#you see nothing but cartoon hearts floating above the hat

[marinerainbow]

Smartass would totally do that cartoon thing with his S/O where they lean in to kiss each other, stop for a moment when he notices others are watching, before taking off his hat to hide his and his S/O's faces from veiw so they can smooch with privacy.

[overlyimmersed]

Nightmares and Daydreams

A Gravity Falls AU.

Hi @verysorrytobother​ Stanticore anon, revealing my true identity to share this with you! I wasn’t sure how a post this long would go over as an ask, so I decided to do it this way. I hope this is ok.

I’ve been working on this for a while and I hope it goes over well enough. The artwork took me the most time.

As a car crash victim is slowly dying, her mental self panics in the mindscape. She's offered a deal to save her life. Let the game begin.

(Content warnings: Blood. Descriptions of serious injuries.)

"What..." she whispered to herself, staring at the other in disbelief.

"Yep!" he confirms, in a high-pitched, grating, inappropriately upbeat tone, "Dead as a doornail, kid!- Well technically you still have a few more seconds till you brain totally ceases to function. Better make up your mind while you still have one!"

She's still staring dumbly at him. How can he be this nonchalant about it?! A half second ago she was sitting in the front seat of the family truck, a totally routine trip to the store- she never liked trucks but her dad's a carpenter so they need the hauling space. At least it's a pretty shade of blue- and the next she's here, laying face down in a black void with this prick this- this...All Seeing Eye? He's like the Illuminati symbol, but with arms and legs and a top hat. Caution sign yellow and talking to her- or at her. Bill. Freaking. Cipher. Every time he 'speaks' he flashes with light- no mouth so does it really count as speaking? More like his voice is being projected right into her mind- ... And he's telling her that she freakin died! Can't he see how messed up this is?! Can't he sympathize at all!? Then again, it's Bill. She ought to know better.

She ought to know better. She's seen this show a hundred times, she knows nothing good comes from dealing with Cipher. But she doesn't have time to be careful, she doesn't have the luxury of weighing options.

"Tick-tock, Car Wreck!" The obnoxious voice insists again, forcing her out of her stupor, his outstretched hand now alight with blue fire.

Her face scrunches up in a loud cringe, eyes screwed shut and teeth bared, and she swings her hand till it lands solidly in his. Crazed cackling resounds as the deal is struck, but it falls to simple soundtrack as her senses try to sort out what's going on.

She'd expected the blue fire to burn, or at least feel like something, but it didn't. Instead her entire being is flung into a...whirl? Free fall? Something that makes her stomach jump into her throat, and gives her vertigo.

The sensation stops suddenly, only to be replaced by a cacophony of new perceptions. She isn't sure which strikes her first, the sounds or the smell. Shrieks of agony and terror make up the next track of this bizarre playlist, punctuated by the reek of burnt hair. When her eyes fly open to try and make sense of it all, they have no luck. The sight that meets her is a sky of surreal, swirling, bastardized ribbons of every hue, like being inside a filthy bubble. Floating strewn about the space are pockmarked asteroids, and little else.

"So what'd ya think?" The grating voice rejoins the discord, drawing her shell-shocked gaze. "Home-sweet-home, huh? Well don't worry, you won't be here for very long. A deal's a deal, Car Wreck." With that que, and a snap of his fingers, she's falling again. This time untethered and unaccompanied. It takes her a moment to realize the scream ripping though the void is coming from her own throat. Once it hits her, so does something else, and the world goes black.

She wakes some time later, maybe moments maybe days. She has no way of knowing. She pushes herself onto her hands and knees, groggy and disoriented. It takes her a moment to notice the texture under her hands and focus her vision on it. It's grass. She sits up and looks around. "oh..." she says to herself, taking in the scenery. It's lovely, a grassy, sun soaked field. The sky made of churning colors like the last place she'd been, but they're pastel and much prettier. A warm breeze brushes past her face and she takes a deep breath of it, it smells sweet and warm, heavy with the scent of growing things, and for the first time since this started she finds some peace. Peace which is quickly shattered by a familiar, grating voice.

She jumps and whirls around so quick she falls onto her butt. There, floating just inches from where her head had been, is Bill. Laughing at her of course.

"Whoops! Didn't mean to scare you there, Car Wreck!" he claims, moving through the air to look around, then turning back around to look at her. "So how do you like the new digs?"

There's a beat of silence where she just stares at him again, but quickly she shakes off the shock and tries to respond. "Uh...It's nice." She lets her eyes roam around for a second, before returning to Bill, "Where are we?"

"This is the Realm of Daydreams! Your new HQ!" he answers, floating around behind her and making a grand gesture with his arms.

She turns her head to follow him, "Daydreams? HQ?"

"Yep! This is where you'll hang out when you're not puppeting your little pawns." He turns around to look at the scenery more himself. "Kinda dull if you ask me. Maybe you can do something about that!"

"What are you talking about?"

"Oh you know, some pillars of anguish, an alter of unholy fire, maybe a blood fountain or a couple of-" he gestures with each suggestion, like a landscaper creating a vision, until she cuts him off.

"No I mean," she finally pushes herself to a stand, teetering a little till she finds her balance. "Pawns?"

He turns back to her, "Oh yeah, which ones do you want anyway?" he waits a beat for an answer, but she just stares back at him, clearly not following. "Ugh, our deal?"

He hadn't really told her what the deal was, just mentioned a game and a second chance. "Uhh, I don't think you-"

"Oh right, you flesh bags need everything explained to you." he groans, rolling his eye, "Alright, here's the deal. We're gonna play a little game," he holds out his hand and a little hologram like projection appears showing an aerial view of a town. "and the people of this hick town are gonna be the pieces." ten little blue stick figures appear in the center of town, each with a little symbol above it's head. "If you win, you rejoin the land of the living!" a little magenta stick figure pops into existence next to the others and they all do a little happy dance. "If I win..." suddenly the whole projection goes up in flames, and she jerks her head back instinctively, "You burn with rest of those worthless mortals!" He bursts into a fit of maniacal laughter, which actually gives her some times to recover.

After a second of shocked staring, she blinks a few times then puts on as neutral an expression as she can. "Ok. So what are the rules?"

"Simple!" he answers, cutting off his laughter "We can't directly manipulate each other's pawns, and we can't interfere with the other's powers."

"That's it?"

"Yep. Everything else is fair game"

"Ok...What are my powers?"

"Same as mine! Except you don't have to wait till someone falls asleep to get in their head."

"I see..." her eyes wander to the ground as she contemplates the information, and her hand reaches for the longest of her three necklaces to idly play with the spiked pendant. "So you can talk to them in dreams, and I can talk to them in daydreams."

"Bingo!"

She scrunches her nose a little, thinking of a few ways that could end up being annoying. "Alright, anything else I need to know?"

"Hmm, nope! That just about covers it. All that's left is to pick our pawns, I'll even let you go first!" And with that ten, glowing, blue symbols appear between them. She looks them over carefully, she knows who each symbol corresponds to- supposing the cartoon from her world is accurate. She considers the six-fingered hand, if she takes him out of Bill's control from the start that derails his whole plan as she knows it. But, then she'll have no clue what's up to at all, at least by letting Bill have the pawns she's familiar with she has a chance at guessing his moves. She reaches forward and touches the shooting star, it turns magenta and floats to hover closer to her.

"Interesting." Bill comments, though his tone doesn't sound very interested, as he makes a simple motion with his eye and the six-fingered hand settles beside him. She chooses the fish looking symbol next, and Bill's second choice in the pine tree. They go back and forth till they have five symbols each, Bill having the the six-fingered hand, the pine tree, the llama, the stitched heart, and the pentagram. While she has the shooting star, the fish, the bag of ice, the spectacles, and the question mark.

"Welp, that settles that. Nice picks you made there, lets hope they work out for ya, Car Wreck"

"Could you not call me that?" though it hardly sounds like a request.

"And what else should I call you?" Bill asks, collecting his symbols into one hand and placing the other on his...hip?

"How about my name? It's Maranwe."

"But Car Wreck fits you so much better! Just take a look!" he quips, snapping a full-length mirror into existence. Maranwe turns to look and gasps in horror. Bill breaks out into more cackling, "Well my work here is done! I'll let you get cleaned up, see ya around Car Wreck!" And with that he fades from existence.

Maranwe just stares, even as Bill disappears from 'her' realm, she can only stare at her destroyed refection. Her hair is messy- and she almost laughs that that's what her brain zeros in on first-, It's also dirty, some of the mess is actual dirt but several spots are matted with half-dry blood. Her face is in a similar condition, smeared with dirt and blood but she can see the wounds there. Scrapes and still oozing cuts, bruises forming on one cheek bone and under her eyes. Her nose isn't quite right...broken probably. Her vision skims over her whole body for a second, making note of similar injuries where tears in her clothes reveal them. It's not as bad as she would expect a car crash victim to look- "except for that" Her mind screams suddenly while all her mouth can do is gasp, as her attention lands dizzyingly on her neck. It's...purple, but also red? There's no spilled blood but it still looks ugly, and the worst part is the...bump. It's not hard to figure out that it's a misaligned bone. Without the pain to tell her she never would have noticed, her neck is broken. Very broken. How is she holding her head up right... Probably because this isn't actually a physical body. She wonders if this is what killed her, or if there's something inside, something she can't see, that did the trick.

Whatever it is, she can't be seen like this. And she really really doesn't want to look like this for her own sake. Bill said she could 'clean herself up'? How exactly... She thinks about how Bill's powers tend to work and tries to concentrate on a cleaner, less beat up mental image of herself. She lifts her hand to her cheek and grazes her finger tips across it, a trail of sparkles follow the touch and the skin underneath returns to normal. She relaxes a little, watching the disaster wipe off her face like cheap make-up. She keeps the image in her mind and closes her eyes, cupping her hands in front of herself and imagining the sparkles pooling in them. Then she splashes the sparkles over he face, like a girl in a face wash commercial, and imagines the glittering dust washing over her entire body, cleaning away the mess and injuries. And when she opens her eyes, that's exactly what's happened. Her reflection shows her whole and unwounded, even her clothes are fixed.

The next thing she does is smooth her hair down, mostly an instinct since it's still messy, and the sparkles trail after her hands, tidying the strands as if she'd just brushed them. She watches her reflection's mouth quirk up a little in a small smirk. So she can just change what she looks like by imagining it? That figures, this is a place of daydreams that's kind of how they work. She knows exactly what to do with this, she's known since she was a kid what she's change if she could. She places the backs of her hands next to her ears and flicks up, sparkles spray up with the motion and her normal human ears, turn to wolf ears the fur the same chocolate brown as her hair. Her smirk blooms into a full blown smile, and she tilts her head to get a better look at them, watching them move as she tests them. It's like they're real! Next is the tail of course, it's mostly brown, with some silver down the top and a black tip. Then she looks down, and taps the toe of each of her shoes against the ground in turn, as she does they become the compressed paws of her own design.

"That's insane..." she laughs to herself. She's actually turning herself into something else, her own made up alien species. And she just can! With the big changes out of the way she works out the details; pupil shape, fang length, and straightens out a few asymmetries and insecurities she's always had about her body- after all why not? When she's done, she can't help admiring herself a little, turning this way and that in front of the mirror, her perfect image of herself. Well- almost perfect. She snaps her fingers and in the same dusting of glitter, her shirt changes. What was before a loose grey t-shirt with the word "nope" written across it in cursive, as been replaced by a cropped sweater, banded in 3 colors; white at the top, then light blue, then dark blue. She lifts it to look at the crop top under neither, it's just plain white. She decides she doesn't like it that way, so it changes to a cropped version of the t-shirt she'd had before. With that taken care of she lifts her arm so the over-sized sleeve falls down and she can see her forearm, which is covered by a light blue arm warmer with white lace around the edges. Perfect. At least for now. She can change later if she decides she doesn't like the arm warmers.

She giggles to herself, invigorated by the makeover and the sense of control she has now. She turns from the mirror and skips a few feet across the grass, the symbols she'd chosen follow her, floating loosely like beads suspended in gel. She laughs a little as she watches them, and idly reaches for her necklace again, but this time her hand just meets the soft knit of her sweater. She'd forgotten to add them into this new look, so she just wills them into place; three different necklaces of three different lengths. Her hand finds the middle length first, the pendant is designed to spin so she plays with it while her mind starts to wander. She starts thinking of plans for winning this game, what she might say to each other 'pawns' and who to use where and how, even letter her thoughts wonder about the new life she'll have. Cipher's hologram suggested she'll stay in Gravity Falls, which would be cool but what about-

The sound of screeching tires and twisting metal cuts her thoughts off clean and she whips around to find the source of the noise, but her fear turns to confusion when she sees...nothing. She stands stock still, her mind running over only vague impressions of thoughts relating to what she just heard, until another loud sound whips her back around. This time she actually sees something, like a huge firework in the pastel oil-slick sky, accompanied by Bill's obnoxious voice echoing through the space.

"Let the game begin!"

[ahatintimepieces]

Maybe something with tardigrade song or the moss ,by Cosmo sheldrake? All his songs are pretty whimsical

Many feelings right now, post-writing, and 1) Never heard this music before this morning and now The Moss is forever embroidered into my being, 2) This got way outta hand and finally 3) THANK YOU FOR REQUESTING THIS I surely hope I captured the whimsy at least a little! Please enjoy!

“Legend has it that the moss grows on the north side of the trees,” Hattie reminded herself as she looked out at the columns of frosted stone, perched on top a giant, frozen wishing well. Or maybe just a well. It was too frozen to tell if golden wishes fell into this well. And it was too frozen to see if there was moss on the crystalline trees.

“Well, legend has it when the rain comes down, all the worms come up to breathe,” a squeaky voice of a dozing, floating raccoon bequeathed.

Hattie looked up, spotting the crown pon on the cap of the raccoon clinging to its pillow. The rift was overrun by these sleeping fellows who whispered in their dreams of fables and things.

“Well, legend has it when the sunbeams come, all the plants, they eat them with their leaves.” Hattie readied herself and leapt forward. The stone column cracked beneath her and began to sink. With a jolt of fear, she immediately jumped to the next one, flying beneath the raccoon who dropped to squash her. She wacked it with her umbrella and pilfered the pon before jumping to a cluster of cold leaves before the stone column crumbled beneath her.

The raccoon fell with the stone and Hattie panted, before catching the shine of the parchment below.

Careful, she descended the stairs of slippery leaves. Her boots scuffed the icy blue branches before she stooped down and gathered the page that was one piece of one puzzle of a forest of spirits and souls and sleepy spiders and dwellers. Swiftly, she tucked the page away and ascended the stairs and stone.

Paying pons in exchange for escaping the ice and moss-less trees, Hattie jumped into the pipe and dropped into a new level, finding shadows trapped in glass vessels.

“Well, legend has it that the world spins round on an axis of 23 degrees,” Hattie breathed. She examined the scene before her with confusion and barely jumped back before an inky-black octopus with waving tentacles emitted a ring of combustion.

“But have you heard the story of the rabbit in the moon?” A smaller shadow asked in a raspy voice as she incapacitated the octopuses and raccoons. “Or the cow that hopped the planets while straddling a spoon?”

Hattie shoved the crown pons into her pocket as the other smaller shadow chimed in, its form looking like a carnivorous plant in one moment before wavering into the form of a dragon with a pointed beak just as its twin.

“Or she, who leapt up mountains while whistling up a tune and swapped her songs with swallows while riding on a broom?” The dragon bloom cooed.

Hattie shook her head, the movement causing her to spy a space in the wall with an opened door. She wandered over to find wooden planks leading down into the center of the structure perched in a murky moor. She jumped down and came to a dark room sparse save for a handful of shelves stacked with books. Another parchment puzzle piece shone but its shine was swallowed by the surrounding shadowy nook. She swiped the storybook page and retreated from the dark, jumping up the steps with calculated arcs.

Before she could reach the final pipe opening with hissing smoke, the middle shadow shaped like a sea serpent with spiraling tail and spiked shadows and short snout spoke.

“Well, we can all learn things, both many and a-few from that old hunched-up woman who lived inside a shoe,” the shadow whispered with a scarlet star blinking where its eyes usually sat black as tar.

Hattie paused, waiting for further explanation but the serpent seemed as petrified as a mask, the shadows shifting behind the curved glass. She dove through the final pipe and came to a raft, adrift in a sea of murky mist with distant trees shivering as if caught in a draft.

Focusing on her task to reclaim her time pieces, she cracked open the violet rift and it shattered along creases with collective whispers of the subconscious forest, asking if she could learn something from the puzzle pieces. Or…

Or the girl that sang by day and by night she ate tear soup,

Or the man who drank too much and he got the brewers’ droop?

The whispers begged her to understand, but the hatted child grabbed her hourglass and disappeared before knowledge could land.

Hattie returned to the forest and gingerly tucked the time piece away. Curious, she took out the pages of the storybook crafted by memories in the rift and went about her day.

Following the cobblestone path, she scanned the title page with a claw mark through a broken heart. A gaggle of subconites trotted over to her, following and asking if she wanted to join them in their game of sharing stories and art. One lifted his mitten hand to his chest, his light glowing as he pressed.

“Come listen, all ye fair maids, to how the moral goes,” he declared dramatically as Hattie mostly ignored him to scan the next page of a prince and a princess holding hands with hearts round their golden crowns, looking proper and prim.

“Nobody knew and nobody knows,” another subconite chimed in while the next chapter showed the princess in her crown meet the children in town covered with masks and hoods standing in rows.

Hattie glanced towards the hooded figures around her, dread welling up as they casually continued their recounting of characters.

“How the Pobble was robbed of his twice five toes, or how the Dong came to own a luminous nose,” the first subconite said while they walked. Meanwhile, the princess saw her prince’s palm clasped with a maiden of strawberry-rose locks.

“Or how the Jumblies went to sea in a sieve that they rowed,” a quiet third subconite sounded like they were smiling as Hattie stared, wide-eyed at the page of the princess’ heart shattering and her tears freezing, all framed by her golden hair.

“And came to shore by the Chankly Bore where the Bong-trees grow.” The girl with the rose-colored braid held up her hand, revealing a coin that might have once fell into a well made for wishing while the prince turned to see his princess fleeing.

“Where the Jabberwocky’s small green tentacles do flow, and the Quangle Wangle plays in the rain and the snow,” a noose dripping blue called from above in a haunting tone, causing the subconites to scatter with child-like screams and leaving Hattie alone.

Hattie stopped walking, steps faltering. Shadow tentacles rose around the green-garbed princess in droves while the prince tried to reach out, desperate to dismiss the princess’ doubt.

Pondering the woods, Hattie trembled, finding the story too terrible to continue. The shadow dragon blooms, the sleeping raccoons, the subconites and the cold, endless night that clung with the clefted moon. The young pilot charted stars, not stories withstanding; how was she to make sense of this pictured misunderstanding?

As if hearing her distress, a shadow appeared with a clasped claws and Cheshire grin. He twisted around her, wondering what was causing the child such chagrin.

Pressing the storybook to her chest, concealing the tale, she appeased, “Legend has it that the moss grows on the north side of the trees.” But nothing grew in the phantom forest. Crinkling her nose, she continued her pleas, “Well, legend has it when the rain comes down, all the worms come up to breathe.”

But the shadow reminded her for breath the dead have no need.

“Well, legend has it when the sunbeams come—”

There was no need in the forest of spirits for the light of the sun.

“—all the plants, they eat them with their leaves…” Hattie trailed off in grief. In a final plea, she said, “Well, legend has it that the world spins round on an axis of 23 degrees.”

The soul Snatcher widened his smile and began to beguile her scientific theses.

“But have you heard the story of the rabbit in the moon?” He dove into the trees and puppeted shadows in a haphazard cartoon. The rabbit looked more like a man sewing cow plushies in a crescent room. “Or the cow that hopped the planets while straddling a spoon?”

Snatcher popped out of the trees and snatched Hattie’s hat, disappearing up in the leaves and forcing her to pursue with grappling hook threaded through the noose.

“Or she, who leapt up mountains, while whistling up a tune,” Snatcher continued, twirling her hat on his finger in an animated loop. “And swapped her songs with swallows while riding on a broom.” He winked, tossing her hat back and summoning her contract to remind her of her tasks.

Hattie furrowed her brows and held out the storybook with memories cruel and true.

“Well, we can all learn things, both many and a-few,” she repeated the morals whispered in the rift as she mused, “from that old hunched-up woman who lived inside a shoe.” She turned the page to reveal the final clue, “Or the girl that sang by day and by night she ate tear soup.”

The phantom froze and the girl gripped the page, both staring at the shadow depicted in his cage. Crown discarded; tears pooled in the eyes of the prince fooled into thinking love over sorrow could rule.

Hattie turned to the ending, the final picture that explained the strictures of the woman in the manor.

Petrified by the page, the phantom swallowed thickly as he added bitterly, explaining the story of jealousy’s cold coup, “Or the man who drank too much and he got the brewer’s droop.”

“Snatcher.” Hattie reached out but the ghost of the prince fled in one fell swoop.

[rightnowyoucanttell]

Malibu, Next To You

Title: Malibu, Next To You 

Summary: Is it supposed to this hot all summer long? Or is it just him? A very fluffy date with some minor molehills between Veronica and Grayson on a Malibu beach. Just because the sun is down, the night is still young, and so are they. But which way does it go...

Warnings: Fluff, implied smut (I don’t write smut, sorry guys), talks of anxiety 

A/N: When this idea came to mind, i say that because i have a roughly planned full series timeline in my head it started with just the first part as a blurb but then I was like hey let's make a series, it was originally to be a reader insert (Y/N, Y/L/N, ect.) but i always have problems doing that as they feel too weird to write so I came up with Veronica and added it to the plot/timeline whatever you'd call it. so you can do that or appreciate it for the beauty it is with Veronica and Grayson. 

Tags: @dzoint ​ @graysavant @blindedbythelightt ​ @tadadolan @heartofalionxo ​ @beatement-l ​  @grayswhore ​@saggitariusagirl @tattoogray @onlyangels-world @dxlxnbby

Part one 

Series Masterlist

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“You know..” Ronnie drifted as she walked kicking the sand beneath her feet forward in a rhythmic pattern,” I’ve never enjoyed going to the beach..” Veronica glanced up from the sand and over to Grayson who gazed down to the ground before making eye contact.

The smell of saltwater brushed their noses, seagulls cawed in the distance as the water crashed closer and closer and then pulled itself back out. The pair, Ronnie and Gray watched the sunset as they walked barefoot as the tide came in and set back out, like both of their hearts, coming to a calm stop and then flooding back in a rampage of fluttering butterflies, beating in there chest.

He explained the currents and she just gawked in a secretive manner, so he didn’t notice, the dumbfounded look his body gave her. 

    “Really? You don’t say, I mean I figured that much, for someone who has a fear of seagulls and drowning…” he pondered the thought as his feet stopped the wallow in the incoming tide that was just far enough from Ronnie who was in the dry portion of sand.

She giggled shaking her head continuing down the shore all while facing Grayson,”..are you saying you’re not enjoying yourself?” he shouted over the crashing waves that he ran from to catch up to her. 

“You remembered…,” Ronnie’s heart fluttered. Grayson knew about her anxiety.  Ronnie explained to Grayson that night in Starbucks, her fears, in return for him doing the same.  There was a semi prolix list. Seagulls, birds, circus clowns, large crowds, heights, and significantly Drowning.

She shook herself from the bliss and continued, “but, no. No no, no.. of course not. You brought me here!” she exclaimed twirling with open arms, the wind catching her grey wool shawl that covered her white strapless sundress with bright red roses.

Her damp dark brown hair caught in the breeze flew gently, her eyelids covered her vibrant green eyes. Grayson’s eyes followed Veronica in awe as she twirled in the sand and breeze all the way as she ran back to him and nearly ran into him. 

   The two laughed and turned around to walk back to the there picnic blanket, both inaudible deciding it was time to eat,” Your something else, you know that?” he offered up to the conversation. His hand brushed against gently against Ronnie’s. 

   Ronnie just smiled letting silence sit between then,”..Something good I hope…” the entirety of the walk back to the picnic blanket and the food was silence, blissful and incentive for Grayson, but nervous and nerve wracking for Veronica. She hastily wondered if she had said the wrong thing, or turned him off or away and that’s why he hadn’t said anything, but she tried telling herself it was just the anxiety and the nerves this Italian boy from New Jersey stirred up. 

  Veronica Chandler likely always would be anxiety-ridden. After all, Fears my life, Ronnie had the words tattooed on and wrapping around her wrist. The black ink still had water droplets from when she had been swimming and wading in the water with Grayson. Veronica left the fishing on her stepfather’s, Darren,  boat to him and her older brother Noah, even all the while, an excelling science student, she never got how they were floating.  

    However, if tonight, if Grayson asked her, Ronnie probably would step foot on a boat.  She never willing went to the beach, even though living in Miami with private beach access growing up at her home, and certainly did not stand by the ocean. But on this evening, Grayson brought her there, and she was happy that he did.

So here they were. 

  The sunset warmed Veronica the pinks and blues entangling themselves, like the hopes of how Veronica undeniably wanted to be entangled with Grayson later that night. Something in Grayson hoped it too.

On a picnic blankets, following a stroll along with the tide on the now rather deserted from the public eye, on a beach in Malibu. Munching on what Ronnie’s mom would call “Rabbit Food”. 

  “This is one of the best wraps I’ve ever tasted,” Ronnie added as she quietly finished chewing her toes in the sand below and surrounding the blanket. 

"Its from.." Grayson paused to chew," this stand in downtown LA, Marty's I think, they're delicious." They made eye contact, Ronnie smiled with her eyes, covering her mouth as she was chewing.

"We should go together sometime,"Ronnie offered nervously.

 "Defiently...,"Grayson brushed his hands above the wrap on a clear piece of plastic wrap beefy ass salad chickpea wrap sat on, in between final swallows of his bites of food he started, "so... care to explain why you ignored me for a week, 'ronica?"

   That's when the evening went south.

What Grayson didn't know, that the week Veronica avoided him..one week desperate Gray was left with no sign she was alive, no text, calls, and no DM’S except the confirmation seen from the first night. 

 That week the week she ignored him, the week he was referring too, Veronica,  was in Miami visiting her mother. Veronica had deep-rooted feelings for Grayson.. but, again, like a record used, the last had left a few scratches, and overtime... they scarred.

But it was nothing, Gianna, Mama Chandler couldn't fix...

   Ronnie sighed heavily,"Why does everyone I love settle for someone so low of them?" She pondered the thought in silence as she finished her rant of the night she met Grayson.

 “..well, he sounds like a keeper..and handsome....,” her mother drifted. Ronnie wasn’t paying attention fondling with the small strands that belonged to the blue and white polka-dotted beach towel her mother and herself were tanning on. Within seconds her attention was grabbed by an incoming frisbee, that landed...perfectly in one of the white polka dots. Ronnies eyes widened when she caught its sight, she gazed curiously and then picked it up examine it, before tossing it to the wind aimlessly,”-Veronica! You could have hit someone!” Gianna gently smacked the four-arm of her daughter’s right hand with the back of her hand. 

    “Mom!? What the fuck? Did you not see that it landed in the circle, that’s not a coincidence...that’s a fucking conspiracy. Like how a cartoon predicted 9/11 and then moon landing was faked...," Ronnie slumped back so her back rested against the beach chair set up behind her. 

"It was an accidental coincidence..dear," her mother licked the tip of her finger pulling the pages apart. Her sun hat covers her sunglasses covered eyes, and held her brown hair in place around her shoulders, she was paler than Ronnie, she and noah got there skin from her absentee father, he was the Brazilian in her jeans.

"Yeah well, accidents don't just happen, accidentally, mother," Veronica huffed and crossed her arms leaning back farther and closing her eyes, enjoying momental peace before the woman started up again.

"When you head back to Los Angeles, you better text that boy, I'll be damned if you pass up a chance with someone like that. He's a good one that Grayson, I can tell. You cant let your life wither away to nothing and give up on love because of one bad drinker and a beater bad apple.. theres good people out there.. you just gotta look in front of you."

The memory on the beach faded, she hadn't realized she had been gazing into Grayson's hazel eyes the entire time the flashback played out in her head like a scene from a movie,"do you, uh. Really want to know? Is it fundamentally necessary.." she drifted off leaving a tenacious gap of silence. Just the wind and the waves to be heard.

Grayson scoffed a chuckle,"..well, no, but, I'd like to know."

Ronnie thought for a few moments, if she didnt tell him, he'd be suspicious, if she told him he might doubt the feelings she had if they were legitament,"I was in Miami. With my mom, i needed advice. A break. I was worried you were..a player. And now I know, I know that your not. Your kind, cute, hot, sexyyy, and-"Veronica's ramble was cut off by Graysons hands wrapping and cupping her head into his hands and pressing his lips to hers.

Internal fire works went off, if it were a movie they would be exploding over the water between there heads just visable to camera shot. Both hearts beat against there respective rib cages, not knowingly they both had been wating for this moment the entirety of the night.

Ronnie's hand came to touch Grays chest shortly before she came up to breath in the salty air,"that.." she panted,"was hot. But, I dont know.. if this'll work. I'm lonely and broken.. and can barely take care of myself, just, Grayson-"

"I like that your broken, and lonely" he grasped her face one hand still behind her head his thumb caressing her cheek,"not like in a kinky sort of way," they both laughed for a few seconds, Ronnie looked down. He placed his pointer fingern underneath her chin, tilting it up,"I could be lonely with you.."

"My place or yours?" She smirked. Hoping that night of entanglement would happen after all.

"Mine, definetly mine." He breathed there chins pressed together.

Ronnie had never run faster than she didn that night, all the way back to the porsche.

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Bad Things Happen Bingo: Nightmares (Nate/Danny)

I ended up having a sick day from work today, so I had time to write up the second of these... after this I’m going to need some time before the next! But it’s coming, I promise!

For @badthingshappenbingo​, @my-whumpy-little-heart​ requested: For BTHB, could you do nightmares with Danny and/or Nate? It would be interesting if they were still with Abraham, but you can do whatever you want with the prompt. Thank you :) 

That ended up being… a hell of a prompt. I actually got a second request for nightmares with Ryan, so I’m going to do that one twice! It will get a second sticker. (Chronology: within the first year of captivity, but I’m not sure exactly where in that timeline)

Requested: blood stain Completed: puppy sticker

Tagging: @bleeding-demon-teeth​, @spiffythespook​, @special-spicy-chicken​

CW: Implied/referenced/pretty obviously noncon, noncon touching, noncon kissing, referenced evidence of violence/torture. NSFW implications, although nothing outright, as always. As always, keep in mind that Abraham Denner is a bad, bad man. Well, not man… he’s a bad something.

“Psssst. Wake up.”

Nate’s used to this, so when he feels the fingertips, cold as ice, against his forehead, softly brushing the black hair back and away, he doesn’t even tense up. He floats back to wakefulness slowly, trying to cling on to the dream he’d been having. 

It had been a warm and hazy thing, one of those bizarre dreams that means nothing but neurons firing at random inside the brain, the dreams he liked because they were so much better than all the ones about the living hell he’d never been able to fully escape.

He’d been dreaming about the doorbell ringing. The cabin doesn’t have a doorbell, but it doesn’t really matter, it rang anyway. Bram sent him to answer it, and when he opened the door he discovered fifteen cats in a trench coat and black film noir detective’s hat waiting when it opened. 

Can I help you? He’d asked, baffled not so much by the sight of fifteen cats in a trench coat or even that they had somehow managed to find them this deep into the woods, but mostly by the fact that they were coming by so late at night.

Fifteen pairs of night-reflective eyes had turned to look at him all at once, and he’d heard Danny behind him shout, let them in, Nate, let them in!

He’d stepped back and opened the door wider, gesturing inside in that foggy ghost way you sometimes do things in dreams. As soon as he did, they simply collapsed back down into cats, leaving the trenchcoat and hat in a cartoon puddle on the doorstep and racing through the cabin.

They climbed onto the fireplace, knocked books off the shelves, meowed happily and loudly, scratched up Bram’s couch and pulled threads from the woven-rag rug.

A brightly-colored calico, vibrant with red and brown and black and white, settled herself into Danny’s lap where he sat on the floor looking around at the chaos with delight. Do you think the cats could save us? Danny asked him, smiling, as the whip-skinny calico had put her paws on his shoulder, licked a rough tongue up the side of Danny’s face, batted at his hair. Do the cats know the way out?

Nate had jumped when he realized one of them had climbed straight up him and settled around his shoulders without him realizing, a black cat with cold blue eyes that swiped gently at his hair. Baby, wake up, you have to see this, the black cat purred, rough in his ear, in Bram’s sleep-slurred, loving voice.

“Nate. Wake up, sweetheart.” The voice is low, and soft, a breath of cold air against his ear, and he shivers a little, pleasantly, at the feeling. 

“Mmmmn, is Ashley up already?” He asks, and he doesn’t know why - she’s dead, she’s been dead for a year now at least, why is he asking that? But for a half-second, with Bram’s voice in his ear, he forgets.

There’s a hesitation, and then Bram says softly, sadly, “Not yet. That takes time. But look, Nate, look at him.”

He opens his eyes... and looks right into Danny’s face, baffled for a second before he remembers that Danny had slept in the bed last night.

Danny had cooked Bram’s favorite dinner without being asked, had remembered all the rules all day without even one slipup, had made their drinks with dinner perfectly and faster than ever before, served their food and waited to be given permission to get his own, waited for Bram to tell him if he could use fork and spoon to eat with without having to be reminded.

He’d even dropped to the floor to eat sitting right next to Bram’s chair like he wanted him to, with Bram’s hand petting through his hair, Danny’s eyes on the ground and the red flush of humiliation in his face. 

He’s been so good today, baby, and the King always says you have to include positive reinforcement, too. Do you not think he’s earned some positive reinforcement? 

Th-that’s not what I m-m-meant-

No, that’s definitely what you’re saying, that you think he shouldn’t be given good things when he’s good, Nate. That seems mean, don’t you think? Cruel to make me hurt him when he’s been so good.

I’m n-not telling y-y-you to hurt him, I’m s-s-saying leave him al, alone!

No, our pups has two choices tonight: get his reward or I’ll open all the wounds from last time up on his back again. I’ll let you choose.

Bram, pl-please-

I said choose, baby.

… the r-reward.

While Nate doesn’t particularly want to think about last night ever the fuck again (and neither, he is certain, does Danny), he couldn’t quite bring himself to regret seeing Danny actually warm for once, this morning.

He’s curled up in the center of the bed under the layers of heavy blankets, rather than the thin and threadbare things he’s normally allowed on his little mat in the living room. If it hadn’t been for the wrists bound together above his head, nearly palm-to-palm, and tied hard to the headboard, he might have even looked comfortable.

Bram had been on the other side of Danny when they fell asleep but that side of the bed was empty, now. Instead, Bram was behind him - the cold at his back where he leaned over from where he stood, fingers curled just slightly to shift back his hair, gentle and loving. Nate felt himself split like he always did into two people - the version of him that wanted to snarl and push the hand away, and the version of him that wanted to melt into the touch.

He settled for somewhere in the middle and just whispered, without really moving at all, “Is it m-morning already, Bram?”

Sometimes he stammers less when he first wakes up, when his voice is still mostly the voice from his dreams, where he never stammers at all. His dreams never seemed to catch up with whatever had happened to the connection between his brain and his mouth.

“No, baby, it’s like four.. But look at Red.” Bram’s fingers slide down, slide along his cheekbone to his jaw, take hold of his chin, tilting it up a little bit. Nate can feel the bed shift, as Bram leans his weight on it by one knee, the pressure of it along his back. 

“B-Bram, I-”

“I said look. Our little puppy is dreaming.”

Nate blinks the last of the sleep from his eyes, the final hints of the cabin full of cats, the calico climbing up on Danny’s shoulder to look at him with the same bright hopefulness Danny wore, sometimes, before the darkness took it over again. 

Bram settles down behind him, his cold breath on the back of Nate’s neck as the two of them look over at Danny.

Nate hadn’t really noticed it at first - he’d still been too lost in trying to find his way to consciousness, honestly - but Danny’s eyebrows are furrowed together beneath the healing bruise on the side of his forehead, and his already-rubbed-raw wrists jerk a little at the ropes, fingers twitching like he’s trying to grab at something. Nate watches his mouth moving, breaths of air that weren’t quite sentences escaping in occasional snatches of words Nate can almost, almost hear if he listens hard enough, the healing cut on his lip.

The red marks around his neck from the last round of barbed-wire are nearly faded completely, but underneath the thin sleep shirt Nate knows there are more bruises, more cuts. Danny’s back is still bandaged from the drinks incident, and Nate couldn’t forget the way he’d screamed when Bram punished him for that moment of rebellion, couldn’t ever forget the look on his face.

The top part of the bandage, the adhesive holding the giant swaths of gauze over it, is sticking up out of the neck of his shirt, nearly up to his hairline. 

Danny whimpers, softly, in his sleep, and Nate winces at the sound. It’s too much like the dog Bram keeps insisting he is now.

“I think he’s having a nightmare,” Bram breathes with unabashed delight into Nate’s ear, rubbing at his shoulder with one hand in excitement. “Like a midnight snack to feel all that coming off of him. I wish you were already like us, so you could feel this, this is so… does anyone still say ‘jacked’? Or is that out of style now?”

“H-how would I know?” Nate mutters. “I didn’t know what people said before all of this.”

“I guess you wouldn’t. Still... I wish I could read thoughts, I’d love to know what he’s seeing in that head of his…”

“I al-always kind of th-th-thought you c-could read minds,” Nate whispers back, keeping himself still and relaxed under Bram’s touch, refusing to react one way or the other to the hand that runs back down his arm and curves over one hip through the blankets, rests there, like a block of ice that won’t melt holding his body down. 

Danny’s little breaths are faster, now, his eyes moving rapidly under his closed eyelids, Nate struck again by the odd copper-bright eyelashes he’d never really seen on anyone else before, how pretty they are. He jerks a little harder at the ropes, whispers something, and Nate feels Bram leaning even closer from behind him, sees the sweep of white-blonde hair from the corner of his eyes.

If he doesn’t look, doesn’t see the cold ice-blue, he won’t fall in, and he can hold onto the hatred that he feels, hold on to wishing he was somewhere else. Hold on to his sense that someday, someway, he is going to get himself and Danny out of this.

I got myself out once, I can do it again.

Can’t I?

“No, baby, I can’t get into anyone’s head unless I do it the old-fashioned way, like I got into yours.” Bram’s fingers dance up the side of Nate’s head, over his ear, ‘walking’ over his hair, and Nate grinds his teeth together and keeps his eyes firmly fixed forward.

“St-... stop,” Danny whispers in his sleep. Bram chuckles behind Nate and he’s trapped - he’s stuck between Bram’s happiness and Danny’s unconscious misery and he can’t get out of this moment. All he can do is lay still, wait for Bram to move, wait to see if Danny wakes himself up. “D-don’t, st… b’good… be…”

“Oh, he’s dreaming about me, fuck yes.” Nate can hear the smile in Bram’s voice as he presses an excited kiss to the back of Nate’s neck, then pushes himself back up to get a better look. “I love when they dream about me.”

“Wh-who’s ‘they’?” Nate blinks, twisting back to look up at him without thinking. Bram looks back down and their eyes meet. Nate smiles, a little, at the man he loves and hates and cannot resist, and Bram smiles back.

“All of them,” Bram answers, as though that says all he needs to say. “All my boys.” 

How many boys are there inside your head? Nate wants to ask. How many people like us have you destroyed? Also, do you actually understand that I am a grown man? 

Somewhere in him, there is still a man who can think, I wish someone would bury a knife if your goddamn heart and I wish it could be me.

Stronger than that man, though, is the one who thinks, I love you.

“Stop… st, stop, ‘braham, I c’n, I’ll be good, want to be good, I… pl-... I, I don’t... stop… stop!” Danny’s whole body shudders all at once and his eyes fly open, wide open without quite being fully awake, unseeing. He pulls hard at the ropes and hisses in pain as they only tighten even more, dig in deeper. Nate sees the first smear of red just below one of his palms. “Oh god, I just, I… where-...” 

“What did I do to you, Red?” Bram asks, in a low voice nearly thick with an awful happiness. He looks like wolves covered in blood on nature shows, licking their chops after eating a kill. 

Danny looks slowly up where Bram looms over he and Nate, Danny’s warm blue eyes dark with Bram’s shadow as he tries to shrink back, stopped by the ropes, kept right where he is in the center of the bed. “I… I don’t… Abraham? N-Nate, why am I…”

“Don’t you remember yesterday, little Red? You were so good for me and we gave you your reward?”

Danny swallows, hard, and then slowly nods, his fingers wrapping around the ropes like he can find some comfort in holding onto them. “Y-Yeah. Yeah, I remember… I remember now.” His face turns bright red, nearly fading the scars out completely, all the way red to the end of his nose with embarrassment, with shame. “Ah, um… thank you for my re-reward-” His voice cracks a little on the word, barely forcing it out, and Nate has to keep his eyes open until they burn to avoid seeing behind his eyelids what Danny’s reward had been. “-and letting me sleep, Abraham… I’m s-sorry, I woke up, I woke you up… I’m sorry, can I go back to my mat now?”

“Oh, absolutely not,” Bram laughs, sliding back and off the bed, giving Nate a few precious seconds of space and the ability to breathe and warm air at his back, before he gets back in on the other side, sitting on the bed with his legs crossed, looking avidly down at Danny like a child on the library floor at storytime. “Oh, no no no no. Nate, baby, go make us some coffee.”

Danny gives Nate a pleading please don’t leave me here look, then turns back to Bram, searching his face for any sign of gentleness, finding none - just that terrible good cheer. “Coffee’s my j-job, if you just, if you just untie me, I can go make, um, make the coffee, Bram-”

“No, puppy. Nate will make the coffee today. Do what you’re told, baby, I gave you an order.”

“Y-Yes, Bram,” Nate says, standing up himself, guilty as he all but flees the room with Danny’s eyes burning into his back… but not guilty enough to go back in before the coffee’s good and ready.

Yesterday he found something in the back of the closet and had an idea, but he doesn’t have enough courage yet to use it, and he doesn’t know how much time there is left before Bram is done with Danny, before he wants to find someone new to break. 

He can’t kill him. I can’t lose him, I can’t lose Danny, I can’t. 

Do you want to save him, Nate, or do you just want to have him instead?

Does it matter which, if I would never ever hurt him?

As he steps into the living room and heads for the kitchen, he hears Bram’s voice behind him, the slippery-smooth snake charmer voice, soft and vaguely hypnotic.

“I want you to tell me all about that dream you were just having… because I want to make sure we recreate it in the most excruciatingly accurate detail. If you don’t tell me, then I’ll just have to come up with something fun to do to you all on my own, hm?”

Nate hears the rattle of Danny’s ankle chain as he tries to move again. “I don’t, um, I don’t want to…”

“Since when have I given a single flying fuck about what you wanted, puppy? I told you to tell me about your dream. If you won’t - or if you try to lie, you know I can always tell when you’re lying - we’ll just have to see if maybe some time down in the dark will help convince you.”

“N-no! No, I don’t need, um, I don’t need the cellar. I swear I don’t. I’ll be good, I’ll try harder, Abraham, I want to be good for you!”

“Then prove it.”

“Just, um. Give me a sec. Will you - will you please untie my hands, then I can, I can tell you…”

There’s a silence as Nate pulls down the coffee beans and the little electric grinder Danny asked Bram to pick up on his last supply run (whole bean coffee is, um, it’s better, Abraham, this would let me make better coffee for, for you - can I please make better coffee for you, Abraham? please?) , the pressure like the air just before a storm.

“... you’ve got a deal, little Red.” There’s a pause, far longer than the time needed simply to untie the knots, long enough that Nate feels bile rising in his throat at the thought of what might be going on behind him. Finally, he hears Bram laughing, the high-pitched hyena bark he only makes when he’s truly, genuinely happy. “Oh, you’re good at that now, huh? Who says I’m not nice to you when I want to be, hm? Now what do we say when someone does us a favor?”

Danny’s voice, when he speaks, is low and soft, nervous and eager-to-please. “Th-thank you for untying me, Abraham. I can… I can tell you the dream now.”

“Don’t try to lie, puppy, you’re the worst fucking liar I’ve ever met.”

“I… I know, Abraham. I won’t. I was just-... I did something bad, so you said, you said I had to learn my lesson...”

The defeat and fear, the submission in Danny’s voice is too much. He can’t take it. He can’t, or he’s going to start screaming and never fucking stop. This is his fault, for meeting Danny, for talking to him when he caught the younger man looking at him, for agreeing to see a movie together. This is his fault for thinking he’d gotten away, that maybe Bram would let him be, think he was too much trouble to go after.

He’d made a mistake, leaving Bram, and Danny is suffering for it.

And he’s about to suffer more.

“What lesson am I going to teach you today, Red? What did you forget in your pretty little head while you slept?”

“I-I… um, I, I-” Danny’s voice cuts off, and there’s another pause that lasts too long, that Nate knows too well from long experience. His skin crawls, but it’s his fault, isn’t it, that Danny knows the rules? “-forgot the rule not to pull away from you…”

Bram begins to laugh again. “Oh, that’s my favorite rule… What do we say when we break a rule, Red?”

“You say you’re sorry and then you get hurt so you don’t break the rule again,” Danny says all at once, memorized, pushing the words out so quickly they’re barely even separated sounds. “I, I know, Abraham, but it was just a dream-”

“Breaking rules still counts in dreams, little one. Come here and let’s talk about how you can fix that mistake you made in your sleep so you won’t even dream about breaking my rules again…”

 Nate jams the coffee grinder on and tells himself he’s not complicit if he can’t hear a thing over the sound.

[ouranimeyeah]

Andrew Johnathan Bountersnatch's  Inter-dimensional Journal Page 1 Side A Spelling Bee in the Void Light Novel By Me

I sit and  observe above a white void. Silent, endless, nothing in sight. A apparition appears slowly as my mind drifts into the third person. The figure below is a man, an elder seemingly in his 80s, but could be much older none could know or say. He wears a long blue top hat with a crimson red stripe down the middle and a black bow tie above the brim. His hair white as snow with hints of baby blue hues populating random strands.  He sits hunched over as if in writhing pain only to sit up and reveal a shirtless chest with the numbers 998 branded into his chest. The chair he rests upon is made of marble and jade, one could realize this from the texture and color of the materials. Both smooth with an interesting pattern, yet one dim and grey and the other a dark green. It is ordained with sculpture akin to those made in the High and Late Renaissance in Italy. The legs faces carved to look like Michelangelo's "David" with eyes sternly beaming forward alert. Extending from the crowns of the two heads, the back legs,  rises two pillars both of which borrow heavily from the Romans stylistically. Above these stand miniature Chinese statues made of porcelain or seemingly so given their shiny and smooth texture. This nearly angelic beauty is juxtaposed to the arms of the chairs, with dragon heads carved out of jade. Hideous scowls on their faces with flames igniting above their brow made of gold. Within their mouth lie two childlike angels, their stomachs pierced and gushing out guts, with trepidation bleeding out of their bulging tear filled eyes. The man stairs off into the distance, the life seeming to leave his eyes then above he hears a noise. Not a voice, but the sound of someone choking and heaving. Gagging as if massive amounts of mucus infect the lungs of this mysterious voice. He looks at the ground as small drops of blood hit the ground forming a small puddle. The old codger then looks up and something slowly descends into his line of vision. From what he could observe the creature seemed human outside of it's massive glowing yellow eyes the likes of which had blood red lights inside of the inner segment of it's pupil. His hair was pitch black and curly which stood out in comparison to he white background. His skin pale white with the tips of his fingers missing leaving bloody stumps to replace them. Floating above it's scalp is a ultramarine colored human baby fetus with red veins and bleeding on the head of the creature. 

The old man's face freezes in anxiety as the organism above opened his mouth. "Greetings, my beautifully crippled old guest" The creature says with a toothless grin. "Welcome to nowhere, kick back and enjoy you're self. I see you are loving the furniture. So good it could put you to sleep," it says splitting his eyes apart one looking right and the other left. "Scuse me Kind Sir-" "KIND SIR!?" the creature interrupts the old man. "Hehehe-hehehe-he-he... What a beautifully amusing old man, so handsome so kind, and so gullible" He rolls his eyes into the back of his head and opens his mouth. "I think for someone like you to say something like that is completely ludicrous given the current circumstances! I mean I am the cutest thing in all realms of reality hehe! As the Japanese say "Kawaii Desu Ne!!", He wraps his arms around himself and turns his back to the old man. He quickly twists his neck to look back at him as the blood of the fetus drips off of his dome. "I could kill you, eat you or maim you at any time old man," "Now hold on just a second young man" the old man suddenly grabs his confidence out of thin air and addresses the monster before him. Rolling back his shoulders to loosen them up and staring the Demon directly in the eyes. "Now I'm not the brightest or best fork in the tool set but I reckon that it's not good to judge a book by it's cover. At least that's what my Pa-Paw said." He says this nodding to himself. "Now just because you're ugly as a naked mole rat mixed with an actual rat and a Teenage Mutant Ninjah Turtle doesn't mean you're a stone cold killer. Not dem ninjah turtles from dem new age 2200 cartoon's with their new agie technologies. I mean back in the 1990s with that weird live action adaptation at a time with boomie boxes and short pants. Or was that the 9-". The Demon interrupts him and swoops directly in front of his face staring him in the eyes. The old man pauses for a second, but continues " I've known plenty of mutant hybrids in my day the likes of which you never did see and I bet that on my dead grandma on my father's side twice removed, I tell ya wut! And You ain't nothin special." -Infuriated the monster blitzes past the old man and decapitates him.-  

In that moment the body of the old man begins to rise above the seat and it flips over revealing the face. The design is very similar to a statue from Chavin de Huantar. Often featuring different features of various different animals from jaguars, to snakes to falcons all amalgamated into one fictional being. It's mouth open wide and eyes like that of a hawk, It's teeth poking outward like hog fangs. A shimmering light releases out and the whole ground and world of void shakes as the beacon's light turns the void black. The old man's body walks over to his head. The world slows down as the demon hears a voice emanate from the mouth of chair seat. "You cannot kill this man with violence. Violence in this world cannot destroy those with good hearts. The only way is to make them feel shame. To make them feel worthless."

Will continue in Journal Entry two

[cute-anxious-kitten]

The Glitch

TW: accidental child endangerment, fighting (not sure if that’s a trigger but shut up this is my story!), sad dad getting his ass kicked? Anything else let me know, I can’t really think of any triggers for this half.

Note: there’s an Easter Egg hidden in this chapter! Let’s see if anyone can find it! (Hint: it’s spoken)

Chapter 5 part 2: accidents happen

JJ sat with Chase all afternoon, watching cartoons for a while before Chase switched to Youtube and showed Jameson some videos from his channel, Bro Average.

“Your stunts seem rather dangerous.”

“Nah, I’m perfectly safe. You should see some of the things Marvin does for his shows.”

“What time are we going?”

“Five. We’re going out to eat first, and the show starts at eight.”

“But he’s safe, right?”

“Yeah. Not really sure what’s going on with him lately but he wouldn’t do something too dangerous.”

“OK.”

At a quarter to five they took two cars to dinner and later to the theatre.

“Have you ever seen a magic show, JJ?” Jack asked.

“Not like what Marvin can do.” JJ signed, and was surprised when Jack understood him.

“Marvin’s different from most magicians.”

“You know sign language?” Chase asked.

Jack only smiled and went inside.

“So that happened,” Shawn said.

“Shut up, Flynn,” Chase said as they followed Jack.

They found seats in the front row, and sat down just as the lights dimmed.

“It’s been a while since I’ve seen one of these,” Jackie said. “I’m never able to take a long enough break from patrol.”

“Why are you now?” Shawn asked, leaning forward so he could see the hero around Chase.

“It’s been kinda slow,” Jackie shrugged. “Guess folks are starting to get the hint.”

“Maybe,” Jack said, and they fell silent when the room went dark save for three spotlights pointed at the stage, and Marvin soon ran out, bouncing into the center light.

“Hello, all you beautiful people out there! I’m Marvin the Magnificent, and I hope you’re in the mood for some magic!”

The crowd cheered as a swarm of multicolored butterflies were released from a box above the stage, and flew over their heads and through an open window, which Marvin magically closed behind the last one with a flick of his wrist. “Let’s get started, shall we?”

A boy walked onstage pushing a rolling table bearing a black hat and a wand, and Marvin smiled at him.

“ G͏o͜od̕ ̸lu̴ck,̢ ̛Mr̀.̧ Mar̵v̷įn̕ ”

“What?”

“I didn’t say anything, boss.” The boy left, and Marvin shrugged before picking up the wand.

“Who can tell me what I have in my hat?”

“A rabbit!” A little girl behind Chase called.

“Doves!” A boy beside her called.

“It’s empty!” A boy in the front row said, and Marvin laughed.

“This boy has seen magic before!” He tipped his hat so the audience could see inside, and the boy smiled when he saw that he was right. “Come up here, boy! I could use an assistant!” The boy looked to the burly man beside him, who nodded, and ran up to join Marvin on the stage. “What’s your name, kid?”

“William.”

“Would you like to do this trick, William?” The boy nodded. “OK! Take my wand and tap the hat three times.”

William did as he was told, and to everyone but Marvin’s surprise a white cat jumped out and posed onstage.

“Tricks the cat, ladies and gentlemen! Come here, Tricks!” The cat ran to his master and leaped onto his shoulder. “Let’s do some, what do you say?” The cat meowed, and Marvin waved a hand, causing two boxes and a hoop to rise from a trap-door. Marvin clicked his fingers, and the hoop caught fire, drawing a collective gasp from the crowd. “Not to worry, folks!” Marvin said as Tricks jumped onto one of the boxes. “My cat is perfectly safe!” He snapped again, and the cat jumped through the hoop, spinning in mid air on the other side and landing safely on the other box. The crowd roared, and both Marvin and Tricks bowed. “And give my young assistant some love!” They cheered again, and Marvin smiled down at the boy. “Return to your seat now, son.”

William ran back to his seat, and Marvin snapped a third time to put out the fire. Except it didn’t go out. Marvin stared at the burning hoop, snapping again and again in an attempt to put out the flames. Shit. “That’s alright! It’ll just add some extra light to my next trick!” His tone was cheerful, but his friends saw fear and panic in his eyes. He waved a hand, and bubbles floated over the crowd, steadily growing larger until a man could fit inside, catching the light of the burning hoop. “These bubbles will just float around around the room until we’re done tonight! Let’s take a ten minute break! There’s snacks and drinks in the lobby!”

The crowd filed out, and Chase ran onstage. “You ok, Marv?”

“I don’t know. I . . . why is it still burning, Chase?”

“Has this ever happened before?”

“No,” Marvin said, sitting on the edge of the stage.

Chase watched the flames, and sat next to the magician. “No worries. It’ll be ok, Marvin. At least they didn’t hurt Tricks, right?”

Marvin nodded, and stroked the cat when he curled up in his lap. “Yeah. Yeah, Tricks is ok.”

The cat purred, and Marvin smiled.

“C’mon,” Chase said. “Let’s go get something to drink.”

Marvin followed him out of the room, carrying the cat, and neither of them noticed the flames flash green for a split second before going out.

The second half of the show went perfectly. Marvin’s cards danced around his head and arms at his command, his hoops floated smoothly around the room, and Tricks effortlessly bounced over the bubbles to a ledge above the door. But no good thing could last, could it?

“Who wants to see the world from inside a bubble?”

No one moved, until finally William raised his hand. “I do!”

“All right! Come on up here, kid!”

He ran up as Marvin coaxed one of his bubbles over, and pushed it down on the boy’s head until he was inside.

“The world turned blue! Cool!”

Marvin laughed as he guided the bubble around the stage, and his heart stopped when it turned red and he lost control.

“No no no no no! Kid, are you ok?!” No answer. “Can you hear me, boy?! WILLIAM!”

The orb hit the wall, and spun in place.

“DADDY!”

In a flash the man was onstage and his fingers were around Marvin’s throat. “What did you do to my boy, Magician?”

“N-nothing! This isn’t m-” He choked when the man’s grip tightened, and Chase jumped onto the stage and tried to pull the man off.

“This isn’t his magic! Get off him!”

The man’s fist left Marvin’s throat and connected instead with Chase’s cheek, sending him down. He jumped up and punched the man in return, and two others ran up to attack Marvin while everyone else fled the room. Everyone except Jack and the other egos, who ran up to help or went backstage to find some.

“CHASE!”

All action stopped at Marvin’s shout, and Jackie effortlessly lifted the unconscious vlogger. “Let’s go!” The hero said as he ran off, and Marvin started to follow when one of the men grabbed his cape and threw him to the ground.

“Where are you going, Magic Man? You’re gonna free my son, or I’ll break your face.”

“I didn’t do this! Please, my magic isn’t red. I don’t know what this is!”

The man slapped him across the face, and Jared ran out. “Who the hell are you?”

“I’m his stage manager. And I know full well he’s telling the truth!”

The bubble popped, and the man ran to the shaking boy. “Billy? William, are you ok?”

“I want Mama!”

“Let’s go home, boy. We’ll go home. You can sleep with us tonight.”

“I’m sorry, kid,” Marvin said, his voice cracking. “I’m so sorry. I don’t know what happened.”

The boy hid his face in his father’s shoulder, and Jared put a hand on Marvin’s shoulder as they left.

“Let’s go, Marvin. I’ll take you to the hospital.”

Marvin allowed himself to be pulled to his feet, and trudged after his stage manager, silently getting into the car and staring out the window the whole drive to the local hospital.

tag list: @shadowstakeall @tinytardismilkshake @watermelonsinmyattic @antis-loyal-puppet @septic-dr-schneep @kisstheashes

[cecilspeaks]

Ghost Stories

You can purchase Ghost Stories here.

Transcript of the bonus tracks here.

1. Intro

Meg Bashwiner: And now, listeners of every kind: the voice of Night Vale, Cecil Baldwin!

[applause]

Cecil: We have nothing to fear but fear itself. Also many other things, several of which can be found in your home. Welcome to Night Vale!

Listeners, honest honored listeners, Cecil here as always your voice to carry you through the lonely hours. Today is a very special day indeed. Today, as we all know, is the annual Night Vale ghost story contest. In which every citizen is required to put forward their scariest, spookiest tale of spectors and haunts. The City Council chooses their favorite, and the winner is, through a process that is truly terrifying in its simplicity, turned into a ghost. The losers are forced to continue in forms that primarily depend upon the containment and transportation of oozes and glob.

Now I’m sure that you’ve all been preparing your own entry for the ghost story contest, since all of you will soon have to stand up and deliver it to the gathered people. But before all of you each individually have your turn, I thought that I might indulge myself for a moment and tell you my own entry to your ghost story contest. Are you all OK with that? [applause] I have no idea what you just said so, gonna nod and give myself a thumbs up and I think we’re all good here.

2. Horoscopes

But first, let’s have a look at today’s horoscopes. Leo? [silence] Leo? [audience whoops] Leo! Bet all your money on red! All those material possessions were only weighing you down. Soon you will be in many ways – free-er than the rest of us.

Virgo? You know that one spot on your back that itches and itches and itches and you just can’t stand it? Well, good thing: you won’t have to deal with that or anything else after tomorrow night.

Libra? Draw your loved ones closer to you. That first drawing you did was no good, no, draw them like closer to you. There’s too much white space on the page! How are your loved ones supposed to love you if you can’t even draw them right?

Scorpio? OK so, I think we all know by now that this is the sign of.. uuughhh.. Steve Carlsberg. Who is my sister Abby’s husband. Now, usually the horoscope just happens to turn out something quite mean for Scorpio. Purely through the unknowable combination of fate and random chance that is the meeting of the stars. But Abby said that the stars had better knock that off! Especially if they want to be invited to their niece Janice’s first ballet fight. So, let’s see how this goes. Scorpio. Things are looking bright. What a great day you have before you! Look how clear the sky, how green the grass how – dumb and oversized your feet look. [gleefully] No really, I hope you don’t trip or rip your pants not even once! How terrible it would be if that happened! But it probably won’t through, so there you go. [mutters] Scorpios…

Sagittarius?  Ahahahahahahaha, aahahahahahahaha, aaahahahahahaha!

Capricon? Things fall apart, the center cannot hold, mere anarchy is loosed upon the world. The blood (--) [02:42] tide is loosed upon the world and everywhere! So your home carpentry project will not go well next week. There’s just too much blood.

Aquarius? OK, you are just two dogs in a trench coat, Aquarius. I mean I hate to break it to you, but you have no opposable thumbs, or language skills. And you’ve always been two dogs in a trench coat! [cooing] Yes you are, yes you arrre!! [kissing noises] Now go outside! Good dogs!

Pisces?  If you don’t have anything nice to say, try saying something mean. I mean there are lots of options for things to say.

Aries? Ooh. OK, so this horoscope is just a picture of a bear. And next to the bear is the lizard and next to the lizard is the pelican. And there’s a combined speech bubble above them all that says “We regret the storm that took your lives.” And they’re smiling and (-) [0:03:57] some mugs of beer together. And they have their feet up on skulls. And if you look really closely you’ll notice that they’re not standing on a pile of sticks, but on a pile of human bones?! And unfortunately I believe that in this cartoon, Aries – you’re the pelican!

Taurus? No sunshine for you, Taurus! Nope! The sun’s light has been blocked, but only for you. Oh yes, everyone else will walk in sunny rays, sunshades and shorts, wide smiles and hat brims, SPF 50 and a Frisbee at the beach. You will likely lose feeling in your skin due to the cold of a [sinister voice] sunless world! [friendly voice] Good luck!

Gemini? They say an onion has many layers. Gemini, you are like that onion. Time has peeled away, one after another, each of your hard, pungent layers: snap, snap, snap! They (pry) off and urgent fingernails pry away the remnants as you grow smaller, wetter, less complex. Ooh, also like an onion, your odor makes as cry.

Cancer? Well this just says “chainsaw accident”. So I bet that’s a metaphor for something really goood!

3. A Word from our Sponsors

Cecil: And now a word from our sponsors. For that, we have a sentient patch of haze here in the studio with me, and her name is Deb! Deb?

Deb: Thank you Cecil. Today I am here on behalf American Airlines – your partner in the sky.

Cecil: Fantastic. What does American have to say to us today?

Deb: American Airlines is committed to.. [giggling] your safety! And comfort.. [giggling] and getting you into the air. It is our promise that we will get you up there. You will rise from the ground. For sure, that will happen. And you will soar above the clouds.

Cecil: Well that’s wonderful to hear, you know it’s reassuring to know that American Airlines will see us safely and comfortably through takeoff, flight, and landing!

Deb: [long beat] No Cecil. We didn’t say that. We don’t wanna promise we can’t say for sure we can deliver on. We will get you up there.

Cecil: And then what then?

Deb: Oh, what anywhen? Do we see the future?

Cecil: Oh?

Deb: No.

Cecil: No.

Deb: Life is chaotic, and it would be irresponsible to start making promises.

Cecil: Yes, but mostly you land those planes, rights?

Deb: I haven’t checked lately. But if it helps you to say that out loud, then certainly you should do that, yeah, mm hm.

Cecil: Why do I always end up so worried after talking to you, Deb?

Deb: American Airlines. What goes up, must come down. We guarantee it.

Cecil: Alright, well thank you Deb.

Deb: So you’re all telling ghost stories, huh?

Cecil: Oh yes, yes we are.

Deb: Good. I have a wonderful story of a haunting to tell. It’s very popular among us, sentient patches of haze.

Cecil: Oh please, tell it.

Deb: Once upon a time, a nice family of sentient patches of haze moved into an ooold house. They were young and optimistic and ready to start a home, but soon they realized something was teeeerribly wrong. They heard noises in the night. Voices, folky yet slickly produced singer-songwriter music. At first they assumed it was just their imagination, but soon they saw shapes in the halls and bedrooms. They noticed movement in the corner of the parts of their haze that they used to see with. One day, one of the sentient patches turned the corner and there – [disgusted] was a human standing there! As clear as a day, as opaque as flesh. Well, that poor little patch screamed and floated away. But now they knew, [creepily] there were humans haunting their house.

Cecil: Now wait. Humans often live in houses, I mean did the humans own the house?

Deb: Oh Cecil, there you go again. Serving as a propaganda mouthpiece for the capitalist machine that says sentient patches of haze aren’t allowed to move into and take over any house that a human “owns”!

Cecil: Wait, a mouthpiece for the capitalist machine? Deb, your job is literally to be a spokeshaze for multinational corporations!

Deb: Hmph! Hmph! Hmph! How dare you! My contradictions are my own to grapple with. I’m leaving. Thank you for giving me time on the air, I appreciate it.

Cecil: Well it was an ad, and I’m assuming you get paid for those?

Deb: Sure if that assumption is helpful to you, goodbye Cecil.

Cecil: Alright, thank you Deb!

4. Ghost story #1

And now, listeners, a ghost story. MY ghost story.

It begins ten years ago, on a night just like – tonight. Heavy fog covered the town of Night Vale, turning the world into a blurry approximation, familiar landmarks into educated guesses. No stars, and the full moon diffused by the mist into a soft, feeble light from all around.

A man was driving down a dark road, there were no other cars around. And on the side of the road, up ahead, he saw a figure. A figure made strange by the half-hearted moon, a brief pause in a long fog. Now the figure had its hand up. It did not (thumb) (-), but instead gave a languid wave, more of a summons than a request. And the man shivered, for he knew that it was on this very stretch of road one year to the day before that day that was ten years ago on a night just like tonight. The oooold mill, finally burned down. And when it went, there was a woman inside of it. Now, it’s hard to fathom why she was there in that abandoned disused mill, but she was. And the unthinkable happened, without anyone having to think of it at all. And since then, it has been said that in the darkest hours of the darkest nights, a young woman flags down cars on the side of the road where the old mill used to be. And if they’re foolish enough to let her into the car, she stares directly at the driver. And if the driver is foolish enough to look her in the eyes even once – she takes them to her home. A dark, eternal place from which no one, ever, returns.

Still, he couldn’t leave behind what could be a person in need of aid just because of some spooky old story. So he pulled over, and the figure reached out her hand and opened the passenger door and – there was a cold breath, air from dead lungs that the mist curled into the car, and the figure sat.

And the driver was careful to look not too closely or for too long. “Um, uh, where are you headed?” the man said, but the figure was silent. So he began to drive once again. And the fog billowed as he drove, and he could swear that he could see that old mill as it had once stood, leaning and ramshackle. Now, that mill had not been in working order in decades, it was probably just its time to go when it burned, but still. He mourned the loss of what had been a part of his own. “Where to?” he said again without turning or looking at his passenger. And the figure spoke. The figure spoke with a voice that sounded like a body hitting freezing water, like the distant thud in an old house in the smallest hours of the night. [creepy voice] “You know wheeeree,” the figure said. “You know where I want to goooo.” And he did know. “I want to go – hoooooome.”

And he held the wheel tighter, and he pressed the gas harder, and he stared unblinkingly at the door because he knew that the figure’s face was only inches away now, and staring directly at him.

Oh, listen to me yammer on! Haha. You know, I should really get to some of the other business of community radio, or Station Management will [chuckling] just kill me. [long beat] At least I hope that’s all they’ll do to me.

The rest of this ghost story soon.

5. Tamika Flynn

Cecil: But now I have a really special guest in the studio today, who has their own ghost story to tell. She is one of our community’s most active young people, having formed a militia to keep our town safe from corporations and librarians, oh – and she is also an avid reader. So please welcome to the show – Tamika Flynn! Hi Tamika!

Tamika: Hi Cecil. [chuckles]

Cecil: You said you have a ghost story that you wanna share?

Tamika: Yes. I love books so much, and one of my favorite kinds of books is the ghost book.

Cecil: The ghost book? You mean horror novel, yes?

Tamika: You say potato, I say pohtata.

Cecil: You do?

Tamika: Yeah!

Cecil: Pohtata?

Tamika: Pohtata chips, pohtata salad. Pohtata poutine.. [chuckles]

Cecil: But that’s kind of a weird way to say potato.

Tamika: Well I learned English from reading it Cecil, not from listening to it! [chuckles, snorts repeatedly] Anyways. I love ghost stories because they’re so rich with symbolism and meaning. A lot of people think that ghost stories are just a one-note tale about a ghost haunting an old house, but if you look deeper under the surface, ghost stories are really about dead people who are now invisible or translucent beings who interact with the living in antiques homes, so..

Cecil: Very important difference.

Tamika: Would you like to hear my favorite ghost story, Cecil?

Cecil: Oh yes, please!

Tamika: Many years ago, in this very town.. [whispers] there was a librarian! Ooh! And the librarian would creep around the public library, hunting and slaughtering book lovers for sport! Innocent people would go to the library hoping to find a good book, something new and interesting. Maybe a classic of modern science fiction by Octavia Butler, or some surrealist literature by Amy Bender or, oh, maybe some pedantic buzzkill space essays by Neil deGrasse Tyson. [chuckles]

Cecil: Now, wait a minute! To be fair to Neil deGrasse Tyson, his Victorian era romances are really goo-oo-ood!

Tamika: [long beat] Anyways. One day, there was a young girl, a really smart girl. [chuckles] She was also really fit, like REALLY fit! [chuckles] But also smart like the smartest girl you can know. Ahem. And also really tough. Anyways, she went to the library to get a book, and just as she was perusing a collection of plays by the 17th century poet and spy Aphra Behn, she could smell something terrible, like an infection, like wet fur. It was humid suddenly, and she felt something watching her, slithering about just over her shoulder. 

But this girl, she was fast too. She jumped to the side quickly just as a spiked tentacle came crashing down next to her, crushing the shelf containing play scripts by Pulitzer winner Annie Baker. Without thinking, the girl – she was also intuitive, like [whispers] soo intuitive! [chuckles] – she grabbed the tentacle before it could retract into the librarian’s protective shell. She then grabbed a copy of the “Complete Works of William Shakespeare” by Francis Bacon. It was the special edition that had the machete taped right there on the book jacket! [chuckles] She tore off the large knife and swung, striking the tentacle at its base. She swung again, landing an accurate blow between the soft small crevice and the hard skin. This girl was amaaaaziiiiing! The librarian shrieked, then with a double back flip – which was pretty easy for this girl… she narrowly avoided the splattering acid blood of the flailing creature and dealt a mortal blow right to its disgusting neck! She didn’t even need a blade to finish off the monster, she just used her fist! Splat! Pffffff! [breathes heavily] True story of the badass book loving girl there ever was! [chuckles]

Cecil: So this is a story about you, right? And how you defeated the librarian during the Summer Reading Program a few years back?

Tamika: Oh no. That story was about my best friend Jessica Littleton. She’s so smart and talented, [high-pitched] I just love her, she’s the best!

Cecil: OK Tamika, while I hate to nitpick, that was a really great story but that was like, [hoarsely] monster story, not like a ghoooo-oooost story.

Tamika: Well. Jessica jacked up that monster and now it’s a ghost, boom, ghost story! Well I gotta go do my math homework, and then we have the teen militia meeting this evening at the new skating rink, so bye Cecil! [chuckles]

Cecil: Bye, thank you Tamika!

6. Children’s Fun Fact Science Corner

It’s time for another edition of the Children’s Fun Fact Science Corner!

Did you know that time travel exists? OK well not yet, but we have learned from time travelers that it will be invented in just under 30 years. Now given that knowledge, I thought it’d be kind of fun to do a little experiment together, so. If you are legally allowed to own a smartphone, take that out now and open up that calendar application. No go ahead, don’t be shy!

Now what I want you to do is create a recurring event that starts on this exact day and time, and title that event, well, “travel back in time”. Ooh, and be sure to note your exact location, OK? Now, when you’ve done that, set that event to recur every year on this anniversary. That way, when your future self does eventually have access to a time machine, they’ll know to come back to this. very. Moment. And then once you’ve done all of that, hit “save” and your future self should appear immediately right in front of you!

OK, so do you see your future self? Alright, well you may have to look around just like a little tiny bit. Hold on, hold on. Do none of you see your future selves? Uh oooh…

[long silence]

Well, this has been the Children’s Fun Fact Science Corner!

7. Teddy Williams

Cecil: Now, a look at the Community Calendar. So let’s start off with an event that is happening today. To get in on the annual ghost story contest, Teddy Williams, owner of the Desert Flower Bowling Alley and Arcade Fun Complex, announced that he will be offering 20 per cent off admission and double game tokens for anyone who dresses up like a deceased ancestor, historical figure, or departed pet.

We have Teddy in the studio with us now to talk about some of the themed activity going on at the fun complex. Teddy?

Teddy Williams: Hello, Cecil.

Cecil: Hello.

TW: We are really getting into this ghost stories festival over at the Desert Flower today and we wanted to celebrate the spirit of the event [chuckles], no pun intended.

Cecil: No pun understood.

TW: OK well we’re getting into the ghost story.. mood. Over in the bowling lanes, we’ll be turning off all of the lights, and as customers try to navigate and stumble around in the dark, our staff will sneak up behind them and shout classic ghost things like “BOOO!” and [hoarsely] “Hello again son, I miss you, it’s so cold here”.

Cecil: Well that sounds like great fun that people will remember not unpleasantly for the rest of their lives.

TW: We hired some pretty expensive lawyers to make sure of that.

Cecil: Now Teddy, you seem to really love this day. Do you have a ghost story you wanna share?

TW: Well, OK sure. As you know we built the new skating rink on top of the old pet cemetery. And there’s this gost cat, a Persian cat. Super cute like you just wanna grab his little flat face and go [high-pitched squeaking] with your own face against his..

Cecil: Awww.

TW:..but you can’t. Because he’s a ghost and so your face just goes through, it’s just.. it’s like rrow, rrow. Anyway, turns out this cat belonged to former town billionaire Marcus Vanston. Marcus of course disappeared one day and no one knows for certain what happened to him..

Cecil: Oh, I-

TW: Or we do know, but none of us are legally allowed to say.

Cecil: Of course, because we can’t legally acknowledge the existence of..

TW: None of us are legally allowed to say Cecil, it could have been anything.

Cecil: Yeah of course. [whispers] Angel.

TW: So this ghost cat belonged to Marcus, and Marcus was so rich that he had taught the cat French.

Cecil: Ooh.

TW: Yeah. Now I myself don’t speak French, but I do have a Russian dictionary, and I feel like both languages are so dissimilar form English that they must be similar to each other.

Cecil: That’s an excellent point.

TW: Right? Anyway, the cat told me that his name is Peanut, and that he died of sorrow when his master, whom he loved so much, passed from this earth and left him alone in their vast palazzo. That as a cat, he cannot cry, so he simply shivered with sadness by himself under the basement stairs every night, until his body wasted away into such a thin whisp that the wings of death could easily and sweetly carry him off to be with his owner once again. But he has yet to reunite with Marcus and so now he has only lonely immortality and no conceivable escape.

Cecil: That’s heartbreaking!

TW: Yeah. So then I told him, [excitedly] “My name is Teddy, and I love video games!”

Cecil: Oh.

TW: [laughing] I tried to feed him one of those little fish treats. It just fell right through his… He’s forever hungry and he can never eat! Ooo, anyway. So I’ve been trying to learn Russian better so that we can speak in French.

Cecil: Sure, yeah.

TW: And he’s been coming around more often saying something that, okay sounds a little bit like “Je suis triste”, “Je suis mort”. Which I figured out means, “Hey Teddy, it’s great to see you!”

Cecil: Umm, now it’s been a moment since my French brainwashing in high school, but I’m pretty sure that “Je suis mort” means..

TW: “Great to see you” yeah, I know Cecil. Alright well, I gotta get back to the complex and I hope to see everyone out there. Now don’t forget that it’s happy hour from four to six at our bar. If you can be happy for those two straight hours, you get three-dollar draft beers and well drinks. So far, no one has been able to do it. Well, je suis mort, Cecil! Ha ha!

Cecil:  Aha, thank you Teddy! [whimpering] Oh, Peanut!

8. Steve Carlsberg

More on the Community Calendar.

So listeners, I love ghost stories because they are so disturbing, but. Within the safety of a fictional narrative. Unlike my brother-in-law Steve, who just showed up uninvited to my studio and is disturbing in real life.

Steve Carlsberg: Well, now Cecil, you asked me to come up to the station to tell my ghost story!

Cecil: What, I did? Wait, why would I do that? Is that the kind of thing that – oh yeah I do remember (--) doing that. Well, go on with your story, Steve.

SC: Okey-dokey. [clears throat] Down by the old railroad tracks, on the eastern edge of town, it is said that if you go there just after dusk, you can see the ghoooooooost childrenn!

Cecil: Alright, well, we should go now, you know. Lead the way, Steve, and all of us will be right behind you, eventually.

SC: OK. Many decades ago, a school bus full of children stalled on those train tracks. The driver – whose name was Mab – tried to stop the engine, but it just kept grinding and grinding. There was noo moon! See, this was before the moon was invented by NASA scientists. Remember I told you?

Cecil: [mumbles]

SC: Alright. Mab probably didn’t know she’d stalled on the tracks, she just kept trying to restart the engine, to nooo avail. Suddenly there was a loud horn and a deep, rhythmic rumble from below them, as the tracks trembled!

Then, in the darkness, came a light. A single yellow glow, small and distant. The light was growing, as the sound of the horn and the rumble of the tracks crescendoed. The children spotted it first. [funny voices] “It’s the sun!” one of them called. “No, it’s a lightning bear!” called another.

Mab kept trying to start the bus, the horn of the train boomed, the tracks below the bus barked and rattled, and the light was so big, moving so fast, and the kids screamed “Traaaaaiiiin! It’s a traaaaa-a-a-a-aiin!” And then they all cheered because they love trains, hahaha! And then they all watched the train pass, clapping and laughing the whole time because hey, they got to see a train! [chuckles]

Cecil: So wait, the train didn’t even hit the bus?

SC: No no no no, see, turns out the vibration of the tracks had made the bus roll over them. A near miss, whew! Well, Mab called the Bus Barn and AAA and everyone got home safe and sound. But. It is said that out at the old train tracks, just after the dusk, on a night where there is no moon, if you put some powder on the trunk of your car and stop on the train tracks, your car will begin to move slowly off the tracks, without you touching the gas pedal. And then, if you check the outside of your car, you will see a series of small handprints on the powder! The ghosts of those children who were on that stalled bus so many years ago will push your vehicle to safety!

Cecil: But those kids didn’t die, I don’t understand how they, like how are they ghosts?

SC: It happened 70 years ago, Cecil, I’m pretty sure most of those kids are ghosts by now.

Cecil: I mean, are you leaving the car in drive, because then it’ll just move on its own without you having to press the gas. Oh and plus, those handprints are probably just your own handprints that form as the powder absorbs the oils that were already there.

SC: Sounds like you’re too chicken to go out on the old train tracks..

Cecil: Ugh.

SC: ..and see the ghost hands of ghost children who all died after bearing on that stalled bus!

Cecil: Yeah, from natural causes, yeears later!

SC: Which is all after they were on the stalled bus! Who-o-o-ooo-oo-oo-oo-oo-oo, spookyy, spookyy! Do you need a hug?

Cecil: No. [beat] OK Steve. [sighs]

SC: Look, it’s very scary, OK? It’s not just the handprints, but if you get there too long after dusk, the sky will be mostly void. You’ll stare into that infinite maw, sizing yourself down and down, until you understand that you are a fleck, a speck, a nothing nobody loser, who will be gone and not missed. Even the stars, for all their mass and might, are replaceable dots, soundless and similar. Even a ball of nuclear explosions, 2000 times the size of our own Earth, and which will burn mighty for millions and billions of years, is an indistinguishable blip that most can’t even name. What is the use of any of this?

Cecil: OK, now I’m actually scared.

SC: [breathes heavily] So yeah, make sure you show up at the exact right time [chuckling] to see those handprints, OK?

Cecil: OK. You’re done talking now?

SC: Yeah.

Cecil: OK, great. So listeners, we now continue with our Com- OK Steve, you gotta, you gotta go.

SC: Yeah, one hug.

Cecil: No oh geez, alright, fine.

SC: Oh there it is! Ah, we did it! Ah, I’m so scared, it’s so spooky! [chuckles] You’ll need another hug later on, (big guy).

Cecil: Alright. [sarcastically] Thank you Steve.

9. The Community Calendar

Where was I? Friday morning, the wooooop will be whoooooaaa and then later, ah ah a-a-a haha, if you catch my meaning, hahaha! [beat] Oh yes, that was probably very confusing for the radio, so. Friday morning there will be nuclear arms testing just along the canyon east of Route 800. Please remember to take shelter inside your car or under a very sturdy table. As lovable cartoon character, Andy the Atom, always screams: “A nuclear bomb is probably more afraid of you than you are of it!”

Saturday night is Night Vale high school’s annual prom. Afterwards there will be a casino-themed lock-in party. Now this is to encourage kids to stay in one place together, having fun with friends, and not being out on the streets drinking and driving. It is also to encourage kids to gamble. Some of the fun casino games featured will be lottery scratch-off tickets, Three Card Monte, and trust falls.

Monday is the day that Nostradamus told us would happen. [long beat] You know, Jeremy Nostradamus told us that this particular Monday would happen and listeners, Monday is indeed happeniiiiing-ah.

Tuesday evening at 7 PM, the Night Vale school board will be holding a hearing to discuss whether or not testing helps measure children’s abilities, or whether it’s already pretty obvious that the electrified maze is just like totally unbeatable. This hearing is open to the public.

This Wednesday will be re-experiencing last Wednesday. I mean, last Wednesday was just so much fun, we are gonna repeat it over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over… [mumbles] and over.

10. Ghost Story #2

Back to a ghost story, already in progress.

[dramatically] It was ten years ago, on a night just like tonight. Here was a man driving down a dark road. No other cars. Where are all the other cars? Where are all the living people in the dead of night, I don’t know.

And this, the anniversary of the burning of the oooooold mill, in which a young woman had died horribly, by fire. And here beside him, a passenger with a strange voice asking him as the woman would ask all doomed innocents that stopped for her to take… her… home.

“Oh you [clears throat], you want to go home?” the man said. “Yeah sure, sure. Umm, where is home?” [growling] “I will give you directionsss,” the stiff dead throat of the figure rasped, and a hand touched his shoulder. He could just see it. Flesh and bone? Maybe. Meat and (symmetry), perhaps. But that does not make a thing human. And he knew from the stories that those who followed the directions of the woman from the mill would find themselves taking narrow, shaded lines, winding downwards  and downwards, to a destination and hollow as the pupil of a dead eye.

“Oh sure, well I’m heading into town myself,” the man said, grasping for any kind of human conversation. “Well maybe I can drop you off somewhere – close to home, like the Moonlite All-Nite Diner or Mission Grove Park?” [growling] “No! Take. Me. Home!”

And before he could stop himself, the man turned and met her eyes, and the man saw, the man saw her face crearly. Stop. Stop right now. I want you all right now to close your eyes. Close your eyes and imagine – trench warfare. Imagine bodies writhing out of holes in the ground to die in muddy no man’s land. Imagine a plane in a thunderstorm where the whole of the universe becomes nothing but lightning and quake.

Imagine closing yourself into your bedroom at night and seeing the shadow imprints of your eyelids after you’ve closed the door. A hunched figure at the end of the hall, flopping around on the floor, in a sheet and muling.

Imagine pulling into your driveway in the dead of night and seeing, you think – but did you? – a grey face with a crude smile peeking from your bedroom window. Imagine being home alone in the middle of a vast nowhere. [click] And the power goes out. And it’s a long, long night until sunrise. Be quiet for just a few moments, and imagine all of this.

Now imagine the face of the woman in the car. Yes. Yes. That is it. Exactly that. [growling] “Tuuuuurn heeeere,” she said, incdicating a dark narrow side road, its pavement cracked and buckling, a side road he had never seen before. [increasingly scary voice] “Tuuuuuurn heeeere, take meee hoooooooooommmmme”. And without knowing why he did it, or where the path would lead, he turned down that side road and left the main road behind.

11. A Public Service Annoucement

The finale of my story coming up. But first, a public service announcement.

After a few recent wildfires, the Night Vale Fire Department would like to remind our listeners about fire safety. They began a new campaign to help parents talk to their kids about this important civic issue. The campaign is called “Your Treachery Has Been Noted”. And the mascot is this adorable cartoon vulture with a camera for a face.

Fire chief Ramona Incarna(-) that it’s important for parents to teach their kids about the three R:s of fire prevention: relent, renounce, repent! She said that  most common house fires and wildfires are started by your kids. And here she pointed straight at you! And then she said, “Those children came from your body!”

And then she retched. Sorry.

As part of the campaign, the Fire Department issued a pamphlet to help parents with the education business. Now this pamphlet is adorned with colorful drawings of pyramids and floating eyes, you know, to make it more relatable to teens. And these pamphlets will be distributed to all Night Vale Public School students via repeating audio loops while they sleep.

12. Pamela Winchell

So, because the ghost stories competition is such an important event in our town, Night Vale’s Mayor has sent her Director of Emergency Press Conferences, Pamela Winchell, here to deliver an emergency press conference. So please welcome Pamela Winchell!

Pamela Winchell: Hello, Cecil! Hello, people of Night Vale! Hello, people or whatever of space, who are receiving this long-ago podcast millions of light years away, millions of years in the future. Hello, mutant hollow-eyed child in the dark corner of the radio studio!

Cecil: Oh my god! What.. But..

PW: He’s cute right?

Cecil: I ha- I have never noticed him before. [long beat] [whispers] Pamela!

PW: [whispers] Yes?

Cecil: [whispers] He’s staring right at me!

PW: [whispers] That’s what he does!

Cecil: [whispers] He’s horrifying! Is he a ghost?

PW: [normal voice] You can tell by his grey complexion and glowing yellow eyes and complete lack of facial expression, he is not a ghost. That, my friend, is one of the undead hollow-eyed messanger children from City Council.

Cecil: How long has he been here?

PW: Probably since the last time City Council issued a press release.

Cecil: But that was like a month ago!

PW: Well you answered your own question there, didn’t ya? Cecil, you are supposed to send the undead messenger children home when you’re done with them. If you don’t, they’ll just hang around in the dark watching you all slack-faced. I mean, kids are innocent but they aren’t very smart!

Cecil: So he won’t like hurt me, right?

PW: [singsong] I never said that!

Cecil: [laughing hysterically] Aahahaa, hahaha, he-hey there little guy! What’s your name?

[music]

PW: Oh, that was my grandfather’s middle name! [chuckles]

Cecil: How do you even spell that?

PW: Oh, B-U-M-P-F-B-U-M-B-F-F-F-G-G-G-W-silent Q. It’s Welsh. Also, my grandfather was a bird. He is no longer with us.

Cecil: Oh, I’m so sorry for you loss.

PW: What? Why?

Cecil: I mean your grandfather passing away and..

PW: It was just a bird. Calm down, Cecil. Anyway, the Mayor sent me to do an emergency press conference about ghosts.

Cecil: Excellent, go right ahead.

PW: Quiet over there, kid, I’m talking. 

People of Night Vale. There is a certain rock in the desert. The rock is cone-shaped, perfectly smooth and inverted, balancing precariously on its point. If you stand in the long shadow of the rock, you can see the entire universe in the midday sky. Stars you have never seen before, every. single. star. Constellation spinning out great and terrible forgings. You will understand that history is a myth, and humanity a fever dream, and you will also hear a very dull hum. Really dull. I got bored like 30 seconds into it. [sighs]

But the rock is really cool, OK? It is stone, white and carved into it is the entire text of Gillian Flynn’s best-selling thriller “Gone Girl”. The words are printed upside down and in Latin. Now, no one in Night Vale knows Latin, the only books on it are in the library and there’s no way any of us is going there. So I’m just assuming that it is “Gone Girl” because while I never have read the book, I’ve definitely seen the movie and it’s awesome. I’m not sure why they called movie “Furious 7” instead of “Gone Girl”, but it was really really good! So I’m just gonna say that’s a Latin translation of “Gone Girl” on the rock and not some ancient curse of rare religious relic.

Cecil: OK, is there a ghost anywhere in this story?

PW: I don’t have to say that there is a ghost in a story for there to be a ghost in a story, Cecil. Like 16 billion people have died since the lizard people first invented humans. Ghosts are everywhere, all the time! I mean, I mentioned a desert, do you need me to say that there is sand there too, or cacti, or shirtless 20-year-olds burning a giant effigy and buying 8-dollar bottles of water from corporate sponsors? Of course those things are there, it’s a desert! [sighs]

Cecil: So I’ve never seen this rock, but I’m actually really interested because I loved that movie too. I actually like the book just a little bit better. I’m actually not sure why they called the book “Ms. Peregrine’s Home for Peculiar Children by Ransom Riggs”, but it was still really good. So where can I go to get a look at this fascinating rock?

PW: I ate it.

Cecil: What- you what?!

PW: I. Ate. It. It wasn’t good, I mean I liked the movie way better than I liked the stone, the stone is terrible, ugh. I haven’t been able to use the restroom in weeks.

Cecil: Ugh.

PW: Really turned me off ever reading Gillian Flynn. Anyway kid, you wanna go back to City Hall? Alright, cool. I’ll give you a ride, just hop on this horse with me and let’s go.

Cecil: Oh wow, I just now noticed that you were sitting atop a horse.

PW:  Sure am. See you, Cecil! YAAAAOW!

Cecil: Oh, oh..

13. Ghost Story #3

Cecil: The finale of my ghost story. It was ten yeears agoo, on a night just like tonight. The man and his passenger drove through a road that cut through the low branches of the forest. You know, the (dry) of the desert, trees take strange forms. They writhe and loom, their shape a history of their tortured growth.

“Keep going,” the figure rasped. “Yeah I know the way,” the man said, and he did. Because the road, like this story, leads to only one place. A dark and secret place, from which no one ever returns. “Do you know why I was in that mill when it burned?” He did not. “It was because I loved that mill, and I couldn’t let it go alone. Where were you, Cecil? Where were you when that mill burned down?” “I dunno, I was, I was at work,” the man said. “I I I didn’t know it would burn down that day. I mean, I guess a part of me thought that nothing burns down and everything is forever.” “Old mills burn, Cecil. That’s what they do.” “I know I’m just I’m I’m trying to say I’m sorry that I wasn’t there.” “It’s OK. You’re here noow!” And the car reached the end of its road, the asphalt giving way to thick bramble. And the bramble rose and fell, like it was the hair on the back of a huge breathing (animal) and above them, the mill burned. It took up the whole sky. The whole night sky seemed like it was on fire, and the man, hardly able to breathe through this terror, turned and he met the face of the woman and she turned back to him and he saw, he saw the face of the woman clearly, and her face was gone. And in its place was the face that the fire had given her. And her lips opened into what would have been laughter, and she reached for him with what would have been her hand!

[quiet speech] Listeners… I’ve been lying to you. Or not lying, I’m sorry, but what’s the word for when you tell someone a fiction that you would like them believe about you, whatever that is but listen I can’t go on doing that, I need to tell you the truth. And I will. Coming up. The real story, the… the true ghost story that I have been trying to tell you. But first, the weather.

15. Epilogue

This is the true story. It is also a ghost story.

Ten years ago, on a night just like tonight, a man was driving down a dark road, a man who defines himself much of the time as a radio host. But on this night, he was just a driver. And he saw a figure ahead, on the side of the road, a brief pause in a long fog. But he knew exactly who it was, and he took five seconds to collect himself.

And he let her in. Because he know on this very stretch of road, one year to the day before that day that was ten years ago on a night just like tonight, a woman died. Oh, not the woman by the side of the road, she was still alive. Or she IS still alive. The woman who died was an old woman.

And this old woman did not die in a mill fire, there are no old mills in Night Vale, it had just been this woman’s time to go. And this way of passing was mundane. The way that death always is. But still. He mourned the loss of what had been a part of his life.

“Where you headed?” he said. And the woman from the side of the road spoke in a voice that sounded like – a normal voice, like anyone’s voice. “You know where,” it said. “You know where I want to go.” And he did know, because well, she called him and told him where she wanted to go. “I want to go home,” she said. And he looked into her eyes and he saw the familiar face – of his older sister, Abby. She looked tired because she, too, had been thinking about that woman who had died. Because before that old woman had been just a memory. She’d been their mother. The unveiling of the gravestone had been that day and… There were stories to tell. Too many stories, and the weight of them started to seem physical. And now this, her car breaking down on the side of the road?

“The service was nice,” she said. “I think Mom would have…” she said. “Yeah um, yeah. Mom would have,” he said.  

See, my mother disappeared when I was only 14. Abby had just started school, but she had to drop out to return home and raise me, and I thought that Mom would be back at any moment, like maybe she was away on business. Our out for a walk. Or just hiding.

But Mom did not come back, not for my entire childhood. And I was petulant and subversive, and Abby was reserved and controlling and she blamed me for having dropped out of school and I blamed her for just… not being Mom.

But in our adulthood, my mother did return home, sick and sorry to two children who barely spoke to each other in the morning. But we came back together to be with her and Mom… [softly] She looked older than she was. And her face – was gone. And in its place was the face that time had given her. She’s lost many battles to herself. Alcohol, debt, and lack of treatment or even awareness of a mental illness.

See, some creatures have claws, and and and and some have have pincers and and and some have venom, but some creatures have wings. And Mom flew away, when all other defenses failed her. But still, Abby and I started talking to each other, once again, trying to heal ourselves and navigating that dark and narrow path of forgiveness. And then a few months later – Mom left us again. This time for good. And a year after that on a night just like tonight, a man drove his sister home. And she gets out of the car, and and and she goes into her house, and and and he drives away, it’s it’s simple it’s this, then this, then this, then this, then this.

You see, the reality of ghost stories is that they would be comforting, not scary, if they were true like reassuring proof that we go on, after the after. Or a chance to speak with someone that we will never be able to speak with again, but instead we live in a story about us, and about our relationships, and about our families, and the choices of our families going back and back and back. And this story in the same way that a ghost story is scary because it is – unresolved. And filled with symbolism that we just don’t understand.

And family history, after all, is just another kind of ghost story. So ten years ago, on a night just like tonight, when the fog lay heavy on the lowlands, a man drove his sister home. And eleven years on a night just like tonight, their mother died, and it didn’t –mean- anything, but it happened. And the sister stood by and watched it happen and the brother, talked on the radio and didn’t even know that it had happened until afterwards, and there was nothing that they could have done. But still they regretted everything they didn’t do, and when she called to tell him what had happened, they were both silent for ten. full. seconds.

[sighing] [long beat] Thirty years ago, on a night just like tonight I, I tripped on this wire, here at the radio station, and now sometimes I can still feel it. Fifty years ago on a night just like tonight, a baby was born. Oh, no one important to this story, babies are always being born. A hundred years ago there was a war, or not, you know, a hundred years ago exactly but more or less a hundred years ago on a night just like tonight, there was a war. On a night just like tonight 300 years ago, a woman picked up a handful of grass on a sunny day and realized she was not living the life that she wanted to live. She was not sure why she picked up that handful of grass, she was not sure why she did that either. On a night just like tonight 600 years ago, feudalism. [long beat] I think. I’m actually not quite sure when feudalism was.

Oh, a 1,000 years ago on a night just like tonight, a man had the best pear he would ever have. But he didn’t know it at the time, he just thought, “Wow, this is a really good pear. 1,002 years ago on a night nothing like tonight, the same man would have the worst pear he would ever have. Oh, but he knew it at the time, he was like, “Agh, this is a terrible pear!” 3,000 years ago on a night just like tonight, people scraped in the dirt for food or they looked for it in trees or, they reached their hands into water and came out clutching what they found there, which in essence was another day of life, and they took that, wriggling, into their bodies and consumed it. 22,000 years ago on a night just like tonight – trees. That one I’m entirely sure of. There were a lot of trees then. And now but then, more of them now. 103,000 years ago on a night just like tonight, a child felt very bad about something that he had one, but not knowing how to make up for it, he ran away. But then having nowhere else to go, he returned home the next day to a family that had already forgiven him. 100 million years ago on a night just like tonight, there was (-) and stars and accidental beauty that would not be described as beauty for millions of years, and colors that were not colors just yet, just a different type of light.

And millions of years later, a man would drive his sister home because he loved her, and because it was their story to tell, they were living in a ghost story that did not have the comfort of fear, but merely a dull ache and tangle, at the heart of it. And millions of years before that, a volcano erupted and for just one moment, it looked like a fountain of jewels, but no one was around to see it happen. And hundreds of millions of years later, there would be babies born at every moment and everyone would see everything happening and it would always be so loud, but millions upon millions of years ago, before ghost stories, before even stories, it was quiet sometimes, sometimes it was quiet for a long time. Hundreds of millions of years ago it was very, very quiet for a very long time.

[long silence] And then of course, there was small talk. Laughter and love. Love of every kind. And getting to sit next to your sister, watching her daughter, your niece, in her first ever ballet fight. Feeling – lucky to be haunted by the family that you have. Huh. Well. That’s my story submission.

And it looks like I got it in just in time, as the City Council indicates that the ghost story competition is coming to a close, and they will announce their dinner very soon. Win-winner! Winner! They will announce the winner very soon, that’s yeah mm hm, yeah.

Stay tuned next for that uncertain moment of silence between the last word spoken and the first applause. And from a night that is so much like tonight, as to almost be – indistinguishable.

Good night, Night Vale, Good night.

[applause]

Meg Bashwiner: Welcome to Night Vale is a production of Night Vale Presents. It is written by Joseph Fink and Jeffrey Cranor with original music by Disparition. [applause]

[imagine-loki]

Taming the rage

TITLE: Taming the Rage CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: Chapter 33 AUTHOR: lokilover9 Original Imagine: Imagine Odin tells Loki that he has to marry and it’s you. You’ve hated him for years. Every time he sees you in the palace he smirks knowing all the duties you’ll have to perform as his princess, making you cringe. He isn’t exactly fond of you either, but can’t help looking forward to the challenge.

RATING: Teen

Erikas second orgasm left her legs week and Loki couldn’t help but chuckle when he put her down and she almost slid down the shower wall onto her ass. He picked her back up and sat her on the marble bench. “Why don’t you rest while I wash up, then the shower will be all yours, hmm?”

“Sounds like a good idea.”

He laughed. “Take your time. I’ll need it to clear out the hall and make breakfast.”

“I still find it hard to believe you cook. Or bake for that matter.”

Loki rolled his eyes. “Why, because I’m a prince?”

“That too, but mostly because…well..you’re ‘Loki’.”

“The God of Mischief has many talents. Besides, I’m not making anything fancy.”

He closed his eyes to rinse the shampoo from his hair and Erika’s wandered. Something about seeing his lean yet muscular body wet, did things to her. It started the moment she’d watched him pour water over his torso when he was planting Colton’s tree and she hadn’t been the same since. She quickly looked away when his eyes opened, unaware he’d already noticed.

He finished up and walked over to kiss her, smiling when her cheeks went scarlet. “Busted, I saw that. I’ll put that Smurf nighty on the bed for you. Make sure you’re wearing it when you come downstairs.”

“Oh? Make sure or what?”

He glared at her and she sighed. “What is it with you and pajamas with cartoons on them?”

“It’s like I told Junior. They give uncle Loki boners.”

Erika shook her head. “Be careful what you say around him. He’s going to start talking soon.”

Loki stepped out and she watched intently how the muscles on his lean torso and biceps flexed as he dried himself. Their eyes met through the partially steamed glass and she tried darting hers away again.

“Busted a second time Darling. Like what you see?”

She watched him wrap the towel around his waist. “I’m not complaining.”

Loki smiled. “You may eventually find yourself impressed with my culinary talents as well. See you in the kitchen.”

She thought to herself as he left. ‘If they’re anything like your talents in bed? I’m buying you a damn chefs hat.’

Erika was almost at the bottom of the stairs when the sweetest of smells floated into her nostrils and she could already picture him in that hat. Loki was wearing dark green loose fitting casual pants and an apron that said ‘kiss the cook.’ On a kitchen chair, hung a thin black t shirt she hadn’t noticed yet.

“What is that heavenly, sweet smell?”

Loki eyed her up and down and she could see the wheels turning. “Don’t even think about it, I’m starved!”

“I’ll think about it all I want, but I will let you eat first. That would be strawberries and homemade strawberry sauce tantalizing your nostrils.”

Erika stared at him. “You made homemade strawberry sauce?”

“Sit down and allow me.”

Erika obliged and watched with mild amusement as he laid out what looked like two very flat pancake looking things on her plate. Then he placed fresh strawberries on their middles and rolled them up. After that, he drizzled them in the homemade sauce, sprayed on some whipped cream and sprinkled on some chocolate shavings.

“What are they called?” She asked.

“It’s a Midgardian dish called crepes. These ones are Strawberry. Try a bite.”

Loki put some on his own plate and smiled at her reaction.

Erika thought she’d bitten into heaven. “Oh my…these are amazing!”

They finished eating breakfast and after Loki helped clear the table, she kicked him out of the kitchen. “You cooked, I’ll clean up. Go relax.”

“If you insist, but don’t make a mess of your Smurfs.”

She sighed, rolling her eyes. “Maybe you should give me that apron then?”

He handed it over and reached for his t shirt.

“By the way? How come you get to wear more clothes than me?”

He walked over and lifted the back of her nightie, kissed one of her ass cheeks and put it back down. “You’ll be cumming a lot more than me today, so I’ll need easier access.”

“I had to ask.”

Loki snickered as he left.

Erika went to join him afterwards and found him in a deep sleep on one of the couches and she couldn’t help but stare. His head was propped up with throw pillows with one arm stretched above it, his face was turned in the opposite direction with strands of his Raven hair spread over his face and neck, his other arm laid across his chest with his fingers splayed open and it was obvious when resting it there, he’d inadvertently pulled his shirt slightly above his waistline. Her eyes traveled down to the narrow line of thin hair that began making its way from below his belly button towards his pelvic bone and she knew he wasn’t wearing underwear. He’d tucked one leg beneath the other and his pants had slid far enough down off one hip to give him away.

Never in a million years would Erika have believed she could look at him this way and damn if she didn’t have the desire to seriously molest him, but couldn’t. He looked more like a sleeping Angel than a God of Mischief at that moment and she knew he was tired. He’d been awake before her that morning and she realized he must have been watching her while she slept. Exhausted herself, she reached for the throw blanket on the other couch and tried quietly sitting on it, but it made enough noise to wake him.

“Sorry.”

He shook his head and opened his arms. “No, bring the blanket and come.” She did and he gestured for her to lay over top of him.

With her head on his chest and body half on his, nestled between him and the couch, Loki covered her in the blanket and encased her in his arms. When she tucked her little hand beneath his shirt, he rested his own upon it and kissed the top of her head. Erika closed her eyes and when the beating of his heart had lulled her off to sleep, Loki let himself do the same.

At some point while sleeping, Erika had stretched her arm down over his cock and he woke with a boner. One of her tits had popped out of her nightie and Loki started gently tugging and twisting at her nipple until she stirred.

“Wake up Darling, it your orgasm alarm clock.”

He slipped out from under her and was nibbling on one nipple through the fabric of her nightie while continuing to play with the other. “You really are going to be relentless about this aren’t you?”

“Mmm, you have no idea. ” He pulled the nightie over her head, spread the blanket out over the long wooden coffee table and laid her on it. “This is the beginning of number three.”

“I’m not even…”

“Shhhh. Arms above your head and spread your legs Darling.”

“Loki, I’m not even awake yet.”

She yawned as he moved her arms into position. “You did say you would be a good girl today, now spread your legs please.”

There was that commanding tone again and she obeyed. Loki used magic to bind her arms and legs to each leg of the tables with what felt like invisible rope. It wasn’t tight enough to hurt or cut off any circulation, but she wasn’t going anywhere.

“Look at you laid out for me like a delightful little feast, hmm?”

She watched as he started flicking his tongue over her nipples, softly nibbling each time he’d alternate. He made his way slowly down her body, nibbling and kissing to her hips, then stopped. “Before I continue, let me remind you again that you always have your SafeWord.”

“What are you up to?”

“Don’t forget that please?”

“Loki?”

“I know you heard me, so let’s continue shall we?” He made his way slowly down one of her inner thighs, then back up the other, taking some extra time to linger all around her outer lips with extra nibbles and sucks.

Erika was getting bothered and tried guiding her pussy towards his face, but he was careful not to slip up. “Patience Darling. I’m far from done with you yet.”

She groaned. “If you plan to give me orgasms, must each one begin with a tease?”

Loki stood at the foot of the table with his hands behind his back. “If you don’t wish to use your SafeWord, I could leave you here while I go read, or go have a swim, or perhaps even masterbate to relieve myself of this erection you gave me and you can call me whenever you gain that patience?”

“Nice guilt trip attempt ‘oh Trickster God’, but I was asleep remember?”

“Suit yourself.” He turned to walk away and when she said nothing, he kept walking. He’d just left the room when she finally spoke up.”

“Fine! I’m not calling it!”

Loki sauntered back towards her with his hands still behind his back. “Good idea. That Shakespeare book is awfully thick if you remember. I’ve quite enjoyed re acquainting myself with it at your request and there is still much more to catch up on.”

He walked over and placed a long deep kiss on her lips, chewing on her bottom lip before standing at the foot of the table again.

“Very funny.” She replied.

“So glad you found that amusing, but let’s get back to the topic of orgasms. I’m sure you’ve realized I prefer to take those a little more seriously, so allow me to introduce you to someone?”

Erikas eyes widened. “What?”

“Don’t panic, just listen. I’m sure you’ve heard I’m capable of making my own clones, correct?”

Her jaw fell open. “Yes, but they’re only to be used in battle aren’t they?”

A mischievous smile widened across his face as he leaned between her legs and spread her lips open. “They belong to me Erika and I can use them for whatever I please.” He slowly lapped and sucked at her until she moaned and squirmed. “Let’s have a bit of ‘extra’ fun, hmm?” Loki closed his eyes and concentrated for a second then reopened them and a clone stood a couple feet behind Erikas head. They circled the table simultaneously until stopping at opposite ends and Erika gasped.

Loki knelt down and ran his fingers through her hair as the clone stood at her feet, grinning. “It’s alright, he’s exactly like me. I control him. Without saying a word, I can will him to do whatever I wish, while I do whatever I wish as well.” Reaching over her shoulders for her nipples, he spoke into her ear. “Just relax, he’s only here to please you and remember, you always have your SafeWord Erika.”

She began squirming as the clone leaned between her legs. “Loki, I don’t know..I just..I..ohh.”

The clone spread her lips wide open and began ravishing her exactly the way Loki does and her will to resist dissolved. Loki watched, caressing her cheek loving how fast her moans increased. “Do you like what he’s doing to you?” He began tugging and twisting at her nipples while kissing her as she kept moaning. “Mmm..I think you do.”

Erika couldn’t help but squirm more and more as the clone continued and Loki started moving back and forth, sucking each of her nipples. The pleasure became too much and she felt the clone grip her hips, pinning her in place. “Now how we can do a good job when you keep moving so much, hmm?” It didn’t take them long to turn her into a horny mess.

“Enough Loki, please?”

“You’re going to talk to me Erika.”

“Wh..what?”

Loki released her nipples and willed his clone to pull his mouth away, then had him slip three fingers into her and begin pumping at a torturously slow pace.

“How many dreams did you have about me Darling?”

She tried moving with the clones fingers but Loki had him hold her in place.”

“Loki! Fuck!”

“No swearing!” He replied sternly. “All you need to do is answer my questions and you can cum.”

Loki kissed and sucked along her neck as the clone pumped faster, avoiding her g spot and when she started moaning too loud, the clone slowed his ministrations again.

“Please Erika?”

“Three alright!” She yelled.

Loki felt his cock twitch and really played on that devious velvety tone. “Tell me, were they erotic?”

“Yes.”

“All of them?”

“Yes damn you! They were all erotic!” She cried.

Loki raised his brows. “Interesting.”

“I’m glad you…”

He kissed her cheek and whispered so sweetly to her. “Thank you Erika.”

Before she had time to be struck by the sincerity of those words, he re commenced playing with her nipples and the clone picked up speed, angling towards her g spot. Erikas moans quickly filled the room again as Loki whispered to her. “I can’t wait to hear all about them Darling. Will you cum for me first though, hmm?”

She started panting and when her thighs trembled, Loki moved to hold her hips and very softly, flicked his tongue against her clit. It made her cum hard while dragging out her pleasure and she wailed in ecstasy, soaking part of the blanket and half of Loki’s face.

The moment she was done, the clone and binds disappeared and Loki laid her back on the couch. He went to his knees, spread her legs so her pussy was fully exposed and immediately began devouring every drop she’d released.

Erika gripped at the cushions, whimpering and moaning as he lapped and sucked at her until she almost slid off. He stopped to crawl up and in one smoothly controlled move, filled her, groaning from her tightness as she fisted his hair.

“Let go Erika, please?”

She did but began trembling as he slowly pulled almost all the way out, then continued as he slowly slid back in.

He kissed her rested his forehead to hers. “Do you need me to stop baby?”

Before she could gather enough composure to respond, he was doing it again and and they both moaned from the feel of him stretching her tightened walls.

“No, faster.” She whimpered.

Loki obliged but not before sliding a hand beneath her ass while snaking his hips with each thrust until she cried out his name when falling victim to her fourth orgasm. He grunted and moaned as she clenched over and over around him while fucking her faster and harder until losing it himself in a powerful orgasm that left him almost breathless.

They laid together speechless for a while until she finally spoke. “Loki, can you get up?”

He stood and held out his hand. “Ready for another shower?”

“Soon.”

“Don’t trust me Darling?”

“No and my legs are asleep.”

“Come on then.” She groaned as he picked her up and he laughed. “Just a shower this time, I promise.”

“You need to keep that promise or I may end up disabled.”

“All the more fun for me then, don’t you think?”

Erika reached up and twisted his nipple hard enough to make him stop and wince. “I can find my own entertainment too.”

“I’d stop that if I were you or you’ll end up over my knee and you’ll really be in trouble with your legs still asleep won’t you?”

She narrowed her eyes. “You wouldn’t dare!”

“Erika, you’ve already been warned about saying the word ‘kinky’ around me, correct?”

“Yeah.”

He started up the stairs with her. “This will be your one and ‘only’ warning about that word. Never say ‘dare’ to the God of Mischief.”