#the face gave so many problems yall have no clue

[multifandombullshitbabes]

I need martin to **** ** *** ** ***

Outfit and Image Description under the cut!!

ID: A digital drawing of Martin Blackwood from The Magnus Archives. He is a big wasian man with short wavy auburn hair, freckles and visible body hair. He is in a pin-up esque pose, with his right hand on his chest and face angled towards the right in a cheeky expression. He has smokey eyeshadow and dark red lipstick on. He's wearing a pearl earring on his left ear. He's wearing 1 choker, made up of several pearls in rows of 5 with a silver and pearl medallion at the front, a short necklace, made up of yellow and white pearls in rows of three with a gold and white with pink flowers medallion, and a long chain necklace with two pearl accents and with a gold and pearl medallion with a tiny painting of a person on it. His outfit is white and sheer for the most of it, with boning running through it like a corset, but malleable. You can see he's wearing a white bra, also with the same boning, underneath the sheer top. He has a belt made up of two strings of pearls weighed down by a pink flower accessory. He's wearing white sheer gloves with lace details on the hems. He has 4 pearl bracelets on his right arm.

[sunseteyes]

FLUFFVEMBER DAY 02: SHOUTO TODOROKI

—prompt: rain (prompts are by @jojosmilktea)

word count: 1,155 words | theme/s: junior high shouto and reader. contrary to the basis of the title, this is just sum fluff for yall

taglist: @kacchanori @chickynn @todominica @sparkleswritings @bitchtrynafck @patricia-ceballos (if you want to be added, feel free to send an ask/dm!)

rv: this is so cute. honestly the softest i’ve wrote for todoroki hehe. also, for those who’ve noticed the title of this oneshot and a specific song, i love you so much

✒︎ a little fall of rain

his hand rises onto the air, eyes boring over the palm that awaited the cold, slightly refreshing feeling of the falling drop of water from the dark skies from above.

"it's raining, huh?" shouto retracts his hand back and averts his gaze over your form, your head tilted up as the umbrella shaded a part of your face. you look at him and gave a warm smile, a temperature much different from the one around the both of you. it radiates from your form no matter how much shouto didn't know how.

"do you need an umbrella? mine's big enough for the two of us to fit, if you want to share."

the question didn't really threw him aback, not that it was obvious. still, it took awhile for him to answer since you and shouto never really had a proper conversation before. sure, you and him shared information or opinion at least once or twice whenever you get on the same group in schoolwork but never anything other than academic stuff. he was pretty sure you two never had a bond to begin with.

"thank you." he says when he stood next to you, "do you want me to hold it instead?" he refers to the shared umbrella and you easily accepted the offer, laughing it off that it would be easier that way since usually, it would be you who does it to others and it's a good change every once in awhile.

shouto enjoyed the silence, even more so with you as you two walked side by side, hands slightly brushing due to being at the close proximity from you both. he didn't mind. actually, he was more worried that you'd be uncomfortable since—

"do you want to exchange places?" he inquires, breaking the peace. yet for some reason, you were able to bring it back, almost in an instant.

"no it's fine." you say with a reassuring and genuine tone. he felt like he should believe you, but his mind was still filled with anxiety that the years of his childhood had brought him until this very day.

you and shouto had been classmates for so long already. surely, you know of the story about his right side—the side that he despises the most. but shouto wouldn't really blame you if you don't since he never even told it to anyone. the clues the others have would be from his coldness towards the topic and becoming distant overall.

"why did you agreed to walk with me, by the way?" you look up by then, meeting his eyes with your observing ones, curious but more than enough for him to feel safe and comfortable with the conversation.

"i didn't have an umbrella." was that all?

"is that all?" your question echoed the one in his mind, being an unexpected one yet he didn't feel surprised nonetheless.

"i often see you walk the same way as i do. you and i live in the same village." he answers honestly this time, his thoughts going back to the times he'd glance over at your form, may it be on the other side of the road, or you being ahead of him, or him seeing you through the corner of his eyes, steps behind him. actually, he knew you and him would eventually be in this kind of situation soon—what he didn't know is that it would be today.

there was a slight curve of your lips, eyes narrowing just a tinge, showing an amusement in his words. shouto had been adapt into these kinds of facial expressions, but what he had a problem on was deciding if it was for a positive or negative note.

"wow, i don't know why i feel so honored. for years i thought you don't even know my first name." you chuckled, low and soft.

"why is that?"

"well of course, it's our first time talking to each other, right?" you raised a brow, making a brief eyes contact before directing them back on the road.

he knew it was probably a hint for him to try and converse with you a lot more, or maybe an invitation to always walk home together as their class ends. either way, shouto feels like it was not unpleasant at all.

after that, there was a silence once again, boring onto them like a halo over an angel's head. for shouto, he enjoys this better than talking. yet for the first time ever, there was a knot on his chest that he thinks he should let out, a statement of confirmation in his thoughts; that he wouldn't really mind if this would ever happen again, even without the presence of the rain nor the umbrella.

for a moment, he questioned this feeling, but it all vanished when he glanced sideways at your form, the thoughts suddenly drowning away by the sense of peace that you radiate—even if he didn't want to trust his intuitions. for some unknown reason, he wanted to believe that you like his company too.

"thank you." shouto deems himself to say again when you two reached his house, and he somehow dreaded how much you know about him and how he didn't even had to courtesy to know about you.

"everybody knows this is the pro hero, endeavor's house, if you're questioning my innocence." you laughed, probably seeing the look on his face.

"i'm not." he replies, speaking the actual truth. still, he didn't feel relief with your statement since it makes him remember just how well-known his father was.

"i'll repay you for your kindness soon." he follows up before you could say goodbye, a determined tone on his voice that was laced with no tony bit of hesitancy in them. he thinks the look of amusement in your face was because of that.

"well then, how about treating me to coffee sometime? let's say, this weekend. are you busy around that time?"

"i don't have anything scheduled in particular." shouto's brows curl in confusion. "are you a fan of coffee, perhaps?"

if he could count how many times you let out a giggle or a laugh, he'd say he couldn't since he wasn't able to keep up. yet even if you were letting out those lighthearted sounds, he didn't seem to mind.

"yeah, i like coffee." you say, still retaining your smile before turning on your heel by then. "see you around, shouto-kun!"

he nods and watches as you walked through the lightening rain, the sun and its setting finally visible after being covered by the dark clouds from earlier, the chirping of the birds returning from wherever they've taken shelter. even if shouto didn't know what it meant for you to invite him to coffee, he could certainly feel the radiance of your kindness, illuminating the place just like a rainbow would.

and maybe sometimes, a little fall of rain doesn't matter.

[thetomorrowshow]

a jig in plaited time

Happy holidays, @under-the-blue-moonlight ! I really enjoyed writing up some intrulogical content for you (and this may actually get additional chapters lol, I’m really happy with it).

Here is your @sanderssidesgiftxchange gift!

ships: Intrulogical, background Royality

cw: anxiety, intrusive thoughts, panic attack, mannequins, mentions of food

~

Why was Remus at the mall?

That was a simple question, with a just as simple answer. He was at the mall for a suit and tie, one he needed for his brother's wedding. It needed to be “salmon” or whatever, with a blue tie.

A much less simple answer was to the next question.

Why was Remus at the mall on Black Friday?

In all honesty, Remus hadn't known about Black Friday until he arrived. He hadn't really had a good feeling about it on the way here, but he'd paid no mind to his instincts. He didn't often have a good feeling about anything. There had been far too many cars for this time of morning on a weekday. What had really tipped him off, though, was the huge sign in the window of Nordstrom's.

'BLACK FRIDAY SALE!'

Even at that point he wasn't entirely sure what that meant. It became far more clear when he entered the building to find it absolutely packed. Well, there could be an upside to this. Maybe there would be a sale on the suit he needed.

Remus hadn't been this close to someone since he was in the womb, and he could not say that he was very comfortable with it. Remus didn't care much for close spaces and touching people, he hadn't since middle school. It just made him feel sort of icky.

As soon as possible, he ducked out of Nordstrom's, only to find that the rest of the mall was in a similar condition. JC Penney actually looked worse. Normally when Remus was feeling overwhelmed, he'd sidle into Hot Topic or somewhere else with obnoxiously loud music. By drowning his feelings in the noise, he generally was able to recollect himself. The mall was certainly loud, but not in a good way at all. Even if he tried to find someplace with music, he wouldn't be able to enjoy it with all these people.

Remus was stressed. But he needed this suit, seeing as his brother's wedding was literally tomorrow. Why did he leave it this late? Well, Remus knew he was nothing if not a master procrastinator. He also knew he couldn’t be the only one.

Remus waded his way through the crowd to a relatively people-free corner and wiggled his phone out of the pockets of his definitely too-small jeans (not that he'd admit they were too small out loud—his brother had told him they were on every occasion he wore them) and texted the wedding group chat.

Remus: hey im at the mall. anything yall need?

Robro: Why are you at the mall on black friday?

Patty-Cake: ooh can you get me a pair of sunglasses? Mine broke last week

Remus: sure. stuff for wedding?

Robro: idk. Let me ask mom

Remus shoved his phone back in his pocket, then extracted it again as it buzzed a moment later.

Robro: Yeah mom says get some classy decor or something

Ant: I don't think remus knows what classy means

Remus: shut up i got this

Toby: wait what's going on? It's like 10am why are you all awake

Robro: idk if you knew this tobes but I'm getting married tomorrow

Toby: shut up man

Ant: even Remy knows

Sleep: even i know loser

Remus: toby do u need help

Toby: I hate it heeere

Patty-Cake: Aw Toby that isn't very nice! And good morning everyone!

Robro: hello sunshine!! <3

Sleep: i need you both to not start that

Remus: get a room dorks

Okay, classy decor. Sunglasses for the groom. Pink suit. Blue tie. Probably some dress shoes. A wedding present. Dress socks too. Did Remus need to have a tie pin? He'd ask later. Napkins, definitely. No one ever had enough napkins at events. Did he need to have a pocket handkerchief?

Remus checked the list of what his suit needed that Roman had sent him a month or two ago. Yes, a blue pocket square. This was a lot.

Remus swallowed back his sudden panic and took a few deep breaths, jamming his still-buzzing phone back into his pocket. He could do this. Sunglasses first, there was a Sunglasses Hut within eyesight. All he had to do was fight through the crowd.

He reached the kiosk with few incidents and surveyed the sleek glasses for five minutes before seeing a pair that were shaped like a cartoon frog. Patton would love those. And if he didn't, then Remus just got a neat pair of sunglasses! He purchased the glasses and moved on to the next place to conquer.

-

By the time Remus was back at Nordstrom's, he was completely out of energy. Nordstrom's had two levels, and so much stuff, and so many people. He still had to get the suit and socks, and the wedding present. Maybe it seemed like he hadn't done much, but he had actually done a lot, considering how busy the mall was. He'd barely escaped a fistfight outside of the electronics store. The fact that he'd been able to get shoes and so-called 'classy decor' and napkins? Remus was pretty proud, all things considered.

Nordstrom's was even busier than when he left, which was certainly distressing. Remus couldn't even see any clothes. Was that a mannequin or a really tall lady? Was that the escalator, or a bunch of people climbing on top of each other?

What if I set off a bomb right here? Would the whole tower fall down, the ones on top not actually hurt until they hit the ground?

Remus shook off the intrusive thought. This was getting bad. It was already almost one—that meant that not only was he stressed, but he was getting hungry. His thoughts would continue to devolve until he got out of here and got some food.

I could eat that man! That would certainly clear the place out, and I'm sure he's delicious!

Remus groaned. He needed to sit down, but there were no seats free anywhere. He hefted his bags higher on his shoulders and forged on. He had to get this suit, or else the wedding would be ruined. The man in question (who was fairly attractive) bumped him, and Remus had to close his eyes to fight his brain. This was getting out of hand.

There was a little square cut out in the wall where a headless mannequin stood, no doubt showing off the latest in boys' fashion. Remus ducked between its legs and pushed his back up against the wall, knees drawn up close to his chest. He pulled out his phone with some difficulty.

Remus: hey so ro does my suit need a tie pin

Robro: Don't worry abt it, mom got matching tie pins for everyone

Sleep: ree babes are you buying ur suit now?

Remus: shut up

Sleep: on black friday?

Remus: no

Ant: did you even know it was black friday

Remus: ...

Toby: wait the wedding is tmrrw

Robro: Believe me tobias I'm aware

Remus: yah ik im not buying the whole suit just shoes

Robro: Good I almost had a heart attack, you almost certainly wouldn't be able to find one

Now truly panicking, Remus dropped his phone onto his stomach and buried his fists in his hair. How was he supposed to find a salmon suit and a blue tie, as well as nice socks? Plus a wedding present? Especially in this crowd, when he had no clue where to even look for a suit. And he still had to go to the party tonight, then the wedding tomorrow, and it was so loud. Everyone was yelling over each other, and Remus couldn't even hear his own thoughts—except the bad ones. Why did he have to put this off so long? He needed out, he wasn't going to be able to get any of the stuff, he was going to ruin the wedding, like he ruined everything—

“Hello, may I help you?”

Remus looked up—at least, as up as he could look, with a mannequin just above him—to see a bespectacled store clerk looking down at him. 'Logan', his nametag read.

Remus opened his mouth, then closed it again before a string of curses could come out. He really wasn't doing well. There was just too much, too much everything.

“Is there anything I can help you find?” Logan asked, his voice rumbling a bit—or maybe it was the thunder of people in the shop. Whatever it was, it made Remus's stomach drop a little.

“Um, uh, pink!” If Remus had any shame, he would have slapped his own face. As it was, he started trying to pantomime a suit while stuck in a tiny hollow in the wall. Logan watched kindly, his face not betraying the disgust he was probably feeling.

“Pink what? Shirt?” Logan guessed. Remus shook his head, running his hands down his legs. Pants too, pants too.

“Pink . . . coat? Shorts? Pants?”

Remus traced back over his arms, almost crying. Here he was, bothering this poor clerk with his stupid non-verbal self.

“A pink suit?”

Remus jumped for joy, hitting his head on the crotch of the mannequin, instantly shuddering at the thoughts that flooded into his head. Logan held out a hand, and Remus took it, allowing himself to be pulled out of the wall.

“I can direct you to the suit section, right this way.”

Remus let himself be led by Logan, who occasionally looked back to make sure he was still there. The man had a curly mop of dark hair, and was slightly shorter than he was—not that it was a problem. Or anything important. Remus wasn't looking for a date. He was inconveniencing a store clerk on Black Friday. Although, he did need a plus one for the wedding. . . .

No, it was out of the question. He didn't even know this man. Roman would be upset if he ruined the wedding even more by showing up with some rando who would probably jump in the wedding cake or spill food all over the nice tablecloths or turn out to be really ugly because he was just wearing a mask made of someone else's face.

“Here is where the suits are. Do you need anything else?”

Remus stared at him, his mouth opening and shutting a few times. He wanted to say something stupid, like yeah, I need those eyes in my life, or something far more obscene, but he was okay. He could do this. He could survive peopling.

Logan gave him a sympathetic smile. “I can help you find the right suit, if that's what you require.”

Before he could stop himself, Remus was nodding. He let Logan pull him past a crying couple and two arguing families to a rack of suit coats that were red.

“Will these suffice?” the clerk asked, gesturing at them. Remus frowned. They weren't pink. Was the man messing with him? Seeing his look, Logan checked the tag and groaned. “Apologies, I'm colorblind. I could have sworn these were pink. Hopefully the last customer who I pointed this way was not upset.”

That was a joke, right? Remus almost laughed, but knew if he did he would start crying. Logan led him through the crowd with seemingly unending patience, occasionally smiling gently at him. Remus felt his heartrate spike every time one of those smiles was sent his way, but for a reason completely unrelated to the overpowering noise and crowd.

Logan found him a probably very nice pink suit—Remus wasn't really looking at it. Then Logan was kind enough to let him into an employee restroom to try it on, seeing as the dressing rooms had a line that ran all the way to the front doors. It fit nicely, tight (though not as tight as his jeans) and sleek, accompanied with a blue tie that Logan had found while he was changing.

“That looks very sharp on you, sir,” Logan informed him, as Remus blushed.

“Remus,” he blurted out. Logan raised his eyebrows.

“After the character in Roman mythology?” asked Logan, his tone betraying something like excitement. Remus nodded, then looked down at the tie.

“We—didn't look at—at ties yet,” he stammered, trying to make his voice work. “Where—?”

“Ah, it happens to be one of mine,” Logan said. For the first time, he looked a little uncomfortable. “I keep one in my locker for emergencies, and I thought it would look nice on—it would look nice. With the suit.”

Remus finally found the courage to smile back. “Thanks, Specs. Uh, sorry for taking up so much of your time. I'll just buy this, it's dope.”

“Oh no, I do not at all mind assisting you,” Logan said quickly. “At least I don't have to deal with . . . whatever is going on.”

“You could assist me by being my date!”

Logan stared.

Remus clapped a hand over his mouth.

“. . . What?”

“Nothing, nothing nothing,” said Remus. “I just—um—you need to get your tie back right? And I—if you let me, of course—I could just wear it, save money and all that, and you could come and then take it home so that I don't steal it or whatever?” He scrunched his eyes up, turning away so as to catch no sight of Logan rejecting him. Why did he have to say that? The noise pressed down on him again; despite still being in the staff restroom, it was almost too loud to bear.

“Wear it . . . where?”

Remus would already be curled up on the floor were it not for the very un-purchased suit he was currently wearing. “Um, my brother's wedding tomorrow?” he chanced, hands clenched over his eyes.

The utter disbelief in Logan's voice was clear as a bell. “You are buying a suit . . . for a wedding . . . that is tomorrow. On Black Friday, of all days.”

Tears choked Remus's throat. “Y-yeah, I'm really bad at planning.” Why was he even asking this cute clerk out anyway? Just because Roman kept teasing him for not having a date to the wedding? Or did he actually have a crush on Logan?

He searched his feelings briefly, and found almost instantly that he for sure had a crush. Okay, that was a lot to deal with right now. They had just met! It was just . . . the way he smiled at him, the way he didn't abandon him even though he'd been having a panic attack for about an hour at this point, how gentle and kind he was. Not to mention how put-together he was. And his hair? That was just hot.

Now though, just seconds after realizing he liked Logan, the guy was going to reject him because he had run his stupid mouth. Remus cringed. The silence had gone on for far too long.

“Well, I expect you to pick me up an hour before the event begins. I do not currently have my own means of transportation. You are quite fortunate that I do not work tomorrow.”

Wait.

What?

“You—you really—?” Remus's voice broke. He jumped as Logan lay a warm hand over his own, which were still pressed into his eyes.

“Of course,” Logan said kindly. “I know very little about you, but I rather feel that—and no offense meant—you will be distressed at such a large event as a wedding. I would love to continue to assist you.” He coughed, then added, “Also, the streak in your hair is very attractive.”

Remus almost sighed in relief. This was okay. He let Logan pull his hands away from his face, then ran a sleeve over his eyes and nose. Logan froze.

“Well, now you have to buy that suit,” Logan said. As an aside, he muttered, “At least it looks good on you.”

“Aw, Lo, you think I look hot?” Remus asked shakily, managing a smile. “What about my jeans? Think I look good in tight clothes?”

Logan turned away, unfortunately letting go of Remus's hands, the tips of his ears turning pink. “Are you always this insufferable?”

Remus slung an arm around his shoulder. “Yep! And you're stuck with me for a whole date!”

Logan pushed his glasses up his nose. “If it doesn't work out, we can just pretend we never met, if you like. We will both move on with our lives. There is no obligation that comes with this date, we are both free to back out at any time.”

Remus quickly retracted his arm from Logan's shoulder, then nodded. That made sense. He did like Logan, and he didn't want to upset him. Shameless flirting was definitely on the table, though.

“When's your lunch break?” Remus asked, as casually as possible. Logan snorted.

“I only have a twenty minute lunch today, they don't want me to leave them without as much help as possible.” Logan went to open the door and exit the restroom, then glanced back. “One o'clock. I plan on getting a sandwich at the Subway in the hall outside of the store. It would be wonderful if someone would wait in line for me and order me an Italian BMT and a bag of potato chips, so that I am not late in returning.”

Remus grinned. Easy-peasy, and just like that he would get to spend some time with Logan before the wedding.

Logan made to leave, but Remus grabbed his arm. “One sec, hot stuff,” he said, butterflies racing through his stomach at Logan's blush, “not to bother you any more or anything, but do you have any suggestions for a wedding present?”

The utter disbelief on Logan's face completely wiped out any blush that had been there. “The wedding is tomorrow, Remus.”

Remus's breath caught. Logan said his name. It sounded so beautiful coming from him. If a heavenly chorus had been singing around him at that moment, it would have been dull compared to Logan saying his name.

Logan sighed. “Of course I have some ideas. Do you need anything else?”

Remus pulled himself together, then grabbed his phone from the pile of his clothes on the floor. He checked the list, ignoring the notifications from the group chat.

“Uh, yeah. A pocket square to match the tie, and some nice socks.”

“That's doable. Tell me about your brother and his partner while we find those items. Perhaps you and I can put together an ideal gift.” Logan stepped out of the restroom to give Remus privacy while he changed back into his clothes. Remus shucked the suit off as quickly as possible. All the intense stimulation had blurred into the background, Logan being the only buzz he needed to keep going.

Remus didn't often have a good feeling about anything, but this? Oh yeah, there was definitely something good here.

[yankyo]

Commission by @witchyrem-ains

No warnings here, just pure fluff and some Beej pining

        Falling in love for the first time was never easy - especially when you were a millenia old demon with a strenuous relationship with the phenomena known as emotions to begin with. But here lay Beetlejuice, completely and uncontrollably twitterpated with no real clue of what he was supposed to be doing here. He knew how to scare breathers, hell he was a straight up genius when it came to making breathers run for the hills, but he didn’t want her to run from him. He wanted her laughter, not her screams, her smile instead of her shrieks. Fuck, he really had it bad for this human. The last time he made her laugh at one of his stupid jokes, he damn near melted into a happy, pink puddle at her side. Remington. The name was enough to get his hair turning pink these days, enough to make his unbeating heart all but leap out of his chest. The demon groaned aloud, rolling from his place up on the roof to instead slither back into the house - he could and has spent hours out here staring at the stars and imagining what it would be like to call her his. To run his fingers through her long, soft hair, to kiss her full lips, to feel her body against his…. hearing her calling him Lawrence. Fuck. Bad thoughts, bad thoughts, he didn’t need another problem that would result in him curling up with the odd pieces of clothing she had left behind, or those odd pieces he had swiped from her home to stuff in the slowly growing nest in his room… he really had a problem here, didn’t he? 

       It wasn’t like he wasn’t trying to keep his infatuation a secret. He flirted up a storm whenever he was in her direct vicinity, but her responses were always playful, never taking his propositions seriously - but fuck she was so cute that he couldn’t even be frustrated with her, not when she would turn to him with those pretty eyes of hers shining with mirth, her cheeks pink with laughter and his innards would do somersaults and his brain would just straight up shut down. And she would head home, not knowing that she was leaving with his heart in her hands. But what was he supposed to do? He flirted, he left little gifts for her - sure usually he was leaving rats and the odd bug he personally found interesting, but they were gifts nonetheless, and he knew she enjoyed his company too. At least, he was pretty sure she did…Barbra insisted the real reason Rem kept coming around was for him after all and Barbra couldn’t lie to save her ass. That and Barbra had to know something about relationships, despite how utterly boring it was, she and Adam had been in a pretty happy relationship for a good stretch of time. Beetlejuice usually saw couples dissolve after death, unable to handle the strain the change caused, but the Maitlands were still going strong and everyone was uncomfortably aware of just how enamored the Deetz couple were with one another. He had played creepy voyeur to the Maitlands for years, but even he hadn’t been prepared to turn a corner and spy Charles with his tongue halfway down Delia’s throat and his hand obviously going up er dress. And how many times did he have to whirl around and protect the young Lydia from such a scarring sight? They certainly had to know what they were doing here, right? For someone as emotionally constipated as Charles to be so clearly happy with his new wife meant he had to be doing something right, right? And Rem got along quite well with both couples, didn’t she? 

       Beetlejuice’s stomach twisted at the thought, but he crept through the house anyways, quickly finding himself idling by the stairs up to the attic, his hands fidgeting with the hem of his suit. How was he supposed to ask for their help? Yeah, their relationship had come a long way, but was he relationship advice close?

       “Hey BJ, do ya need something?” The voice from behind him made him jolt and whirl around, coming face to face with Adam himself. They were getting pretty good with their scares and while he would usually be proud to be taken by surprise, or would immediately be all over the other man, but this time Beetlejuice just stood there, fumbling over his words as he tried to find the best way to phrase this question. “Beetlejuice?” Adam stepped forwards, placing a hand on his shoulder with a concerned look. 

       “Howdoyouaskoutagirl?” The question left him in one breath, his entire body a light, embarrassed pink. Adam blinked, surprised, but a slow smile spread across his face as the words registered.

       “You’re finally going to ask out Remmy?” His voice was far too loud, but before Beetlejuice could even attempt to try and shush him, Babra stuck her head through the door, 

       “He’s asking her out?” She exclaimed, quickly phasing through the door to rush down the stairs. “I told you it was going to happen, Adam was beginning to fear you weren’t going to!” She took his hands in hers, her eyes glittering in excitement. “Don’t you worry, we’ll get you all done up for Remmy!” before he could even think to respond, she was dragging him down the hall, calling for Delia, Adam at his side with an encouraging look. 

       Beetlejuice found himself awkwardly standing in the middle of the room, fidgeting with his fingers as Delia and Barbra fussed over him. 

       “We need to do his hair,” Delia brushed her nails through his hair as if trying to find the right style, 

       “Perhaps get him a nice new suit? Oh one of Adam’s old shirts would look nice, right?” Barbra was examining his old suit as if trying to guess his size. 

       “A bath would probably be a great first step. We should take him to the porch and hose em down.” A sardonic voice spoke up from the doorway. Lydia gave him an amused look as she strolled into the room. “Dad, you owe me twenty bucks. I told you he’d come for help.“ 

       “You made bets?” Beetlejuice watched in shock as Chuck presented his daughter with a crisp twenty dollar bill, the girl taking it with a smug smile and a shrug.

       “Everyone saw the little song and dance Rem and you have been doing around one another, we all wondered who was gonna figure it out first and how it would go down. I bet you would realize it and get frustrated enough with Rem’s obliviousness to come asking for help. Delia bet you wouldn’t realize and Rem would get tired of you messing around and would pounce.” The idea wasn’t the worst, though he definitely couldn’t see Rem pinning him down… that was a thought to enjoy later in his nest. 

       “You all seem pretty certain she likes me, she could just see me as a dead guy she hangs out with.” The looks every single person in that room gave him seemed to be a varying degree of ‘are you joking’, only for each to see just how serious Beetlejuice was and sigh. 

       “We’ve certainly got our work cut out for us.” Delia gave an anxious laugh, to break the awkward silence. “Come on, let’s see what clothing we can get for you." 

----------

       "Are yall sure about this?” Beetlejuice gave his appearance a skeptical look. After a good few hours of prepping, in which Lydia made good on the comment of hosing him down and Barbra found clothing that somewhat fit him, Beetlejuice looked… well he looked like a bloated rat that was half drowned and was dressed by an old, depressed farmhand. 

       “Now, remember, you want to give her flowers when she comes.” Delia had been coaching him the entire time, bouncing off of Barbra as the two women instructed him on how to talk to women. No inappropriate compliments, no coarse language, no dirty jokes, no gross humor, no taking off his head, no eating bugs, no oversharing. Listen to her, compliment her nicely, ask her about her day. He had summoned some pretty flowers to give to her, soft yellow flowers he had often seen blooming outside just beyond his reach. He assumed it was a good choice, when he had shown them off no one had said they weren’t good, in fact they had given him the look one would give an especially endearing kitten. That was probably a good sign, right? 

       Lydia had been tasked with calling up Remmy, inviting her over for dinner and as the hour drew nearer, Beetlejuice found himself pacing the floor nervously. After his last disastrous attempt at cooking, he had been permanently banned from the kitchen, so dinner had been prepared by Barbra and Adam while Delia had set up his room nicely for the ‘date’. Beetlejuice had hidden away the trinkets he kept of Remmy’s and had made sure his treasures were well away from the garbage can as he helped Delia clean up and light some nice candles - the basement was looking quite good if he did say so himself, a nice little table set up already for them. Everything was ready, everything was prepared, but when there came a knock at the door, Beetlejuice was just about ready to hurl himself headfirst into the mouth of the nearest sandworm. Instead, he hid behind a wall as Lydia answered the door and gave her halfhearted line of:

       “Oh dear, a friend of mine from school needs help with whatever, gotta jet.” On her way out the door. Behind her was Charles and Delia, their excuses for why they had to leave something about work and Barbra and Adam had already hopped out into the Netherworld, leaving the house empty save for Beetlejuice and Remington. 

       “H… hey.” Beetlejuice greeted, already sweating buckets as he held out a fistful of dandelions. “Dinner is… it’s ready and downstairs.” Remmy gave the flowers a look, a soft, amused smile spreading across her face as she took him in. 

       “Are you wearing Adam’s old clothing?” She asked with a soft laugh. “It looks like the buttons are about to go flying." 

       "They probably are.” The demon replied, with a glance down. His belly was quite a bit rounder than Adam’s were and he commended the old shirt for it’s attempt at wrapping around his midsection. He led the way downstairs, going over his instructions in his head over and over again. 

       “I’ve never been down here, I didn’t know they made it your room.” Remington commented, glancing around interestedly. “Is that… is that a coffin?” She asked, her eyes shimmering with interest. 

       “Yeah. It’s my bed.” She gave him another look, but instead of the judgement he was expecting, she looked rather excited instead. 

       “Really? You actually sleep in it?” Her excitement made him chuckle, following after her as she made her way through the room. All this time doing up the room and she focused on the coffin, satan or god, whoever is listening, I love this girl. He followed after, unable to help the fond look on his face. 

       “I don’t exactly sleep no, but I do lay in it at nights sometimes. It’s pretty comfortable.” He pulled open the lid, revealing the black and white striped plush lining and an array of stuffed animals he had collected through the years. 

       “Can… can I lay down inside?” She asked and Beetlejuice couldn’t help the shiver that crept down his spine at the question. 

“Be my guest.” She… she would lay in his coffin. It would smell like her. He almost vibrated with excitement as she settled down inside, stretching out comfortably  before she glanced up at him, a soft smile on her face,

       “Come join me.” Beetlejuice almost choked, but stumbled forwards, unable to deny her. Her body was too close, her scent enveloping him as he stiffly laid down next to her. Unfortunately, or rather thankfully she didn’t seem to notice his growing problem and she scooted forwards to lay her head on his chest. “Hey Beetlejuice?” He grunted softly in response, not trusting himself to try and speak. “Is… is this a date?” Her voice was soft, disbelieving. “Lydia said something but… I don’t want to just expect anything without actually…. you know." 

       "I was… well, I was hoping it would be. If, uh, if you aren’t ok with that, I mean, it could just be a dinner..” His voice was a soft, embarrassing squeak, his entire body practically glowing pink. She lifted her head, hazel eyes meeting green, so close he could swear if he leaned in just a hair he could kiss her. 

       “I… I’m ok with it being a date.” Her cheeks were a soft, pretty pink. So beautiful he couldn’t help but raise a hand and cup her cheek, his thumb brushing over the warm skin. 

       “You’re ok with… me?” He knew he didn’t have to explain what he meant, he knew exactly what he was. For such a pretty breather to actually have interest in him and want him as he was was a fantasy he didn’t typically indulge in. Remmy leaned in, her hands coming up to cup his cheeks as she gave him a soft kiss. 

       “What’s not to be ok with?” The smile she gave him would have stopped his heart if it hadn’t already stopped beating so many years ago. “You’re perfect.” Beetlejuice all but melted, leaning in to kiss her this time, the kiss soft and lingering. He knew the dinner was getting cold at the table, but he couldn’t give it another thought. Not with his girl in his arms. He’d steal some take out later and give her a real Beetlejuice date. As soon as he could reassemble the liquidated remains of his brains and pull himself away from her welcoming arms. 

[momo-de-avis]

Wordtober Day 6: Build 2.0

Yall, I cheated. And am also late. I couldn’t get anything done with ‘husky’, so I decided to prolonge my previous prompt, as the last one didn’t give me room to fully explore my idea. So... be warned that this is... quite long. Possibly very long. I leave that up to you.

It’s a continuation of this one

𝚆𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚗 𝚊��𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝙻𝚞𝚒𝚜 𝙲𝚘𝚛𝚗𝚎𝚓𝚘 𝚛𝚎𝚐𝚊𝚛𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚒𝚗𝚟𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚐𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝙼𝚊𝚍𝚞𝚛𝚘 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚝𝚢 𝚋𝚎𝚝𝚠𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝟷𝟿𝚝𝚑 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝟸𝟻𝚝𝚑 𝚘𝚏 𝚂𝚎𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚖𝚋𝚎𝚛, 𝟸𝟶𝟶𝟷, 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝙳𝚊𝚗𝚒𝚎𝚕𝚊 𝚍𝚎 𝚕𝚊 𝙿𝚊𝚣.

Dani and I had done this before, many times. We’d had our fair share of paranormal investigation—sometimes just plain investigation—and most of the times, it even amounts to nothing, if not a slight disruption of a picture or the ‘mysterious noises’ turning out to be either stray cats or a group of teenagers setting a horror movie set for strangers. But the Maduro case was peculiar to us. It was Dani who suggested we’d investigate the Maduro case, and she always did seem rather curious about the outlines of the case.  

We did the needed investigation before we got there. Aside from some news articles, there was the original 1983 police report, which looks… sloppy, rushed, and honestly, not like they were even trying at all. The majority of the photos vanished, supposedly lost in mishandling of paperwork, except three—the ones well known—and both disappearances were chalked up under ‘runaway children’, despite the fact that Samuel Maduro was 15 and Aura 28 at the time of each of their disappearances.

We knew the house had belonged to Aura after her parents, and before that, to Amelia and Augusto Maduro, the grandparents, who used to own a quarry up until 1939, when they sold their part of the business to Mr Maduro’s partner. At the time, we couldn’t really find the reason why they sold it, though what we did conclude afterwards is nothing short of speculation, so we just assumed it to be some sort of financial strain. There was a civil war going on, though we couldn’t find confirmation on the Maduros’ political affiliations, nor is their village located anywhere close to where the war hit, but… War always does bring about hard times, so it wasn’t at all that inane.

What was surprising was finding our first clue that contradicted the original 1983 report. Though Claudia Maduro, mother of both Samuel and Aura, suffered from a lifelong heart disease and eventually died four years after her son’s disappearance—a time spent between check-ups and several psychiatric consultations—the father’s death, Francisco Maduro, does seem related to the case.

He appears to have lived the last ten years of his life as a recluse, and the only visits he ever had were a gardener—who helped around with the backyard—, a maid—mostly responsible for doing his laundry, some cooking and cleaning—, and a man named Antonio. He was the last one to see Mr Maduro alive, though his name wasn’t even mentioned in the original report.

According to Antonio, when he arrived at the house that afternoon, Mr Maduro was in a state of distress. He had set up a ladder to go up the attic and was going up and down frequently, to fetch several items, all of which he recognized as being used for construction purposes: toolboxes, measuring tapes, rope, sandpaper. Of this, Antonio reportedly joked for a while, asking him if he was building something, or maybe fixing a piece of furniture, but Mr Maduro was majorly unresponsive, instead appearing focused on his task. He simply kept mumbling: “The animals keep tearing it down.”

It must have been shortly after he left that Mr Maduro fell off his ladder, approximately two meters high, hitting his head on a rock and being found hours later by the maid, who had him rushed to the hospital, where he died an hour later.

Here’s what’s so appalling about this. Looking at the original police records, there were no interviewed. It looks like the police simply asked no questions to anyone, no acquaintances of the family, no friends, no neighbours. Every evidence was gathered from inside the home, and every conclusion reached without taking into consideration the village itself. At first, we thought they had been careless—ridiculously careless, mind you—but as our days went on and we tried speaking to others, it became clear just what the real reason was.

The villagers avoided the Maduros because they were afraid of them.

Overall, it seems neither Aura nor Samuel—nor their parents, for that matter—were particularly hated, rather ostracized by what the villagers saw as a need. The priest at the time, one father Ángel, even did his best to include the two children in his community, and we did find several photos of Samuel carrying the podium of Santa Marina during one of its processions. Both siblings appear to have been devout Catholics too: crucifixes and rosaries were found in both rooms, as well as prayer books and Bibles, they attended church regularly, got involved with the community and celebrated every day of the calendar.  

The problem was not Samuel and Aura, nor Francisco and Claudia—the Maduros’ dark history was older than that.

There was one fundamental piece to their history that everyone completely overlooked, which wasn’t on records for reasons that, for a while, seemed mysterious enough, though it became clear as we unravelled the story. Francisco Maduro, grandfather of both Aura and Samuel, disappeared without a trace in 1939, immediately after selling his part of the quarry.

After searching through records, old newspapers and considerably angering the locals, all we found was one newspaper clipping, though not an article. It was an ad, an announcement, posted by the local police, asking villagers to please notify them if they new anything about Mr Maduro’s whereabouts. And nothing more. The only way to understand what had happened was by asking, and by now, we knew nobody would say a word about it, so we thought Antonio would perhaps collaborate.

By all means, it must be said: Antonio had a bit of a drinking problem, and we might have bargained in that sense. I’m not terribly proud of it, but in my defence, he looked desperate to talk, like he had kept something buried so deeply he waited years to finally speak up. Though I wasn’t expecting a confession exactly. After all, Antonio was, in his own words, Francisco’s best friend, though the two weren’t as close in adulthood as they had been in childhood. And like the Maduros—maybe because he appeared to be the only one in the village who didn’t fear going near the house—he was a bit of an outcast.

He told us that Amelia Maduro was far from being a heart-warming woman. He recalls her posture from childhood, which I think can be seen in the pictures found inside one of the locked rooms of the house: haughty, stern, impeccable. She seldom smiled, and her face bore something grievous to it, a chiselling of austerity that made children everywhere tell stories of her beatings and whippings. She was very pious too, at times too severe in her belief, and her doctrine was an imposing one. Antonio recalls an event from childhood, after visiting Francisco one afternoon: she had stopped a maid on her tracks, taken a step back and inspected her outfit; then, she had asked why was her skirt three fingers above the knee, to which the maid, flustered, replied she had to borrow her sister’s, who was younger, considering she had found a hole in hers that morning. Then, without warning, Amelia slapped the young woman across the face and said: “I will not have whores serving me.” And she fired her.

This might be explanatory to what truly seems to be the reason behind the quarry issue. Shortly before, Francisco Maduro became romantically involved with a supposed worker at the quarry, a woman who would bring refreshments to the men on the field every afternoon. It turns out, however, the woman was Pilar Deocampo, niece of Alfredo Deocampo—Francisco’s business partner. She became pregnant and decided to plan an escape with the aid of Francisco, who was supposed to meet with her after dealing with some logistics as to not leave his family with no support, but the plan failed when Amelia discovered their affair. When Pilar gave birth to baby boy in 1939, things took a grim turn.

From here on, Antonio swears, the story has become folklore, but the vast majority of the villagers strongly believe it to be true, and stands as the reason for them to stay away from the Maduros and their home. Amelia, without her husband’s knowledge—who was away for a few days—invited poor Pilar for some afternoon tea, under the guise of friendship and empathy before her condition—unmarried and with a son borne from a married man. How it happened differs, since nobody was present if not one maid who left the house immediately after, but on one thing all tales are consistent: Amelia killed the child in front of his mother, proclaiming that her act was justified before God because it was in God’s plans to cleanse the earth of sinners, and that the child was impure and shouldn’t have been born either way.

In a fit of rage, Pilar Deocampo attempted to injury Amelia, but failed to. As a result, Amelia inflicted several wounds on the grievous mother, who bled out in her living room. Many say Mrs Maduro watched, untouched by her very own gruesome actions, and in her dying breath, Pilar Deocampo uttered one last thing, something the village now chants as much as a curse as a reminder: Mi sangre marcará tu tierra, y mis huesos serán tu mausoleo. Por cada uno que pierdas, un otro quedará en sofrimiento, y como las árboles de tu finca, vosotros marchitarán lentamiente.

My blood will mark your land, and my bones will be your mausoleum. For each one you lose, another will stay in suffering, and like the trees of your property, you will wither away slowly.

Amelia then proceeded to force her very own maids into taking the body to the nearby forest, dig up a grave and bury them; then, she placed the two pillars with the chain to forbid anyone from going into the area, and never spoke of the subject again—until her husband arrived home the next day. Seeing the maids scrubbing blood from the wooden floorings, he inquired his wife as to what had happened. Amelia didn’t spare any details; in fact, many agree she was quite assured in her grim account, believing hers had been a righteous act.

Francisco Maduro then, in a frenzy of grief and despair, ran into the woods to see it for himself, to see the grave of his beloved and his child—and he crossed the space between the two pillars. He was never seen again.

Amelia would die less than ten years later, and despite everything, many agree she was incredibly grievous of her husband’s disappearance and entirely devoted to her faith. The Maduros then became a cautionary tale—it’s unclear to me whether or not Francisco witnessed this event, considering he would be around 18-20 at the time, but the tale became part of the villages’ folklore so much he became a person they willing avoided. Antonio swears, however, that both Aura and Samuel were entirely unaware of this past.

From the story came a legend, one the villagers believed to be real, from the case of Samuel and Aura Maduro’s disappearance. Anyone who crossed the space between the two pillars would find the secret burial place of Pilar and her child; keeping her promise, it seems a Maduro would always be bound to find the place in one way or another, and it was none other than Pilar who called them, leaving someone else behind to suffer for their absence, until no Maduros were left.

It seems Pilar achieved her goal, then.

This also explains something about the house, something Aura herself spoke of in her last journal entry: that there was an overwhelming sadness to it, something bittersweet that didn’t seem to belong there. If the path itself sent a shiver down our spines, and there always seem to be something lurking between the trees when we looked, inside the house we felt… safe. Dani even recalled feeling this sudden pang of sadness which she described as being ‘like a mother losing her child’. At the time, I laughed it off, told her she was just missing her cat, but after Antonio told us the tale, we… froze in dread, to be honest.

Energy like this is nothing new—the spirits of those who died inside the place always leave some speck of it behind, and we feel it like something external. We thought it strange at first because no Maduro had died inside the home that we knew of: Francisco at the hospital, Claudia at the local market, Samuel and Aura vanishing, and as far as we could tell, with Francisco also vanished, Amelia died while in mass of a heart attack. But it started making sense then: the only people who had died inside the house were not members of the Maduro. It was their pain we felt, and consequently, that Aura felt.

Dani and I weren’t sure what to expect of this, but it certainly explained why all those who had tried finding the clearing described by Aura never did—because they went around the two pillars, not through them. We had come all this way to find answers, so we figured there was only one thing to do.

I think we were naïve. We believed the tale was only a tale, and if any of it was to be taken for truth, it was certainly aimed at the cursed—the Maduros, not us, mere wanderers. But… we were wrong.

I took a recorder and a camera with me, while Dani took a photographic digital camera. For a while, we stood before the two pillars in silence and tried telling ourselves it was fine, perfectly fine, it was just a piece of local folklore based on Catholic devotion of two women, one a sinner, the other scorned. We’d heard many like that, and it seemed improbable the clearing even existed in the first place. So we held our hands—though why, I can’t exactly tell—and we leapt over the chain.

Every single one of Aura’s words travelled back to me. She was right. It was… daunting. Shapes hovered about, escaping my sight constantly, caught only from the corner of my eyes, and the dense vegetation closed around us. There was a horrible silence all around—more of an absence of sound—and we couldn’t even hear our own heart beats. The sun struggled to transverse the heavy foliage, and the air was thick and prickly. Dani snapped a few photographs as we trod on, but it was clear she was aiming at nothing specifically, just frantically moving her camera with a gasp and a jitter, frightened by a sudden movement from which came no sound. Even the snapping twigs and crunching leaves beneath our feet seemed muffled.

After thirty minutes, we stopped. Before us, the space opened widely, and trees sprouted from a bald batch of white and brown earth, entwining together above our heads like a gable roof. Dani stopped, her camera frozen between her hands, but her eyes were glazed into a sort of mania I had never seen before. With a shuddering finger, she pressed the shutter, but didn’t look into the screen, just ahead—contemplating, focused. Her arm lowered then, and I called her name; Dani jittered, blinked and looked down at the photo she had just snapped—frozen and pale.

When she showed me photos, my heart sank to my feet. Every single one of them was so corrupted almost all of them were unusable, but a few of them showed something buried beneath the static corruption. Shadows, figures, silhouettes. A pair of baby feet. Faces, hollow and daunting, frozen into a scream.

I pressed my recorder, but it didn’t seem to work; Dani pressed some buttons on her camera but suddenly halted, and her eyes—glazed once more—cast curiously all around. She gave a step forward, and another, and a few more—all considerate and cautious, though they grew, and unexpectedly, she took her backpack off her shoulders and threw it on the ground; she dashed ahead, her hands diving deep into a bush, rummaging through meshes of thorny foliage, and a faint yet vivid laughter escaped her lips.

I called her in screams, but she did not react. At this point, I was terrified and could not move; all I could see was Dani dashing back and forth, stacking sticks under her arms and wiping the centre of the clearing clean, hands covered in white and brown dust—until I realized what she was doing.

I remembered Aura’s account. She was building something.

I shouted again, telling her to stop, as loud as I could, but this time, I couldn’t freeze. I ran to her, wrapped my arms around her when she began to struggle, and with all my might, held her steady, face buried against my chest. She smacked her fists at me, but I persisted, desperately trying to keep her still. I thought then that all it mattered was that she wouldn’t see, she wouldn’t look at the clearing, at that spot where she was feeling somehow compelled to build. I closed my eyes shut, and wind gushed past—no sound still. And I waited.

I opened my eyes first, didn’t let Dani move, and froze again. Before me was a house—small, no higher than a meter and a half tall—made of something white, polished and scraped to precision. Bone.

Stood in a moment of suspension, my arms relaxed, and my fingers stopped gripping Dani’s clothes. Her body shuddered against mine, and her breath raged louder than the gushing wind around us, louder than any sound in that deathly and hollow clearing. Then, she screeched—a gasp that grew in timbre, a rising cadence that somehow seemed to come far slower than I took notice of, and she jolted herself. In a motion faster than I could have anticipated, her body escaped my grip, and she ran—she ran away from me, towards the bone house that rose before us, without really having actually seen it before turning her head with resolution and dashing away.

I tried to grab her, but she escaped; her hands smacked open at the door, and on her knees, she crawled; her panting, heavy and desperate, came like an omen. She was famished for whatever exited beyond it, and I tried to stop—I screamed and ran after her, but she was elusive and fast and set on getting through that door and into the darkness that sucked her in and in and in—and I was too slow. Inside the door, nothing but blackness—swirling, consuming blackness—and as Dani entered the daunting absence of it, she evaporated from her very being. It was like watching someone being devoured by an invisible mouth that swallowed her into nothingness, and her every gesture came with so much reassurance I finally understood what Pilar Deocampo had warned: one always stays behind to suffer.

It wasn’t just meant for the Maduros; it was meant for anyone who desecrate her grave.

When the door slammed shut with a hollow thud, I collapsed to my knees and screamed her name, over and over until nothing existed inside my throat but the soreness of my efforts and the saltiness of my tears. There was not a sound. The entire space around me was engulfed in nothingness. I couldn’t see nor hear Dani anywhere, and before me, the house made of bone appeared far too small for her body to fit inside.

I curled up, and though the terror that had consumed me and made my heart pound so harshly my chest hurt, I couldn’t move. I grabbed the camera, but was unable to turn it off. By my side, Dani’s backpack laid forgotten, tossed aside in a rush. I had studied the Maduro’s case to the smallest detail and I knew she wouldn’t come back. And I finally understood what it was that had consumed Aura in such overwhelming grief, enough to make her leave her home and never come back, until her father passed away and she realized—she must have—he too crossed the space between the two pillars. I finally understood what madness had possessed Amelia after her grim crimes.

It was knowing they weren’t dead, but sentenced to absolute nothingness, left to hover in a sea of absence and non-existence, spiralling down to possible madness. It was knowing they were better off dead.

I blinked my teary eyes open, cold and trembling, hands gripping the camera, and saw something. The house was still there, but next to it, someone: sitting on the ground, back turned to me, legs crossed and shoulders slouched forward, clothes ragged and torn, and in their long auburn hairs, small leaves and twigs were caught in the slender threads. Instinctively, I turned the camera and snapped a quick picture—but the figure didn’t move.

My eyes didn’t move away from the strange figure in front of me, and as I put the camera down, I realized it could only be one person.

“Aura Maduro?”

Her head rose slowly, as if she tried to have a look at the skies, hairs swaying behind her, but she said nothing. Then, I felt it again—that same pressing sadness we always felt inside the house, like a mass of air that swarmed around me, emanating from the spectre before me.

“Where is Dani?” My voice was low, considerate; I looked at the figure and I still saw who I had seen in Aura Maduro the moment I had arrived there—a victim, as much as I was now. “Can you please bring her back to me?”

Immobile. Time passed, though I couldn’t measure, couldn’t tell how long it had been, if it was night or day though the sun existed somewhere in the sky—of that, I was sure. Then, her voice floated in the air, a ragged tune, husky and dragged, but frayed by an overwhelming agony that consumed me like a gust of wind.

“She has to stay.”

My breath rose and whipped the back of my throat; I moved restlessly, but couldn’t leave the small batch of earth on which I knelt. “Please,” I pleaded. “Please, just let me take her home.”

“El sangre marca la tierra,” she spoke, “y sus huesos son nuestro mausoleo.”

“I know what Pilar did to your family.” Every word seemed senseless to me, as if I read from a book: reciting a prayer in order to save myself, though unsure I was there was any salvation left. I wanted to say more, let her know that I understood that misery that encompassed us both, that exuded out of her like a cold wind—but every word died.

“One always stays,” she said, “and the other feels pain. But I look after them.”

I felt my chest tear open in that same sweeping sadness—it was something carved deep into her words, something instilled in the worn-out tone of her voice.

“I look after them,” she continued—and in between her words, a dissonance came: of a woman that wept in silence, the distortion of a throat filled with swallowed tears, “so they don’t feel so lost.”

Defeated, I looked down at the earth beneath me, at last understanding what never-ending horror Pilar Deocampo had cast on the world, that projected grief that would never cease, a continuous cycle of pain and terror—meant forever to steal and burden those who lived, who came out unscathed, to unfathomable pain.

I thought there was something I had to say, though I sincerely don’t know what my reason was: “What can I do?”

Her hand waved in the air, and from the ratty long-sleeves of her jersey, a slender finger, bony and pale, pointed to her left. I noticed there was a watch, glass cracked and black bracelet, with gold rims around. “Take him,” she said. “Let Sam rest.”

The order was immediate, and somehow, I understood. I stood, paced slowly towards the area she had pointed at—below a tall tree, at a small mound covered in pine needles and dried leaves, a batch of golden-brown amidst a soft green. I knelt, pushed the leaves aside, dug my fingers into the earth, and shuddered at the touch of something cold, harsh and angular. A hand, made of bones entirely, no flesh left, emerged—and when I understood at last what she demanded of me, I nearly vomited—sure I was completely incapable of completing the task.

I didn’t look back; short of breath, lungs collapsing at every sweeping movement of my hand, I didn’t rest. When I was done, a putrid smell filled my nose and I covered it with one arm; I ran back then, to Dani’s abandoned backpack, and rummaged for something useful enough for the rest of the deed. We had both brought our sleeping bags, expecting to perhaps spend the night to collect some evidence—so I unrolled Dani’s, pulled the zipper open, and with a force I hadn’t felt before in my life, unsure still where it came from—an urgency of survival, perhaps, or something outside of myself, cast upon me by Aura Maduro—I grabbed the pile of bones and put them inside the sleeping bag.

She was still there when I was done, her hand resting on her lap again. I stopped, stared at her with a cold shudder—whether of dread or something else, I can’t say anymore. Aura Maduro—what was left of her—simply sat in contemplation, her head still raised as she stared at something ahead, and only then did her words echo in my brain in full meaning. I grabbed my backpack, put the sleeping bag carefully on Dani’s, and stared at her. I had almost forgotten about the bone house.

“Do not return,” she said. “You won’t resist next time.”

Somehow, there was an unpronounced message in the air, something that wafted by like a tune carried from the distance, something you only notice when you stop and listen carefully: I am sorry you will have to suffer like we all did. I am sure that was it. Somehow, the precision existed in the tone of her voice, exuding out of her like a radio wave meant to be captured; somehow, I knew.

I walked back—ran back—and once I leapt over the chain, almost instantly, the air was weightless, soft and comforting. But everything else—my entire existence—began to press against my shoulders into a burden that was only now beginning to emerge. Guilt. Terror. Sadness. Crushing, overwhelming sadness—and Dani’s inexistence, her sentence into nothingness, collapsed over me.

It goes without saying I never saw her again.

I buried Samuel Maduro in the backyard of the house, and with nothing to mark his grave, I simply left, on the mound of earth, a framed picture I had found in the house—of Samuel and Aura. In it, she was wearing a wristwatch, black bracelet with golden rims.

I left and never went back. Though sometimes there is a burning wish to grab my things and drive until I see them again, the two pyramidal pillars with that creaking chain between, I never did. I think of Aura’s words, her blooming sadness, and something about it breaks my heart to pieces. The last of a cursed family, unknown of what she carried. On the night she had finally returned to her brother, in 1983, she had sacrificed far more than I could have anticipated. Cast into nothingness forever, sentenced to exist in a limbo of non-existence, forever imprisoned in the blackness of the bone house, she had willingly become a guardian. A watchful soul over those who fell victim to Pilar’s treachery—unable to put an end to it, she had at least given herself to the chance of easing their burden, making that consuming nothingness a bit more bearable. The core of it is, however, what it means to the two last members of the Maduro family.

I was never religious. I still am not. But they were stark Catholics, born and raised between catechesis and Saturday mass. For them, being sentenced to a limbo that is neither death nor life, neither Heaven nor Hell, and something far worse than purgatory… It must be horrifying.

I destroyed my camera and the footage, as well as the tape recorder I took with me, though there was nothing in it. I couldn’t bear, however, to destroy Dani’s digital camera. It was a piece of her, and every little thing that attested to her existence, I just… held on to it.

It was only months later that I turned that camera on again. To my surprise, there was a picture I had never seen—the last one I had taken, of Aura Maduro herself.

I can’t describe it. I will leave it to your eyes to see what lacks words entirely. Perhaps you can understand what it that I felt that afternoon.

I wish I could tell Dani how sorry I am.

________

𝙻𝚞𝚒𝚜 𝙲𝚘𝚛𝚗𝚎𝚓𝚘 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚖𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚜𝚞𝚒𝚌𝚒𝚍𝚎 𝚘𝚗 𝙽𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚖𝚋𝚎𝚛 𝟸𝟶𝚝𝚑, 𝟸𝟶𝟶𝟷. 𝙷𝚎 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚝 𝚑𝚒𝚖𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚍, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚏𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍 𝚘𝚗 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚋𝚎𝚍. 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚊𝚌𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚏𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍 𝚘𝚗 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚍𝚎𝚜𝚔, 𝚊𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚐 𝚜𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚕 𝚙𝚒𝚌𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚎𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝙼𝚛 𝙲𝚘𝚛𝚗𝚎𝚓𝚘 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙼𝚜 𝚍𝚎 𝚕𝚊 𝙿𝚊𝚣.

𝙳𝚊𝚗𝚒𝚎𝚕𝚊 𝚍𝚎 𝚕𝚊 𝙿𝚊𝚣 𝚑𝚊𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚋𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚏𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍.

𝙰 𝚋𝚘𝚍𝚢 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚌𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔𝚢𝚊𝚛𝚍 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝙼𝚊𝚍𝚞𝚛𝚘 𝚏𝚊𝚖𝚒𝚕𝚢 𝚑𝚘𝚖𝚎, 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚎𝚜𝚌𝚛𝚒𝚋𝚎𝚍 𝚙𝚒𝚌𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚘𝚗 𝚒𝚝, 𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚋𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚏𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚑𝚕𝚢 𝚋𝚞𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚎𝚛𝚟𝚎𝚍 𝚒𝚗𝚜𝚒𝚍𝚎 𝚊 𝚜𝚕𝚎𝚎𝚙𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚋𝚊𝚐. 𝚆𝚑𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚒𝚝’𝚜 𝚂𝚊𝚖𝚞𝚎𝚕 𝙼𝚊𝚍𝚞𝚛𝚘 𝚘𝚛 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚛𝚎𝚖𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚜 𝚞𝚗𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚏𝚒𝚛𝚖𝚎𝚍.  

𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚎𝚍 𝚙𝚑𝚘𝚝𝚘𝚜 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚘𝚗𝚕𝚢 𝚘𝚗𝚎𝚜 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚎𝚛𝚟𝚎𝚍 𝚘𝚏 𝙼𝚛 𝙲𝚘𝚛𝚗𝚎𝚓𝚘’𝚜 𝚊𝚌𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚋𝚎𝚕𝚘𝚠 𝚊𝚜 𝚎𝚟𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎. 

_________________

Wordtober Day 1: Ring

Wordtober Day 2: Mindless

Wordtober Day 3: Bait

Wordtober Day 4: Freeze

Wordtober Day 5: Build I

[nyruratchet]

Notes 4 - The Morning After

“People. People who need people are the luckiest people in the world.”

There are pills for straight couples to avoid pregnancy after a few moments of bliss, there are pills to help people stay safe from contracting HIV, there are pills to recorrect the chemical imbalance for people struggling with mental issues; there are pills for EVERYTHING, but no one has derived a magical pill to fix the pain one feels when forced to wake up the morning after valentine’s day alone.

Actually, this problem doesn’t just exist on Valentine’s day. But, seeing as how I’m perpetually single, I can attest to the fact that this day is the most painful (all other holidays come second). Just yesterday, someone asked a question, “yall fall in love with niggas y’all meet on apps??”

My response: Honestly, what are the other options? This is a legitimate question...

Him: Go meet someone in real life...apps aren’t real life! You don’t know that nigga til u see him. In real life, u see everything you as over and over on the app.

Me: You do (meet them), but those are the same guys on the apps. And no one gives you the time of day at bars, events, etc. So, ur stuck with friends of friends, coworkers (nope) and apps...really (WTF?)

Him: Idk who y’all meeting but niggs stay tryin to see wassup on the low when I’m out...especially the damn gym!

Now, I then had to check him and remind him that, just because YOU are so attractive and have thousands of followers that men just flock to you, THAT IS NOT the average gay man’s reality. Just recently a black man on Grindr says he doesn’t like black men. Only whites and latinos. Yep, this is the world I live in. So when you all think I’m crazy to think I’m not in someone’s league, please know there are factors in the chess game that I’m aware of that you have NO CLUE about. Being the darker brother in the gay community is not easy and constantly I am made to feel like I’m not worthy of inclusion in it. Being dark is not acceptable. Nor is being skinny. Nor is not having a BBC (which is all anyone seems to value from us). Nor is being open to love; I’ve been faulted way too many times for that tbh. Almost as many times as I’ve been skinny-shamed or considered fem. Guys in our community are looking more for TS girls than black men. Period. I see “girls” on Grindr far too much. THERE, I said what I said. Grindr’s way of dealing with this influx...ask me to list myself as a CIS man. NO THE FUCK I WILL NOT! I’m a man. These labels are too much. can’t meet men in bars or apps or work. So, let me know...HOW?

To lose my virginity I had to get on craigslist and whore myself out like a rentboy (no money involved) only to get this catfish older man to respond. I was 21 years old and saw this as my only chance before moving to NY. Guys throughout my life up until this point (as i wrote about in my last post) had been ignoring me. I was invisible in the world of gay sex. I might as well have been a eunuch or a monk. I was always the “friend”...still am. So, I took this less then adequate gentleman and let him penetrate me for the first time; give me my first kiss (yuck, it was awful); and teach me a few things. I thought, after this, I’ll never have to settle for less than I deserve...BOY was I wrong.

Back to the part about me being invisible for a moment. Throughout high school, people knew I was gay. I told a few guys and expressed interest and they paid me no attention. COME TO FIND OUT, my (at the time good) friend Jonathan, had slept with a quite a few of them. (Backstory, I fell for Jonathan, he spurned me too, we became great friends, he then transitioned into being a woman, and now we don’t really talk). So, When I found this out, I was devastated. TO THIS DAY, I will never understand why I was not enough. I was SOOOOO nice to these guys. Dustin used to get picked on in middle school, and I used to stand up for him. Nick was the most beautiful boy in the world in high school with a smile that could like up the darkest soul and I would always root for him, etc. But, I wasn’t who they wanted. I mean, You think I’m a good guy now, you should have known me back then. I was such a kind spirit. My soul is so dark now and I don’t think that will ever be rectified.

These next instances are the reasons I will never be untainted. THESE STORIES ARE NOT FOR THE FAINT OF HEART. If you don’t want to cry, feel sorry for me, or worry, stop reading now.

I have been abused mentally, physically, and emotionally. These stories are in sequential order.

When I was traveling once, I was drinking and felt like fulling one of my fantasies. I don’t remember why, but i know that I hadn’t been touched in a WHILE. And for a person who needs that, just a moment where someone can use you to “get off” is enough to make it through the night. One fantasy that is very popular in the gay community of being fucked by visitor who comes in the unlocked door and fucks you, then leaves after he finishes. No strings attached (NSA), photos presented beforehand (pics), usually some time of safeguards in place. I was new, and it was my fault. This guy sent me pictures on whatever app I was using, think it was Craigslist. He told me all his information, I told him where I was staying and said I’d be blindfolded, ready for him to fuck me when he walked in. As SOON as he walked in, I heard the door close and lock and I had a feeling something was wrong. He came up behind me, naked and grabbed my neck chokingly and SHOVED into me. And this guy’s body was WAY bigger than what he said. He was chub/stocky and nothing like what he had sent me. I tried to tell him to stop, that I didn’t want HIM. But clearly, he had done this before. And this was before catfishing was a THING. So, he wasn’t going to stop no matter how much I struggled. So, I resulted that this was a part of the “fantasy” that I had signed up for. I could NOT call this rape. I will never call that rape. Yes, someone lied to me, wouldn’t stop when I said so, but I was totally in the wrong here. I put myself in a situation to be taken advantage of by a stranger. That is one of the things that makes this fantasy so hot. Just happens in my case, that it went terribly awry,  So, I went limp and let him finish. He left. I locked the door and took down the posting I had made. My throat was on fire and he had pulled my hair too hard. But he was gone and I was alone again. 

Another time in a hotel room, laying over in Washington, Dulles I was getting ready for bed. I was hungry, so put my iphone on the charger, grabbed my food and went for the microwave on another floor. When I came back, my phone was charged enough to check my facebook. As soon as I opened it up, on my timeline it says “PAUL IS IN A RELATIONSHIP”. I said, wait...what? My Paul? the one who I helped move? The one I got a xmas tree for? The one I held while crying? The one I protected from himself? The one whose bed I was JUST in? The guy I had been talking to like every day? My heart was beating out of my chest and I couldn’t breathe. Now, I’m not nor have I ever been naive. We weren’t a couple. He wan’t mine. But I wanted him, made it known. He said lots of things that didn’t add up to much. But, I was in his life, so I accepted that until he could give me more. But when I saw THAT status. I LOST it! Why? because he had told me WORD FOR WORD: “I don’t want a relationship right now. I have some little twink guy from this broadway show who likes me, but I’m not interested.” I always did status checks to make sure I didn’t get blindsided. But alas, here I was despite all my effors. My body went NUMB. Tears ran down my face. I dropped to my knees and asked God or whomever was in charge of things WHY the FUCK was it not me?? Am I not cute enough? Am I too poor? Not successful enough? What did I do? I immediately texted my friend Ant and told her what was up and that I was ready to end it. Before I knew it, I was on a 3 way call. What no one knows is, at one point I was bathroom, in the tub, with a razor, a full bottle of advil, a bottle of wine to hopefully make the blood run faster. I had never contemplated killing myself. This was a knee-jerk reaction to someone I loved with every fiber of my being choosing to give his love to someone else who didnt even have to try! If he could throw me away after I gave all I had and more that I didn’t even know I had in me, and he STILL didn’t want me, how is anyone else gonna love/choose me? So, I was ready to end it. Cuz I knew, this would not be the last time this would happen; guys don’t seem to care who they hurt or how. Paul texted me and said he didn’t owe me any explanation “dude”.  But my friends talked me down from that ledge I was prepping to jump off. I also was terrified of doing it. I didn’t know if it would even work. And I didnt want my family to go through that. Till this day, that is why I could never commit suicide. I do think about it, yes. My life sucks. And try as I may, I don’t see a reason for me being here. And yes, I’ve been to many therapists ever since college. Its not a problem that can be talked out. I suffer from depression that can only be assuaged by fixing the problem; the problem is my life. (love, money, music). So, I just try to keep on. I’m not bi-polar; although, sometimes I wish I were. That is a diagnosis that can be managed with medication. My life, cannot be managed. But I’m trying...I am trying.

Now, as I mentioned before, not a big fan of coworker dating/fucking/etc. HOWEVER, there are 2 people I have always said I’d try if I had the chance. Because they may be reading this (doubt it, but I will fight my petty urges), We’ll just call them Trip and Kurt. Now, Trip and I have been messaging off and on doing this whole cat and mouse thing for years. He winds up telling me he’s interested but we couldn’t tell anyone at work; which I agreed to. And would have tried to keep his confidence, FOR HIM. He is really against work relations as well. This all started with grindr and just escalated to us talking off and on. Finally one day, he texts ME and asks “Hey sexy, you in NY?” I wasn’t. Was working. But I never post my whereabouts on FBOOK so, the question was warranted. He said he really wanted to fuck. Our paths kept not being able to cross. So, LONG story short, I rearranged my schedule and we set up a “date” at his place when I got back. I was working a redeye. Told him I’d get home, run my errands take a quick nap and be over to make a full day of it. Trip agrees with everything. I do exactly what I say (I’m a Leo, it’s what we do. We’re consistent. We’re straight forward). I pick up a bottle of $20+ wine to show him I really give a shit and to be courteous because a good southern boy doesn’t arrive at someone’s house empty handed. I knew he had been done wrong and I wanted to put my first foot forward, even if it was just sex he wanted. I message him when I was on the way back home...no response. Ok, I wanna shower. Text him again...tells me he’s out. I say, “ok well just tell me when to head over. I’ll be at home” He says “ok sounds good baby.”  Ok, so I take my hour nap so I don’t miss his text. (For me, you KNOW that is no small feat!) I get up and he still hasn’t messaged me. So I wait...and wait...and wait for 5 hours. Then I text him “Ok...well, headed to bed I guess. Hope you had a good night. (he’s scheduled to work the next day so I KNOW no late fun was happening)  But beforehand, my spidey senses were tingling. So, I got on facebook. OH, he’s out living his best life! Fuck MY time right? Awesome. I had a drink then went to sleep. Next day, he messages me that he fell asleep after getting home. BOO, so...you left your friends (after you went out...yeah, I saw the check-ins), hopped a train, got home, and never NOT ONCE thought to text me to tell me a damn thing?! But you say “sorry” and I’m supposed to just accept that? No. I wanted you past the point of that barrier I placed up barring all guys I worked with. You just took a big dump on that AND made me feel shitty in the process. I took that bottle of white wine to the head by myself at some point btw...

Now Kurt, he’s special...I met him and was immediately entranced. To keep this one shorter, he also told me HE DIDNT WANT TO DATE ANYONE. Guys need to stop telling these motha fuckin lies!  Ok, so I’ll be your friend. But I really like him. So, I’m minding my own business and facebook again notifies me, Kurt is in a relationship. OH? with WHOM? Oh! someone we work with? Someone you met AFTER ME?! Interesting...now, when this boy confessed a secret to me, I was totally loving and told him my past experiences and that he’s and amazing person, etc. So, the next time we work together, I don’t mention his new BF. He brings it up and explains how and why he fell for him. WOULDNT YOU KNOW IT, the boyfriend said the same thing I did about his secret but just BEFORE he happened to conceal it. I tried so hard not to roll my eyes when he told me that. It was like a smack in the face. If you don’t think I’m cute, just say that. But don’t talk about how someone’s heart won you over. Cuz I was here loving on you before. I went back up to my room (tipsy) turned on some Aaliyah and cried myself to sleep. I am never gonna be enough for these boys/men. I saw that now. Paul had recently resurged and re-exited my life after telling me he loved me. I WAITED for that! He was the first man to ever say those words. And they were supposed to mean something! And shortly after...he ghosted me again. So, I’m feeling pretty worthless at this point.

No matter what I do, I’m never good enough. I keep trying to be the best me and there is always someone there saying, nah...this other dude is better. Swipe left. “Thank you, Next” (I don’t like Ariana Grande btw.) I have this fear that when I’m old, some guy I’ve loved forever will find me and say, I married someone else. He’s gone now, he did me wrong. We can be together now. Like I’m only going to be someone’s choice after their first choices have bit the dust. That is NOT okay with me. 

So, here I am on Valentine’s day trying to explain to all of you who have someone to “come home to”. EVEN if you don’t like Vday, do not pretend that this day doesn’t matter or make people feel a certain way. I’m alone AND I’m lonely. Don’t tell me I shouldn’t feel this unless you tell me how to not feel that way; and your explanation better not involve friends. Sorry, friends have their own issues and while checking in and venting is great, they can’t be your life support. They can’t help you take care of your heart. Especially if they are married, have kids, etc. You’re the single 3rd wheel. 

I tried to take myself to the movies. The movies I wanted were all sold out by couples. Dinner, tables full. So, I ate leftovers from yesterday’s dinner I cooked and am halfway through this bottle of wine. You cannot fault a person for wanting love. Finding it may have been somewhat easy/happenstance for you. And I try not to fault YOU for that. Everything has been hard for me. Literally, everything. That’s the only reason I’m still here. Because when something happens, I yell, scream, vent, handle it like Olivia Pope, then continue on. No one is there at night when i lay down. No one said Happy Valentine’s day to me today. No one is gonna smile at me when i wake up in the morning.  Nope, I have to survive my morning after by myself. No pill in hand to help.

“Children needing other children, yet letting our grown-up pride hide all the need inside...acting more like children, than children.”

[twilightpony4]

Ola Americano... Turtle?: 1. Get A Clue

“How come my opinions are always brushed aside, especially for stuff like this?” It was the blue banded leader who spoke with fire in his throat. The room all around was tense, anticipating the horrors that may come to them (and it being dark wasn’t helping anything).

“Do you really want us to answer that question?” Raphael asked rather annoyed. His older brother shot him a quick, cold look.

“Shut up.”

“After you.” They locked on for a moment; not a single one in the mood for the other.

“I was attacked!” Mona interjected, snapping them both out of their stares. She turned to both of them, turning her head left and right to the terrapin beside and behind her as she explained with her finger pointing into her chest. “Don't you think I know who the culprit was?”

“Last time you wanted to investigate we all got knocked out!” Michelangelo, with no chill, shot her down with the recent event that could have ended them. The lizard lady let out some forced air out of her throat from annoyance. They haven’t yet let her off the hook with that one.

“I couldn’t help it!” She retaliated, leaning over to spell it in his face. Just beside them, Donatello’s vision blurred from his fingers pulling his temples and the purple mask that covered them back from his face in circular motions. His glasses moved with his skin as he continued.

“Never in my life did I think I'd be surrounded by so many idiots!” he admitted, quite upset. Them being all compacted together did not help their already present annoyance.

“Hey! Watch it, Brainiac!” Mona hissed. Donnie let go of his temples immediately.

“I'm telling you guys, Leo’s 100% wrong this time!” He shouted on the top of his lungs, turning his head to face the mutants behind him. Raphael let out a sarcastic “Hmph!”

“Like he's been right before.”

“What are you saying Raph?” Leonardo spoke defensively, trying to dig more information from his larger brother even though he knew it was not going to be pleasant news.

“That, um, (‘um’ sounded more of a fake swallow) you suck?” His tongue was sharp. With such tensions and high blood pressures rising, Venus jumped between them with her words.

“Boys, boys! Let's be civil here.” She asked of them for she could not possibly get between them in the positions they were all in.

“This ain't no time to be civil! Our lives are at stake! We already lost one guy!” Mikey cried hysterically. Venus couldn’t deny that with one person dead, there was no wiggle room for sane-ness. The loss set the family off unhealthily and was driving them all mad in a matter of minutes.

“That's why I'm about to end this madness right now!” Leonardo decreed. Every other pair of mutant eyes looked up for the guidance of their leader. “I say…” He pointed his Wii remote to the screen to click on the Pool Boy Mii to make his accusation. An array of options popped up before him. “It was Professor Plum with a revolver on the patio!” He announced enthusiastically as he picked the three objects and then clicked the ‘Next’ button. The TV screen automatically went to the front of the virtual mansion. Propped in front of it was a sign that told the player that they were wrong and lost the game. Donnie clicked his tongue.

“What'd I tell you.” He leaned back into the couch cushions knowingly while readjusting his legs that now were sprawled out on the floor.

“Sucks to be you, bro.” Michelangelo spoke underneath the blanket smothering his head and wrapped tightly around his body.

“Whatever.” He dropped the remote that was recently wound around his wrist and stood up. The turtle groaned. He was so sure he got that one on lock. Raphael, who was lying across the couch, shook his head in dismay. Mona, sitting in front of him by his stomach, caught sight of his look and tapped him on the forehead. He opened his eyes quickly and gave her an upset shrug at her glare. “Popcorn refills?” Leonardo the loser offered after noticing his bowl was full of unpopped kernels.

“Yes!” A select few mutant’s arms shot up with empty or low popcorn bowls for the terrapin to take back into the kitchen. The blue banded turtle took each one and piled them up in his arms as the continued to keep their eyes on the TV screen.

“Shouldn't you all be out and about rather than sitting cooped up in here in the blue light?” The teens jumped, leaning to the left for they did not see their father approaching from the right side of the room. He walked in collectedly, unlike his children. His smooth yet gruff voice took some of the intensity levels down for the family relaxed enough to answer his question.

“It's just one night, Sensei.”  Raphael assured, shrugging his shoulders. Donatello added.

“A little relaxation.”

“Relaxation? You were all screaming at one another a moment ago.” He pointed out, twirling his facial hairs in his fingers.

“We can't help it if a murder-mystery game gets up hyped up!” Mona defended.

“This is as close to chillin’ as we get!” Mikey spoke in a shrill voice.

“Ah, but did you check with Chief Vincent and see if there was anything needing your assistance?” He raised a knowing brow. Ever since that ceremony for the boys, Vincent took up on their offer whenever she could. Now, it was like they were unofficial official policemen of New York.

“She said they got it under control.” Venus spoke with a small amount of popcorn in her cheeks. Granted, she had never heard or met the woman due to them arriving back home at a time when they had already done some mini missions for her (also including an alien invasion), she spoke on behalf of Leonardo who called in before they decided to grant themselves a little downtime.

“We tried to see otherwise, but they're fine.” The eldest brother gave him a boy scout’s oath. “Honest.” Splinter stood still for a moment. It was as if he was inspecting the honesty of his word.

“Very well.” He let them be. Leo put his hand down and watched his father move away for an extent. There was no need for him to be around if they were to continue bantering with one another over the stupidest of things. He gets that enough already. Now, more screaming was to be heard. One of the doors that led to their lair opened and shut. They’d be alarmed if they did not feel a happy presence.

“¡Hola mi hermosa familia!” They knew that voice. Heads turned to see the strutting chicana, belting out her foreign words with her arms up in a flaunting fashion. “¡Lo hice justo a tiempo para algunas pistas de Wii!” She gripped the top of the couch when she approached it.

“No hablo Taco Bell.” Raphael joked when his turn came up. He lifted the remote, but with his arm stuck behind Mona, it didn’t work out. They both awkwardly tried to decide what was easier: she scoot in more so he can keep his arm in the present spot and play or she crams into Leo just for Raph to get his turn in. This wasn’t a problem earlier since Leonardo was on the floor at first until migrating up with them. Her body scooted closer to him so he can roll the die.

“Pleazo speako Englisho, bro.” Mikey chuckled, grinning ear to ear now that the homie was here. They called her an hour ahead, but it felt like forever for her to get there.

“My bad y'all.” She swung around the couch and landed right next to her best friend. When she bumped into his shoulder, he latched onto her gaze quick. They stared for a moment, until Mikey smiled and snatched her with his blanketed arms. The chicana laughed and tried to fight until until they settled to let her put her forearms on his legs as she lay her torso across it.

“Still speaking Spanish first, I see.” The purple banded turtle asked when it was about to be his turn to roll the virtual die.

“Mexico is still in me yall, but I've been better at catching myself.” She looked up to the screen and observed what was going on. “So, I made it just in time for Clue?” The smell and sound of popcorn intrigued her and alarmed her stomach that it was time to growl.

“Gotta wait first until we can figure out the right combo.” Venus informed on the edge of her seat when Donatello used a secret passageway from the bedroom. Angel was disinterested with the event when a white figure caught her eye on the empty space of the couch. She tapped Mona and pointed to the remote. The lizard lady gave it to her promptly when Angel asked:

“Whose remote is this?” She observed the remote promptly, deciding whether or not to strap it on her wrist. It was lit up on the bottom, so someone was using it.

“It was Leo’s-.” Mona began.

“Until he was wrong.” Raph interrupted. Leonardo came back in, arms filled with yellow and white puffballs that filled each individual bowl.

“Fight me.” He challenged as he passed each bowl carefully to the desired mutant. Raphael waved him off and put his eyes back on the game.

“You've lost enough times for tonight.” he added. When Mona got her bowl back, her hand dove into it. When she had a large handful, she shoved the hot kernel’s into the hothead’s mouth. Raphael jolted his head back in surprise. Slowly, he began to chew as Mona giggled with a hand over her mouth. When she least expected it, he retaliated with a few fallen kernels himself. Mona’s back landed on him from the impact of his hand. Now, it was on. As the two had their petty fight, Leonardo kept away from the fire by sitting back down on the floor. Angel could see the somewhat downtrodden expression of his and wanted to fix it.

“It's alright, man.” She placed a hand on his shoulder for he sat down beside her. “Everybody makes mistakes. Everybody has those days.” she sang solo until her accompaniment arrived.

“Everybody knows what, what I'm talkin ‘bout, Everybody gets that way!”

“Whoo!” Angel and Mikey fistbumped on cue then retreated to a compose stature. Leonardo raised a brown, but he was smiling.

“I can never see why you and Mikey would be fast friends.” he spoke sarcastically as he watched Donatello gain a clue.

“Don't be jealous.” She said playfully. “A little more time with me and we'll be just as cool.” Her smile showed no teeth and her eyes were shut by her cheek muscles. “I think.” Angel kept that face when she spoke the last part. Through those squinted eyes, she could see the mutant was enjoying her playfulness and gave her a quick chuckled before looking behind him.

“Hey! You make the mess, you clean it up!” he warned the two mutants who were shoving kernels into the other’s face. They looked back at him with full mouths and innocent eyes.

“He/She started it!” They pointed to one another.

“Accusation time!” The female terrapin sang.

“No! I wanna do it!” Mikey protested.

“Whoever gets there first!” She laid of the rules with a head roll. “And..” She rolled the die. “It’s…” about a second passed before it showed her her numbers. “gonna be me!” She taunted at the butthurt turtle. As She was fixing up to walk to the Pool boy, she accidentally clicked a title too early to move to the one she wanted. “Wait! No no nonononono!” Venus whined to the screen as she watched her Mii come so close and then stop just before the pool.

“Ha! Sucks to be you!” Mikey honked. The female terrapin took no part of it and rather cross her arms and turned her body away from the TV, letting it sink into her bean bag chair. “Look at that.” Mikey acted so smug after his die gave him an ample amount of steps and click on the pool boy. “Time to make an accusation!” Venus did not want to watch, but she wanted to know the results. Maybe they weren’t the same ones she thought. “I say it was Mustard with a Candlestick in the dining room.” He entered in the desired information and clicked Next. Again, the front of the mansion showed. “What?!” He yelped like Lil Jon. “That was solid logic!” He threw his arms towards the TV to emphasis the pure idiocracy and unfairness that was handed to him.

“Who's the loser now?” Venus rubbed it in while he had his mouth gaping open with eyes of shock.

“How can that, who could-?”

“Allow me to clear the air.” Mona suggested. Running out of options to keep his sanity, he looked to his lizard lady sister. “I was attacked when I came by the dining room. Look who's in the dining room.” She pointed her claw to the screen. Mikey followed it, What he saw amazed him.

“No! I thought Scarlet was in the hall!” He whined.

“How do you mess up a young movie star with an aging athlete?” Donnie inquired. The young turtle roared before throwing his hands up.

“All these Miis look the same!” Both of his arms folded into his chest in a pout, lip stuck out and all.

“And now, for your viewing pleasure, the correct set.” Mona smiled when she was able to get to where the other losers were. “Scarlet with a candlestick in the dining room.” Everyone leaned forward.

“Are you SERIOUS?!?” She shouted at the television set that claimed her set was wrong.

“Look at Miss Right all of a sudden!” Mikey teased. Mona hastily unsnapped the wristband of her remote and tossed it to the other side of the couch.

“This game is rigged!”

“Honestly, I think we should have waited on the accusations and played longer to ‘X’ out other weapons.” Donatello suggested. They did just dive into the accusations since they could not figure out what the mini puzzles revealed to them and the blackouts were confusing. The buzz of someone’s cellphone cut the air. Each one checked to see if it was theirs. The only one’s who glowed was Leonardo’s, who checked the Caller ID on his phone: Vincent.

“Chief?” He asked when he answered it. Donatello turned down the Tv and the rest of the crowd stayed quiet for their leader to hear her. “Yeah, we'll be up there.”Pause. “No problem at all.” Pause. “Bye.” He hung up the phone promptly. “They got a lead on where Shredder and Stockman may be. We need to head to TCRI.” He picked himself off the ground. The rest of the family followed his example, excluding their Chicana friend.

“Hold up, I gotta put on some pants.” The blanket that covered the youngest terrapin was thrown in Angel’s face. When she pulled it off, her friend was already up and running towards his room in cartoon underpants.

“Hurry up!” Leo called. Mikey stopped to turn and put his hands on his hips He then began to walk backwards, jerking his hip to the side as he moved.

“You want me to stand behind you in Robin boxers while you talk to the chief?” A pouting, disapproving look from his oldest brother. “I didn't think so!”

“What are we taking?” The tallest terrapin inquired, referring to their mode of transportation.

“They just found something in the investigation.”

“Party Wagon it is.” He winked and left to search for the car’s keys.

“We'll be back Angel!” Leo yelled as the mutant teens were up and running to the garage. “Tell Sensei we're gone!”

“Aight!” She waved back before the crowd completely disappeared. So much for downtime, she thought as she climbed up on the couch, wrapping herself into a burrito with her blanket. Behind her, she could hear the sound of shuffling feet. Given who was left, she sat up and saw the expected rat master travelling to another part of their home.“The guys are at-.”

“I heard them all running out of here.” he interrupted as he approached the couch. His black eyes stared at the TV. Unsure of what he was thinking, she looked at the screen, then back to him. “Hmm…” he breathed. “Try the rope.” His head nodded. Bewildered yet curious, she reached for the still active remote that Raphael was using and pointed it to the screen. She entered the same information Mona put in but with the rope as the weapon. The screen turned into the police incarcerating the Scarlet Mii and a quick hurrah for finding the right match.

“Dang Sensei, how'd you know that?” she asked. Instead of answering, he played with his beard, turned his back, and walked away. “Splinter.” Angel began to worry. “Splinter,S-Splinter,Comó sabes eso?! Splinter!” She yelled.

“Wait for me! Wait for me!” The orange banded turtle was speeding across the room towards the exit for he was left behind by his siblings. He couldn’t gain much ground as he ran and pulled up his shorts. His jacket that he’d tie around his waist was hanging, tied around his neck. The back of it acted like a flag as he ran. “My butt’s hangin’ out my shorts! Wait for me!”