting to watch.

Multiple pinging sounds echoed throughout his house. It was his phone. Someone must’ve texted him.

With a tired sigh, he got up from the couch and sauntered upstairs to his bedroom to find his phone lying on his bed. He picked it up and looked at the several messages covering the screen.

They were all from Ochako.

A slight smile crawled onto this face. She was always thinking about him. He let his gaze crawl up to the pictures of him and Ochako hanging on the wall. Each picture held a precious memory from their past. He was so lucky to have her in his life.

Holding his phone in one hand, he reached the doorknob. His elbow bumped into a wall, causing a picture to fall onto the ground. The frame broke. His shoulders twitched by the unexpectedly loud volume of the sound. The shattered frame contained a picture of him from his younger years.

He thought nothing of it. He’d come by later to clean it. Closing the door behind him, he walked downstairs, reading the messages that Ochako had sent. She wanted him to go to the grocery store to get some ingredients to make for dinner later. He texted a message back.

Izuku would have no problem with that, he’s done it at least a thousand times. Locking the door behind him, he merrily walked down the sidewalk.

Eventually, he reached the end of the sidewalk. Beside him stood a pole with a button that allowed pedestrians to cross. He pressed the button and waited for the light to turn green.

Once the light turned green, Izuku checked both directions before proceeding. Cars on both sides of the crosswalk stood still, their engines quietly rumbling. Certain that he was in the clear, he walked down the crosswalk. The sound of loud screeching startled him. He quickly glanced in the direction to see a big, black truck speeding towards him. The driver carelessly honked the horn, showing no signs of stopping or slowing down.

Without wasting another second, he jumped out of the way onto the sidewalk. His heart violently thrummed in his chest as he glanced behind to see the speeding truck fade into the distance. He sat on the curb, trying to catch his breath before standing up.

He wiped off the dirt from his pants. A large, jagged hole in his jeans was visible on the side of his jeans.

“Great,” he grumpily muttered. “Just what I needed.”

With a huff, he continued his way onto the grocery store.

* * *

Returning from the grocery store, Izuku went on his merry way home. The sound of rushing water caught his attention and turned to look at the large pond lying in the center of the park.

I’ll cut through the park. It’ll take me home faster and the scenery looks great.

He walked up to the pond until he spotted a weird object sticking out of the pond. He leaned in to get closer until he felt a shove from behind.

“Whoopsie!” a person exclaimed before timorously dashing away.

He dove headfirst into the pond.

It was nothing to worry about though, it was just a pond. Well, that’s what he suspected. However, when he fell in, he realized the pond was way deeper than he expected. He flailed his arms as the grocery bags he clung to acted like cement bags, dragging him down. Realizing he had to sacrifice his food for his life, he let go of the bags, letting them sink to the bottom of the pond as he swam up to the top.

Emerging from the murky water, Izuku began coughing up water as he took big gulps of air.

“Today…is...really...not...my day,” he panted, trying to catch his breath.

He needed to vent to someone. Thinking of Ochako, he pulled out his wet phone to text her. He pressed the power button in an attempt to turn it on, but the water ruined it. The phone stared at him blankly.

“Are you fucking serious?!” he groaned, clenching his other hand into a fist.

He put away his phone and stomped back home, furious and soggy. The crack of thunder warned him about the impending rain. Then it rained. He began rushing home, the sound of heavy raindrops falling onto the sidewalk.

He stopped running to catch his breath before another crack of lightning struck a few feet in front of him, hitting a tree. He stood there in shock, staring at the charred tree before collecting himself and walking again. He heard a loud shout behind him and turned towards the sound, nearly getting hit by the tree that the lightning struck.

“SHIT! SOMETHING’S OUT TO GET ME!”

He dashed the rest of the way home, locking the door behind him and running up the stairs. He logged on to his computer, trying to get his mind off the disastrous series of events that occurred. His mind wandered back to the frame he shattered earlier.

Izuku decided to look through new frames on his computer to get his mind off everything. He saw a link from a discussion forum that piqued his interest. Curious, he clicked on it and began reading it through.

The guy on the forum was talking about all the things he had experienced. Strangely, all the stuff this guy mentioned he had experienced, all because he broke a picture frame. The post was five years old. He scrolled down the chat to see what the guy did to stop this “curse,” but he didn’t see any updates.

Izuku quietly read the post aloud, “When glass breaks, it’s already too late. Your life is tangled in a new fate. A new life full of despair and agony awaits until you fall and never rise again. That is when the curse breaks but at that point, it is already the end because you’ll be dead.”

DEAD? he thought. All those things that happened to him—they were because of breaking that picture. Another crack of thunder lit up the sky. “I’M GOING TO DIE!” he cried.

* * *

A few hours later, Ochako entered the house, closing the door behind her. Work had been tiresome and stressful. She closed the door. It was dark. That’s strange, she wondered. Typically Izuku is up at this time waiting for me.

She turned on the lights and looked at the couch. There in the murky darkness was Izuku covered in blankets and quivering in fear. His bloodshot eyes stared down at the ground. Her smile fell into a frown.

“Izuku?” she sympathetically asked. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m going to die, Ochako,” he whimpered as he slowly rocked himself, hugging his legs close to his chest. “I’m going to die.”

“W-What? Why do you think that?”

“I don’t know, but someone’s trying to kill me. They’re after me—they all are.”

“Izuku, honey, who’s after you?”

“EVERYONE!”

“They tried to kill me with a truck! They saw me b-but they s-still ATTACKED ME! They want me to die, Ochako!” he panicked, viciously trembling. “T-THE THUNDER! THE THUNDER TRIED TO KILL ME! I UPSET THEM OCHAKO! I UPSET THE GODS! I don’t know what I’m going to do, Ochako. Should I go by a different name? Should I just wait f-for it h-happen? Wait to just die? I’m not going to die, Ochako! I’M NOT GOING TO DIE! I CAN’T DIE! I can’t die by a stupid picture!”

He waved his hands frantically, rambling on and on about the endless possibilities of dying before finally breaking down into tears. Ochako silently stared at him. She walked over to him, sitting beside him and embracing him in a hug.

“Hey Izuku, it’ll be alright. You’ll be okay.” Ochako gave him a reassuring smile. Izuku tried to smile back, but the stress of the day made it difficult.

Ochako gestured towards the door. “I think you need some fresh air. Let’s take a walk.”

Izuku followed Ochako outside, sticking close beside her. The heavy rain was now a drizzle. Ochako liked the rain, it was one of her favorite things. She always carried an umbrella with her.

Together, they walked down the sidewalk and Ochako put away the umbrella when the drizzle stopped. The streets were damp and the air was still scented with the smell of rain.

Ochako giggled as she splashed a puddle on Izuku, trying to lighten the mood. Izuku usually would’ve laughed along with her, but he was too busy watching a large dog. Its leash looked worn and loose from years of stretching it. The dog aggressively barked and growled as the two passed by. It pulled on the leash, lunging at Izuku with blood in its eyes.

Ochako realized what Izuku was worried about, so she offered to walk on the other side of the street, away from the dog.

Then all of the sudden, the dog’s leash snapped and it charged at Izuku. He ran as fast as he could run, adrenaline pushing him all the way back home.

A few minutes later, Ochako arrived, a guilty expression donning her face.

“The dog’s owner told me that he’s never acted like that before, he’s usually a sweet dog,” she worriedly explained. She shut the door behind her and walked over to Izuku, who was anxiously sitting on the couch with his face in his hands.

“It’s alright,” Izuku assured her. “I just must’ve done something to upset him.”

He chuckled nervously trying to reassure Ochako. Ochako let out an exasperated sigh. He was doing it again. She knew him too well, he was trying to hide his problems for her own ease. She wasn’t going to let it go though.

“It’s going to be okay.” She smiled comfortably at him, gently rubbing his back.

“I don’t want to die,” Izuku cried.

“You’re not going to die,” Ochako told him, leaning closer to him. She pulled a charm out of her pocket and placed it into Izuku’s hand. “Here,” she said. “Have this.”

Izuku stared at the rainbow-colored bracelet. “What is it?” Izuku asked, looking down at it.

“It’s a good luck charm. It’ll keep you safe,” she told him. “It kept me safe when I needed it. Now you need it.”

“Ochako?” Izuku stared into her soft, brown eyes, his mouth breaking into a small smile. “Thank you.”

“No problem, honey,” she replied before placing a kiss on his cheek. “Anytime.”

#izuocha #izuocha h/c week #midoriya izuku #uraraka ochako #fanfiction #my hero academia #my hero academia fanfiction #day three #haunted #superstition #mha #mha fanfiction #bnha #izuocha hurt/comfort week #izuku x ochako

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siren1song · 4 years ago

Text

Southern Caribbean

Summary: Pirate captain Virgil has a very big soft spot for the chaotic prince they'd brought aboard and made one of their own.

Warnings: Mentions of murder, mentions of guns, idle threats

Pairing: Dukexiety

Word Count: 1,682

General Taglist: @acanvasofabillionsuns, @emo-disaster, @greenninjagal-blog, @jungle321jungle, @sleepy-sides, @gattonero17, @another-sandersidesblog, @strawberryjellystuff, @logic-with-a-pinch-of-deceit, @gr3ml1n-loser, @main-chive, @firey-alex, @orca-iguana, @spooky-scary-virgil, @yalltookmyurlideas, @sanderssidesweirdo, @stormypaint, @just-a-little-bit-gay-oops, @dying-is-a-hobby, @the-angry-ship, @rosesisupposes, @just-perhaps

Notes: Day 3 of @dukexietyweek Pirates!!! So naturally I wrote Pirate captain Virgil and incredibly chaotic prince Remus.

Commissions!! | Buy Me a Kofi!! | Join Casper’s Crew!! | Ao3 Link!!

If you told Virgil a month ago he’d be the captain of the first crew with a pirate prince, he would’ve laughed in your face before running you through.

As it was, Remus was definitely an interesting type of pirate. Originally captured in hopes of holding him for ransom, the man was more excited about meeting pirates face to face than worried about getting back to his family.

Which was a whole other story, but honestly watching Remus rip off his skirts and declare himself a man right there on the deck after somehow nicking the sword off Pryce’s hip was the best show Virgil had seen in a long while (less for the indecency of a perceived woman and more for the hilarity of a man shocking one of the best pirate crews in the southern seas into silence).

“Let me be a pirate,” he’d proclaimed, “let me join your crew and help you cause so much chaos you’ll be not only the best pirates in the south but everywhere else as well.”

Who was Virgil to deny that offer?

And now they were raiding a small village on the coast of an island they’d just been planning on to hunt on until Remus expressed his desire for his first time doing something more dangerous than embroidering a table cloth.

He was so cute in his excitement, how could Virgil resist?

Watching the tiny man run off with a cutlass that Virgil wasn’t too entirely sure was balanced right for him and a gun strapped to his hip in case he needed it was grin worthy.

“You have a soft spot for him,” Dale commented, earning a glare from his captain.

“And you have a reason for staying on deck instead of stocking us up on spirits and food and gold?”

Dale grinned at him, pointing at the rest of the crew having already taken both the smaller boats and thus leaving him behind.

Oh great, being babysat by his lookout.

“Why you lot insist on leaving someone behind to look after me every raid I’ll never understand.”

“Really? You won’t understand when the last time we left you alone you decided to binge yourself on most of the dried meat on the ship?”

Virgil glared at Dale again before deciding watching the shore to try and see if he could find Remus amongst the chaos his crew had already started.

“There’s another entire half the crew still here Dale.”

“Yes, but most of them don’t know how to stand their ground against you. Some think the bags under your eyes are from black magic and not the lack of sleeping the rest of us know it is.”

“Every raid you make it more tempting to shoot you.”

Dale snorted, thumping Virgil on the back and making him let out a small ‘oof’ sound and hide a small smile.

As he watched the shore, he heard yelling, which was pretty normal for a raid, but the loud clear laughter wasn’t really something he was used to.

“Didn’t think Remus laughed loud enough to be heard over a raid on the shore,” he commented idly, tapping his fingers against the wooden railing he was leaning against.

“He has a laugh loud enough to wake the dead at the bottom of the sea, I think.”

Virgil’s smile grew at the thought. That sounded about right, with the amount of times Virgil heard Remus giggling while playing games with the rest of the crew when they were up keeping the ship from sinking.

Maybe he did have a soft spot for the man, but he doubted he could be blamed when Remus had done nothing but grin the entire time.

Besides, he’d kept his promise and told him many things about coastline royal schedules that made conquering other seas that much easier.

“Hope you’re not thinking your soft spot for the man isn’t just because of the power over the seas he’s given you?” Dale asked, not looking at Virgil now but at the shore where the villagers were trying to defend themselves.

Virgil suspected, with the chaos he could see Remus inflicting, that very few residents would be left when they were done.

“Should I pull out my gun now, Dale?” he asked, not really meaning the threat but making it anyway because what kind of captain would he be if didn’t threaten his crew on occasion?

Another snort from his lookout.

“You wouldn’t dare. I’m gonna head below deck for a bit now though. Gotta sharpen my cutlass and my room is right next to the kitchens so you can’t sneak by without my seeing you.”

Virgil sighed, waving Dale off as he walked away.

The dedication that man had to the upkeep of his sword when the ability to get new ones was just as easy was a bizarre one but Virgil could respect it.

“That was exhilarating!” Remus shouted, now back on board and startling Virgil from staring at the stars to looking at him in his pants and now tattered shirt that showed his chest bindings.

The thumping in his chest and the smile Virgil couldn’t help at seeing Remus’ excitement was almost enough to make him think Dale was right about his soft spot for their prince pirate.

“I trust you had fun then?” he called down, having been a level higher then the deck his crew was climbing back onto.

Remus whipped around and grinned up at Virgil, eyes bright in the starlight and chest heaving to take enough breaths.

“I killed people!”

Virgil let out a bark of a laugh at the enthusiasm, ignoring the little looks some of his crew was giving him.

“You better have! I doubt you could’ve gotten out of there alive if you hadn’t, prince.”

Remus’ face screwed up at that, sticking his tongue out at Virgil, earning another laugh from the captain.

“C’mon up here, let me take a look at you and we can discuss your pirate name, now that you’ve made yourself a bit more known as a part of my crew.”

The way Remus’ face lit up made Virgil’s heart twist in his chest, but he ignored it in favor of waving the man up and stepping into his own quarters to grab the first aid he knew how to do.

Usually Teagan and Logan were the ones to see to injuries. They were the most medically inclined, but Virgil picked up a thing or two in his years of pirating.

“A lady alone in your room with you could start a scandal, captain,” Remus said, making himself known.

“Well then, it’s a good thing you’re not a lady, or that I don’t care for scandals. Have a seat on the cot.”

Remus did so, fiddling with a ragged piece of his shirt and looking around the room in what looked like either curiosity or nerves to Virgil when he looked over.

“Drink this,” he said, handling Remus a glass of whiskey he’d just poured before pulling his medical supplies closer to him.

The prince pirate downed the entire glass, only wincing just a little bit. A month has given the man a bit of time to get used to the harshness of alcohol going down his throat, Virgil supposed.

“Alright, any spots in particular that hurt? And don’t tell me you feel fine. I doubt you got out of that unscathed, almost no one does.”

Remus grinned at him and slipped off his tattered shirt to show the cuts and bruises he’d acquired, making Virgil snort a bit.

There were cuts he could already see through the holes, but there was also a nasty bruise forming on Remus’ side, likely from someone swinging a club type weapon at him.

“You look like you had fun,” he commented, getting started with cleaning the dirt and sweat around the cuts first.

“I did! I’ve also been thinking about my pirate name. I think Pirate Duke Remus has a great ring to it, don’t you?”

Virgil paused, raising an eyebrow at Remus before letting out a quiet snort.

“I have to agree, suppose if someone asks you who you are, you know what to say then.”

“I do! I’m Duke Remus of the Storm Crew, damn that sounds great.”

Virgil let Remus ramble from there, cleaning up his wounds and patching what he could with a small smile while the man told stories of how he wanted to be known. It wasn’t until Remus paused that he looked at his face in curiosity and concern that he noticed the way Remus was staring at him now.

“Is there something wrong?”

“You’re the first man to treat me as a man myself. And you readily accepted me, even if ransoming me would’ve gotten you more money.”

Leaning back on the stool Virgil was sitting on, he watched Remus a little more closely.

“My crew started as one of outcasts. Didn’t feel right not to take in another,” he explained, tilting his head a little to the left while he watched Remus consider him.

“And now? I feel there’s more to it than that, captain.”

Virgil hummed, then decided fuck it and tilted Remus’ head up by his chin with his free hand and placed a short kiss to his lips.

The silence that followed made nerves coil in Virgil’s stomach, but he ignored them in favor of speaking further.

“You’ve definitely endeared yourself to me. I understand if that’s not something you want though, knowing me only a month and all. And you don’t even have to answer right away, given I’m not sure if I’m asking to court you-”

Remus interrupted him by pulling him in for another kiss, making it feel like the kraken he hadn’t realized was there was releasing it’s grip on Virgil’s chest.

“You talk to much when there’s kissing to be done, captain,” Remus said, grinning mischievously in a way that only made Virgil wanna kiss him again.

“You’re a problem member aren’t you, Duke?”

“It’s always been my dream to be one, captain.”

#casper writes #ts virgil #ts remus #ts dale #ts shorts dad character #dukexiety #mentions of teagan/teacher character #mentions of logan #dukexietyweek2020 #pirate au #trans male remus #pirate captain virgil #prince remus #this was so much fun to write oh my god???#look at them theyre gay

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justletmeplayminecraft · 4 years ago

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Shsjsj Halloween prompt 38 with architechs? They’d probably get into some scooby doo shenanigans except ghosts are real

38. “There’s no such thing as ghosts.”

okay so i might’ve... gone off a little bit. this is more mystery incorporated shenanigans than normal scooby. mumbo-centric, the architechs go to a haunted house that may, in fact, be haunted. mumbo pays the price.

featuring: could a visit to a haunted house go any worse, mumbo is very interesting to local ghost population, unfortunately for him, real life au, mumbo's surprisingly resourceful considering, sometimes you just need two ghost girls to tell u to get moving, angst/comfort, horror vibes, happy ending

warnings: violence, knife violence, possession, referenced murder of children and adults, graphic injuries, blood, mumbo gets a lil messed up, but nobody dies who isn’t already dead

"Why did I let you two drag me into this?" Grian is checking the time on his phone whilst Iskall holds Mumbo's hand like he's about to run off. Which, Mumbo would, actually. Given half a chance he'd be catching the first bus out of here. Iskall raises his free hand in a shrug, smirking at Mumbo's question.

"We hardly dragged you, if I remember, you agreed willingly." Iskall leans closer as he teases him, poking Mumbo's cheek with the cool finger of his prosthetic.

Mumbo sighs, batting the finger away, "I agreed so you'd both stop asking! I didn't think we'd actually do it." Grian slips his phone into his pocket, rocking onto his heels. The look on his face is smug.

"Mumbo, you should know us better than that by now."

Iskall hums high in agreement, "Don't tell us you're scared."

"Lil scaredy Mumbo~." Mumbo brushes them away with a shake of his head. He can't believe he's friends with the two of them, he really can't.

"It's a haunted house, I'm supposed to be afraid!" He points out. "Additionally, I think it's kinda bad taste to have a haunted house set in an actual haunted manor. Surely that's disrespectful." Grian pulls Mumbo's other hand free, him and Iskall holding one each. Stepping backwards as they move up the line, Mumbo frowns when his foot gets caught in the roots overwhelming mossy, cracked stone planters. He glances down the line, unsure how he didn't notice them bordering this section of the queue before.

"Mumbo, you do know there's no such thing as ghosts, right? You are aware of this fact?" Iskall's voice, despite its taunting nature, has a hint of seriousness to it. Mumbo's attempt at a word disintegrates into several noises instead. Of course, that only encourages Iskall to laugh, throwing his head back at the force of it. Grian slides up to Mumbo's shoulder, bumping into it.

"It's okay, Mumbo, we'll protect you from the spooky ghosts!" Grian sing-songs 'spooky' for extra effect. That effect is making Mumbo want to hit him. Unfortunately, he can't, because they're both still holding his hands. Mumbo stares into the cold fluorescent lights instead, ignoring them. Grian laughs, Iskall quick to join him.

Mumbo will give it to the organisers, they know how to set a scene. Outside of the bustling noise and lights of the queue, the grounds are as black as the night sky overhead. The overgrown lawn brushes the stone foundation they're waiting on; blades of grass occasionally tickling his ankle as he shuffles from foot to foot. His shoes are still muddy from when they were queuing on the lawn further back. He's glad they got off that section. If he had to listen to Grian and Iskall guess what shape the topiaries used to be for much longer he would've gone insane. Another scream from within the house makes him jump, gripping Iskall's hand tighter out of instinct. Iskall throws him a smirk, and blessedly doesn't comment. Small miracles.

"We're nearly at the entrance!" Grian whispers, voice high with excitement. His fingers trace the stone wall of the house as they move. They lift when he reaches the wooden trim of a boarded up window, paint flaking under Grian's touch. He cringes, flicking the dried paint off his skin. Mumbo smiles to himself and pretends not to look.

"After what, an hour and a half?" Iskall asks, his voice as tired as Mumbo's feet feel. Grian checks his phone with a hum.

"More like an hour and a quarter." The bright screen lights his face with an eerie glow until he shuts it off. Iskall sighs, the dramatic nature overtaken by a piercing scream that sounds like it's on the other side of the wall next to them. The three of them freeze up, before they shake their heads with gentle laughter, normal conversation resuming.

"Have we got any signal yet?" Iskall asks.

"Nope!" Grian pops the word. At Iskall's groan, he laughs. "It's not my fault you're so addicted to social media."

"Not everybody can be so dedicated to our jobs," Iskall replies. Mumbo finds himself distracted by something out in the darkness of the lawn. It looks like two children, running in circles after each other. Their dresses look wholly impractical for the chill in the air. And too fancy for the muddy grass. Who would bring their children to a haunted house anyway? Staff members, maybe? Irresponsible parents?

His foot catches on a crack in the concrete, stumbling forward instead of a step. Iskall steadies him with the grip on his hand and Grian is quick to grab his shoulders. The two of them haul him upright again. Grian's smile is more amused than Iskall's concerned frown.

"You alright, dude?" He asks, checking Mumbo over carefully. Mumbo shakes his head, trying to dispel Iskall's worry.

"No, I'm fine. Foot got caught. I was watching the kids out on the-" Where he's pointing is empty. There are no white flashes of fabric where the children were, only the dark murkiness of night. "Oh. Well, they were there." Grian stares out into the lawn, skeptical.

"You sure you weren't seeing things, Mumbo?" Grian's voice is disbelieving, an edge of teasing slipping in.

"No, I- I swear they were right there. Two girls." He blinks, unsure where the two must have gone. He wasn't looking away for that long, but children are pretty fast.

"Maybe you saw some ghosts," Iskall joins the teasing. Mumbo huffs at them both, crossing his arms now Iskall has finally released his hand.

"You two are the worst," he decides.

"Spooky!" Grian sings, pulling himself onto Mumbo's shoulder as they step forward again. He feels a heavy relief as they finally round the corner and the dark porch comes into view. It looks like it's been restored, the paint on the wood shiny compared to the rest of the house. Although looking towards the roof of the porch, those metal spikes should've been left out. Someone could hurt themselves on those. Thankfully, the window above is boarded up.

"Finally," Iskall sighs, his shoulders slumping as the ticket checker comes into view. "Grian, you got them ready?" Grian hums, unzipping his coat pocket and pulling out the printed tickets.

"Right here!" He holds them up proudly. Mumbo twists around to see the ticket man. The clothes look pretty authentic. A neat waistcoat, a chain coming from the pocket, well-fitting slacks. A couple passes their tickets over, smiling as he takes them. Then the man takes out a straight-up pocket watch. They're… Really going for this, aren't they? Mumbo sticks his own hands in his jean pockets. He prefers modern comforts.

There are only a few more people ahead of them now. Mumbo shifts from foot to foot, his toe catching on the red carpet leading inside. He sighs. He's doomed to trip over everything tonight, isn't he? He looks up to find Grian looking at him, excitement in his expression. He tries to smile back, moving up to a drawn line on the carpet. There's nobody else in front of them now. Oh, they're actually doing this.

Upon a wave from the staff member, the trio heads up to the rope barrier. Past the entrance, the hallway splits into two, wooden signs marking each way. Yet, Mumbo can't help but be drawn to the bored-looking staff member as he holds his hand out. His eyes are a pale blue, almost white. Mumbo shudders when those eyes stare directly at him. He's quick to look away. This place is getting to him. Grian enthusiastically passes over their tickets, oblivious to the exchange beside him.

"Three adults," he says. The man nods, looking over each ticket and checking the time on his pocket watch. He punches a hole through the corner of each one before handing them back.

"Keep your tickets on you in case they need to be checked." Grian nods, giving Mumbo and Iskall their own ticket. Mumbo slips it into his pocket without checking. He printed them out earlier today at Grian's pestering. "And you'll need to leave your bag in the cloakroom, sir." The staff member gestures at the brown rucksack on Iskall's back. Iskall puts a hand on the strap, the bag containing their personal belongings. "It's a secure locker system, you only have to give them to the staff member there and you'll receive a wristband." They gesture down the second corridor, away from the queue and the noise.

"I can take it," Mumbo suggests. He could use a breather before they head into the attraction. Usually, he'd find his friends' excitement contagious, but right now it's only leaving him more unsettled. Iskall loosens the strap, sliding it off his back.

"You sure you won't get lost the moment we aren't holding your hands?" Iskall teases as he hands the bag to him. Mumbo rolls his eyes, slinging it over one of his shoulders.

"Surprisingly, I don't think I'll get lost simply going up a corridor." Grian steps forward, unbuttoning his red coat to reveal the just as red jumper underneath.

"Can you take my coat too?" Mumbo lays it over one of his arms, watching Grian grin. "Thanks, Mumbo, love you." Mumbo shakes his head, already taking a step towards the separate corridor and past the now-open rope barrier.

"I'll meet up with you guys in a minute," he tells them, precious cargo in hand. Grian and Iskall smile, Iskall offering a wave as they go ahead to join up with the queue.

"We won't go in without you!" Grian calls. Mumbo huffs a laugh.

"I'd prefer it if you did!" He calls in return. He watches until the two vanish behind the wall, their giggles merging into the crowd. The couple behind them are already joining the queue. Mumbo sighs, turning and checking the neat wooden sign before heading up the corridor. He's definitely going the right way.

Metal sconces light the wall, a dim light against dark, ornate wallpaper. He doesn't realise how quiet it's grown until he can hear the wooden floor creak beneath the carpet. He cringes at the sound, pleased when he reaches another rope, blocking off the corridor and directing him into a smaller room. He looks around at the wooden bookshelves, a cushioned seat in the corner. Another staff member (he hopes) leans on a doorway inside, reading a hardcover book. Mumbo hesitates before he approaches.

"Hey, uh, are you taking the bags? For the cloakroom?" Dark eyes look up to him. It's a woman this time, hair tied back into a neat ponytail. She's also wearing a waistcoat, Mumbo assumes it must be their uniform.

"That would be me," the woman tells him, placing her book on the side table. Mumbo passes over the bag and coat, shrugging off his own to add to them. She disappears into the back room. Mumbo tries to peer in, but it's so dark he can't see anything. How can she tell where she's going? She comes back, presenting him with a wristband, an intricate pattern on both sides of the plastic. Mumbo takes it, frowning as he twirls it in his hand.

"Doesn't it have a number on it?" He asks, a little curious about what kind of system they're using here. The woman shrugs her shoulder.

"Doesn't need one," she tells him. She reaches over to pick up her book again, flicking it open. "Have a nice stay." Mumbo's mouth remains open for a few seconds too long before he realises he's been dismissed. At least this will make an interesting story to tell the other two. He steps back into the corridor, focusing on slipping the wristband on. Then he looks up and stops. The rope barrier is gone. For a moment he's unsure if he imagined it, but he's certain that there was a barrier here. And a sign. Glancing into the room, the staff member is gone too. Okay, right. He can figure this out.

He looks down both sides of the hallway, trying to guess what direction he came from. They're identical, carpeted floor and metal sconces leading off into darkness. Even the panelling on the wall below the patterned wallpaper offers no clues. With a sigh, he sticks his hands into his pockets, resting over his phone. Listening, the manor is quiet. He can't hear the occasional screaming, although there's some creaking overhead. Helpful. Well, it was just a straight walk to the entrance, wasn't it? He can follow the corridor and come back if he notices something unfamiliar.

His steps are more cautious as he starts down the hall. He's never going to hear the end of it if he actually gets lost. Certainly not down a straight corridor. He'd like to keep his dignity tonight, please. Whatever is left of it. Except, he's fairly certain the hall wasn't this long. Nor did he notice this musty smell until now. He touches a finger to his nose, scrunching it up. It smells like wet paper. Or… something like that, at least.

Giving up on this direction, he turns and goes the other way. From the outside, the manor didn't even look this big. This time, he takes more note of the closed doors lining the hall. The wooden frames match the doors, with a carved arch above each one. He pauses to look at the sculpted wood. A shield sits on top of twisted ribbon, although whatever was on the shield has been scratched off to reveal pale wood beneath. He walks to the next door only to find the same thing. Somebody didn't like the family coat of arms, then. It's the same down the entire corridor - the wood broken and splintered away.

He nearly jumps when he finds himself back in the entrance hall. The front door is shut. Mumbo didn't think this shut until later? Maybe they hit capacity. He tilts his head in the direction of the queue, surprised when he hears silence. Surely Grian and Iskall would be waiting for him somewhere, right? That same ticket person with the spooky eyes is at the door. Mumbo steels himself before approaching him.

"Um, sir?" He gets no response from the man. He stares at the door as if Mumbo hadn't spoken. Mumbo closes the distance, coming up behind him. "Excuse me?" He reaches out to tap his shoulder, wondering if he's wearing headphones Mumbo hasn't spotted.

Mumbo's fingers go straight through his shoulder.

There's a brief, still second where nothing moves. Mumbo stares at his hand in shock, hanging inside the now transparent arm. His mouth opens, brain desperately trying to catch up with this new situation. The rest of his body kicks in, pulling him away, clutching his hand like he's been burnt. His fingers are freezing, colder than they were after being stood in that queue. In a panic, he glances upwards, searching for a projector of some kind.

"It has to be," he murmurs. His gentle voice feels so loud in the entrance. Like laughter in a graveyard. He didn't see the floor up above the first time he entered, or the huge black chandelier that seems to be waving in an absent breeze. There's no tell-tale flicker of a projector. Oh jeez. He turns back to the door.

Those eyes are right in front of him.

A shout gets caught in his throat, body tumbling over and into the wall behind him in his attempt to fling himself away. His fingers press into the carpet beneath him, legs shuffling backwards until his back is straight against the wall. The man is still walking towards him and Mumbo genuinely thinks his heart couldn't beat harder if it tried.

"Sir, I am so sorry, I'm a little lost right now and- oh goodness I put my hand through your shoulder, what is happening-?" Whether the man hears him or not is impossible to tell, but Mumbo has a sinking feeling nothing good is going to happen if he touches him. He's only getting closer and Mumbo is running out of options here.

A few things happen in quick succession.

First, the man reaches his hand out towards Mumbo, lips pulling into an unnaturally wide smile on a face that has only seemed disinterested until now. Second, Mumbo throws himself to the side, landing on his hands on the carpet beside him and trying to scramble to his feet. Third, the room plunges into darkness.

Mumbo falls straight into the wall, nails scratching the wood to pull himself up. He can't make out anything. He feels around him blindly, finding an empty space and taking quick, clumsy steps into it. He blinks hard. Once, twice. The world is still dark. Except, as he raises his arm to feel in front of him again, except for that wristband.

He presses against the wall, checking from side to side as if he could see any threat coming for him. Convincing himself he's at least somewhat safe, he examines the wristband. The strange pattern in the plastic is glowing. It's literally glowing. He traces along the indent first, but can't spot any hidden LEDs. Then he tries to take the band off. The band does not come off.

"Oh, this is ridiculous." He can't even fit his nails underneath the plastic. This has to be a joke, right? Some kind of big misunderstanding? He fumbles in his pocket until he's pulling out his phone, even more relieved now that he didn't leave it in his coat. The screen lights up, making his hands silver in its glow. It's nearly midnight. He groans in frustration when he remembers that, of course, there's no signal. Not even for emergency calls. He's an idiot. Unlocking the screen, he goes to the one thing his phone can be useful for.

He hovers over the button before switching on the flashlight, chest tight until he confirms there's no man (ghost, was that a ghost? It can't be-) waiting for him. He swings the light around him nervously, trying to figure out where he is. He doesn't even remember entering a door, but it seems like he's in a living room of some kind. There's a stone fireplace in the wall, comfortable chairs and a large love seat. Lingering on the fireplace, he's distracted from the stonework by the charred wood and ash gathered at the bottom. There's still a hint of amber in the embers, letting off so little light it's barely noticeable. Was it on recently? He doesn't feel it in the air, his arms having broken into goosebumps under his dress shirt.

The other people waiting for the attraction can't have moved too far, and Grian and Iskall should be with them. He takes a deep breath, calming his thoughts and steadying himself. Yeah. He just needs to find everyone else. They should have lights, and people, and hopefully staff members he doesn't put his hand through. Perfect.

He creeps to the doorway, careful to shine his phone through it first. The hallway looks identical. Though, when he looks closer, it's in better condition to the other side. Towards the ceiling, where wallpaper was ripped to show the broken plasterboard beneath, it's immaculate. He catches the shine of wood over the door. The coat of arms is intact. He takes in the dragon on the shield. It's pretty cool, he wonders why it was broken in the other hall.

Only when he's sure the hallway is safe does he continue down it. He guesses how far away the queue must be. Worst case, they've taken them somewhere safe and out of the way. Hopefully Grian and Iskall have raised the alarm for him. He's keeping an eye out for any staff members or… anyone, actually. He'd just like to see another person in the darkness.

He cringes as a creak pierces the air, lifting his foot quickly. He hates old houses. He hates them so much. As he hovers his phone over it, though, the carpet even looks fluffy. That's absurd. He shakes it off and attempts to tread lighter, the little it helps. His creaking steps and soft breaths are the only things he can hear. He'd think as he got closer to the others, he might hear them but there's nothing so far. It's unnerving. As if he isn't unnerved enough.

He stops so quickly he nearly loses his footing at a flash of white down the hallway. He holds the light over the open doorway. It wasn't the right height to be that man. Perhaps another person? He steps forward, attempting to peek into the room.

He calls a nervous, "Hello?" Then realises he sounds like every white person in a horror movie. He stills when a face peers around the door. It's one of the children from earlier. This close, the girl is unnaturally pale, with almost a glow to her. Mumbo relaxes a little anyway, relieved to see a kind of familiar face. He crouches down to her height. "Hey, do you know where anyone is? Your parents maybe? I'm a little lost." She edges out from behind the door, neat white dress following her. It's lacy around the top, a line towards the bottom marking out wavy fabric around her feet. Which, he notices, don't have any shoes on.

When she speaks, it's with a gentle echo, like a song, "You can see me?" Mumbo frowns, watching her small hand push away some of the tight waves that have fallen from her braid.

"Yes? Why wouldn't I-" He's cut off when the girl's mouth drops open. She steps away from him, taking a deep breath. Mumbo's not sure what he's done wrong when she screams. He has to raise his hands to his ears, flinching at the high sound. Despite his phone's light pointing away, he can still see her clearly. Especially as she turns and runs. Straight… straight through a wall. Mumbo would very much like off this ride now. He pushes himself upright on his knees and freezes. He can feel something staring at him. She wasn't reacting to him, was she? Brandishing his phone in front of him, he spins, dragging his feet down the corridor.

The man is walking slowly towards him. One foot after the other. Purposeful. Mumbo shivers, can't look into those eyes.

"What do you want?" He demands. "I'm honestly very confused right now, and I'd really like some answers." He walks backwards, keeping distance between them both.

"It's been a long time since we've had a guest like you." Mumbo swears that voice wasn't so deep before. It's almost static around the edges, hurting Mumbo's ears. "You'll make a wonderful addition to the house." Mumbo pulls himself up taller, straightening his back.

"That's- that's a really nice offer but I'm really, very happy with my current job! I'm sorry but I'm not on the market right now!" There's no break in pace. Only the return of that smile, looking too big, too tight. Like the face it's on isn't made for it.

"I think your spirit would be perfect to mould." The words make Mumbo's chest seize in terror. He doesn't need to understand the full implication behind them to realise that's not good.

"Okay. Don't really want that. If you could just- I don't know, let me leave? Find my friends?" That is not the face of someone who's going to let him leave. His back knocks into a wall. He glances around him, panic consuming any rational thought. He's breathing too fast but it feels like he isn't breathing at all. There, next to him. Wooden stairs, twisting up into darkness. He looks at the approaching man and the hall he's backed into. There's nowhere else to go.

He leaps the first two stairs, one of his hands catching himself on the wood to push himself up. The light around him swings wildly as he struggles to keep his phone steady. Using his hand and feet, he scarpers to the landing, falling back onto carpet edged with small metal grippers, shaped like studded semi-circles. He drags himself up using the wall, swaying on his feet and taking deep breaths.

The man doesn't suddenly appear behind him, but Mumbo isn't taking any chances. He searches the immediate area and finds only one direction available. He hopes the others are nearby and runs down the hallway, hoping to put as much distance between him and that man as possible. There are no lights on up here either, but as he gets around, he realises that the windows aren't boarded up. Instead, a full moon shines bright silver light into the manor. Mumbo checks the time on his phone as turns off the torch. He needs to save battery.

It's nearly midnight. His lip twists. Did he read it wrong before? He must have. He was panicking. It makes sense. He's still got plenty of charge too, which is a relief. However, his hope that the change in height would give him service is quickly dashed. Obviously, he can't have too many good things.

He comes to a stop upon reaching a branch in the hallway. There are two directions he could go. Neither has an obvious sign stating, 'This way!' It would've been nice. So he picks the left for no other reason than maze logic. Always follow the left wall. It also seems more lit up, which is vastly preferable to the darkness in other parts of the manor. It smells less of dust up here, too. He can smell something distantly flowery. Maybe the garden is in better condition than the front lawn?

Since he's on the top floor, he takes the opportunity to look into some of the rooms. Mostly bedrooms, he notices. A lot of the beds are pristinely made, sheets looking like they've been washed recently. In one room there's a half-full glass on a nightstand. In another, a cup of tea sends twisted patterns of steam into the freezing air. Mumbo enters that room, curious if anybody's nearby. There are more signs of life on this floor. He's taking in the four-poster bed with fabric tied to the posts when he hears distant singing.

He turns towards the sound automatically, hands falling heavy by his sides. Singing, that must mean a person. He leaves the room, following the sound. The haunting notes fill his head in the silence through the manor. Each step brings him closer to the source, losing sight of the space around him. He vaguely notices his fingers slipping from his phone, and pushes the device into his pocket instead. His fingers fall limp once he does.

The room he enters is another bedroom. The bed is the largest he's seen so far, but besides the singing, all he takes in is the scent of lavender. Taking over his senses, soothing his thoughts into a quiet hum. Both the song and the lavender are coming from a woman, sitting in front of her vanity as she brushes long, dark hair. Mumbo takes small steps towards her before stopping, waiting in place. He remains there, watching, letting her song fill his head until there are no thoughts of his own left.

The click of her hairbrush on the vanity marks the end of the song. The woman stands, every movement poised, as she walks towards the silent Mumbo. His eyes are partially closed, head falling forward with his shoulders. She reaches under his chin, ice-cold fingers tilting his face towards her. Their eyes meet, dark brown into light, glassy blue.

"Oh, you poor thing." Her words have a similar song-like quality, dripping with sadness. "You must be so lost." Mumbo's eyes grow heavier as her other hand cups the back of his head, holding him still in front of her. "Rest, now. Rest and I'll make it all better." His eyes slip shut, mind falling completely silent.

When they open again, he's in front of a circular window. He steps towards it automatically. He wants to see his garden before he goes to bed. It looks so pretty in the nighttime. The moon shines cold light onto his face, the glow of the glass enchanting.

Nothing prepares him for the shove. His spine shouts in pain as the world shifts beneath him. Gravity changes and he raises thin arms to protect himself, his feet unable to find the ground. Glass shatters against his weight in a cacophony of noise and he's falling- the porch rushing to meet him, no longer decorative black spikes he can't bear to look at growing closer as he shuts his eyes-

Mumbo gasps as his eyes shoot open. He's leaning out of the shattered window, gusts of wind streaking through his hair, pinning his shirt to his body. The moon in front of him is bright, catching on the splintered glass in the window frame. Every breath feels heavy in his lungs, his entire body shivering in the chill of the air. Outside, the lawn is… Different. The grass is immaculate, flowerbeds blossoming in a way that still tugs at some part of his mind he's not convinced is his own. The once-broken planters along the pathway are shining in the glow of the moon, not a crack to be found. He can only glance at the spikes on the porch, pain stabbing through his chest and arms at the sight. And the queue, where's the queue?

He attempts to stumble away, hissing as he lifts his hands and finds thick lines of blood. How did he not feel that before? He looks at the glass shards where his hands were just resting. In fact, how didn't he feel the tugging pressure on either side of his shirt, or see the pale faces watching him-?

He screams. The girls let go of his shirt as he backs into the wall, pressing his bleeding palms flat against the panelling. They watch, making no move towards him. Simply watching. Mumbo's strength finally gives up and he sinks down the wall until he hits the ground. Burying his face into his knees, he takes a few seconds to just breathe. The girls are still watching him when he looks back up, twin faces expressionless.

"What do you want from me?" He asks, voice cracking in spite of his best efforts. The girls look at each other, expressions becoming almost… Remorseful?

"We want to help you," one says. She's taller, hair tied into a ponytail by a simple ribbon.

"You shouldn't be here," the other tells him. The one from before, with the untidy braid. "He's trapped you here." Mumbo presses his clenched fists against his face, making a soft whine that sounds pathetic to his own ears.

"Who is he? What is going on? I'm just-" He runs out of words to say. The shorter girl looks down the hallway. They exchange another look and the taller holds a hand out, encouraging him up.

"We should go to our room."

"You get affected by her." Mumbo looks at the empty window in front of him. The glass shards taunt him, memories that aren't quite his own mingled with stinging palms. He pushes himself onto his feet. What other option does he have? He's lost, he's freezing, he's scared. When this day started, he didn't think he'd be taking comfort in two ghost girls. But here he is.

"Okay. Okay, I'll follow you." The taller girl takes Mumbo's hand. Her touch is like cold velvet against his already freezing skin. He doesn't pull away. Instead, he lets the pair lead him. Away from the broken window and the lingering scent of lavender. Further into the house with more direction than he's had since he arrived. The shorter girl skips ahead, peeking around doors and corners before gesturing them on.

They come to a stop in a bedroom. It's pretty. That's the best way he can think to describe this room. The curtains are drawn, frills down to the floor. A dollhouse sits in the corner of the room beside the bed, dolls still, as if caught in time. And two twin beds. They're unmade yet a pristinely bright white. Besides dark spots on the edges of the pillows where the covers are drawn back, marking each bed. A glistening red, matching the deep cuts on his hands-

"Is that blood?" He hisses, freezing in place. The taller girl turns to look at him, tilting her head.

"This is our bedroom," she says it as if that should answer all of his questions. It does not. Not at all.

"But- Why is there blood?" He gestures at the stained sheets. His hand is released as both girls enter the room. The shorter girl picks up a discarded teddy from the floor.

"This is where we died," the taller tells him, jumping up and sitting on the bed. Her dress falls delicately around her, blending in with the covers. The shorter girl pushes herself up, sitting so they both face him. Mumbo stares. He hates to admit it, but he just stares. He understood, logically, they had to be dead. He saw one of them run through a wall. But hearing them say it, so simply? How is he supposed to react to that?

"Died- right-" He hides his face, trying to keep himself calm. "You're ghosts. Of course. That-" Something else clicks, "Blood. There's blood. You two-"

"Murdered," the shorter one says.

"By him. Our father," the taller adds. Mumbo looks at them both closely. They look so small.

"You- that's so much blood." The taller girl looks at the patch, she reaches out, scraping her finger against the stain. "You don't look like it."

"We choose not to." Mumbo blinks and suddenly the girls have blood streaming from their necks and staining their dresses, the skin torn almost all the way through-

He blinks again and it's gone, along with his breath. There are just two girls with skin nearly as pale and flawless as their white dresses. He raises a hand to his mouth, unsure if he wants to be sick or cry. They're just- they're so young.

"It's okay," the shorter girl tells him. She's crossed her legs, her teddy sat in the middle. "We were sleeping. We didn't feel it." Mumbo can barely look at them without seeing the red.

"Oh- oh, I feel sick." There's nowhere in the room for him to sit, so he settles for the floor. His legs shake as he lowers himself, finally dropping with a thud. The girls look down at him, always watching. It's as if he's something fascinating to them. Those bright eyes examine his every movement.

"Our father is the one who trapped you here," the taller girl tells him. "We're all trapped here. Our family, and the people he's got since."

"The people he's got since?" Mumbo questions, the implication of that hitting him like a truck. "Like me?" They both nod.

"It used to be explorers," she speaks like she's telling a story, her words weaving pictures in Mumbo's mind, "most of them came and went. We'd watch them as they flashed their big boxes or tubes."

"But some of them could see us," the shorter one calls, face brightening in genuine excitement.

"Those were the ones he trapped. We'd listen to them scream and then they were trapped, like us." Mumbo's fingers unconsciously reach for his phone, holding it tight for comfort. Maybe he should write a message. Texts that won't send. Some sorries and 'I love you's.

"Why are you telling me this?" He asks. "You're trapped here too." They turn to each other, smiling with slight nods.

"We decided to help," the taller one says.

"You were nice," the smaller continues. Mumbo holds his arm up, looking at the wristband. It continues glowing. He gives it a cursory push. Still no give. He’s so lost.

"How do you plan on doing that?" He asks. They turn to each other as their faces scrunch up.

"We're not sure."

"We've never done this before." Mumbo groans, sinking back until he's lying on the carpeted floor. His hand presses into his face until he grimaces at the sticky, congealing blood.

"I'm going to die here," he murmurs. "I'm going to die here because apparently, I can see ghosts and my friends dragged me to a haunted house! I'm going to die!" He flashes his phone screen on, wishing for something. A message, a hint of signal and not the time, still showing it's right before midnight. Not that. The only one out of the three he gets. His hands sting more at the stretch of movement.

"Are you finished?" He yelps when he lowers the phone and finds both girls standing over him. His arms are above his face as protection before he processes what's happening. He reveals a sliver of vision between his pale forearms. They're frowning.

"You're not going to escape by having a tantrum on the floor," the shorter tells him, her voice sharp as a teacher's. He's going to die and his last memories are going to be of dead children scolding him like he's one of them. Brilliant, absolutely brilliant.

"Come on. Let's go." Small hands tug at him as they attempt to pull him upright. It feels as effective as he is when he's stayed up too late, about to pass out standing up. "Do you want to be stuck here forever? Don't you have a family to go back to?" And Mumbo does. He has his family and-

"My friends. I came here with two friends." Grian and Iskall, what would they think? Would they even find a body, or would Mumbo have walked down that hallway and simply vanished? His mind rushes with questions that he doesn't want answers to. He doesn't want to see his friends search for him. He doesn't want to see them mourn.

"Well, get up then. Let's go." The shorter girl claps for emphasis. This time, Mumbo does, using his arm as a pillar despite how it hurts.

"I think," the taller declares, "we should try to get you outside. That's got to work, right?" Her questioning tone leaves Mumbo less than optimistic, but it's not as if he has any other options.

"But that means going downstairs," the shorter girl whispers it like the words have weight.

"Downstairs?" Mumbo echoes.

"That's where he is." The taller girl is already walking ahead, taking Mumbo's hand as she does. "But how else are we going to get outside?"

"A window?" The shorter suggests. She takes Mumbo's other hand, the pair of them taking the lead with no option but to follow. They continue their discussion around him.

"No. The only open one is mother's and he can't go near it again. She's stronger than us, we nearly lost him before." Mumbo isn't sure how he feels about being discussed like this. They're leaning forwards as they walk, looking at each other. Yet they're leading him down the halls still. Walking blindly through the maze that had Mumbo so lost like it’s effortless.

"The front door is shut too." The shorter has her face scrunched up, dark hair falling into it again. "We're not strong enough to open it."

"The garden, then."

"That door was shut too." Their gentle bickering reminds him of Grian and Iskall. Silently, he accepts his fate. He's putting his life in the hands of two girls that have no idea what they're doing. Children. He is completely and utterly screwed. He's never going to hear Iskall and Grian bicker again. His hand twitches with the urge to wipe away what might be tears stinging his eyes. Little fingers hold on tighter.

The halls all blend together the longer they walk. They fall into a single file line, the taller girl leading. Only his footsteps make a sound - muted thuds through the house, less creaks now he has two people guiding him. Mumbo's in awe at the size of the manor. He allows that to occupy his mind for a little while. How would you even fill half of these rooms? They must have had servants for cleaning. In its day, this must've been an incredible place to grow up. Now, it's a prison. It's likely going to be his prison. The manor loses some grandeur at that thought.

The taller releases his hand and leans forward, sticking her upper body straight through a wall. Mumbo blinks. He's never going to get used to that. She steps away, nodding at them both.

"It's empty." The shorter girl nods in return, the pair sneaking around the partially closed door. Mumbo follows, ducking into a small, twisting, wooden staircase. The girls are skipping down the stairs, leaning on the central column to peer around. They glance at him occasionally, as if checking he's still there. Mumbo makes sure he's in their sight, feet struggling to fit on the stairs. This staircase wasn't made for somebody as tall as him.

Towards the bottom, he can pick up on a distinct noise slicing through the silence. The two girls have paused at the exit to the stairs, listening. It’s a harsh scrape, splintering underneath. Terror catches Mumbo's heart, the beat jumping in his ears. Is somebody destroying the house? What is that?

"He's doing it again," the shorter comments, her face and voice grumpy. Mumbo is about to ask what he's doing, but the pair are already determinedly walking ahead. He'll defer to the experts.

"That's the only way to the entrance," the taller says, her gentle features pinched in thought. It's not directed at him. The words sink in anyway.

"We have to go past him?" He asks, continuing to follow despite his poor instincts trying to protect him. Their faces are set in grim determination.

"Yes."

Mumbo has to fight to find words, "That's- that's a terrible idea! He wants to kill me." He presses his fist against his chest at the thought. One near death experience would be enough for one night. He's had several!

"He's already killed us," the shorter helpfully reminds him. Mumbo squeezes his eyes shut to calm down.

"We can figure it out," the taller replies. Honestly, Mumbo would just like to curl up in a corner and fade out of existence. That would be far preferable to this. But, he's already come this far, and they're both looking at him expectantly.

"Planning," he suggests, "we could come up with a plan." They exchange looks.

"Planning's for adults," the taller decides. The shorter girl is already running ahead, scouting their path out. Mumbo makes a particularly undignified noise.

"I'm an adult!" He calls. His statement is ignored. The girls are storming ahead with a determination Mumbo wishes he had. Maybe there are some advantages to being dead. It's not like anyone can kill you again. Can they?

The girls come to a stop in front of a corner. The taller puts her fingers on her lips. The harsh scraping is louder, vibrating through the walls. Mumbo can hear thuds, softened by the carpet. He clutches one of his hands tight to his chest. The gashes have nearly stopped bleeding. His entire palm is stained red - he's surprised he's not left marks on the house or the girls. Just another weird thing to keep track of.

The shorter girl pulls him closer, encouraging him to look around the corner. It's the same man as before, that's for certain. His appearance has changed, once tidy hair unkempt, waistcoat undone and torn. Mumbo flinches as a knife glints in the darkness. The man lunges forward, stabbing the blade into the wood above the door and prying at the carving, splintering wood around him. His focus is immovable as he drives the knife in further. Mumbo winces.

A tug on his shirt brings him to attention. The taller girl is pointing to something in the darkness. It hits Mumbo that he can barely see. He's been so reliant on the natural glow from the two girls, he forgot it's pitch black down here. He has no idea what she's pointing at or any idea how to articulate that. With one hand, he covers his eyes, shaking his head. When he looks again, the two girls are frowning, looking at each other. Finally, they nod. The shorter darts to the other side of the hall, vanishing into the wall.

Mumbo watches in confusion until in the darkness of the hall, a doorway is lit up by her silhouette. Her cheeks are scrunching up her eyes as she grins. The taller girl turns to him, a question in her eyes. Mumbo nods, offering a thumbs up. She nods back, checking the position of her father. Then she points, mouthing a clear, 'Go.'

Mumbo takes the chance, transferring his weight to his toes. He waits for the sound of the knife hitting wood before running, feet light across the carpet until he reaches the doorway, falling into the room. Both girls are waiting for him. The shorter girl pokes her head out, returning with a big grin. Mumbo releases his breath, sinking onto the wall beside the doorframe. One stage closer. He allows himself a hint of relief, hope within reach. If they're patient, they should make it. He checks his phone. Still nearly midnight. They've got time.

The taller girl vanishes through one of the walls. Mumbo stays put, waiting for his next instruction. Sure, they'll have to figure out what to do next. But if he gets through this, Mumbo thinks he could do anything.

He makes it to the next room, using the sound of the knife against wood and the glow of the girls to guide him. The man is close now. Mumbo breathes lightly, body tensed. The scraping stops. The three wait for it to start up again so they can decide their next move.

Instead, the knife stabs through the wall with a loud yell, inches away from Mumbo's head.

Mumbo realises the shout was his own, throwing himself away from the wall and falling against a velvet chair. He manages to keep himself upright on shaky hands, twisting to face the door. The girls have twin looks of terror. Mumbo presses against the wall away from the door, a glowing silhouette blocking out the creeping darkness.

"There you are." The man walks in. The knife is armed in his hand. "I knew I could smell something alive around here." To Mumbo's surprise, the taller girl gets in front of him, digging her hands into his hips. The man stops.

"Let him go!" She orders, stomping her foot. The shorter girl stands beside her, crossing her arms. They form a protective wall in front of Mumbo. His heart aches. The man, their supposed father, only scowls.

"Begone, brats." Mumbo feels the air shift. The girls look at each other in horror before they vanish, leaving the room empty. Nothing in-between Mumbo and the man and the knife.

"What did you do to them?!" He demands, his arms raised protectively. He tries to look around for the girls but he can't take his eyes off the man in front of him.

"I sent them away." The man steps forward. He taps the knife in his hand. The metal glints in his glow. Maybe, just maybe, the knife won't be able to hurt him. Please. "It'll take a while until they can manifest again."

"How can you-" Mumbo reaches for his hair but flinches as the strands irritate his hand. "You're sick. How can you do this to them? They're children!" The man continues forward. That knife is too close, way too close. He'd prefer it if it was on the other side of the house, in fact.

"They were going to leave me." Mumbo stumbles backwards as if the words sent off a shockwave. "Just like you're trying to."

"They had every reason to!" Mumbo argues. He- he murdered them. He wants to do the same to Mumbo! "And I'm quite attached to my life as well!"

"You signed your life away already." Mumbo jumps to the side away from the swing of the knife. "You've been carrying the contract in your pocket the entire time." Mumbo knows his confusion is showing on his face. All he has in his pockets is his phone. His phone and-

"This?" Mumbo drags the ticket free of his pocket, brandishing the crumpled paper in front of the man like a weapon. It looks ordinary. One adult, entrance to the manor, on today's date. The hole is still punched in the corner.

"It never said anything about leaving." Mumbo's heart drops at the words. Of course it didn't. That's- that's never written into websites or tickets. He wouldn't look for it because it's not like he ever expects this to happen.

"Well-" he grabs both ends of the ticket, tearing it in two with a satisfying rip, "-I void that contract. I don't agree." Nothing happens. The man's face shifts to one of amusement before he barks out a grating laugh. Mumbo frowns, missing the joke.

"You think that will save you?" The man asks, slinking towards him again. "You think I can't take your soul by force? Where have you got to run?" Mumbo jumps back from a swing that nearly catches his side. He eyes up the doorway. The man is standing in his way but- A plan comes to his head. A stupid plan, but a plan nonetheless.

He kicks, watching the amusement on the man's face as his foot goes straight through him. Mumbo uses the momentum to dive forwards, straight through the man's body. It feels like plunging into a frozen ocean, leaving him gasping for air. But he's out. He's in the hallway. His hand presses against the wall until he gets his feet under him, sprinting into the empty darkness.

He holds his arm out, wishing the glow of the wristband was brighter to guide him. There's a roar behind him, sending Mumbo's body into violent shivers. He feels like he might cry. He forces one foot after another, hoping that the entrance is somewhere ahead of him. He doesn't know what it'll solve. Maybe it's a moral victory.

His hopes are dashed when his hand hits a wall. The pain is overshadowed by crushing defeat, the panic threatening to choke him. He presses around but can't find where to go. This was supposed to be a straight hallway! High-pitched, scraping drags closer to him, the sound growing louder. Mumbo turns, frozen before the man. It can't end here. Please, he doesn't want to die.

"It'll be over soon," the man tells him, words like ice in Mumbo's lungs. The knife gleams as it raises above Mumbo's head. His scream comes out as a sob, raising his arms in a last, futile attempt at defence.

The knife hits the wristband.

Mumbo barely registers the fact he's not been hit as the plastic glows, growing brighter as it peels away from sweaty skin. Something silent in the air bursts. He hears a scream as he loses his footing to the force. Falling backwards, the man is gradually vanishing, expression twisted in pain. Mumbo's head cracks against the wall behind him. He slumps onto the carpet, thoughts swimming. He blinks once. Twice. The darkness of the hallway takes over his thoughts, sliding into silence.

"I think he's waking up!" Mumbo's head feels like concrete. Everything throbs in time to his heartbeat, the voices around him are so loud he can't focus on the words. There's something soft touching his cheek, reminiscent of an earlier touch, freezing cold-

He flinches away from it, head swirling in pain. Another touch steadies him. He realises there's something cool and damp against the back of his head. He raises his hand, trying to touch it but brushing against something else solid, warm. Cautiously, he forces his eyes open, wincing at the brightness that awaits him. There's shadows moving in his vision, one of them speaking.

"-bo? Hey, can you hear us?" Mumbo nods, whining at the pain that movement sends through his head. He rests his forehead on a closed fist, giving the fog in his brain time to dissipate. Everything is blissfully quiet around him, the only noise being distant footsteps and creaking floorboards.

The night hits him at once. He startles up, swaying before he can even get his feet under him. Hands on his shoulders keep him from standing.

"Woah, hey. You had a nasty fall. Careful." The voice sinks into Mumbo's mind. He finds himself looking into dark brown eyes, bright red at the edge of his vision. He leaps forward, throwing his arms around his friend.

"Grian." His voice breaks on the name. Those arms reach around him, patting his back robotically.

"Mumbo?" Grian's voice is confused as he hugs back. "It's only been a few minutes, dude. You weren't out for that long." Mumbo's breath comes out as a wheeze.

"What time is it?" He asks, almost desperate. There's a pause, Grian's head lifting up.

"Like, ten minutes past midnight." There's Iskall. They're both here. Safe. He's safe. "Mumbo are you okay? Besides the head injury and- your hands. Like, dude?" Mumbo's breath comes out shaky with the tears he forces back.

"I'm- I'm okay. I think." He looks around the familiar hallway. The carpet is worn and dirty, the wallpaper peeling in places. Above the nearest doorway, the wooden coat of arms is broken.

"What even happened, Mumbo?" Grian asks. He gets shuffled to the side as a young man kneels down, a medical kit in his hands. Mumbo shuts his eyes, trying to think. A lot. A lot happened. Oh goodness, a lot has happened. He doesn't even know where to start.

So instead, he lies, "I- I tripped."

"You tripped?" Grian sounds in disbelief.

"When I joked about letting go of your hand, I didn't mean for it to be serious." The joking in Iskall's voice is shadowed by worry. That conversation feels like it happened hours ago. Mumbo holds his hands out for the first aider, allowing him to wipe the nearly closed up wounds. He winces at the sting of alcohol, sitting patiently and trying not to move.

"Do we need a babysitter for you?" Grian joins in with the teasing. It sounds just as concerned. Mumbo tries to smile. He feels exhausted down to his very bones. He wants nothing more than to curl up and sleep.

"I'm okay," he attempts to reassure them. "Honestly, I need to look where I'm going." It's so much easier than explaining what really happened.

"Maybe you were tripped by a ghost," Iskall jokes. It falls a bit flat, considering, but Mumbo finds himself laughing anyway. This is absurd. Did he just imagine all of that?

"There you go, all bandaged up." The first aider releases Mumbo's hand. Mumbo flexes them, feeling bandages shift around his palms. It's going to be a nightmare working with this. "No idea how you did it, mind. They look almost healed. Old wounds?" Mumbo hums, allowing the guy to take whatever answer he wants from it. "You should be fine to go home, anyway." Mumbo sags in relief before remembering the original reason for their visit.

"But what about you two?" He asks, "Don't you want to do the attraction?"

"Dude, we can do the attraction another time. We're taking you home." Grian nods in agreement at Iskall's words. Mumbo sits back, gently poking the ice pack on his head. It's beginning to melt into his hair. He takes it off, offering it back to the first aider.

"Hey." Mumbo looks up at a familiar voice, jumping away from the woman who approaches. She's no longer wearing a waistcoat, instead, there's a dark hoodie. Her hair is still in a ponytail. "Got your bags." Her eyes meet Mumbo's. They glint with a knowing smile, lightening to an almost-white. He stares at her as Iskall takes their stuff. Then, she turns away, waving over her shoulder. Grian offers his hands out to Mumbo, helping him onto his feet.

"Come on, let's get Mr Accident Prone here home," Grian calls to Iskall, wrapping his arm around Mumbo's waist. Iskall laughs, turning and thanking the staff members for their help whilst Grian walks with Mumbo to the entrance. Mumbo tries not to tense as the hallway opens up, but he does. He only relaxes once he sees the open door and no sign of that man. Grian looks at him in concern, asking a soft, "You alright?"

"I'm fine, sorry." Grian obviously isn't convinced, but they wait by the door for Iskall to catch up. He appears shortly after, rucksack on his back and their coats slung over his arm. He holds them out for Grian and Mumbo to take. Mumbo wraps himself up tightly, trying to stave off some of the lingering chill in his bones.

A weight leaves Mumbo's shoulders when they step outside. The queue is still chatting away and, for once, Mumbo doesn't care about the stares they get. He's far, far too tired. Grian leads him along with a warm hand in his, past the queue and under the bright lights. The grounds are in the same decay that Mumbo remembers from when they arrived.

"Right," Grian turns to Mumbo, squeezing his hand, "what actually happened, then?" Mumbo pauses, looking at Grian and trying to tell if he's serious.

"You're a terrible liar, Mumbo," Iskall informs him, backing Grian up.

"And why were you freezing up at things? Like that girl and the entrance? Clearly something's up."

"And you're clumsy but not that clumsy. Plus your hands! There was nothing sharp in the hall!" They're both so concerned, eyes watching Mumbo carefully. They probably think somebody picked a fight with him. They wouldn't be too far off.

"You guys wouldn't believe me if I told you," Mumbo replies, at last. Grian groans at him, Iskall rolling his eyes. Mumbo takes a second to glance back at the manor, standing tall in the night.

For a split second, he sees the manor as it once was. Windows closed and uncovered, the one above the porch shattered as blood drips onto the porch railing below. The flowers are blooming, the paint shining. And on the lawn, he sees two young girls, running across the tidy grass. He thinks he can hear their laughter in the distance. Then it's gone, returned to the abandoned manor someone decided to set a haunted house up in.

"There's no such thing as ghosts," he says, turning to Iskall as he parrots those earlier words. The two of them make loud noises, falling over each other in argument.

"What does that mean?!" Grian cries, waving his hands. "Come on, Mumbo!" Mumbo laughs tiredly, resolving to ignore their protests. Maybe he'll tell them another time. Tonight, he just wants to put this entire experience behind him. Curl up in a warm bed and sleep until he doesn't feel ready to fall over.

He's not going anywhere haunted for a long time.

#hermitcraft #mumbo jumbo #mumbojumbo #grian #iskall85 #my writing #ask #haworthiaace #this was supposed to be just the beginning convo #and then i just... kept going #anyway i return from holiday with a fic how are yall doing

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