#travis who has to go home to his mother with his dad and brother dead

[chasingfictions]

TRAVIS MARTINEZ in YELLOWJACKETS - "PILOT" (2021)

[notfeelingthyaster]

Imagine (inspired by the incomplete fanfic Son of Underworld) (2/5) (Son of Hades! Percy AU)

Check the other parts in the masterpost - read the warnings before proceeding. Good reading!!

After the worse summer, Percy goes home.

Luke's proposal keeps swimming in his head - the blonde is not wrong, but Percy has been scammed before - he remembers once that a "friend" convinced him to be a lookout for him to do something shady at the Dean's Office and then put the blame on him.

And he was blamed - Percy is black, and black kids are never the innocent ones - but now he knows better.

Being a child of the Underworld gods is not that different from being black. 

Percy is comfortable with his skin though - his mother is incredible, and most people at Camp are mixed up. Charles is African-American. Selena's father is Muslim, and the Stoll's mother is Jewish (half the reason they are year-rounders). Clarisse's mom is from Nicaragua. Michael Yew has a Brazilian grandma with Japanese heritage.

He isn't friends with most of them - Charles is like a big brother to him and Michael Yew taught him how to shoot an arrow, but Clarisse is at most a good spar partner and nor the Stolls nor Silena care for his company very much.

Percy tells himself that he doesn't care.

He packs his bags - a blue and red backpack and a few surf shirts from the amusement park where he destroyed a pool and made the ground swallow mechanic spiders, both the Minotaurs horns, now fashioned into very cool knives, his Warhammer and his ax slung across his back. The only sweater he has, the one he came here with, the blue one, is warming him up to the chill of autumn.

Chiron asks him if he doesn't want to stay. He touches the willow standing in the furthest shore of the river, the one that marks the barrier of Camp Half-Blood. It used to be Thalia Grace, daughter of Poseidon.

Chiron looks to him with pity. He doesn't need to know that Percy is planning to murder Gabe Ugliano.

Percy goes to do that. He travels, by car. He has enough money - he has money appearing in his pockets all the time now, his father must be truly guilty.

Then he opens the door of his old apartment - but Gabe is not there, in the living room. There's just his mom, on the couch.

His mom

Alive

Percy cries, and they hug, and then they trade stories. She tells him she was asleep in Olympus, and Zeus gave her back when the bolt got to his hands.

He is less angry. But the heavy weight of indignation seats in his stomach. 

There's no time for it now: Percy is going back to Yancy Academy - his grades were not bad - and Gabe is now a very charming statue for someone very rich (later, he will discover it was Persephone who bought it).

He tells her everything, safe in her arms, no shirt, no gloves. His mom can touch him everywhere - not even a cell in his body would attack her.

He is so touch starved he keeps sleeping in her bed for a week, and, at night, he cries. Percy has horrible nightmares - he is just twelve and he has killed.

He tells her about his meeting with his father in hushed whispers at an evening where the sky is blue and pink - just how he likes it.

Sally almost goes to the Underworld herself smack sense in her ex-lover, but she knows Persephone would do so for her.

Percy tells her about Luke - not about the Rebellion, lest any gods hear him, but about Luke and Alabaster and Ethan and those kids, alone in a Cabin of rejects.

She says she is going back to college - and that she'll do her best to go see him every weekend at Yancy.

He tells her about his powers. Sally doesn't like the risks but say he should start practicing for his own safety.

They cuddle and Percy clings to his anchor like a lifeline. Percy wants to go to the Underworld again sometime - more to play with Cerberus than to do anything else.

He takes the bus reluctantly - he offers to stay and go to public school, but he knows his chance lays at Yancy.

Percy study Math. He is in seventh grade now - the real Math is here, the financials and calculus and they keep putting him in "Gifted and Advanced" classes for it.

His English still sucks. Biology, for all that should be easy for him, its way too boring - he prefers dead bodies, thank you very much.

He excels at Math and Health&PE (which summer camp took care), passes with acceptable grades in World History, Geography and Social Studies (he nails a project about demographics with some really helpful ghosts), does badly in Science and fails tragically at English and Literature.

They call him a genius - and a genius has areas they specialize in. His grades in math are enough to push him to the eighth grade.

At weekends, when his mother can't come to see him, he locks his dorm and practices his shadow traveling and his powers over the earth and metal manipulation.

His shadow traveling is a mess - once he ends up in Ukraine, and panics trying to come back, just to end up in Wyoming. Again.

Thrice, he manages to reach the underworld. It's winter - Persephone is somewhere down there, but he doesn't want to see his father. He plays with Cerberus when he has some energy - the first two times he just cuddles up with the dog and sleeps a little.

The last time he goes to the Underworld, it's the last day before summer break - he still has not made any contact with his dad, he still doesn't know if he wants to join Luke, he still doesn't know if he wants to go back to CHB.

He goes back to his Mom's house with a hellhound puppy and makes kitten eyes until she lets it stays - if he trains and feeds him and whatnot.

He has dreams about Grover in a bride's dress. It freaks the hell out of him because there's a cyclops in it.

Percy is crossing the street with groceries when he sees a cyclops. He doesn't give the creature a chance to see him - he goes to his room and start packing - it's too dangerous for him, and he can't lose his Mom again.

He cuddles his Mom and the puppy - which he named Blackjack - and calls Chiron.

Chiron is sending Annabeth - apparently, something happened to the borders of the camp.

Percy decides to help, for Annabeth, for Grover, for the small kids at Cabin 9 and 11, and the newbies (there's one, Will Solace, who isn't even eleven yet and he has been there for a year).

He packs his colorful sweaters (rebelling, but in the opposite direction of his father’s aesthetic), put his puppy in a leash (it's bigger than a mastiff now, but all dogs are puppies) and wait for his best friend.

She meets him with an expression of someone who is announcing a funeral - Grover is lost in his searches for Pan.

Percy thinks the little tremor that shook his building it's a good enough hold in his powers, nothing is broken and no one is dead, so it's fine.

He hugs Annabeth and feels warm inside. Health classes covered changes in his body, but he didn't expect to be that quick. Annabeth is taller than him by at least five inches and much prettier.

He picks up his Warhammer and his ax (how does the mist occlude that? do everyone think he is doing cosplay?), throws a duffel bag in his shoulder, his loyal puppy beside him.

"Are you getting into the dark vibe, Corpse Breath?"

"Shut up Annie"

The camp is being attacked - they get a weird taxi thing, pay extra and are given three random locations in the mainland.

Percy doesn't forget the names. There's Agramonte, in Cuba; Okeechobee, in Florida; and Pic La Selle in Haiti.

CHB is being attacked when they get there - by bronze bulls no less. Percy goes to battle with a weapon in each hand, like a war god.

Clarisse does way more damage than him, bashing bull metal skulls left and right like a master. But he kills one of five and does damage to other two.

She claps him in the back - he is glad he has a sweater on, even if it is a horrible shade of brilliant orange.

Charles and him take the weapons to the Forge to correct any damage. Charles hugs him and then starts gushing about Silena.

Charles and Annabeth takes him to see the new Camp Director.

It's Tantalus.

Percy laughs so hard he almost falls down, and Dionysus looks bored - but Percy isn't dumb, he sees mirth in his eyes.

He wants so badly to do a smart comment. He wants to see if his powers can rip a ghost that his father reinstated. He wants to taunt Tantalus.

"What are you laughing about, metic?"

"Nothing, you remind me of someone."

But Percy fends off other questions, and sits at the Cabin 11 table obediently. He wants to startle that man so badly he won't ever sneer at Percy anymore.

He knows just the people for the job. They aren't in any way close, but they all up for mischief. His opportunity comes with the chariot race announced - Percy corners the Stoll Brothers.

"Let me race with you" He starts, and they look surprised by any emotion coming from him in their direction (Percy smiles were reserved for Annie and Grover and Luke and Alabaster and Ethan).

"I want to startle Tantalus and you want victory - I can give you any chariot, if you let me swarm the whole road with skeletons"

The Stolls look at one another, and mentally say something, before doing a random coin toss.

"I'm racing with you" Says Connor.

They mark a time to see the chariot in the next day. They take the whole Cabin 11 with them to prevent attention - Percy is not letting this game go.

Percy gets a chariot directly from the underworld, black obsidian (not Stygian iron, way too rare) and silver, with blue gems that glisten under the sun, a Helm with wings marking its front.

There are four horses pushing it - skeletal horses, incapable of feeling pain or thirst.

It's the first time Percy feels like he belongs - this is a competition, and he is going to win.

Connor and Travis have an array of contraptions and grenades and smoke bombs.

They arrive at the start line at last, for maximum impact. No one is expecting this - they're waiting for Hermes' old chariot, a rickety thing that should be scrap years ago, with any Pegasi they managed to gather in the stables.

They forgot something: Percy exists. It's normal, and Percy it's okay with it in this instance.

The Stymphalian Birds appear - and are countered by his skeletons hitting their spears and swords on their shields. None of them hit him, and the Cabin 11 arrives at first followed by a disgruntled Clarisse after she fought at least 20 skeletons.

Tantalus tries. He really tries to accuse Percy of cheating, but it's pointed out - with approval of Dionysus to boot - that the Demeter kids used their vines to place third and Pollux and Castor did the same to get the fifth spot - just behind the giant contraption that was the Hephaestus chariot.

Clarisse is not happy with the second spot and the silver laurels, but she claps him in the back anyway - Ares is the god of war, not bad sportsmanship.

The Hermes Cabin is in euphoria - Apollo, who placed last, after Aphrodite since they unleashed a dozen doves with a sleeping potion in their faces, it's doing all of the Cabin 11 chores for a month - and they are having a feast of the gods.

Just that night, Percy sacrifices a big pomegranate for Hades and one for Persephone - forgiveness, can you imagine?

He sacrifices to Hermes, as always, for taking the small kids. He sees the joy in their faces - and while Percy is a person reserved to his friends and now he is mostly stoic Perseus, son of Hades, forge gremlin, he always hugs the kids that have nightmares.

It's not what he wanted - it's weird to be touched. It's weirder to have someone want to be next to him. Percy is a cactus, he is prickly. He never smiles. He misses his mom - she would know what to do.

But the little kids trust him. Lou Ellen is unclaimed since the ending of last summer - Percy doesn't know if she has someone to return to.

Those kids at Cabin 11 deserve more then a couple of teens taking care of them. Those kids deserve better, they all deserve better.

There are seven-year-old children there. They barely know how to read. Percy teaches - Annabeth teaches history and myths and Greek, but is he who takes on math to the younger ones, the ones who barely know how to multiply.

He considers staying year-round. They all had Chiron - but it isn't enough. It isn't a family. It isn't. Percy is not their family either - he doesn't overestimate himself - but at least he cares. Not because of their godly blood, but because they are children.

He still hates touch. He is never without his sweaters and gloves. He never smiles at anyone that isn't Annie or Grover or Luke or Alabaster or Ethan.

These days, he only has Annie.

He misses Luke, and he wants to scoop all of these children and take them with him to Kronos, away from the gods. But for what? Another master to fight for?

Was Luke the one who poisoned Thalia? Would he do the same to Percy if Percy denied him?

A mission is issued to go after Golden Fleece - it's in the same place Grover is, it's what Annie and Percy agree on.

Percy is a calculating boy. He deals in numbers, in measures. He is completely oblivious when it comes to feelings and anything that's more subjective than an equation.

But she thinks he likes them. Her and Grover, and those little kids that follow him around sometimes.

She likes the way her yellow hair contrasts with his dark skin, the way his curls flop in his forehead. She likes the specks of green in his eyes. He is her best friend. It's not the love she has for Luke, but it's something akin to admiration.

Percy and Connor are chosen to go on the mission - and Tantalus tries and bullshits some reason for them to go alone, but Percy shakes his head.

"The oracle said, three people"

He is bullshitting them. Tantalus makes him take Clarisse, and Annabeth stays behind.

"I doubt you can get in the sea of monsters without crossing water, eromenoi"

Perseus laughs and laughs, and his eyes are dark as the night without moon. He shoves his hands in the pockets of his soft blue hoodie, and motions for Connor and Clarisse to follow.

Before he leaves, he kisses her cheek softly. It's going to be okay. He will bring Grover back.

He shadow travels the three on them for the closest location the Grey Sisters gave him. It’s difficult, even with a hellhound. He aims for Okeechobee and lands in Miami.

Percy needs to sleep for at least a day, so they use the time to reach their destiny by car. Connor is a very adept child of Hermes, and soon they’re on the road in a red old pickup.

“So Corpse Breath is the hammer, and you’re the polishing stone? Fitting” snorts Clarisse, and just like that, they are bonding.

Percy expects them to trade shitty childhood stories and stupid hobbies or badmouth their deadbeat godly parents, but that was another trip, with very different people.

Clarisse La Rue is sixteen. Her favorite weapon is a javelin or a spear, but she will always prefer hand to hand combat. She loves Led Zeppelin and thinks Silena’s white hijab is the cutest thing in the world. She speaks Spanish - a relief because Percy barely speaks English.

Connor Stoll is fifteen. He prefers gas bombs to grenades - and he does a mean Molotov. He did graffiti until he was twelve. He thinks the Gardner Sisters from the Demeter Cabin are both cute - but Pollux got hot during the winter.

That’s how Percy discovers bisexuality - in a stolen car with a giant hellhound, a girl who has arms larger than his thighs and drives like a grandma and a boy who is two seconds away from spontaneous combustion.

He thinks that explains Luke and Annabeth - but he doesn’t voice it. 

Percy doesn’t smile to them for a long time - he knows not even muscular spasms are free of charge.

He stays stoic until they stop to sleep - and Connor has wings in the back of his underwear and its the most ridiculous thing ever.

They reach the city and wander. They do encounter someone - Hecate herself.

She says to Percy it is her last favor - and he knows she already left for Kronos. Luke’s drachma burns in his pocket. She opens a wall of stone - a passageway the Huntresses use sometimes.

“My son waits for you” his quest mates pretend not to hear it - and he pretends nothing is happening. At least Alabaster is okay.

They walk across the cave for what it feels like a day. He is almost sure Hecate has plans to kill them when they find the exit: In an island spa.

A girl comes and analyze them. She looks at them with a kind smile - but Percy knows smiles have prices.

They go meet with the owner: C.C. He doesn't recognize her, but Connor takes one look at those weird guinea pigs and tap Percy's hand twice.

It's a code: Danger.

They are patient. Clarisse is looking at the flimsy girls with their togas and golden braids - she is not going with them.

C.C. Apparently accepts that Clarisse is "more male than a female" like gender is something defined by dresses and makeup.

As soon as the girls are out of the room, Percy taps Clarisse's hand, and she runs her spear through C.C.'s belly. The woman bleeds ichor - but disappears in a cloud of golden sand.

They go through her things for money while Connor explains that he learned about her from Charles. Charles's first mission almost ended up with him as a guinea pig. At least now they know they are in the right place.

Percy takes all her money and their weapons back. He straps as many knives he can throw in his pants and belt: One can never have enough weapons.

They find some hoods and sneak out to the boats on the beach. Connor steals again. Percy hates water: But the Sea of Monsters is beyond Poseidon's direct control, and Percy is going to hole himself up until they get to the next island.

He vomits. He is so seasick, it's not even funny. He hates boats. He hates large bodies of water. Anything bigger than a pool, and he is out.

Clarisse thinks it's funny. She laughs at him - and weirdly, he smiles back a little. The daughter of Ares plays with Blackjack, and they bond.

They are not friends - but they would kill for each other. They find it weird they had no godly intervention from Olympus - but then, Percy remembers he is just a son of Hades, and the Olympians hate him.

He burns food to Hecate. He doesn't burn food to Hermes, who appears in everyone else's quests, but avoid his own son's.

None of them has enough hubris to try and listen to the sirens. Clarisse's fatal flaw is bloodlust and Connor's is arrogance - the idea he can do anything, steal anything, and he'll never be punished.

They don't hear anything. Their next stop is the Isle of Polyphemus.

This time around, Connor is Nobody, Clarisse sneaks under a sheep to save Grover, and Percy gets the Fleece. They try to escape through a passageway that Percy's powers say lead to Haiti, but the cyclops colapses it with a boulder.

Percy hates cyclops.

They shadowtravel. Percy isn't any better at it, and with Grover tagging along, it's pretty obvious what happens, even if he is wearing the Golden Fleece like a giant blanket of strenght.

They end up in Wyoming. Percy sleeps for a week: he is starting to flick, like a ghost, and the magical sheep skin can only help so much. In this week, apparently, they meet the Party Ponies.

Chiron takes Percy in his back to CHB with the Fleece, but his friends stay behind because the centaurs won't let them mount, and they can't keep up on feet.

Clarisse, Connor and Grover meet Luke, Ethan and Alabaster in their way to an airport. It goes badly, but no one dies. They tell him Ethan only has one eye now, and that Luke looks tired and mad.

Percy thinks joining Kronos might be a bad idea. But then, he goes back to Camp, save the tree, and things don't change. The kids are still kids, alone and sad.

Will Solace was claimed. He says he misses Cabin 11, and some of his brothers don't want him to talk to Percy anymore.

It hurts. They try and keep contact for the following week, but peer pressure pushes Will away. Percy doesn't blame him.

The tree spits Thalia, daughter of Poseidon. She has black hair with green accents, green eyes, uses heavy makeup, and looks like a "Hades spawn" should look.

Percy likes her. He has no need for being the leader, and he has Annie and Grover (and Luke, and Alabaster, and Ethan, he thinks). Annie and Luke love her, so she must be amazing. He tries.

Thalia doesn't like him. She hates Hades, the one who killed her. She doesn't trust him or the fact that he never touches anyone.

Perseus tells himself he doesn't care. And suddenly, Thalia goes from "could be a good friend" to "better stay away".

The Camp celebrates Thalia. He is the hero, he brought the Fleece back, he is also a child of the Big Three. But they hate him, just like the kids in school hate him for his skin colour.

Annie has no time for him. Grover goes back to his search. He doesn't think he is going to join Kronos, but the drachma is still in his pocket.

He goes back to his mother, and then, to Yancy.

This summer, he was the hero. But no matter what, he was still the son of Hades.

[gaybastard2]

IDFC- Chapter 7- He’s Back

Text

[He's Back]

Warning: This chapter will contain gore and homophobic slurs

I stood up and stretched while we discussed who our favorite character from Heathers was. Mine was JD, he's a crazy motherfucker and I love him. Everyone was just fucking around and laughing. It was nice, it's been a while since everything was just calm. It was also nice with Travis. He's fucking adorable, like holy shit, how does he do that? He's a smart ass, but still. He's just so Travis. That doesn't make any sense but whatever.

Aggressive knocking from the door rang threw the room, making Sal flinch and Travis cringe. Both of them are kind of sensitive to loud noises. "I'll get it." I murmured, walking to the door. Who the fuck is trying to break the door down? Just as I approached the door it swung open, reveling a scowling , slim middle age man with short blonde hair and stubble on his chin. He wore an open, black suit jacket that showed his white button down shirt underneath. He had black slacks and black dress shoes. Basically, he looks like a jackass. My eyes lingered on a red stain at the bottom of his otherwise perfect shirt. Huh, that's kinda weird.

My eyes shoot up as he clears his throat obnoxiously, now sporting a plastic smile. I sighed, clearly annoyed, and leaned against the doorway, crossing my arms. "What do you want?" I asked, scowling. I know I'm probably being a dick, but I honestly don't give a shit. I just wanna get back to my friends and boyfriend.

His left eye twitched as his smile faltered for a second before going back to his fake-ass grin. He stuck out his hand as he spoke. "Well, young man, I believe my son is here. I would like if you would please bring him to me." He demanded gruffly. My eyes widened as I shot up from my lenient position on the doorframe. I pushed his hand back towards him.

"Sorry, your son isn't here. You can go now." I said quickly, beginning to shut the door. Kenneth stuck his foot in front on the door right before it closed. Shit. "I know he's here, Johnson." He growled, pushing the door open and walking in. Oh hell no.

"Get the fuck out!" I screamed as I kicked his stomach, pushing him back out the door. I quickly slammed the door shut and locked it before running back to the living room, trying to ignore the booming voice from the door. I ran up to Travis and cupped his face gently. "Travis, your dad, he's here. Go to the bathroom and lock the door. I promise, I'll keep you safe." I explained in a hushed tone,

He gasped, nodded, and quickly pecked my lips before shakily running to the bathroom and hopefully locking it. I turned to Sal and Ashley. "It's Kenneth. Sal, please go grab the bats from my closet. Ash, go and try and keep the door closed." They both nodded. Sal ran to my room to grab my bat and Ash ran to the door and leaned all her weight against it as Kenneth repeatedly kicked it.

Soon enough Sal ran back into the room, holding two metal bats. He handed one of them to me as we approached the door. We knew that Ash could only hold the door for so long before the grown man would fucking kick it off it's hinges. After a few more kicks from Kenneth, Ash was launched forward onto the floor as the door was finally knocked off its hinges. I looked over at Sal. Fear and anger was prominent in his eyes, even with his emotionless mask. His grip tightened on his bat as his arms slightly shook.

We had done some research and came to the conclusion that Kenneth Phelps was most likely a cult leader for the Devourers of God. Sal thinks that he's the person that killed his mom and disfigured his face. We also now know he physically and mentally abused Travis. Yeah, this man is scum of the goddamn world. I took a step closer. "Listen, if you don't get the fuck out, I swear to whatever god there is-" Before I could even finish my sentence, Sal launched himself towards Kenneth, bat first, aiming for his head.

Apparently Sal's aim isn't the best because he missed and hit Kenneth's shoulder. He merely winced before yanking one of Sal's pigtails upward and right hooking the side of his head. He yelled in pain, dropping his bat as he tried to break free. Kenneth repeatedly punched the side of Sal's head again, ignoring his screams, until he went limp, his screams stopping.

All I could do was stare. I physically couldn't move. The boy that's basically my brother just got beat till he was unconscious, unmoving in this bastard's hands. Silent tears ran down my cheeks. Kenneth chucked Sal onto to the ground next to me, laughing slightly. I turned to him, shaking. "S-Sal? Are..are you okay?" I got no response. Blood was oozing out the bottom of his mask and the side. "Sal....please..a-are you.." I started, my voice shaky.

My eyes went to his chest. It was rising and falling slowly. I sighed in relief and turned back to Kenneth, holding my bat higher. Then we heard a loud sob from my bathroom. Shit, Travis is still there. My grip tightened on my bat. I need to protect him. His head jerks to the bathroom and he smiles sickeningly. "I can hear you, faggot!" Kenneth yelled. I looked behind him. Ashley was laying on the ground, unconscious. She shifted slightly, beginning to gain consciousness. Fuck, I hope she wakes up soon, Sal needs help. I took a deep breath.

"If you even think about touching him or any of my friends, I will bash your goddamn skull in." I threatened. He snorted and made eye contact with me. "Go ahead. I wanna see what you can do." He has this sadist look in his eyes when he said that. I don't know what he has planned, but goddamn I'm pissed. I ran forward and swung my bat, praying to hit his head.

The edge of my bat did end up hitting his temple, sending him stumbling to the side. The hit opened a small gash in the side of his head. Blood trickled down his face as he laughed hysterically, his eyes both far off and manic at the same time. I slowly backed up, worried what he was doing, blood dripping off the end of my bat. Kenneth clutched his side as his body shook with laughter. Oh goddamn he’s crazy. The sobbing from the bathroom was getting louder, only making him more hysterical. I need to get Travis out of this situation, Sal needs help, and Ashley needs to wake up. I’m at a fucking loss. This whole situation is a cluster-fuck.

After Kenneth finally stopped laughing, he opened one side of his suit jacket, shakily reached hand in, and pulled out a revolver. I went stock-still. Holy shit. I dropped my bat. I was paralyzed. My mind was racing as he raised his arm up and cocked the gun. He smiled once again.

“Bye bye, Johnson.” Kenneth said quietly, his voice unsettlingly calm. He pulled the trigger, aiming for my chest. I tried to jump out of the way, but I was a bit too late. I felt a piercing pain in my shoulder, almost white hot, feeling worse by the second. Oh my fuck. I shrieked in agony as the world spun around me. The pain was almost numbing. I was shaking and hyperventilating, my heart pounding in my ears. My legs gave out and I fell to the floor.

I felt hot liquid running down my chest and staining my Sanity Falls shirt. I brought my hand to my shoulder and the liquid, biting back a scream as my hand grazed the wound. I shakily brought my hand back to my line of sight to see scarlet blood coating my finger tips. I turned my head to look behind me. There was a bloody bullet laying on the ground. Oh my god, it went though my shoulder, and I have no fucking idea if that’s a good thing or not.

Holy shit, this is it. This is how I die. My best friend badly injured next to me, my other best friend unconscious behind a piece of shit man and could wake up at any point, and my dear boyfriend stuck in a bathroom, his awful father right outside. My mother is going to come home to her dead son, or even worse, this motherfucker.

Hot tears cascaded down my cheeks as my body rocked with sobs. “Your fucking pathetic.” Kenneth spat. He then turned to Ash, who was now awake and crying hysterically, and smiled. “Time to get rid of the witness.” Then the door to my left opened, and I almost forgot about my pain, almost. What I assumed was a fucking angel walked out of the door. Oh wait, that’s just Travis. Eh, same thing. He gasped and cupped his hand over his mouth.

“Lar-Larry, please, p-please...be-be okay! Please don’t l-leave me!” He whispered, his voice barely audible. Tears starting to stream down his cheeks and he shook uncontrollably as his eyes stayed on my shoulder. “Hey, don’t worry, I-I’m sure I’m gonna-gonna be fine” I whispered weakly. God I hope I’m right. My head was dangerously dizzy. Travis sobbed quietly, only getting louder when he saw Sal.

He quickly took off his sweater and kneeled next to me. He speedily wrapped it around my wound and tied it to stop me from loosing more blood, murmuring quit apologies when I wince. Travis kissed me gently and pulled away. “I’m so sorry.” He whispered, more tears running down his cheeks as he pushed a piece of hair behind my ear. It killed me to see him like this, especially with the hot pain in my shoulder. I kissed him, cupping his cheek gently when he kissed back.

He pulled away carefully and turned his head to see Kenneth yanking Ashley’s hair up. Travis gasped and went bright red with anger. He stood up and looked down at the bat next to me, the blood now dried on it. Travis picked it up and before I could object, silently approached his father from behind.

“Trav, please be careful..” I whispered to myself as he crept closer to Kenneth.

[gokinjeespot]

off the rack #1242

Monday, December 24, 2018

 I was hit by a spasm of back pain on Saturday like the ghost of Christmas Past. That'll teach me for being such a Scrooge this time of year. I try not to be naughty but being nice is such a pain in the pants. I am slowly recovering under the gentle ministrations of Santa's Helper. Being around family and friends is better medicine than any pain pills I could take. My brother and sister-in-law hosted a brunch yesterday and seeing everyone together laughing and happy soothed me greatly. Just holding baby Oliver and making him smile eased my back pain.

 I saw the Ottawa premiere of Aquaman thanks to my Jee-Riz partner Chris, who won passes from the comic book store Myths, Legends and Heroes. I can sum up how I felt about the movie in one word; wigs. I wish they had spent some of the Atlantis special effects budget on better wigs for the actors. Arthur's dad's toupee was glaringly obvious. I've seen better hair on Cosplayers than Nicole Kidman's wigs. It looked like Amber Heard/Mera was wearing a wig at times but even when it looked like her real hair the colour red they chose was too unnatural looking. The movie's saving grace for me was Jason Momoa. He makes a great Arthur/Aquaman. I'm glad I didn't pay to see this one.

 Ugh. Stan Lee tribute covers. Terrible marketing idea.

 Dead Man Logan #2 - Ed Brisson (writer) Mike Henderson (art) Nolan Woodard (colours) VC's Cory Petit (letters). A couple of things really annoyed me this issue. Sin, the Red Skull's daughter, acted like a spoiled brat. It's not a stretch to foresee the villains losing at the end of this 12-issue story. Then we have Forge repairing a machine that can get Old Man Logan back home. They actually go there and he doesn't stay. I'm for super heroics as much as the next nerd and maybe I'm selfish, but that irked me to no end. Old Man Logan has been whining about getting home ever since he showed up in this timeline and now he wants to stay to prevent all the super heroes from being killed by all the super villains. There isn't even a guarantee that is what happens in the future. And why don't they use the machine to fix things? Man I hate time travel. I really like Mike Henderson's art but this looks like another travelling super heroes versus super villains battle every issue, and that's not very interesting to me.

 Defenders: The Best Defense #1 - Al Ewing (writer) Joe Bennett (pencils) Belardino Brabo (inks) Dono Sanchez Almara (colours) VC's Clayton Cowles (letters). It's the big Defenders reunion to save Earth. Old Man Dr. Strange, Hulk, Namor and the Silver Surfer have to sidetrack The Train in order for Earth to survive. It's a bit complicated and I'm surprised that you didn't really need to read all the one-shots to get what's going on. I mean all those scenes where the stabby killer in the bed sheet is killing aliens isn't even mentioned in this story. So what was up with that?

 Marvel Knights #4 - Vita Ayala & Donny Cates (writers) Joshua Cassara (art) Matt Milla (colours) VC's Cory Petit (letters). Here's where they explain why all the super heroes have forgotten who they are. T'Challa/Black Panther is featured in this issue that ends with him discovering the lair of villains. I'm wondering how the bad guys retained their memories.

 Old Man Hawkeye #12 - Ethan Sacks (writer) Francesco Mobili (art) Andres Mossa (colours) VC's Joe Caramagna (letters). That was a very satisfying ending. What a great prequel to the Old Man Logan story where Clint and Logan go on a road trip. This is where Clint loses his sight for good. I loved the last page epilogue showing Clint tracking down someone who will help him to continue to fight the bad guys despite his blindness.

 Runaways #16 - Rainbow Rowell (writer) Kris Anka (art) Matthew Wilson (colours) VC's Joe Caramagna (letters). Reading this Christmas special is better than getting a lump of coal. Having Doombot as a dinner guest made this a treat. I wish he was a regular member of the team.

 West Coast Avengers #6 - Kelly Thompson (writer) Daniele Di Nicuolo (art) Triona Farrell (colours) VC's Joe Caramagna (letters). The good guys have been captured by the bad guys: Satana Hellstrom, M.O.D.O.K., The Eel and Madame Masque. Kate is still free however and she's not going to abandon her team mates. Too bad she gets waylaid on her way to rescue them. Her captor is a complete surprise, which will make the next issue a hoot.

 Thor #8 - Jason Aaron (writer) Mike del Mundo (art) VC's Joe Sabino (letters). This is an awesome issue with Thor fighting the Angelus. It ends with an ex-Agent of S.H.I.E.L.D. being paid a visit by the Black Panther. I like how this book is being tied into The Avengers.

 Season's Beatings #1 - Jason Latour (writer) Greg Hinkle, Chris Brunner, Veronica Fish & Mario Del Pennino (art) Rico Renzi, Jim Campbell & Veronica Fish (colours) VC's Travis Lanham (letters). I should have realized from the cover that this was a Deadpool Christmas Special. If I had known, I would have bought a pair of socks from the Dollar Store with the $4.99 US that this comic book costs. Unless of course, you're a big Deadpool fan or West Coast Avengers fan or even an X-Force fan. They're all in here too. Plus Squirrel Girl and Doctor Doom. Come to think of it, this is an everything but the kitchen sink gift for a Marvel Comics fan who will get a few chuckles out of it.

 Freedom Fighters #1 - Robert Venditti (writer) Eddy Barrows (pencils) Eber Ferreira (inks) Adriano Lucas (colours) Deron Bennett (letters). This is some heavy duty patriotic poop right here. We start this 12-issue story in 1963 America that is ruled by Adolf Hitler and his "ratzi" party. The original Freedom Fighters meet to plot a resistance attack on a war robot factory. Things don't go well for the good guys. Jump forward to 2018 and the surprise appearance of the New Freedom Fighters; Black Condor, Doll Woman, the Human Bomb and Phantom Lady. All we need is Uncle Sam. Robert Venditti holds nothing back showing the Germans as ruthless racists. The art is really well done so I will give these Golden Age heroes a chance to see how they fare in modern times.

 Middlewest #2 - Skottie Young (writer) Jorge Corona (art) Jean Francois Beaulieu (colours) Nate Piekos (letters). A new character named Jeb is introduced who helps Abel get out of a bind. Jeb reminds me of the first time we meet Gandalf. Abel's quest continues and we find out a bit more about the symbol on his chest. I predict he'll meet his mother down the road but unlike the talking fox, I won't be travelling down it with him.

 Cover #4 - Brian Michael Bendis (writer) David Mack (art) Michael Avon Oeming (Owen art) Zu Orzu (colours) Carlos Mangual (letters). This issue is a great example of how a comic book can tell a story with words and pictures. I felt like I was watching a TV show or a short film. Brian, David and Michael work together seamlessly

 Hardcore 1 - Robert Kirkman & Andy Diggle (writers) Alessandro Vitti (art) Adriano Lucas (colours) Thomas Mauer (letters). Yeah man, it is. Agent Drake is a drone pilot but what he controls are other human beings. A new nanotechnology allows him to take over and move a remote body for 72 hours so he can complete wetwork missions. It's really cool. The big problem arises when the guy who invented the tech comes back to reclaim it from the government. That guy is not asking nicely. I like this concept and the predicament that Agent Drake finds himself in at the end of this issue. Therefore, this goes on to my "must read" list.

 Klaus and the Crying Snowman #1 - Grant Morrison (writer) Dan Mora (art) Ed Dukeshire (letters). This $7.99 US one-shot tells the tale of how Sam the snowman helps Klaus save the Earth from murderous aliens. I loved how they wove in Norse mythology. You'd think a crying snowman would be doomed in the end and you'd be right, but fear not, 'tis a happy ending.

 Betty & Veronica #1 - Jamie Lee Rotante (writer) Sandra Lanz (art) Kelly Fitzpatrick (colours) Jack Morelli (letters). The BFFs are back with a 5-issue mini that starts off their senior year of high school. I know that these slightly more mature Archie Comics want to draw in a new audience but Betty dating Reggie? Sacrilege. A few other things bothered me storywise that turned me off even more. Betty drinking a spiked punch without noticing? C'mon. Then there's the art. I didn't like the interiors compared to the nice cover that Sandra drew. I expected my girl Betty to be treated better than this.

 Catwoman #6 - Joelle Jones (story & art) Laura Allred (colours) Josh Reed (letters). The finale of "Copycats" is a quick read so I read it twice. The first time was to see how Catwoman deals with the evil Mrs. Creel and her pumped up on drugs son. The second time was to see Catwoman in action and to savour the beautiful art and layouts. I wish Joelle Jones would do a Betty & Veronica mini.

 Extermination #5 - Ed Brisson (writer) Pepe Larraz (art) Marte Gracia (colours) VC's Joe Sabino (letters). I tolerated this time travel tale because of the amazing art. I wish Pepe Larraz would do a Betty & Veronica mini. If you thought that the mutants being exterminated was a real threat then you haven't been reading X-Men comic books for very long. This story puts the young X-Men back in their own time and all is well again. The big surprise comes on the last page and I'm thinking "oh geez, here we go again".

 Domino #9 - Gail Simone (writer) David Baldeon & Michael Shelfer (art) Roberto Poggi (ink assist) Guru-eFX (colours) VC's Clayton Cowles (letters). Soldier of Fortune part 3. The ladies are asked to kill Longshot. Haven't seen him in a while. Might not see him for long though, since he's supposed to bring about the end of the world. This is interesting because both Domino and Longshot have the same super power. Who's luck is going to run out first?

 Firefly #2 - Greg Pak (writer) Dan McDaid (art) Marcelo Costa (colours) Jim Campbell (letters). Mal and Zoe are being hunted by a gang of thieves and the Alliance. Darn tootin' there's going to be shootin'. I have been watching Nathan Fillion's new cop show The Rookie and I quite like it.

 Batman #61 - Tom King (writer) Travis Moore (art) Tamra Bonvillain (colours) Clayton Cowles (letters). Knightmares part 1. The "what the!?" appearance on the last page of #60 is explained here as a new story starts. I knew something was hinky when I saw the string of pearls around the dead body of Martha Wayne in the alley. I thought we were in an alternate universe and we sort of are but it came as a complete shock when what was going on was explained. Arkham Asylum is getting a new inmate. At least he's new to me unless I want to go back and read Batman #38.

[pabloimagines]

Title: PYT Pairing: Pablo x Reader Rating: PG-13, for language.  A/N: This is gonna be a 2-part fic, but I wanted to get at least a LITTLE something out there for you, nonny, so you didn’t think I’d ignored your request! Also, apparently short fics aren’t a reality where I write from. Also to anyone from West Bend, no disparagement of your town was meant in the production of this fic. Word Count: 2,114

Rural Iowa was about as far from Hollywood glamor as one could get, and West Bend made the distance all the more noticeable. Surrounded by farmland as far as the eye could see, it was a drive-thru town with one main road, bifurcated by the train tracks that cut diagonally across town. West Bend had four restaurants, and one barely counted as it pulled double duty as a general store. Not a McDonald’s for miles or any semblance of the green mermaid beloved by everyone and their mother in Los Angeles. It was, in many ways, a town stuck in simpler times, something which you had never enjoyed. It was the entire impetus for why, at 18, you’d moved first to New York, then Los Angeles in the pursuit of your dreams.

Fast forward, and now, after years of staying out of town and either skipping family holidays on account of work, or flying your immediate family out to LA’s sunny coasts, you had been backed into a corner based on one stupid family tradition. No matter who they were, or where they came from, any and all first serious significant others had to meet the family on home turf and the home of the person dating said significant other didn’t count. Only the old two-story farmhouse that had raised no less than four generations of farmers, truck drivers, and one accountant would do. You’d tried to argue your way out of it, citing the need to be in the city in case you needed to take a meeting about the new show you’d just been cast in, but your mother wasn’t having it. Either you came through with your man in tow for Christmas, or neither your mother or father would ever approve of the match, should your dating lead, as it tended to, to marriage.

While you loved your family, there were certain things you kept from them; Hollywood’s seedy underbelly and your many brushes with it, your instagram account, and, as of the last three years, your boyfriend. It wasn’t from shame, but rather the fear of your parents’ disapproval that kept you from sharing pictures, vacation photos, or even any identifying information. The one time he’d come up in conversation had been your mother mentioning how much she disliked a certain character he’d played in her favorite TV procedural.

“Boys like that aren’t right in the head, y/n. I can’t even begin to imagine what it must have taken for that man to become that...that monster!”

It was a gripe your mother shared with many of his fans, one that you saw nearly every time he put up a new picture on Instagram. I don’t know if I can like you, because of what you did on ___, but you’re hot in this! You’d seen it so often, you could honestly write an essay on the subject. But, you did your best to stay out of the comments, knowing reading them at best killed brain cells and at worst turned you into the next UFC fighter, ready to take on anyone who badmouthed him even the slightest bit.

While you’d originally planned to fly in together and rent a car to make the three hour drive from Minneapolis-Saint Paul International into West Bend, he’d been held up because of reshoots, leaving you to not only have to deal with your two  brothers in your dad’s cramped F-150 for three hours, but to now--two days later--have to sit and listen to your entire family gossip about the man who was due through the front door any minute.

“10 bucks says he has that really annoying California surfer accent.”

“$20 says he’s blonde. And probably shorter than you, Jacob.”

“$30 says he’s got a bunch of tattoos to freak out mom.”

“$40 says he’s shorter than, y/n. Most actors in Hollywood aren’t even average height! They just make them look taller in movies with camera angles and stuff.”

“100 bucks to shut you both up! Jeeze.” You huff, pulling out your wallet and snatching out the bill you’d meant to break at the airport but had forgotten to in your rush to catch your brothers before they hijacked your luggage.

Your older brother, Matt, snatches the bill out of your hands, folding it crisply before putting it in his pocket, one eyebrow raised. Though he’d officially turned 30 a month ago, he still acts 12, and there are days when you can’t decide who’s more childish; him or Jake.

“I should get a bigger cut, seeing as how you get paid above SAG rates now, sis,” he jokes, and you punch his arm before you can stop yourself, only setting off a peel of laughter from both him and your little brother, the two having far too much fun with the notion of you finally bringing someone home.

“Boys, leave your sister alone and go set the table. Y/n, I’m sure he’ll be perfectly lovely, no matter how many tattoos he has. Just so long as you don’t mar your pretty skin, then he can have all the tattoos in the world.” You close your eyes to keep from rolling them all the way back into your skull. Your mother means well, but she’s about as out of touch with the rest of the world as a person can be and her words backfire as they send your brothers into a barrage of silent mimicry, your frustration with them growing by the second.

“You boys listen to your mother, and make sure you wash your hands before you touch the plates. Save your energy in case we have to kick his ass to the curb for your sister.” Your father’s voice comes through the back door, and you relinquish all hope, letting your head fall into your hands even as he passes you, still smelling faintly of corn despite having showered, changed, and switched from his work boots to his house shoes.

“Dad, no one’s getting their asses kicked. Please be nice to him. He’s a good guy, I promise.” You mutter into your folded arms, refusing to lift your head from the nest you’d made between the kitchen counter and your forearms.

“I’ll be the judge of that, thank you v--” Your father’s interrupted by the doorbell ringing, and almost immediately, your mother turns down the volume on the Michael Jackson record she’d been playing non-stop since she started preparations on Christmas dinner. He’s her favorite artist to listen to, mainly because she can dance around between the stove, the counters, and the fridge as she cooks and on top of everything she knows all the lyrics from when she was younger.

Steeling yourself for your family’s reaction, you swivel on your stool and watch as your father squares up his shoulders and puffs out his chest, ready to intimidate the only man you know he doesn’t stand a chance of intimidating in the slightest. Your dad swings open the door like he’s Saint Peter and Heaven is full and you have to press your lips together to keep from outright laughing. Even from your vantage point, you can tell Pablo’s going to have to duck through the door to get in. You trap your bottom lip between your teeth as you watch your father’s eyes widen as he shuffles aside to let Pablo in.

“Dad, this is my boyfriend, Pablo. Pablo, this is my dad, Travis,” you speak up, a smile that’s all fondness and pride crossing your lips as you watch Pablo effortlessly shift a bouquet of flowers and his carry-on from one hand to the other in order to properly shake your father’s hand. There’s snow on his coat and in his hair, and you can’t help but feel that same little flit in your stomach when you realize he looks like every Hallmark Movie boyfriend ever. It’s a good look, one you know he chose with care, but it doesn’t even come close to showing the type of man he truly is. It’s just a polished exterior to make meeting your family a little easier after all the stories you’ve told. If you had your way, you would’ve had him show up in his old motorcycle jacket and boots, but you knew it would scandalize your parents beyond the point of understanding. Both of you had to take baby steps.

“Pleasure to finally meet you, sir.” You’re almost mouthing the words right along with him, and though you hadn’t exactly rehearsed what he was going to say upon first meeting your dad, you did warn him to keep it short and to the point and not try to compliment him too early on, as it would bristle his mustache.

When your father nods in his usual gruff manner, you let out a breath you didn’t know you’d been holding, finally letting yourself take a peek at the rest of your family. Your brothers had stopped dead in their tracks, and you’re amazed Jacob hasn’t dropped the plate he’s holding. Both he and Matt have eyes wider than your father, and it’s only when Pablo approaches that Matt snaps out of it and kicks Jake’s knee, pulling his brother back to the present, even though neither of them can really close their mouths.

“Tanto?” Jake stammers out before you can even introduce them and you mentally let out a long string of cuss words, knowing any chance at normal conversation is over because of course your little brother recognizes him.

“Tanto’s Native American, sweetheart!” Your mother calls and you look for the nearest hole to crawl into, eyes closing in misery.

“No, Ma--Not that Tanto!” Jake says in annoyance before all but grabbing for Pablo’s hand, shaking it vigorously. You’re beyond grateful that Pablo is one of the chillest humans you’ve ever met, otherwise, you aren’t sure your brother’s fanboying would be nearly as well tolerated. All he gets is a smile and chuckle for his exuberance, Pablo seamlessly moving on to shaking Matt’s hand as you remember to make introductions.

“The fanboy is Jake, the old one is Matt. Boys, Pablo.” You say, your voice purposely flat when introducing your brothers, making them both turn and give you narrow-eyed glares. You only make a face back, your eyes moving back over to Pablo, the two of you sharing a secret smile. He knows all about your brothers’ antics and while you weren’t aware any of the men in your family had watched anything with him in it, you know the biggest hurdle is yet to come. Your mother has watched him, judging by how shocked she looks,  and you know full well she recognizes him from a very different role.

“You’re...You...Oh my,” she sounds as flustered as she looks, and for a moment, even Pablo’s face mirrors the worry you’re feeling, a quick glance back at you a silent request for help.

“Mom, he’s not that guy,” you warn her softly, and with quick shake of her head and a smoothing of her apron, your mother switches into ‘mom mode’ and plasters a bright smile to her face, accepting Pablo’s bouquet with the appropriate amount of pleasant surprise.

“These are lovely, thank you so much,” she says, carefully setting them on the counter before she finds her hand wrapped up in one of Pablo’s big mitts. “Mom, this is Pablo, Pablo, this is my mom, Kate.” You smile, watching your boyfriend butter up your mom with a kiss to the back of her hand, Pablo having quickly figured out why she looked like she’d seen a ghost.

“Is there anything I can help you with, ma’am?” he asks, even as he moves over to where you sit, his smile growing just as fond as the one you’re wearing, a reminder that no matter how crazy dinner gets, things will be alright, because he’s here with you. Tipping your head up, you can’t help but scrunch your nose as he cups your face in both hands and kisses you tenderly.

“Missed you,” he breathes as he pulls away, and in that moment, the farmhouse disappears, leaving the two of you to speak volumes with only a look at one another. Reaching up, you stroke your hand over his cheek, tugging gently at his beard, not missing the fact that he’s gotten a trim since the last time you saw him. “Missed you too,” you whisper, any romance interrupted by the sound of Jake pretending to throw up by the dinner table.

“Welcome to West Bend Farm,” you say, plastering on your own sickly-sweet, slightly murderous smile. It’s going to be a long Christmas.

[ftwd-nicky]

Hospital Visits

Pairing: Nick Clark x Reader

Author: @ftwd-nicky

Words: 2378

Author’s Note: So, I was re-watching the first season and seeing Nick in the hospital had sparked ideas to write a fic on it! I really hope you guys enjoy this. It’s kinda pre-apocalypse (obviously lol), but yeah! It’s cute! Thanks to my babe @lovelydob for proofreading this for me!!

I had known the Clark family for almost all my life. My mom would always bring me to play with Alicia and Nick when we were younger. My mom always told me that Nick and I got along a lot easier than Alicia for some reason, but later on in the years she became my best friend as well.

Madison, Nick and Alicia’s mother, and my mom had always thought that Nick and I would end up together someday. I thought this to be strange since Nick has never really took an interest in me.

I was there for them through everything, especially when their dad had left. I was their shoulder to cry on. Nick seemed to be a little more effective by it than Alicia, so some nights he would call me to go over just so he can nuzzle his face into my neck and cry. Although I’d always be there for them, but I’d find it struggling since I didn’t know what to actually say to them that’d make them feel better.

Nick always seemed to be there for me in the time of need. I remember one day I had walked home from school when some bullies had stopped me near an alleyway…

Alicia and I stayed after school for a science project we were working on together. After we had manage to work on it a bit after gossiping for about half an hour she told me that Matt, her boyfriend, had texted her to come over.

“You sure you can walk home on your own? I can call Nick if you want.” Alicia asked me as we walked out of the school.

I looked towards her, giving her a small smile as I shook my head. “No, I should be fine. If anything I can call him. I have his number.” I chuckled, blushing slightly at the mention of his name.

“You know, sometimes I can’t believe you like my brother. You do know he’s been doing drugs lately, right?” She asked me and I frowned, nodding my head slowly.

“Yeah, but it doesn’t make him a bad person. He’s still the same Nick I always knew.” I muttered, glancing at the sidewalk.

“That’s true, but please, call him if you feel uncomfortable about anything, okay?” Alicia reminded me and I nodded my head, waving goodbye to her as we went our separate ways.

I took a hold of both straps of my backpack, walking the same route I always take when I walk home from school. Once I reached the only alley on the walk home, two drunk guys stumble out of it, noticing me as I tried to quickly walk past them.

“Hey girlie. C’mere darlin’.” The shorter one slurred, reaching their hand out towards me as I dodge it, backing into a light post.

“Oh come on. We don’t bite… hard.” The taller smirked, stepping closer to me. I tried to get past the guy, but he stopped me, pushing me towards his friend.

“Please… just let me go.” I muttered, the shorter guy catching me in his arms, lifting me off the ground. “Wait! Wait! Let me go!” I screamed, trying to free my arms, reaching for my phone.

“Why don’t you just shut your pretty mouth.” The taller one growled as his friend threw me to the ground, hitting the back of my head against the brick wall. I wince, lifting my hand to feel the wound, my fingertips covered in blood.

“Why don’t you guys pick on someone who’s preferably your age and not a teenager.” A familiar voice rang out from behind them. The two drunks turned around and I saw Nick standing behind him, a hard glare in his eyes as his arms were crossed.

“And what are you gonna do about it, huh?” One of them muttered angrily as Nick just chuckled, shaking his head. Nick didn’t give any warning as he punched the shorter one in the nose, knocking him to the ground. He held his nose as it bled, the taller guy getting angrier as he wound up to punch Nick. I looked around for something to hit him with when I find a brink a couple feet away from me and I grab it, hitting the taller guy in the back of the head, knocking him out.

I breathed heavily as the brick fell from my shaking hand, looking up at Nick. His eyes were wide as he stared down at me before bringing me into a hug. “Are you okay?” He asked, his hand resting on the back of my head and I winced, pulling away from him.

“Well, other than the fact that the back of my head is bleeding and I’m literally shaking from fear, yeah, I’m great.” I chuckled lightly, grabbing onto Nick’s arm as I feel a little lightheaded.

“C’mon, let’s get you fixed up.” He muttered, crouching a bit as he lifted me up bridal style, taking me by surprise. I let out a small gasp, wrapping my arms around Nick’s neck as he began to carry me to his house.

“You, uh, you didn’t have to carry me.” I whispered, my cheeks heating up as I’m sure I was red as a tomato.

“Well, I’m pretty sure you can’t walk that well due to blood loss, so deal with it.” Nick grinned, giving me a cheeky wink as I giggled, shaking my head.

I smiled to myself as the memory played in my head like a movie, realizing that I’m probably more into Nick than I actually know about. I was doodling on my notebook, wishing Nick could be here now, but no one’s seen him the last month. Alicia told me he was doing drugs again after we had tried so hard to help him get clean.

I frowned, drawing a frowny face on my notebook, a tear slipping from my eyes. “You really don’t know how much you miss someone until they’re really gone.” I whispered to myself, sniffling slightly as a knock was gently placed on my door.

I looked up as my mom walked in, a small smile on her lips as she walked towards me. “You okay?” She asked, noticing the tear stains on my face and I shook my head.

“N-No. I just want Nick to be okay.” I cried, standing up, wrapping my arms around her waist, softly crying into her shoulder. Her hand rubbed my back, cooing me softly as I calmed down a little bit.

“Well, I’ve got some good news and bad news.” She mentioned and I backed away from her, eyes widened.

“They found him?” I asked, my heart beating against my rib cage as she nodded her head. I sighed out of relief, rubbing my hands on my face. “Wait, what’s the bad news?” I asked, my face paling a bit as she grabbed my hands. Please tell me he’s not dead…

“He’s in the hospital. He was hit by a car this morning.” She mentioned and I gasped, placing my hand cover my mouth. “But he’s okay. Do you want to go see him?” She asked and I nodded my head excitingly like a kid on Christmas.

I grabbed my shoes, slipping them on quickly as the two of us walked out of the house, getting into the car. We drive towards the hospital in little silence, the soft radio playing in the background as my foot kept tapping against the floor, getting more anxious. My hand was on the handle of the car door, waiting for my mom to unlock it as she parked the car in the parking lot. As soon as she turned the vehicle off, I hopped out of it quickly, making my way towards the entrance of the hospital.

I walked up to the reception desk, rubbing my hands together softly as I waited for her to get off the phone. I felt my mom touch my shoulder and I glanced back at her, giving her a small smile as I heard the woman hang up the phone.

“Hi, um, what room is Nick Clark in?” I asked, leaning against the desk as she got up out of it, leading us towards his room which wasn’t that far from where she was sitting. I could feel my hands shaking as she pointed towards a large door with a window in the middle of it and my mom had thanked her as I gazed through the window, seeing Nick sitting in the hospital bed, restrained.

“Hey, you okay?” Mom asked me and I nodded my head a bit, opening the door to the room, walking inside. I noticed Travis sitting near him, reading the paper and he looked up once my mom closed the door behind her.

“Y/N, hey.” Travis greeted, getting up as he walked over to me, bringing me into a tight hug. My eyes stayed on Nick as I hugged Travis, pulling away from him after a few seconds before walking over to the hospital bed.

“Is he okay?” I asked quietly, not wanting to wake him as my fingers brushed his hand, rubbing my thumb against the back of his hand.

“Yeah, he’s going to be fine.” Travis reassured, rubbing my shoulder lightly before taking my mom’s arm, leaving me and Nick alone. I sat down on the bed next to his leg, taking his hand in mine as he stirred a bit, his eyes fluttering open.

Nick’s eyes met mine, a small grin on his lips as he squeezed my hand and I gave him a small smile, trying my hardest not to cry. “Hi.” His voice croaked, his cold fingers intertwining with mine.

“Are you nuts?” I asked, glancing up at him as his eyebrows furrowed together, shifting in his bed a bit. I sighed, leaning forward, pressing the button on the side of the bed to make him sit up.

Nick quietly thanked me, analyzing my face as it remained blank. “To answer your question… I’m not nuts.” He muttered, leaning his head back a bit.

“Well, I certainly think you are. Y-You could’ve gotten seriously injured, Nick.” I muttered, pulling my hands out of his. I stood up, pacing in front of his bed as I felt his eyes on me. “A-And it’s like you don’t even care! How could you just be so calm about this?”

“Look, Y/N, it’s not like I enjoyed getting hit by a car.” He started and I cut him off.

“Then why the fuck were you just running down the street?” I yelled, flailing my arms. “God, Nick, do you realize that the people who love you are worried about you?” I asked, tears trailing down my cheeks.

Nick’s face fell as the tears didn’t stop and I run a hand through my hair, feeling my hands shake. I stumbled, grabbing onto the end of the hospital bed. Nick sat up straight, his eyes widening as I slowly fell to the floor, breathing a little heavy.

“Y/N?” Nick called out, hearing the panic in his voice.

“I’m fine…” I whispered, taking a few deep breaths before getting back up slowly. “But Nick, I-I can’t lose you.” I frowned, sitting back in my original spot next to him.

“I’m not going anywhere. I’m getting clean after this.” He told me and I glanced towards him, wondering if he was serious.

“Are you really?” I asked and he nodded his head, giving me a small smile.

“I’m dead serious. I saw some crazy shit that I never want to experience again and I hate that I put you through all this worry.” Nick muttered and I smiled softly.

“I’m not the only one who worries…” I trailed off and Nick grinned, reaching for my hands.

“Yeah, but you’re the one that matters most.” He whispered, softly playing with my fingers as I scooted a bit closer to him.

I blushed a bit, smiling as one of his hands gently touched my face, rubbing my cheekbone. “Nick,” I started but had cut me off by leaning forward, pressing our lips together. I let out a small gasp, my eyes widening as his eyes were shut and I closed my eyes slowly, resting my hands against his cheeks.

We heard the door open and we pulled away from each other, looking behind me to see my mom and Travis standing at the door. I cleared my throat, getting off the bed as my mom had an evident smirk on her face.

“We’re going to head home. We’ll let you say goodbye.” She gave me a wink before leading Travis back out of the room.

I groaned a bit, hiding my face in my hands as I heard Nick chuckle, looking towards him. “Shut up.” I laughed, walking back over to him. “Well, it seems like we’re leaving.” I bit my lip, playing with the tips of my fingers as he grinned up at me.

“You’ll come back tomorrow right?” He asked and I tilted my head, giving him a “are you kidding me” look.

“Of course I am.” I chuckled, pushing some of his hair out of his face. Nick grabbed my hand, pressing a small kiss to it before intertwining our fingers again.

“One last kiss?” He asked and my cheeks flushed, glancing back to see my mom and Travis at a reasonable distance where they’re not eavesdropping.

“You can’t wait until tomorrow?” I asked and he shook his head, biting his lip for a minute. I gave in, leaning down pressing my lips to his quickly. He groaned when I pulled away, his hand landing on the back of my head, pulling my back closer to him, kissing me again.

I grinned in the kiss, moving my lips against his as his fingers ran through my hair, sighing softly into the kiss. I pulled away from him, resting my forehead against his as I felt the butterflies in my stomach. “I gotta go.” I whispered.

“Alright, alright. I’ll see you tomorrow, cutie.” Nick smiled and I stood up, walking out of the room, looking into the window, waving at him before leaving the hospital with my mom, grinning like an idiot.

[queen-of-deans-booty]

Something Wicked- Part 4

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 1,537

Warnings: Typical Supernatural violence, angst, language, minor character death, blood, you know the usual

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Supernatural. All credit goes to their respective owners. Please, if you want to be tagged for this series, let me know and I’ll add you! If you want to be tagged for my other fics, I’ll add you! I want to hear what you guys think about this. If you want something requested, send it in!

Feedback is always appreciated

Tags at the bottom

“Michael, can we talk to you?” You called out. Michael appeared quickly and sighed.

“What?” He was clearly in no mood to talk.

“We know what happened to Asher. It was a monster, not pneumonia.” You didn’t know why you blurted that out but you did. That scared Michael and he picked up the phone, holding it up threateningly.

“You're crazy! Just go away or I'm calling the cops.”

“Hang on a second. Don’t listen to her, listen to me. You have to believe me, ok? This thing came through the window and it attacked your brother. I've seen it. I know what it looks like because it attacked my brother once too.” Dean tried to calm the child.

“This thing... is it... like... it has this long... black robe?” Michael said, slowly hanging the phone up.

“You saw it, didn’t you?”

“I thought I was having a nightmare.”

“I'd give anything not to tell you this, but sometimes nightmares are real.” Dean sighed.

“So why are you telling me?”

“Michael, we need your help.” You said to him.

“We can kill it. That's what we do. But we can't do it without you.” Dean said.

“What? No!”

“Michael, listen to me. This thing hurt Asher and it's going to keep hurting kids unless we stop it, understand me?” Dean looked into his eyes.

“I’ll think about it.” You sighed and he walked away. You and the boys had no choice but to go back to the motel room.

“Well that went crappy. Now what?” You said, sighing.

“What did you expect? You put all this weight on him and that was a crappy opening.” Sam said. There was a knock on the door and you looked at Dean. He walked over to it and opened it, revealing Michael.

“If you kill it, will Asher get better?” the small boy asked.

“Honestly? We don't know.”

“You said you were a big brother. You'd take care of your little brother? You'd do anything for him?” You looked at Sam who was looking at Dean.

“Yeah, I would.” Dean said softly but you still heard him.

“You know, I would put you first, always. You’re like my younger brother.” Sam was smiling at Dean and then he looked at you with a smile.

“You don’t have to.” He said softly.

“Yeah, I do.”

“I’ll help.” You looked over at Michael who was trying real hard to be brave. Well, time to get to work.

You and the boys ended up in Michael’s room. Dean was setting up a camera in there while you and Sam were in the next room with the laptop.

“This camera has night vision on it so we'll be able to see clear as day,” Dean said to Michael who was tucked in bed. He looked at the camera and called out to his brother. “Are we good?”

“Yeah, we’re all good.” You watched as Dean walked over to the boy and sit on his bed.

“What do I do?” Michael asked.

“Just stay under the covers.” Dean was talking to the kid but you turned to Sam.

“I meant what I said before. Growing up, you were always a priority. I mean, we tried to keep you out of the life for as long as we could. We wanted you to have a childhood because we didn’t get one. Look how that turned out.” You scoffed lightly.

“You did your best. Dean did his best. That’s all I could ever ask for.” Sam smiled at you. Dean walked into the room and took a seat next to Sam. Time to start the watch.

It’s been hours since you set up and nothing was happening. What time was it?

“Sam, what time is it?” You asked.

“Three. You sure these iron rounds are going to work?” Sam asked his brother.

“Consecrated iron rounds, and yeah it's what Dad used last time.”

“I’m sorry.” Sam asked after a few moments of silence.

“For what?”

“You know, I've really given you a lot of crap, for always following Dad's orders. But I know why you do it.”

“Oh God, kill me now.” Dean rolled his eyes.

“You know, I think you secretly crave these chick flick moments. You’re just too macho to admit it.” You smirked lightly.

“Too macho?” Dean repeated you.

“Yeah. You’re a big softy though.” You teased him some more.

“Wait, guys, look.” Sam said. You and Dean focused on the screen and you watched as the window started opening and a figure crawled in. You and the Winchesters picked up your guns and waited for Dean’s go.

The shtriga inched closer and closer to Michael.

“Now?” Sam asked.

“Not yet.” Dean said, waiting for the right moment. The shtriga leaned over the bed and got really close to Michael. With Dean’s go, you busted into the room, pointing your gun at the thing.

“Hey!” You grabbed his attention while Michael rolled underneath the bed. You and the Winchesters opened fire, shooting the shtriga multiple times until it fell to the ground.

“Mike, are you all right?” Dean checked.

“Yeah.”

“Good, stay under there.” You said to him. Dean advanced to the monster to check to see if it was really dead. You didn’t hear any movement and Dean relaxed slightly, looking at you and Sam. Suddenly, the shtriga rose and grabbed Dean by the throat. He threw him against the wall, knocking the gun out of his hands.

The shtriga moved to Sam and threw him against the wall, going over to you. You shot at him but that only made him angrier. He threw you to the ground and forced your mouth open, starting to breathe in your aurora.

You struggled to get out but stilled when the shtriga took too much of you. You could feel your life being taken from you and there was nothing you could do about it. All you could do was lay there and lost what it took.

“Hey!” You barely registered Dean shooting the shtriga between the eyes. When he fell, you gasped for air, your life being returned to you. You coughed and struggled to get away from the thing.

“You okay sweetheart?” Dean called out. You held up a thumbs-up but still tried to get air in your lungs. When you could sit up, you watched as little white balls began to escape the shtriga. You knew those were the “souls” of the children, wanting to be home again. Dean got up and shot the thing some more and you jumped in surprise. More balls of white escaped and soon, the thing disintegrated.

“It's okay, Michael, you can come on out.” Dean said. Michael came out with a small smile. Finally, this thing was over.

You dealt with things in the morning when Michael’s mother came back for Michael. Dean and Sam were packing the car up when Joanna, the mother, got out of her car.

“Hey, how is Asher doing?” You asked her, walking over to her.

“Have you seen Michael?” She asked. You didn’t have to answer because the kid in question ran up to her with a big smile.

“Mom!” He gave her a big hug and pulled away. “How's Ash?”

“Got some good news. Your brother's going to fine,” Michael smiled in happiness.

“Awesome!”

“Yeah, no one can explain it; it's a miracle. They're going to keep him in overnight for observation and then he's coming home.” She smiled and looked at you.

“How are all the other kids doing?” Sam asked.

“Good, really good. A bunch of them should be checking out in a few days. Dr. Travis says the ward's going to be like a ghost town.”

“Dr. Travis? What about Dr. Hydecker?” Sam asked.

“Oh, he wasn't in today. Must have been sick or something,” Joanna shrugged. She turned to her son and smiled. “So, did anything happen while I was gone?”

“Nah, same old stuff.” Michael lied.

“Alright, let’s go and see your brother.” Michael nodded excitedly and rushed to the car. You stopped him before he could get in.

“Listen, Michael,” You got to his level and sighed. “I’m sorry you found out about monsters but you need to look out for your little brother. Be the best brother you can be and don’t be afraid. They aren’t as scary as they appear. Okay?” He nodded and you stood up, letting him into the car.

“I, ah, I'd better get going before he hotwires the car and drives himself.” Joanna smiled and got in the car, taking off.

“Man, I wish he didn’t have to go through that.” You sighed, walking to the Impala.

“Oh, they'll be fine.” Dean said, waving it off.

“That's not what she meant. She meant Michael. He'll always know there are things out there in the dark. He'll never be the same, you know? Sometimes I wish that... I wish I could have that kind of innocence.” Sam said, sighing.

“If it means anything, sometimes I wish you could too.” Dean looked at his brother with a small smile.

“Alright, you two love birds. Get in the car.” You were ready for a weeks worth of sleep.

Masterlist // Series Rewrite Masterlist // Buy me a Coffee?

Series Rewrite tags:

@helllonearth @amyisabellal @deanwnchstr @caseykitten6 @roxalya19 @quixoticcat @supernaturalblogging @notmoose45 @crowleysminion @mina22 @tahbehonest

Forever tags:

@that-annoying-band-potato @maddieburcham1 @ginamsmith @mogaruke @whit85-blog @inlovewithbja @spn67-sister @kdfrqqg @jarpadandjensenaremyheroes @roxyspearing @supercalifragilistic26 @mishamigose @cobrakai1967

Dean tags:

@akshi8278 @mega-mrs-dean-winchester @winchesterandpie

Other tags:

@jensen-jarpad @notnaturalanahi @deathtonormalcy56 @27bmm

[goodgoodpolypals]

Boyhood Bravery || Chapter One

Griffin and Nick meet for the first time. The summer heat agitates everyone. Griffin’s air conditioner is broken. Nick is annoyed with Griffin. Nick lacks courage.

THEN

The summer they met is one of cherry juice stains, long blades of grass tickling barefeet, the sound of cicadas serenading the sun’s farewell. It’s carried on a breeze that makes the baking West Virginia sun bearable, it is laughlines prematurely setting in due to too-easy jokes, it’s hair getting lighter and skin getting darker. It’s the early nineties and everything is new, innocent and easy. Neither boy remembers it.

Griffin is a quiet child. He’s more of an observer than a partaker, while Justin and Travis play fight with swords masquerading as sticks. Well, really, Justin is trying to play leader and boss around Travis, but true to his nickname ‘Scraps’, Travis fights back with young vigor. Griffin is apart from his brothers though, sitting on the blue and white checkered blanket his dad set out for him, wheeling a car back and forth. It might be boring for most, but for four year old Griffin, he enjoys just watching.

Nick changes that. He always has, even back then.

Long-lashed blue eyes peer up at his father, face full of childish curiosity and naivety, “Daddy, who’s that girl?”

Clint, younger and less faded, looks up from his book to where Griffin is pointing before scolding him for such an action. When he catches sight of the child in question, clint hushes him further. “That’s not a girl, Ditto.”

Griffin looks back to the child who's got chin length black hair and blushy cheeks, who is bounding towards them with a determination that is a stark contrast to Griffin’s quiet contentment. There is a girl following shortly after them, their mother presumably, and before Griffin can even turn back his father, Clint is speaking again, “They are our new neighbors.”

It was true, the empty home just one house down would be empty no longer. The house Griffin never had set foot in, had never given a second thought, would become his second home. It was the house that Nicolas Robinson would inhabit for the next five short years. It was also home to laughter, sweat and tears. It was a house that was nothing special back then but a house that time had turned into a fond memory lane.

Griffin was always caught off guard by Nick’s wild presence. He was bold, assertive and determined. That day, he sat down on Griffin’s blanket without warning, his muck covered shoes sure to leave marks, but the toothy grin Nick gave him made Griffin not really care. “Hi, I’m Nick!”

Griffin wasn’t exactly shy, but the smile he gave back to Nick was bashful, “Hi. I’m Griff’n. Or Ditto.”

Nick tries out the name, smiling around it, “Ditto. Wanna play?”

Griffin, soft and quiet Griffin, looks to his father for recommendation only to find his chair empty. He’s off talking with the woman that was with Nick, leaving Griffin to face this decision alone. He looks back at Nick, messy Nick, with his tangled hair and scraped up knees and dirty shoes. Griffin shakes his head.

Nick looks disappointed for a beat, but he has always been, if anything, persistent. Instead of leaving Griffin, Nick flops down onto his stomach, reaching for the car Griffin had abandoned in favor of this new phenomenon. He wheels the car back in forth in front of his face, staring out at the yard. For some reason, Griffin isn’t bothered but is actually endeared.

“Those your brothers?” Nick is watching Juice and Scraps, still fighting, oblivious to anyone but themselves.

“Yeah.” Maybe Griffin was a little sad as he said it. He hadn’t wanted to go play with Nick, but as soon as he’d said it, he was afraid Nick was going to abandon him to play with Justin and Travis instead.

Only he didn’t. “Hm. I got a brother too. But he’s just a baby.” And Nick turns to smile at Griffin in a way that told him Nick wouldn’t even think of leaving him. He was quite content right here.

NOW

A bead of sweat rolls down Griffin’s back as he signs off the recording, leaning back in his chair to wipe at his forehead. Of all the times his shitty air conditioner could break, the dead of Austin’s sticky, baking summer heat was unarguably the worst. “Fuck, dude, I’m actually dripping.” His speech is muffled by the fabric of his shirt which he’s pulled up to dab at his face.

“You should just get it fixed. Man, no offense, but you’re no repairman.” Nick Robinson, Polygon’s newest addition, is on the other end of the skype call.

“Yeah, don’t know why I thought I could do it. Got my dick caught in the ceiling fan...several times.”

Nick ugly laughs at that and as it dies off into a smile he quips, “Can’t be good at everything.”

Even though the call is voice only, Griffin can hear the smile in his words and it makes a smile of his own blossom. Griffin knows how highly Nick regards him, and it honestly makes him feel really good. He, in no real way, is famous, but Nick treats him that way. Even though he tries to hide it. The novelty will wear off in time, though. It always does. “When are you coming down, again?

“In a few weeks, probably.” The answer was vague, to Griffin’s annoyance. Nick is coming down to Austin to stay with Griffin for a few days so they could record some stuff together and so Nick could see one of the Polygon offices in Texas. It was the first time they were really going to meet, other than a few brief encounters they’d had before. “Not if you don’t get that air conditioning fixed first though.”

“Well shit, Nick, I better get on that then!” Griffin’s joking is obvious from the exaggeration in his voice but he does plan on calling a technician as soon as they hang up.

Nick’s smile is tangible again, because he knows this. “Yeah, you probably should. I’ll talk to you later then.”

“Alright. Later, bud.”

As soon as Griffin is offline the smile that’s been permanently fixed to Nick’s face for the duration of the call slowly fades. While actually talking to Griffin he couldn’t do anything but laugh and smile, it was too easy to fall into the routine, but as soon as they stopped talking a wave of gloom would wash over him. It was the same sadness that would always attack him when he thought about Griffin, always too late, always too weak to actually act on.

Griffin McElroy, Ditto, Nick’s childhood best friend, and maybe boyfriend, who didn’t remember him. At first, Nick thought it was a joke, Griffin must remember him, right? Wasn’t Nick on Griffin’s mind all the time? God, Griffin wasn’t ever not on Nick’s mind. How could Griffin forget him so easily? Hadn’t he looked Nick up on the internet as soon as he got it? Checked every profile he could? Nick had. He watched Griffin transition from a chubby, quiet little kid in too-big glasses and overalls into an adult.

In college, Nick realized Griffin was never going to reach out to him, while simultaneously not having the courage to initiate first contact himself. It was a perpetual hell and as he laid on his bed he would tell himself he needed to get over him. It was only childhood fondness, nostalgia, that was keeping him trapped in these thoughts. But he could never convince himself. And as soon as he saw Griffin had a podcast he became one of the first listeners. He was their first groupie. He listened to them when they switched over to Maxfun. He sent in questions. He donated. He hoped something would make Griffin remember, or at least spark the tiniest memory of a promise he’d left unfulfilled, a promise to always stay best friends with Nick. But he never did. Not when he read his question on MBMBAM. Not when he started working for Polygon. Not even when they’d met.

It wasn’t fair to be mad at Griffin for his faulty memory or for not holding up his end of a childhood promise. Yet...in these moments it was hard not to.

Nick squeezes his eyes shut, letting his head fall back until it hits his chair.

The worst part was, he knew all he had to do was speak up, but the longer he waited, the worse it got. How could he bring it up now? It was just another excuse, he knew that. He damned himself for it.

His phone pings with an incoming text and he reaches for it with lightening speed. Just as he’d hoped, it was Griffin. It was a picture of his air conditioner, with a bunch of sad face emojis. A moment later a he sent a number. A demoralizing large number, with a dollar sign.

Nick simply replied, ‘Serves you right for breaking your shit’.

Not even a second later Griffin shot back ‘Only for you, Nick Robinson.’

The resulting groan that came from Nick was full of frustration. He sent his phone to sleep and flipped it over before burying his face in his hands. It was almost like Griffin was purposefully taunting him.

[creekycoffee]

Chapter 1 In the time before

When I was young I was naive. I believed that children of all the people in the world had the right to grow up. How could someone die so young and not have the opportunity to live their lives, grow old or experience the world? Perhaps time would stop, and in that moment they could live the rest of their lives. They could see their mothers and fathers grieving for them. But it would be alright because they would spend a lifetime with them in those few short moments after death. But it didn’t work that way. The world was harsh and unfair. I’m not an adult , at least not physically. I did not get to spend those moments with my big brother Michael or with my mom or my dad. I died. I was murdered. … The day I died was a cold winter in 1976. Back then people thought the world was safe, that all the horrible things you heard on the news; that everyone one liked to gossip about were so far away that they couldn’t possibly happen to someone they knew. It was before all the lost images of young girls and boys started to appear on the backs of milk cartons or advertised in the Sunday classifieds , back when people lived in their pleasant delusion that this country was safe. I was thirteen years old when it happened nothing more than a stupid kid. My name was Travis, Travis Lewis. But so much time has passed I’m not sure what I am. That’s the funny thing about being dead you lose track of time. I liked baseball even though I only did it to make my dad proud. My brother Michael he went down a different road he studied music In college something my dad thought was a waste of time, so I guess I was always the favorite. Their relationship was complicated him and Michael’s, dad would fight a lot but deep down I think they understood each other. Dad didn’t know how to talk. He fought in Vietnam, and Mom said he saw things there, things that no man should have ever seen, and he was broken for that reason. A lot of people were broken that’s something I realize from early on even before I was in this place. I always liked biology class dissecting frogs and other small animals was something that everyone else thought was gross, but not me I always wanted to know more, how things worked. In my spare time I liked to take things apart. With the few dollars I received of an allowance I would go down to what my mom called the “junk shop”. Which was our local thrift store. My eyes would light up at what most people would regard as junk. Old phones, typewriters, cassette tapes, unwanted computers that were busted to hell, and of course handheld calculators that were the size of your fists. I would take all this stuff home and begin my dismantling process, which my mom would frown at. “Trey not more Junk”. She would say as I ran upstairs and sealed myself in my room. Mr. Dennis was our biology teacher he had a sick kid, and so for that reason everyone was extra nice to him forcing a smile at his rusty jokes which even I think he knew were forced. His daughter Amy died a year and a half after me. We’re all broken, all of us missing a piece of our soul. We wander looking for someone or something to fill the void. But don’t go blaming Mr. Dennis not everyone you meet in this is suspect. It will be clear once you see. I remember the last conversation I had with my dad before I was murdered. It was 6 o'clock in the morning an hour and a half before I had to catch the bus to school. I had just gotten the Atari that Christmas and the long Christmas break had just ended. My dad had wandered downstairs and was making himself a cup of coffee, and he sat down beside me, watching me play. The game was called Solaris. In which you explored the universe, fighting enemies exploring different worlds. I had always liked space. My brother would drive me out in his old pick up into the desert. We laid on the rusted roof the paint peeling off and staining my palms orange. We stared into the stars. As I would point to each constellation I would speak my mind telling Michael, how did everything really start? If there was a god what created him or her? And if everything really started from the Big Bang what caused it? If there was nothing before how could something like the universe exploding ever have happened? Michael would rub my hair and tell me. “Trey there’s so much out there, more than what you can just see with your eyes. People tell you science has all the answers but we’re learning every day and what we learned yesterday isn’t the same as tomorrow. It’s a little arrogant to think humans have all the answers when we’re just another drop in the bucket”’. I think my brother was trying to tell me don’t get so caught up with life, overthinking everything because we’ll never have all the answers, and we’re like grains of sand in the endless vastness of the universe. So for that reason, was why those combination of words left my mouth. “Dad what happens to the people in the game when you turn it off? Do they disappear”? He looked at me with his pale blue eyes running his fingers through his thick beard and he said. “Don’t worry Travis their trapped, trapped in their perfect world”. … My killer was a man who lived in my neighborhood. My mom liked the hydrangeas in his garden. He was an old-fashioned type of person who believed in eggshells and coffee grounds. My dad talked to him once about fertilizer, and when he came home he was smiling cracking jokes about how his garden may have been beautiful but oh how it would stink come a heatwave. But on January 17th 1976 I decided to cut School. It was the last class of the day and I didn’t feel like sitting through another boring Mrs. McAdam’s history lecture. I tried to convince Pete to come with me. I told him we could read comics back at my lair, which was nothing more than an old hole in the ground we had dug out over the summer. We even went to the junkyard and got this pretty nice old door that we used for the trapdoor of the lair. You wouldn’t believe what people throw out. It was neat we covered the entrance with dirt and moss so someone could have been standing right over us and they wouldn’t have known. But Pete told me he couldn’t. He scratched his shaggy short brown hair and told me “If I don’t do good this year my mom will put me in one of them Catholic schools. All boys! I heard the teachers beat you”. “Sure, I half smiled. You’re just worried about not being able to hit on girls anymore”. To be fair he had just started seeing Emily a girl he had a crush on since third grade. I wish a joke wasn’t the last thing I said to my best friend. So I went alone. That day it was snowing and it was dark out because the days were shorter in the winter. All I wanted was to get home so I could sleep. My dad was still at work delivering the mail, and mom she was at her friend Gloria’s house. Gloria was a psychiatrist and a short bossy woman. wherever she saw me she would psychoanalysis me. She thought it was strange that I would spend all my time inside, and that I didn’t really have many friends or participated in any after-school activities besides baseball. I valued the time I had alone. When I grew older I would have responsibilities, and so I cherished every moment I could be with myself. Behind the junior high there was a path I liked to take past the broken wire fence. The school was connected to a park that was nearly abandoned. It had a man-made lake surrounded by thick trees and a path that circled it, for joggers. It was an odd place to put a lake but our town used to be a milling town exporting wood, but that had dried up when most of the trees were gone. So appropriately it was called Mill Lake. I had walked that path dozens or even hundreds of times across the plank bridge that cut across the water. It was the only way home aside from walking completely around the park to the exit on the far side. Which would be more dangerous since it was dark. If I could change the past I would have taken the long way around. To the side of the bridge were houses, a complex of condos to be exact, they overlooked the lake and were huddled together in what resembled boxes. When you gazed to the right across the bridge you were staring into the center of the complex which was a grassy field with flowers, although frozen and dead this time of year. Small docks extended into the water where the neighbors would sit and fish. Boats were huddled against the docks, and on summer days some of the people who live there would row around the lake. I suppose some people did fish there, but there wasn’t a lot if anything to catch. The lake was used as a hatchery for breeding salmon. At the end of each month the waters were swept clean leaving only small minnows. Behind the school there was a building shared by the hatchery the fish were brought there. For science class my teacher Mr. Edwards arranged for a tour, and anybody who went along would get extra credit. But I wasn’t interested. One thing you’ll learn about me early on is I do as little as possible to get by. My mom thought I was depressed and who knows maybe I was. Maybe if I had the energy I wouldn’t have been cutting school and would have been in some sort of club that afternoon. But there’s no wishing it different, things happen the way they happen, and there’s no changing the past. I remember how much it was snowing that day, the snowflakes were beautiful and i had stopped to witness the frozen lake. Frozen water had always fascinated me how something could be solid but liquid at the same time. That’s when I heard Mr. Casey’s voice while i was looking up at the falling snow piling in my pale blonde hair. “Don’t be startled Travis”, he said. But of course in the dark in the still of an abandoned wood who wouldn’t be startled. After i was dead i thought about the slight scent of cologne in the air and how stupid i was thinking it could have been coming from one of the houses up ahead. “Mr. Casey" i said. “You’re the younger Lewis boy Michael’s brother, how are your parents”? Although i was the youngest in my family of which consisted of all boys (besides my mother of course) i was never particularity fond of adults. I may have been young but I wasn’t stupid. I knew not to talk to strangers I was smart enough to ace my science tests, but adults they gave off a weird vibe to me. They were something I could never relate to. In my mind I never wanted to grow up because growing meant responsibly and change, and I feared change. I wanted everything to say the same with the family that loved me. But things don’t stay the same, and after I was gone the family I knew and loved began to fall apart. But at that moment my unease and awkwardness for adults was amplified. I was breathing through my nose so hard that it wouldn’t stop running, and at the time it hadn’t occur to me that I had begun to wring in my hands the blue and red hat that my mom had knitted the year before. “Mr. Casey… Okay I guess”. I said. I don’t know what it was that froze me to that spot. But maybe it was because he was an adult, or the authority of his age, or maybe just because my dad would talk to him about sports or fertilizer. He was just the neighbor who was always there. I was about to leave when he spoke. “It’s a little early to be heading home”. And then I knew he had caught me. “Don’t worry I won’t tell why don’t you come back here and let me show you something I built”. “Mr. Casey it’s kinda cold I don’t know if I should”. I tried to think of a lie, anything I could, but in the pressure of the moment nothing came. My mind was blank. “Trey it’s after dark”. If I was more grown up like I am now I would have known how weird this really was. Because I had never given him my name. Especially “Trey” something only my very close friends and family would call me. I suppose I thought my dad had mentioned it in one of the embarrassing stories he liked to tell, about how proud he was of me. I could hear it now “Trey’s team won the little league championship”. It was humiliating because I never did anything. I was always the guy who sat on the side who only got played in a no other option scenario. My dad was that type of guy whose eyes would widen the moment when you’d mentioned something that interested him. The type of person a mom should’ve been. You know when you’re out shopping with your mom and you just want to go home, and the moment when you think it’s all over she see another piece of clothing she likes, or runs into a friend. And something that was suppose to take five minutes drags on into an hour. That was my dad. But as it was my dad didn’t mention me or my brother to Mr Casey, and although he denied it he would talk just as much about Michael as he did of me. Later Mr Casey would speak these word when he stumbled into my mom after church. “I’m so so sorry about your loss. What was your son’s name again”? “Travis” My mom would answer. Hiding the weight of it. The pressure, she would try to hide it for the rest of her life but it would only end up hurting her the more she thought about it. Mr. Casey gave her the usual, the thing that any other adult would say to console a grieving person. But they could never understand unless they had experienced the same pain. “They’ll catch the fucker they have to”. I was in the shapeless void picking up the pieces of my body and staring down into the world of the living tears flowing down my cheeks. Never again could I feel my mother’s warmth, and all that time I cursed his name. He told me I would like and it would only take a minute. Mr. Casey took a long wooden rod and gave the ice a few sturdy strikes. Then he outstretched his hand letting me know it was safe. As I walked the path across the ice my red sneakers left footprints in the freshly fallen snow, and I remembered coming to this park and seeing the older kids walking to the very center of the lake. Others played hockey when the lake was perfectly frozen. But one winter a girl fell through the ice and drowned. Since that day my mom never let me out of her sight. I had to tell her where i was at all times. She had nightmares about something terrible happening. She would see a figure taking me away. One afternoon dad had picked me up early from practice. Michael was with me in the back seat, and i tried to tell her not to worry so much. If anything ever happened to me Michael would take care of her. Michael would keep this family together. “I’ve made a little fort”. Mr Casey said as he stopped to look at me. “I don’t see anything”. I said I don’t think I’ve ever had anyone look at me in the way Mr Casey looked at me then. Sure I’ve had older guys stare at me since I’ve grown out of my childhood and into my preteens. Like my uncle, or how Pete’s friend would stare at me and blush. But never the way Mr. Casey was staring at me in my crimson bomber jacket and my torn bell bottom jeans. He seemed infatuated. He was a tall man with neat dusty ash colored hair that was a dark shade of grey almost black. He was thin and had sunken in cheekbones. On most days he would wear the same pale blue fleece jacket. His eyes were a deep blue the color of the ocean, and he used them to stare over me. “Trey you must be more observant”. Mr Casey said. All i kne was i wanted to observe my way home. Why, why didn’t i leave. “No point in regrets the shadow cackled. It killed you, you’re trapped in this place like the rest of us”. And the shadows were right, the past was the past there was no escaping the void. Then i knew why when i saw it in the distance. Mr Casey pointed to a willow tree on the far side of the field. It was like something out of a fairy tale, but we all know how grim fairy tales really are. There is no happy ending, Ariel doesn’t end up with her prince but instead becomes sea-foam. I walked closer to it, winding behind the houses in a place no one would see. The grass was taller in this part of the field, and it hid all from view, shielding any peering eyes from the houses above. “I built it myself he said as he hunched down and faded into the darkness of the trunk of the twisted tree. “Its hollow come inside” his hand beckoned me. My curiosity against my better judgment caused me to go on. It was as if Mr Casey knew my love of lairs, and that he built this place especially for me. I followed him down. Inside the willow tree was a staircase that spiraled down and wrapped around the inside of the ancient tree. “What is this place”? “Its wood. He brought the heel of his boot against the surface of a door that was set in the center of the ground, the ground that was freshly excavated. It keeps the entrance from caving in, but as you can see the rest is all earth” he said. It was freezing so much that i could see my breath in the dark room. The only reason this was possible was due to the small sliver of light that crept from underneath the door. My cheeks were a bright red and my ears felt like they had frostbit. For some reason i wasn’t wearing the red and blue wool hat my mother made for me, but instead shoved it deep into the pocket of my jacket. Then i was no longer cold or disturbed by the look he had given me but i was curious. It really was all dug out of the cold frozen earth even the stairs. I recalled Pete and how much fun we had that summer building our own fort. “Come and see” . It was awkward to get inside, that much was certain once we were both inside the hole in the ground, but i was so impressed of what i saw that the awkwardness of getting in and out hadn’t even crossed my mind. My little mind couldn’t get around how he was able to carve this entire place out of the ground. There even was a fire place that drew smoke if he so choose to set a fire, and all around us were small spaces carved into the walls that held mason jars. Each set with candles, that must have been the source of light that i saw earlier. Oh how magical they would have looked if they had fireflies dancing around inside. So escape wasn’t something that was on the mind of a thirteen year old enamored in fantasy . Of course i was cautious but the worse i had to deal with odd looking boy at school whose name was Ralph Burgess. He was tall and gangly. He liked to follow me around and show me his pet tarantula that he brought one day to show and tell that one time in the six grade. I always smiled at him, and sat with him at recess. He liked to draw, and if you could guess he filled up his sketchbook with all sorts of detailed drawings of insects. His father was an entomologist. I felt sorry for Ralph his mother died a year before in the fifth grade and he seemed very lonely. “This place is great. Me and my friend built a fort that was kinda like this place” I said to Mr Casey my eyes lighting up. I was so amazed, he could have been Andy Warhol which we learned about in art class, i didn’t care. I was back to six years old holding my brothers hand at the Metropolitan Museum of New York, and how Michael would stop and show me each painting. My favorites were done by Vincent van Gogh. The rough thick paint was angry but at the same time beautiful. Starry Night was the one stood out to me the most. My brother explained that Van Gogh painted It from the window of his asylum. How something could be so stunning but come from a place of such pain filled me with awe. The same awe that lit up my eyes with glee. “Fantastic” I said. Such a childish word just a step above cool beans which if i’m honest I consider saying. “So innocent” the shadow said. I could still remember the place like it was yesterday. And to me it was. There is no time for us here. Life is frozen in place a perpetual yesterday. The hole was the size of a small room, a garage or an attic. A place like our laundry room were one summer my dad fitted our newly purchased washer and dryer, and it was also the place where my brother stored his electric guitar and where i spent most of my time assembling my projects after school. I was tall enough for my fingertips to touch the grainy surface of the the wooden door, so it was obvious that Mr Casey had to stoop on his knees. But on one side of the wall he had dug in grooves making a makeshift bench which he sat upon. “What do you think? Look around” he told me. And so i did in amazement. The shelf dug out of the walls, the mason jars with the small scented candles that smelled of lavender, and each area of the hole was filled with trinkets that gave the the whole place the feel it was lived in. The feeling of home. On the shelf there were comic books which made me think of Pete. Spider Man, X-men, and even some issues of The Dark Knight were present in Mr Casey’s collection. The glow from candles shimmered illuminating my face, and casting my shadow on the ground. Mr Casey continued to sit and stare at me. The light cast on my face was distorted, and would make his features hard to see when he was on top of me. On the far wall opposite the one with the comics was a mirror. The surface was smudged with dust and grime so much that it was almost black. I thought it was odd that a mirror was there. Why would he take the time to so meticulously put this place together? But i was meticulous myself. So maybe he was lonely, and he built this place filling it with the things from his childhood, and that brought some sort of comfort to him. My dad had a phrase he liked to use when describing people like us. Eccentric people. “The guys freaking nuts”. But at that time I wasn’t thinking about why a man built an underground chamber a mile and a half under a tree twelve yards from his home. All i was thinking was the room was warm, and that I wanted to know how he made it, and how he went about it, and who taught him to do such a thing. But I suppose it didn’t matter because by the time Gloria’s dog had brought home my elbow in his jaw Mr Casey had sealed the hole up. No one would find this place. During that time i was unaware for i had just entered the shadows. I didn’t get to see him dismantle the wooden support beams or see what he really was. I didn’t get to see him clean up the evidence including what remained of my body. All except that elbow but that was later. Once I had regained my consciousness it took me awhile to peer down on the goings downs on earth, and even then I was most concerned with my family. My brother I worried about him the most . My parents were strong they had each other, but Michael he had always struggled to find himself. I was one of the few people he could relate to. My mother she secluded herself in her room for days at a time, gazing out her window into the direction of Mill Lake. And my dad he acquired a second job as security guard at the mall. All so he wouldn’t have to come home and talk to my mother. In all this it was my brother who went the furthest than anyone. He was at the police station every day in between classes, and when he wasn’t he would call. Eventually he would dropped out of college. My murder consumed him and he was determined to know what happened to me that day on that frozen lake. I don’t know if there is god but i thank him or possibility her for sending a detective by the name of Stan Andrews. He sent two officers to my house where my brother would tell them all the places i liked to hang out, and who were my friends. I am at least happy i didn’t have any younger sibling because they could never understand. Pete was fourteen and he had a hard time understanding why something so horrible could happen to his only friend in the whole world. As i looked around, Mr Casey asked me if i would like something to drink. But i didn’t want anything it was getting late so i said i wanted to go home. “Shhh just have Pepsi any other boy your age would” he told me. “Kids”? “I made this place for the kids in the neighborhood so they could play. I couldn’t play much when i was your age”. He went on to tell me it could be a fort for them, but even then i didn’t believe him. He was lying, but i went along with the lie because i believed part of his story was true the part where he didn’t have a childhood, and that he was lonely. I knew about people like him. Men and sometimes women who never married and lived alone for whatever reason and ate frozen TV dinners every night. People who were so afraid of rejection they spent all day in their homes. I pitted him so i said “Okay give me a Pepsi ”. “Just hold on he said. You must be warm why don’t you take off your coat”. I did. And then he said “You're very handsome Travis. A very good looking boy”. “Thanks” i said. But a chill ran down my spine. That wasn’t something another man was suppose to say at least in the way Mr Casey said it. But i brushed it off as something a person with bad social skills would say. “Do you have a girlfriend”? he asked. Then i knew something wasn’t right. I swallowed the rest of my Pepsi which was almost a full glass. “Sorry but i have to go. This place is cool and everything but i have to go. I must have been sweating and the panic showed on my face. Slowly he stood and walked towards the five wooden steps. “Travis I don't know why you think you're going anywhere, you're staying right here with us forever”. It's not real it's not real i repeated over and over in my head. It wasn't a dream, and when I opened my eyes he was still there blocking the door. I repeated it over and over in my head just so I wouldn't have to hear his voice. He made made me feel gross, and I didn't understand when he said us because there was no one else in the room. “I really have to go Mr Casey”. “Take your clothes off”. “What… no”! “Take them off I have to make sure your undamaged. That your pure. Your parents will thank me. They want you to be a good boy. Good boys listen to their elders”. “I'm not I mean I am please just let me go home". “No you're mine now mine forever”. I wasn't strong. Boys were supposed to be strong, but I wasn't. Some of the other guys at school said I was effeminate. In gym class the teacher made us run laps around the school, but I would be out of breath halfway through the second lap. Pete was always there for me and would kick anyone's ass who made fun of me. So it was no use when Mr Casey had forced me down. He held me by the wrist and I tried my hardest to resist. My body struggled and trashed kicking him. But it was no use he was on top of me. Small tears left my eyes as I thought it was the most humiliating thing in the world to have a man bigger than my father lying on top of me sweating and panting. But I didn't think that was the reason I was crying. I was still alive in those moments, and being in a strange place that was deep under the earth, and the thought that my family didn't know were I was or know if I was okay is what terrified me and caused me to cry. I thought of my mom and how she’d always be in the kitchen straight after i came home from school. She always made the best treats, chocolate chip cookies, and my favorites donuts with the jelly fillings. We had gotten a new television set and my brother and me would watch Dr Who together every night after dinner. But now he would question where i am. “Michael, my father would say I expect you to be on time for dinner. I don’t work twelve hour days paying for that art school of yours for you to come home drunk every night. I expect to see your grades and they all better be A’s. “Not like you care” Michael would mutter under his breath. My mother would try to lighten the conversation. “Sush Henry he’s just a boy”. And that's how a typical evening would go in the Lewis residence. Never a day without awkward silence or an argument. Mr Casey started to kiss the side of my face. His lips were chapped and cold from the winter weather. His sharp facial features hurt, and i wanted to scream but couldn't as i was too scared and exhausted from the struggle. I once had a person i liked kiss me. His name was Aaron and he was british. He had an accent and dressed like a punk. He would wear dark eyeshadow and do his nails black witch he liked to say matched his soul. People were scared of his wild blonde hair which he never combed and he would occasionally spiked with a little too much gel. But despite all that he was nicest guy in the world. He said we had to keep it secret because his parents wouldn't understand, they’d say he “was going to hell”. He was scared and i couldn't blame him. I wasn't suppose to like him. He was a boy and i was a boy. And boys just don't do that type of thing. Pete knew, but apart from that keeping it secret was fine by me. What would i say to Michael, “i liked kissing boys”. I once heard my dad say to my mom “There's only one thing worse than a criminal and that's a sissy”. Mom would roll her eyes. She was catholic girl but she never bought into the whole hell thing coming from a mother who was a drunk, and a father who was never home. Her dad cheated on her and everyone knew. But coming from a town that had less than a thousand people that wasn't saying much. My mom lived with it, the silence. She was like her mother in that respect that she avoided confrontation nodded and smiled even though in her mind it was pointless. Going to a church every sunday, since the moment we left god's house we ended up breaking some rule or another. It defeated the purpose to act well for one hour of the week, and ignore the rest. But on the last day of school after all the kids had picked up their report cards from the front of the teacher's desk and the bell rang issuing the start of summer break it happened. The air was filled with laughter and i wanted to sneak home as quickly as possible. It was the start of summer and my big brother had promised he teach how to play base. I could see the wire fence just on the other side of the bleachers. As I slipped through the underside of the bleachers Aaron pinned me to the wall. I thought he was going to hit me. He had a bad reputation, and as much as i would want to deny it what i found most attractive was a bad boy. He kissed me against the wall. I thought that's what love was or maybe i thought he loved me. Because in art class he would catch me staring at him, and he would always stare back with his deep green eyes. But not in a way that said “i want to beat the crap outta of you faggot”. One day near the end of the school year when we were passing around our yearbooks for our friends to sign i saw under his picture he had wrote “ Aaron Ward and Travis Lewis forever” . He had our yearbook with him that day. He didn't hate me in fact he came over to my house almost every other day. Aaron wasn't stupid either he had an iq in the genius level , and in the time we got to know each other he helped me pass my algebra finals even though he didn't have to. I guess he had plans. That kiss was my first and my last, but i remember his lips were chapped. “Stop it you freak get off of me” i struggled to say. I said that word a lot, “stop” but it didn't matter. I begged but my whimpers of please and stop were for nothing. The shadow told me that everyone begs before they die, and i was no exception. “Travis i've been watching you for a long time and i must have you”. “Dont. Stop”. Everytime i said it a bit differently. “Stop please. Please stop. But it didn't matter. Mr casey grew tired of hearing this so as he held me down he reached into the pocket of my jacket and gagged me with the wool hat my mother had wanted me to wear that day. I made no noise after that, the only sound i made was of the tears slowly dripping from my eyes. I felt his wet lips kiss up my collarbone and along my neck, and they made me feel like throwing up but I couldn't. I cried so i wouldn't have hear the sound of my own voice . I hated how weak i was, i hated that i couldn't do anything. Finally i felt his hands on my stomach, and him ripping off my pants. He stared at my penis and licked his lips. My eyes were still shut but there was a searing pain. He was inside of me. Something had teared. He laid on top of me grunting and panting, and that something that teared was inside of me. Blood trickled and coated the insides of my thighs. With each grunt that left Mr Casey’s mouth i clenched my eyes tighter and grid my teeth. I thought about my mother, and could hear her voice. “Trey… Trey come home for dinner. I’ve made brownies they're your favorite. Oh Travis why didn't you come home like i told you”. “I'm sorry i wanted to mom”. I cried. When i opened my eyes i saw him. His face shifted back and forth like clay. It reminded me of the swirls of paint in van gogh's Starry Night. The eyes that looked at me weren't the eyes of a man. I tried to look away by turning my head but his cold fingers dug into my face and made me look at him. The eyes that looked at me filled with blood, but it wasn't blood. It was black and thick like oil. They had no pupils. The colour of his skin had also changed. His skin was pale before but still the color of a mans, but now his skin was milk white. He slowly lifted off of me and smiled. Behind that mouth were a row of jagged teeth, and behind those teeth more teeth. “Why don't you get it up” it said. But I couldn't. My legs were limp. As i laid there my whole body writhing in a sea of pain something profound entered my mind. He had raped me my body felt bloated, and his body laid on mine, and mine on his. But more than that i had lived. He had done this thing to me and I had lived. Now i understood his words. “The others”. This creature wore the skin of a man but it wasn't a man. How many others were there? This thing had killed children. Countless children. As I lay there on the cold earth, the earth were worms lived and animals foraged for food, lived their daily lives a second truth came upon me. The comic books the toys. They weren't mementos to remember a childhood forgotten. They were trophies taken for each of his victims. I didn't know it immediately but in the end i knew. This was my death. All my pleading and the crying did nothing because the end would come anyways. He slowly got off of me and headed towards the shelf were the comic books were, and were the dull light reflected off the matted surface of the black mirror. Then he looked at me and kneeled down. Once we were at eye level the thing that once resembled Mr Casey removed the hat from my mouth, and in a soothing voice the voice of a lover he pet my hair and said “ Don’t cry you're going a better place. A place without pain. There no escape from the beyond”. He turned and looked to the mirror almost longingly as if there was something there. And then with the blade in his hand the end finally came, and all i could remember were the the dusty ash color snowflakes , and raven feathers falling.

[ghostcurse]

1, 4, 11, 27

(((: thank you so much~

1. Your first OC ever?

So I mentioned her on my sideblog earlier, and I think you commented on it & I failed to, like, babble about her for you but at any rate

Beatrix De La Fontaine is my oldest character, I made her when I was 8 years old, and she’s gone through an array of changes that I can’t even like??? Fathom to begin talking about. I mean, after all, I was a child. And that still really shows in Beatrix’s personality.

The form that I consider her First Form because she actually had a set personality rather than just Oh Hey It’s Me, was the one I mentioned vaguely, but it’s definitely not the one where she developed depth. She was a magical girl with a giant scythe and her dad was fucking Naraku from Inuyasha. Someone even rped as Naraku for me, they were VERY nice and whimsical and I’m glad they’re one of the first ever people I para-rped with. I was about 12 then. I don’t know why Naraku. Why was I like that. Amazing.

Beatrix’s past has changed only twice, and one was a recent change. Because my friend and I created these ocs together, the collaboration of their past was very ridiculous and very edgy, because I have been goth @ heart all my life, while she was like… Something Corporate style punk depressed. Anyway I may only find it as ridiculous as I do because I’ve kept this up for well over half my life. At this point I’m too sentimental to change it.

Initially, she was the daughter of a death eater lol and he died in the war, and her twin sister was my friend’s oc. They were very evil. Like, chaotic evil. Evil because they wanted to watch the world burn. Eventually, the Twist was that their dad was still alive. Later, this was changed from Death Eater to Serial Killer. Why did he kill? I have no idea. It was goff. Beatrix by then was her own thing, a very childish and emotionally unstable teenager that didn’t deal well with her family affairs, but unconditionally loved her dad. She was the heir to her family’s fortune and she hated her mom. I thought that I could make it a bit more interesting, give up on all this internal misogyny I had for her mom (who was veeeery feminine and Beatrix often had weird internal rants about how she hated that). So, when I revamped her, I switched the roles: Her mother is the serial killer that she inexplicably loves, and fuck her awful dad. In a way, I feel bad for doing this, if only because a friend of mine took Bea’s dad and created something interesting out of him, but he was out of my hands at that point.

Beatrix isn’t a very good person, and I sorta let that mold into its own thing. She sometimes just doesn’t have much control over herself, because she doesn’t know how to handle her emotions, having been isolated in a dusty ol’ manor when she and her mother fled from home for a very long period of time. She was also hella neglected and started latching onto any form of sentimentality she could, making her love her mother and her younger (former twin b4 the change) sister Yvette, whom wrote to her, VERY intensely and without question. Charlotte was disowned by her family for numerous reasons, without like, going super in depth about her bc this is already p long. But in any event, where Beatrix currently stands, she isn’t very fond of her mother anymore and her sister’s corpse is sitting in her fridge while she desperately tries to learn necromancy. Thanks, ma.

Bea works as the head chef at a local diner, where she’s actually really normaling out, and she’s supposed to be kinda mature eventually, albeit still retains her childlike glee about things.

To think she used to be some scene kid.

4. A character you rarely talk about?

That’s quite a bit of them but let’s doooooo Ciel Volkov because he’s newer and therefore I haven’t spoken much about him.

He’s a very pretty boy, works as a chief assistant at the above mentioned Chancelier family’s company, so he like… works for The Big Man himself. In certain instances, his gender changes around, but canonically he’s a transman who’s transitioned via magic potion because fantasy settings ARE. GREAT.

He’s like, really nice but gets emotionally exhausted easily, so he lives in a small shitty apartment with his cat Lasagna Princess and loves it because he can binge on tv and video games while eating nothing but junk food and soda without people judging him (he has, like, six older brothers). Because he was a shit farmer and was often grounded as a kid, he developed talents with technology. Computers and shit are very primitive in my universe, but he’s talented af with them and is basically my Hacker Character. The fact that he’s Russian is seriously purely coincidental.

In DnD he’s a like… 7′0″ or s/t deva paladin that worships a dead god of time. It was great, because he was in a party with a cattine, a dwarf, and a halfling, so it was like…………………. ok guys stack on top of each other to meet Ciel’s eye level. I decided to sorta keep that in my lore for him, where he’s deeply lowkey religious. He’s also a time anomaly, which causes a lot of unreality issues for him. Sometimes he phases through timelines, albeit briefly. He uses light magic and while I haven’t figured out deities completely, he follows the sun bc the sun and moon talk to ppl it’s complicated.

11. Is there any OC of yours you could describe as a “sunshine”?

So as I sorta mentioned above, I sorta group my characters through sun & moon motifs, but the answer to this is very clearly Kaimana Ohme. He’s unconditionally nice, tho sometimes I like to be spiteful and play him as older and jaded, but he’s still a very good guy.

He’s a skater bro, vegetarian, pastel pink hair, loves the outdoors. He’s chill as hell and has a really welcoming family with his two moms and two adoptive siblings. Kai’s very big brothery and optimistic and stresses communication often. He’s also a HUGE crybaby. I don’t think I ever figured out his talent for magic, but he’s probably a wind caster. Gotta get that sick air, bruh.

I also associate him a lot with bright, sunny beaches, warm sunsets, oranges and pinks and blues.

I think, out of all my characters, he’s the most gentle and grounded emotionally. But he’s also wrestled his best friend to the dirt and forced him to eat grass because they got into an argument– and then immediately felt bad, so lmao.

27. Any OCs that were inspired by a certain song?

Many of them have been, even if I can’t think of them all right now.

Trent Travis, my gigantic awful shitlord werewolf, was inspired by all of Lonesome Crowded West - Modest Mouse, but particularly Trailer Trash.

Murphy Urquhart, my Main Girl, came to life because of Besitos by Pierce the Veil, which I still actually use as a base for her even tho I don’t really listen to their music much anymore

[kansascityhappenings]

Two people dead as Michael demolishes houses in Florida’s Panhandle

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PANAMA CITY, Fla. — In the decimated city of Callaway, pieces of obliterated houses litter rain-drenched roads. Every telephone pole in sight has snapped in half.

“It’s very hard to explain,” said Jason Gunderson, a member of the Cajun Navy rescue group. “The only way I can explain it, through my eyeballs, is a Third World country war zone.”

Similar scenes are emerging across the Florida Panhandle, where Hurricane Michael left more than 350,000 without power and entire neighborhoods in ruins after hitting Wednesday afternoon near Mexico Beach as a powerful Category 4 storm.

“It feels like a nightmare,” Mexico Beach Councilwoman Linda Albrecht said of the catastrophic damage in her town. “Somebody needs to come up and shake you and wake you up.”

The storm has already killed a girl in Florida and a man in Georgia. And as rescue workers sift through the debris Thursday, many fear the death toll will rise.

After slamming Florida and lashing Georgia, Michael is now threatening the storm-weary Carolinas.

Track the storm

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The Carolinas are bracing for possible flooding, tornadoes and dangerous winds in many of the same areas still recovering from Hurricane Florence flooding.

Michael is expected to drop 4 to 7 inches of rain from eastern Georgia to the southern mid-Atlantic and up to 9 inches of rain in isolated parts of North Carolina and Virginia, the National Hurricane Center said.

“While we will not see the full force of Hurricane Michael the way Florida will, we could see gusty winds, rain, flash flooding and even tornadoes,” South Carolina Emergency Management Director Kim Stenson told CNN affiliate WACH.

Key developments

• Death toll rises: At least two people have been killed in storm-related incidents since Wednesday.

• No power, no internet: More than 500,000 customers remain without electricity in Alabama, Georgia and Florida.

• Where is Michael? As of early Thursday morning, the storm is about 30 miles west of Augusta, Georgia, and is heading toward the northeast before it goes off into the Atlantic.

• Looters arrested: Arrests have been made after reports of looting in Bay County, Florida, US Rep. Neal Dunn said.

‘I just need to know he’s OK’

Uprooted trees, downed power poles and limited access to communications have become challenges for first responders and families trying to reach residents in need.

Megan McCall says her brother Jeff and his family were riding out the storm in the Panhandle. No one has heard from them since Wednesday afternoon.

Her brother was able to tell a friend that his home was starting to get cracks in the walls and water was rushing in Wednesday. A neighbor told McCall that all the docks in the area were destroyed and many people are stuck in their homes as the roads have been blocked with debris.

“I just need to know he’s OK,” McCall said. “If the house and the cars are destroyed they can be replaced, but my niece needs her dad — and as much as I sometimes can’t stand him, I would do anything to just know he’s OK.”

In Wakulla County, the sheriff’s office made a list of people who decided to ride out the storm and will begin the process of checking on them Thursday, sheriff’s captain Chris Savary said.

An 11-year-old girl was killed in Seminole County, Georgia. A metal carport was picked up by the wind and crashed through a roof, hitting the girl’s head, said Travis Brooks, the county’s emergency management director.

Brooks said several hours passed before emergency officials could reach the unincorporated area where the girl was killed.

And in Greensboro, Florida, a man died Wednesday after a tree fell on a home, the Gadsden County Sheriff’s Office said.

Military base affected

On the Florida Panhandle, wind gusts blew off roofs and knocked down brick walls.

Rob Golding opened up his home to some of his neighbors whose homes were heavily damaged. Some were inside their homes when they saw their roofs fly away, he said.

“My home was built in 1962 (and) is the only one with a solid roof left,” Golding said. “My mother, who passed two years ago, she put a lot of money in this house. I asked her to keep her hands on it today, and she did.”

“It looks like a tornado came through here,” he said.

Military families are among the thousands who evacuated before the storm and won’t be able to return home immediately.

Officials at the Tyndall Air Force Base in Panama City said dozens of trees and power lines went down, and several buildings lost their roofs across the military base. They said it could take weeks before it’s safe for personnel and their families to return.

Effect of climate change

Michael’s strength may reflect the effect of climate change on storms. The planet has warmed significantly over the past several decades, causing changes in the environment.

Human-caused greenhouse gases in the atmosphere create an energy imbalance, with more than 90% of remaining heat trapped by the gases going into the oceans, according to the National Oceanographic and Atmospheric Administration. There’s evidence of higher sea surface temperature and atmospheric moisture, experts say.

While we might not get more storms in a warmer climate, most studies show storms will get stronger and produce more rain. Storm surge is worse now than it was 100 years ago, thanks to the rise in sea levels.

According to Climate Central, a scientific research organization, the coming decades are expected to bring hurricanes that intensify more rapidly, should there be no change in the rate of greenhouse gas emissions.

from FOX 4 Kansas City WDAF-TV | News, Weather, Sports https://fox4kc.com/2018/10/11/two-people-dead-as-michael-demolishes-houses-in-floridas-panhandle/

from Kansas City Happenings https://kansascityhappenings.wordpress.com/2018/10/11/two-people-dead-as-michael-demolishes-houses-in-floridas-panhandle/

[viralhottopics]

26 People Talk About The Paranormal Event That They Cant Find A Rational Explanation For

These stories from Ask Reddit are unexplainable. Unbelievable. But that doesn’t change the fact that they actually happened.

1. Anexact copy of my little girl walkedaround ourhouse

“I was annoyed with my daughter because she hadn’t cleaned her room in weeks so when I walked by her room and saw her standing there, I assumed she was doing what I said. A few minutes later, she walked out of the shower in the bathroom with a towel wrapped around her and asked why I was looking at her strangely. When I asked her who was in her room, she looked scared, too. I never figured out who that was but they didn’t clean up the room, either.” —musememo

2. My brother stumbledacrossanAboriginal spirit

“Not me but my twin brother, we were around 6 years old, and in central Australia with our dad and older brother.

We were doing some nature walk and he fell back a bit. He then screams and runs and catches up. He told my dad he had seen something.

Later that day we were in the town nearby and my twin pointed at a painting in an art gallery and said that the figure in it was what he had seen.

My dad went in to the gallery and asked the person at the counter what the figure in the painting was, and they said it is an Aboriginal spirit that takes children who wander too far from the camp or family.” —Baccarri

3. My dead sister threw her photographs off the walls

“I was watching my parents’ dog while they were out of town. My sister passed away in their house about a year prior. While I was there, I witnessed a picture of her fall off the wall. Then I discovered that EVERY picture of her in the house had fallen off the wall, seemingly at the same time. (They didn’t keep many pictures up in general, so it was only four different pictures.) I chalked it up to something shaking the house, even though we live in Ohio and I felt nothing.

I went home to my apartment. Face up on my desk was a picture of my sister and me that I knew I had packed away. I don’t believe in things like this but this occurred at a time where I was still very much actively grieving the loss of my sister and it hit me hard. Still can’t explain it.” —kingchuck419

4. My friend predicted his own death

“On the days before the Utya massacre one of my friends said that he had bad stomach cramps, as well as pain in his right hand. He kept rubbing the palm of his hand, as if to numb the pain a bit. We went to a doctor to see if we could find anything wrong, but they found nothing wrong at all.

About three days later he was killed by Anders Breivik. Shot three times in the stomach, once in his right hand.” —Meior

5. I had an encounter with a kindhearted spirit

“When I was young (probably around 8-10), I caught chickenpox. I woke up in the middle of the night one night, and called for my mom, because little kids can’t do SHIT for themselves when they’re sick.

A woman came into my bedroom and sat on my bed and stroked my hair until I fell asleep. For whatever reason, I thought it was my grandmother, but she was dressed funny.

When I woke up the next morning, I went downstairs for breakfast, and asked where my grandma was, and (naturally) my mom told me that she was at her house, like she always was.

I told my mom she’d been in my room the night before, and my mom laughed and said that I’d just been dreaming.

However, my aunt (who tended to believe that sort of thing more)was babysitting me that day (the upside to chicken pox meant there was no school for me) and I told her the story.

She asked me to describe the weird outfit, and it was a nurse’s outfit from the 50’s/early 60’s. My family knew the previous owners of the house. The wife was a nurse in the fifties, and had died a few months previously.

Can I say with 100% certainty that I had an encounter with a spirit? No. But it’s certainly a spooky coincidence.” —TheOneTrueChuck

6. A dead body appeared and reappeared in front of us

“When I was a child (10 years old), we lived on the North shore of the Shuswap Lake in BC. It was, then, very rural with a population of ~400 spread out over ten miles of beach front with farms up in the hills. No town, just a store, a post office and an old Indian trail that wound through the forest for perhaps a half mile near where I lived. We played on the trail all the time. One afternoon, my family, mother, father, brother myself and a friend went for a walk along the trail. My friend and I ran ahead at one point, out of sight of everyone. We stopped and were looking around and off, in the forest was a man, slumped over a fallen, rotting log with chickens pecking around him. I can still feel, and I’m talking 50 years in my past, the adrenalin blasting up my back as the figure lifted its head and looked at us with empty pecked out eyes. We screamed as both of us saw it and ran back to the adults. When my parents came to the spot with us, only the rotting log was there. To this day, I would not dare walk that path by myself.” —inlandviews

7. Spirits scratched up his arms and legs

“Not me, but my stepfather’s best friend (call him Jim) has supposedly been experiencing paranormal activity since he was a teenager. He’s a court reporter, stepdad was a speech writer, very skeptical and stoic guys.

There were countless stories. They got on an elevator full of people in downtown Atlanta, stopped at a floor that was all kinds of wrong — 1940s decor, abandoned, dusty — then the elevator went back down and opened on the opposite side of the building.

Jim’s dog died. A week later the stereo turned on by itself and started playing a song Jim loved to play for his pet. No cd inside. It had snowed the night before and there were paw prints in the backyard leading to the house, but none near the gate.

He frequently finds giant piles of coins under his pillow. He lived in London for a time, thinking he’d escaped the spirit (which had begun to scratch him hard on his arms and legs). After 6 months he found a little pile of pennies in his bed, even though he hadn’t been carrying American coinage.

I personally witnessed one strange event while Jim was around. Was walking down the stairs and felt something whip past my head and heard it hit the wall. Looked down and saw a quarter dated 1948. I thought my sister was messing with me, but she was down at the lake with everyone else.” —nickfinnftw

8. We spotted a UFO from our houseboat

“Back about 1975 when I was a teenager, our family and another family together took a 40 foot houseboat from one end of Norris Lake (Tennessee) to the other. Me and the boy from the other family slept on the foredeck, the girls slept on top of the cabin, and the adults slept inside the cabin.

One night me and the other boy were staring up at the night sky, and a UFO appeared. It was about the same size as a dime held at arm’s length, and pure white. It moved rapidly across the sky and disappeared. We told everyone else about it in the morning, and of course no one believed us.

Later that day we pulled into a marina to get gasoline and other supplies. There, on the front page of the local paper, was the headline, ‘UFO Sighted In Seven Counties’ and a picture of a large white dot of a UFO.

Now, I’m not saying it was little green men, but it was exactly what we saw – an Unidentified Flying Object.” —Atmospharoah

9. An ouija board threatened us

“Played Ouija with some friends and it started being threatening and Satany, so we threw it away in a church dumpster.

The next day that church was struck by lightning and burnt to the ground.” —NosDarkly

10. We heard sounds coming from the woods

“You should know that I consider myself to be a very rational person. I’m not superstitious, and I don’t believe in psychic powers or the supernatural. My best friend, Travis and I used to play guitars together almost every day. That’s not important now, but it will be later. One day we decided to go to the beach with our girlfriends, and take some mushrooms. After a little while, when the mushrooms were kicking in, Travis said that he wanted to wander off alone, so I stayed with our girlfriends. We all had a great time. As the sun began to set, Travis’ girlfriend asked me, ‘Where’s Travis?’ None of us knew where he was, but I could hear him playing the guitar, so I suggested that we just follow the sound of the music until we got to him. The girls told me that I must have really good hearing, because they couldn’t hear anything. I said, ‘Well, I can definitely hear it, so just follow me.’ Now here’s the strange part: I followed the sound for several minutes, into the forest, and went directly to him, but when we reached him, he did not have a guitar, and I realized that we had left our guitars at home! I still have no idea how that happened.” —Gatorburger

11. Phantoms were crying inside of our haunted home

“I lived in a haunted house with three roommates.

They lived there for a couple of weeks before I did and swore up and down that a young woman was haunting the house. One of them said they had some incense manually extinguished when they weren’t home. Another one said they were feeling around in the dark looking for a light switch and felt the hair on the top of someone’s head. Someone that wasn’t there when the light came on.

I, being a good and proper atheist and knowing my roommates were kinda potheads, thought it was all bollocks and that they were paranoid.

A month or so after I moved in, I was laying in bed when I heard a girl crying in the hallway. Two of my roommates were girls so I got up to do the requisite investigating and consoling. I opened my door to see who it was, only to discover that I was the only person home at that time.

I’m still not a major believer in the supernatural but I won’t rule anything out now.” —spuds_mckenzie

12.I saw The Phoenix Lights in person

“I saw The Phoenix Lights with my own eyes. Been a hardcore UFO/alien/Government Conspiracy nut ever since.

The Phoenix Lights were a series of lights that appeared one after another on March 13th, 1997., forming this huge arc. They floated in the air for an hour or so. Thousands and thousands of people reported seeing a silent craft the size of a ‘football stadium’ passing over their homes as well. Including the Governor at the time, Fife Symington. It was never fully explained.” —tisdue

13. Two tall figures stood in my doorway

“So much paranormal shit happened to me when I was a kid. One that has always stuck was when I was about 3 or 4 years old. Back then I used to randomly wake up in the middle of the night really often for no known reason. I was still sleeping in my parents bed at the time so I would just lay in bed and look around. I swear, every fucking time I’d look at the doorway to the living room, I would see two really tall figures standing there. They looked like the old farm couple in that one painting. Except they had hollow eyes and they were thinner. They never really didn’t do anything but stare back at me at first.

One night was especially weird. I woke up as usual and saw them standing there I front of the doorway again. Only this time something felt a bit more off than usual. The ceiling fan was on high and the blades were going so fast, that the entire fixture was moving back and forth. I look back at the figures and they have some really dark, creepy grins on their faces. I got scared and buried myself in the blankets, hoping they’d go away. Then all I heard was the ceiling fan spinning even faster, somehow… the beads at the end of the switches were tapping against the glass light cover furiously I peeked up out of my covers and the two figures were right next to the bed standing right over me with their ugly smiles.

I screamed bloody murder and the glass cover on the light came off and shattered on the ground. My dad jumped out of bed immediately and turned on the light to see what happened, but the two figures were gone already. I was crying hysterically and took my mom a long time to calm me down. So much other stuff went on while in lived there. That was the worst house I ever lived in…” —miss_mactastic

14. The computer chair spun on its own

“Once when i was about 13 i was home alone when I heard a rattling coming from my dads room upstairs. I went up there to see what it was and saw my dads computer chair spinning to a slow halt, as if it had been spinning rapidly up to the point I had ventured up there. We lived in a hundred year old house, and I often justify it as maybe a rat jumped on it and started the spinning or something, but the noise was loud enough for me to notice with the television on a fairly loud volume.” —imapieceofshitAMA

15. We spotted a UFO amongst the stars

“Somewhere out in the mountains near Mammoth, CA, as a kid, My dad, myself, and a few family friends were out gazing at the stars. Being as I was from LA, I think it was the first time I’d ever seen the stars without light pollution, so I was fascinated.

I pointed out to a cluster of 3 stars and said, ‘Hey look, It’s Orions belt!’

My father corrected me and showed me that Orion’s belt was elsewhere, so I asked, ‘Well what constellation is that then?’ and pointed back to the one from before.

He conceded that it did look very similar to Orion’s belt, but that he couldn’t tell what it actually was. A little while later, what appeared to be the middle star of the 3 started moving,

It zig-zagged through the sky for several seconds, before its brightness intensified and then just like that it disappeared.

To this day the only thing I can think of that it could possibly be was some kind of experimental drone, but this was in the early 90’s, and I’m not sure drones existed back then. And if it was a drone, it was must’ve been a damned advanced one because it stood still for long enough that myself and several adults nearby all thought it was a star.” —jdrc07

16. All of the cupboardsopened on their own

“Making toast late one night facing the kitchen bench eating for a good 5-10mins. Cleaned up and turned around and every single cupboard door and cutlery drawer were open. They were all closed when I went into the kitchen, and there was no way anyone could have snuck in and done it because I was home alone. I also didn’t hear them open in the time I was there. Scared the shit out of me so I froze, let it register for a few seconds, then calmly closed everything and went back to my room to hide until daylight. One of a few weird things to happen growing up.” —FalariRum

17. An inanimate object kept moving on its own

“My grandpa, who was a tough as nails WWII Marine vet, had a little stuffed bunny. He kept it out in the open and when he would walk past it and thought no one was looking, he would pet it. Big old tough guy petting a little stuffed bunny in adorable secrecy. It was an ongoing family joke.

Anyways, he committed suicide and we all went to the house to deal with the police and ME and everything. We stayed in the house that night and it had an overall creepy vibe because of what had happened. We were all naturally upset and struggling and doing dumb things to try to make ourselves laugh to try to deal with it. And we realize the bunny has been moving. Like it would be on the dining table and then we would see it in the den an hour later. I thought someone was doing it as a joke. But everyone swore they wouldn’t do that and we never caught anyone doing it. I kept an eye on that bunny the entire week. Never saw anyone touch it but it would still be moved! I think granddad was playing jokes on us. Not the most convincing or scary story but I like it.

His cell phone also called his landline. That was weird.” —[deleted]

18. I sawthe ghost of my mother all throughout my life

“My mom passed when I was 7. Flash forward to middle school. We were at this band clinic thing at my moms old high school. Each school prepared their own piece with their bands, and then we all got the same piece to do together (if that makes sense). Anyways, we were waiting around to get back on stage to play with everyone and were just chatting away as a group. I looked over and at the back of the room was a woman who looked identical to my mom: same red hair, glasses, height, everything. I caught her looking at me a few times and smiling at me. Turned to tell some friends about it and by the time I looked back, she was gone and I didn’t see her after that.

Also, I graduated with a French award from high school. I did my walk across the stage, obligatory photo with my department head (who I’m close with) looking out at the crowd. 3 rows behind my dad, stepmom and aunt I saw the same lady from before.

Super eerie but also kinda nice.” —AlexaGxo

19. I could seethe silhouette of a young girl

“My girlfriend and I were visiting my sister, who lived in a 200 year old home in western MA that used to be a brothel. We were staying in her guest room, which recently had new carpet installed that was rather tall and stiff. This made it quite difficult to open and shut the door. I recall using my body weight to force it shut and needing to yank it open. As I’m trying to fall asleep, I hear something bump the door from the hallway. I assume this is my sister, her boyfriend, or their dog. A few minutes later I hear something at the door again, but this time the knob turns. I freeze as I see the knob slowly turn and the door begin to open until I see a shape resembling the silhouette of a young girl. The only child in the house is an infant. I immediately roll over onto my side, close my eyes, and attempt to convince myself that what I saw was the silhouette of the dog. I don’t mention this to my girlfriend or my sister, because I don’t want to alarm anyone. Fast forward a few months: my girlfriend and I are returning to western MA to attend my sister’s wedding and we will be staying in the same room. On the plane my girlfriend says “I have something I feel I should tell you about your sister’s house.” I immediately know where she’s going with this. As it turns out, she was awake when the door opened, but she got a better look then I. She describes seeing a girl of about 5 or 6 wearing a victorian-styled night gown open the door and stare her in the eyes with a penetrating intensity before my girlfriend looked away. I tell her my story and we decide to make sure we drink enough to pass out every night so we won’t be awake if we are ‘visited.’” —noiselvr

20. I have a sixth sense that protects me from danger

“I have a very strong danger sense that’s been proven terrifyingly correct both times I’ve had it. The first was when I was in high school training for cross country. I would usually run by this lake near my house, but one day I was close and got a very strong “NO” feeling. It was like fighting against a very strong animal instinct to go any closer. I turned right around and went back to my house. When my mom commented on how short my run was, I explained to her what happened and she seemed alarmed, wondering if I’d had some sort of panic attack. A few days later, police found a body in the lake.

The more recent example was when I was riding the DC Metro with my partner some time last year. We were on the orange line, and needed to get off at a stop that was also on the silver line. We’re on the train when all of a sudden I get this very strong sense again. I told my partner about it and though at first he was skeptical, he trusted me and we switched lines. Later we found out there was a stabbing on the orange line that same night.” —moist_anal_leakage

21. A phantom appeared in my mother’s bedroom

“My mom’s first husband was a Navy pilot during the Gulf War. The carrier was about ten days into it’s cruise and operating with complete radio silence. She hadn’t heard anything from the ship since it left but that was to be expected, this was a war. On that night about ten days into the cruise my mom woke up suddenly in the middle of the night. She saw her husband standing in the room. It wasn’t an ethereal form either, he appeared solid and utterly the same. The only thing different about him was that his head was shaved. He only had one thing to say, “Goodbye.” This whole experience startled my mom and she couldn’t get back to sleep. She went to the kitchen to get some water when the doorbell rang. All military wives know what the late night doorbell means. Her husband had suffered a massive heart attack and died aboard the carrier. She was grief ridden but reasoned that the apparition had been a hallucination born of the stress of having a spouse deployed. Besides with his head shaved, he didn’t even look that familiar. Her mother and mother-in-law flew out immediately to plan for the funeral and receive the body. She stayed strong until the first viewing of the body. Her lifeless husband was bald. In a letter from his NFO the shaved head was explained as the result of a lost bet. There had been no way of knowing that his head had been shaved and my mom suffered a minor mental break.” —raider02

22. A rock unexplainably fell from the sky

“When I was about 10 I saw a large rocket fly almost vertically down into the sea. This was on a small Mediterranean island and there was no explosion or mention on the news. No sign of it after it entered the water. No one else was nearby to see it.” —Thaxs-Axel

23. My cat spoke to my telepathically

“When I was around six or seven we had a cat that had kittens. We knew it had kittens because it was pregnant and then it wasn’t anymore. The problem was that we had no idea where the kittens were. I was wondering about it and looked right at the cat and sort of thought in my mind ‘where are your kittens?’ but without using words if that makes any sense. Immediately the location came into my mind. It was through some broken boards just above our porch that our cat could jump into from pillars on the side of the porch. I KNEW that they were there. I walked straight over there, climbed onto the stone pillar and looked through the hole in the boards. The kittens were right there. I’ve never had a similar experience again in my life.” —metallic_orange

24. My grandfather warned me about his death in a dream

“Well, Monday I started to worry about my Grandpa. The moment of worry passed, and I went about my day. Later on I posted an article about automated lawn mowers, saying that my grandpa would love this, since taking care of his yard was his hobby. Literally right after I hit share, my dad calls me.

We all know this feeling. It’s that drop in your stomach when you know something terrible has happened, or it’s about to. The feeling that your world has changed and there’s nothing you can do.

Anyways, he tells me that my grandpa was rushed to the hospital with a bladder infection followed by several heart attacks, but he’s still alive. I didn’t think anything about worrying earlier, at least until I woke up the next morning.

My dream that night was what made it click in my head I guess. In the dream I was sitting in my grandpa’s shed watching something, and he sits down next to me. Without any pretense he starts talking.

‘The next few weeks are gonna be hard, and they will test you. Don’t worry about me, in a few hours I won’t have any use for it.’

We ended up spending what seemed like hours talking about a lot of personal things, things I honestly didn’t know or didn’t remember about my grandpa. Most of which my dad and his brother have confirmed to be true, although a little exaggerated apparently.

Grandpa didn’t die until around noon on Tuesday, pretty much just a few hours (Three hour time difference) after my dream.

I’m not religious, nor will I be, but for fucks sake, what the fuck? I know the subconscious mind can do things like this, but some of the details he told me about his life are things I wasn’t there for, or even alive for.” —CrimDS

25. Our young son mentioned his pastlife

“My wife and I were getting dinner on the table. Our 4-year-old son was in the adjoining room, and said, ‘Hey. That’s the job I had in my last life.”‘He’s looking at the TV, and there is a man shaping metal over a fire. We were shocked because we had never discussed reincarnation with him, or even with each other in his presence. We’re atheists. I tried to get him to elaborate, but he just went back to what he was doing like he never said it.” —Scrappy_Larue

26. We saw a woman that traveled from the past

“Was spending the night at a friend’s house as a kid (around 12-13). Parents weren’t home so we decided to go out, do some ding dong ditching, get into some young angsty debauchery. We get home, and it’s around 1 or 2 in the morning. Cue a ringing of the doorbell; naturally we think it’s the cops or a pissed off neighbor. My friend had a small window that looked out onto the front porch that you couldn’t really see into from outside, so we took a peek at who was calling at such a late hour. Standing at the door was an old woman in a dress and a young boy in a weird newsie outfit. Both were dressed out of period, as this was the 90’s, and my friend had never seen either in the neighborhood before. We duck because we’re a bit freaked, look again no less than 10 seconds later and they’re both gone. Nobody on the street walking away, no cars driving away, they were just gone without a trace. We did not sleep well.” —JusticarFudge

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from 26 People Talk About The Paranormal Event That They Cant Find A Rational Explanation For

[cactirat]

I know he's not the best, I don't expect him to be too scary or spook. He is just for fun. Also Trigger warning because this might disturb/ trigger some people Tw: Rape, Pedophilia, Necrophilia, Death Basic: Name: Jean Nelson Cp name: None Nicknames: Bat boy because his nose kinda looks like a bats because of how it points upwards, Teddy due to him living in the Teddy Bear Motel, Trix because he's just for kids. All names are given to himself by himself because he has a lot of free time Age: 17, dies at almost 18 Birthday: May 23, 1973 Deathday: April 7, 1990 Race: White(and he is also Albino) Sex: Male Sexuality: Straight Religion: Christian and loves Jesus, although he doesn't fully understand the religion and assumes he will still go to heaven, because he thinks that he can sin as much as he want because Jesus died for it, but thats really not the case at all. Residents: The Teddy Bear Motel c5.staticflickr.com/9/8316/292… abandonedkansai.files.wordpres… Located in Whittier North Carolina Hotel Info: The hotel was abandoned, and he decided to stay there because it was much warmer then his cabin in the woods because of instillation. Mental disorders:Narcissistic personality disorder, Intermediate explosive disorder Accent: Southern but he slurs his words, and ends  up drooling a lot when talking. Prized Possession: A Taxadermied 16 y/o girl that he did by himself, She's kinda rotten. WIP character. --- Appearance: He doesn't look too spooky, but his actions kinda spook me Hair: Light ash blonde (whatever the fuck, just blonde basically) Medium length, although normally kept up. Its burnt of in many places on the face. Eyes: Cat like shaped eyes. They're green or blue, not sure yet Body Type: kinda muscular, pretty short. He has chubby arms<3 Height: 5"4 Weight: 139 lbs. Extra: he has lots and lots of burns.I cant really draw burns, they look a bit too fresh, I know. Due to the burns it kind of hurts him to open one side of his mouth, so when he talk and breathes and stuff one side droops and the oceanfox89.deviantart.com/art/… other side goes up making in look like he's smirking. The other side  of his mouth can and does open though. Outfits: Too many. Like way lots. The jeans aren't really rolled up that high, it's stylized. main outfit: oceanfox89.deviantart.com/art/… Nose: He doesn't have any nose skin so he cant keep his snot in his nose and is constantly getting boogers and stuff everywhere. He can't breathe well out of his nose because of that and it gets in his mouth a lot because he breathes out of it. He smears it around his face, its gross. Boots: cowboy boots that are brown and black, with no spurs. Legs: (Thicc) They're kind of chubby, but it's really just odd weight distribution. He eats a lot of dog, so he's not starving. --- Killing: Jean doesn't go out of his way to get a kill, but when he does kill it is for sexual purposes, to get off basically. However, since what he is into is so odd, it doesn't feel like the victim is being sexually violated, which he thinks is wrong.  How he kills in he normally bashed their head in with his hockey stick, or slice them with it. He will occasionally hang them, or make small cuts in them and let the victim bleed out. --- Fetishes: One reason that Jean kills is to get a good wank. His sex thing was badly burnt when they were attacked and overtime he developed strange fetishes that he does to his victims.  Trigger Warning, but important info   Erotophonophilia: Sexual pleasure in murder Necrophilia Pedophilia Piquerism: Pleasure in piercing or cutting the flesh Sadism Zoophilia: Animal fetish Zoosadism: Inflicting pain in animals, or seeing animals in pain. --- Personality: He's a dick. He wont talk to or go after anyone over 20. He  pretends to be sweet and happy and pretends to not have much of a personality and be 2 dimensional like a cartoon character to trick kids into thinking he is fun loving and happy. He's really just a sad, perverted sex freak, who love targeting the weak, young and venerable. He occasionally will belittle his victims before he kills them once he's caught him in his shed or in the motel, and just yell at them because he is angry for no reason. He really does regret it, and it doesn't feel as great as it did. Misogynistic type( Hates women) Why have sex if it's no love?He's secretly extremely sad with what he's done with his life. Before it even started really. He's only 17. He could have made a family of his own. He knows he blew his only change at a family and love, he messed it up the second he got it. Nobody told him it was wrong, what he did to his sister. And if you can't fix what's broken, break it more, right? Likes: Children(in that way), getting off to dead people (in holes he cuts in them, not birth canals), Sugar Rice Krinkles, Jesus, eating flowers, staplers, NICKELODEON, the cold, wet pleasure of penetrating corpses, acting, being romantic, however his version of romantic is sick and twisted, exhibitionism, Killing hikers and fucking their dogs Dislikes: Hippies, because they annoy the fuck out of him, Victims who scream or bark too  loud and hurt his ears, most people besides himself, loud noises, "kinkshaming", men Beliefs: He believes that killing children and bashing in the stomachs or pregnant women is fine to save the children from living miserable lives. He thinks its immoral to have real sex with women, because he never has, but holes he cuts into them is fair game. Strength: He is fast, in the short periods of time he can run, from practice he can swing his hockey stick well, he can climb, and get into small places easily, can fallow things well with his eye and rarely loses sight of victims. Because they're dumb children and loud animals. Weaknesses: He's human, he has human weaknesses, he has poor eyesight because he is albino, and his hair is also easily grabbed and pulled. He also has problems with running for a long time because his nose is normally clogged and he cant breathe. Also, because he is normally breathing from his mouth, he has a hard time sneaking up on people. He is much weaker then most men. He doesn't have any depth perception because his eye was burnt over. theme song: Yonkers Instrumental by Tyler the Creator and Goosebumps Instrumental by Travis Scott www.youtube.com/watch?v=x0ZQyr…; or www.youtube.com/watch?v=bQBw1f… (just for fun) but highkey inspired by Tron Cat by Tyler the Creator. www.youtube.com/watch?v=Kd3hxZ… --- Phobias: Androphobia: Fear of adult men, due to most of them being stronger then him Pyrophobia: Fear of fire Mastigophobia: Fear of whips --- Extras: Since the motel doesn't have electricity, when he kills an animal, he eats it. Probably died from tetanus or being shot, i'm not sure yet, possibly froze to death still my innocent little floof bby He's not gay btw He's all badass until someone attacks back, then he's a little bitch ---  TRIGGER WARNING  (just in case) This includes background Story: written by siner666.deviantart.com/art/Je… --- Short background:    Jean was born and left at the hospital. However he was adopted by a "nice" couple that took care of him until he was around 7. However the the father cheated on the mom and the mom became angry at Jean and his siblings at the time. The people he had always known as his real family. He was taken away by cps and placed into foster care while his mother was evaluated. He was placed in a few more terrible homes until he finally go to Edmunds. They were a nice Mexican family. He had a little sister names Sarah in that family. He became very addicted to TV and his family got him whatever he wanted to deal with his trauma.They gave him whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted, so it made him very self absorbed. But he wasn't satisfied. Jean eventually fell in love, but he knew that her family would stop them from being together. So he kidnapped her in the night and ran away with her. taking the things they bonded over with them, so that just maybe she would forgive him. He was immediately found out and the town basically went out in a mob to go find him. When he he was found he was attacked, rather violently, because the townspeople much rather did things own their own and not with legal help, so they decided to chase them down and catch them by themselves. It was like an old fashioned mob. One mad decided too pick up a lantern but dropped it and it burnt the two children. He assumed he killed them The girl died but Jean didn't. When their parents found out they were devastated, they never knew he survived.    Jean was absolutely devastated, the only person he could ever truly love was dead. He ran to a hotel, that had been very important to him as a child. Only to learn that it had been abandoned, which was a pleasant surprise to him. He and his sisters dead corpse stayed at the motel for the longest time until she started rotting, so Jean started looking for a new body.    He found a cabin in the woods and camped there and killed any children that happened to wander in. And animals, and eventually pregnant women.    One day he was strolling around in his little forest, and found some campers. A single dad, a daughter who was 11 and a son who was 13, and their dog. He snuck into their tent while the dad went away to get their truck.Jean underestimates how strong the son is. Jean assumes he can go in, kill the brother, and steal the sister and dog. He intended to kill him with a hammer he found in his motel. HE walks in and accident steps on the brother. The brother was SHOOK and immediately started beating Jean over the head with the closest object, a flashlight. He does it to the point when his head is cracked and bleeding out. the brother told him to scram, which he did, only to come around the other side and snatch up the dog and sister. Jean even this dazed and confused state still managed to run with them and climb to the roof of the motel. He held the dog over the roof to taunt the brother. The father came then. Seeing one of his beloved children in danger he climbed up to the roof with Jean. He grabbed Jean by the hair and dragged him down from the roof down the fire escape. He took the hammer Jean had, and grabbed wads of his blood clotted hair and nailed it to a wall. Jean passed out. When he woke up the father forcefully ripped him  form the wall, scalping him and exposing the hole in the skull the his son made. The father shoves his foot in the crack and spread it more. Jean was basically having full blown seizures at this point. The dad gets the scalp and then he tied it around his neck and hung him. And finally tore the better part of his face off and left him there to die, even though he probably already died before. The thirty two year old man, Walter Hugo, was later charged with the multiple murders, and minor rape. Walter was sent to death row and Jean was obviously dead.