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ghostfacesvalentine · 8 months

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HALLOWEEN DAY 1: Ghost hunting - Multi!Muse x Reader

Pairing: Multimuse x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Well, ghosts, death, the afterlife, anxiety, PTSD

Type: Blerps

Request: N/A

Word Count: N/A

Prompt: How they would react to going/how they’d feel/what it would be like to ghost hunting with the reader

Notes: Happy first day of Halloween! I wrote this as a blurb, following how they would react/be like to ghost hunting with the reader.

Jason Voorhees: Honestly, doesn’t see the point in it. He’s super lost and doesn’t really know what to do or what he’s looking at. Not to mention he absolutely DESPISES the white box. Flinches anytime it turns on. Kind of just dives in head first to everything, quite literally. Jason would eventually get frustrated with you, at some point, mainly when you would keep hearing things, or seeing things. You thought you would’ve caught them on camera by now, but it’s actually the complete opposite. Overall, could be a very stressful situation for both of you.

Michael Myers: Could not care less. Still follows you though. Kind of just sides eye you as you cling onto his sleeve. Walks in first to any room, as usual. Not a fan of the spider webs, it’s probably the only time you’ve seem him visibly annoyed. Another first in seeing his shoulders sort of slouch over. You swear you could even hear an audible sigh coming from underneath his mask, there’s no one to follow, only shadows. Thinks your rituals of white noise and outrageous flashlights is pointless but on the plus side, he kind of just “walks” through the spiderwebs for you.

Tiffany Valentine: Super excited to go ghost hunting with you. It’s about time to take some kind of adrenaline rush! She LOVES contacting the other side, good or evil. She would absolutely take the lead and pull up all the stops of the most haunted places in the area. Tiffany may even go as far as booking tickets to infamous haunted mansions and abandoned buildings. She looks into different manuals, both old and new, she’d buy and steal all sorts of gadgets and anything that could be used for any rituals for you both to catch a ghost. She laughs when the lights go out or things start flying and hitting the walls, disregarding your fear, if you have any.

Billy Loomis: Kind of thinks the idea is lame at first, but after you seem to be very intrigued, at some point Billy wants to get involved. He’s kind of quiet about it at first with a very much “sure thing kitten, whatever you want” attitude. Billy takes the liberty of just watching you as you set everything up, make notes and doodle on all kinds of maps. At first you think Billy isn’t really paying attention, but when he follows you, you couldn’t help but notice he actually knows how to turn on the white noise box. It’s kind of cute, and not to mention, you are more than welcome to hide behind him if anything gets too scary for you.

Stu Macher: LOVES the idea of ghost hunting, will look into the scariest of places in the area. Asylums, jails, schools are his specialty. You’re kind of taken by surprise with how much he becomes hands on with these adventures. Before you’d know it, Stu would take the lead, flashing the light as you follow him through the grim halls of the abandoned buildings. Of course, he’d act like the light went out, losing you in the process, only to flash the light to your face making you scream, frightening almost any remaining living creature in that place, followed by Stu’s belly laughter. Almost no “real” ghost hunting would get done with this guy, you’d probably be chased out by a curtesy officer before you could sit in a room to make any contact with the other side.

Patrick Bateman: Doesn’t entertain the idea for long, he kind of just stares at you when you go on about the adventures you want to take during this season. He understands it to an extent, but it seems meaningless. Not to mention, he’s possibly more athiest than anything, never with the hope of an afterlife. Patrick would rather go where there were violent deaths, places of execution and torture he’d try to convince you “you’ll find whatever you’re looking for, there.” If you could settle then great, if not, then tough luck. There’s a fifty fifty chance you’d be able to drag him with you if you wanted, but that would depend on his relationship with you. Still thinks the ritual of Halloween is silly and meaningless and yes that includes ghost hunting.

Leatherface: Likes the idea of ghost hunting. he doesn’t really understand it at first. Bubba has an innocent way of looking at ghosts, thinking they’re silly and just the kind extension of another human. Once you tell him about the anger and the sadness some of the ghosts carry at times, you can tell he’s a little bit spooked. He’d ask you questions of the afterlife and everything you’d know about ghosts. Maybe start him off small, little haunted cafes, he’d catch on very quickly and learn how to defend himself and you, he’d become a great ghost hunter with the proper guidance.

Harley Quinn: THE BEST GHOST HUNTER. Harley’s so into it! I bet you she has the equipment already. Super enthusiastic and entirely fearless, Harley will not hesitate to protect you whether you need it or not. She’d take the initiative to look into haunted places for you, persistent until you guys find something. Harley’s so goofy, wearing night vision goggles, carrying around a backpack with all kinds of equipment, flashlights, batteries. She’d be messing with whatever you find at the room and ends up making a mess or scaring you half to death, followed by her wide smile and mouthing a non-apologetic “sorry”

Poison Ivy: Not too big on the idea of ghost hunting, but will entertain the idea. You’d have to bribe her into taking you ghost hunting. She mostly wants to make sure you were okay and what better way to make sure you’re okay than to take you herself. Pamela isn’t scared too easily, she certainly hates walking into spiderwebs though. If you’re afraid of everything, she’d scold you just a tiny bit, laughing it off after seeing your terrified expression. You’d forget batteries or chargers or certain little essential things, but your beloved Ivy would have it in her hand, looking to you with a sly smile. Even ghost hunting she seemed to be the one who knew the most.

Bruce Wayne: His first reaction would be “absolutely not” he’s not doing that, why would he? Of course he’s seen many things but ghosts? It just seems like a dull pastime, but when he sees your discouragement, it definitely tugs at his heart strings. Before you know it he’s waking you up at 1 am, packing your bag because you’re going to go investigate an abandoned jail notorious for ghostly activities. He has all the gadgets, why shouldn’t he take you? Also, if there’s nothing you find after hours and hours of looking, I wouldn’t put it past Bruce to move some stuff around or work his bat magic to get you excited about your adventure with him.

Jason Todd: Absolutely down for anything. “Woah, are you sure about that? You’re not going to hide behind me the whole time?” Jason would absolutely tease you nonstop about being scared of ghosts. “I’m not scared, I respect them” “sure whatever you say doll.” He’d let you believe you’re leading them both, following your advice as to what to take, where to go, what to do. Of course his main job is to take care of the spooky spiderwebs for you. Once you get to your destination, it’s nothing like you imagined. Tucking yourself into Jason’s jacket, it kind of makes his heart flutter, after all this time, whether it’s goons or creeps or ghosts, you constantly feel safest tucking yourself into him.

Billy Hargrove: He’s kind of a little unsure at first, not knowing exactly what you wanted to do or why. Billy likes Halloween, but his idea of a Halloween date considers a movie night, going to house parties. but not spending it alone and in an abandoned hospital or building trying to connect with the other world. He’s intrigued to say the least. If Billy learned anything throughout his years is that if a woman has made a decision of a date, it’s better to go with it. Billy is a little bit more scared than he would like to admit, he’s more on edge than you, but that doesn’t mean he’d only fend for himself. If you both get scared at a noise together, or get out of the way of a ceiling tile falling through, he’d instinctively pull you towards him, covering you with his body where he could. Sooner or later, this would become a thrill for him, wanting to go to more places with you even further out of the town of Hawkins.

Steve Harrington: He’d be hesitant, put up a little bit more of a fight than most characters. Suggesting to go to the movies, or go trick or treating, to a carnival, anything else. You’d make a deal with him, you could go to the carnival, or a house party or trick or treating, whatever he’d like as long as he went with you to cross through that abandoned slaughter house. Steve wouldn’t hesitate to tell you maybe it wasn’t such a good idea, but if you’d insist, he’d take you. He’d rather it’d be him that would go with you than anyone else. Like Billy, he’d be protective of you, but unlike Billy, his priority would be to make sure you were okay, not finding ghosts.

Steve Rogers: He’d be up for it, to your surprise, as long as you weren’t going to bother the ghosts, Steve wouldn’t mind taking a walk around said haunted area in hopes of finding proof of an actual after-life. Of course, he’d be your big body guard, ready and apt to be hidden behind. Steve wouldn’t fall victim easily to the jump scares, not as much as you would at least. There’d be times where Steve would try to hold in his laugh at how cute you look clinging onto his sleeve when you thought you’d heard a noise. Of course he wouldn’t hesitate to remind you that this was your idea after all.

Bucky Barnes: Kind of isn’t down for it. I feel like this would be crossing a line for him of some sort. He’d beg you not to do it, trying to compromise by doing other activities he’s not so fond of, like baking or going to a Halloween party. Bucky would for sure try to sweet talk you out of it if your heart is set on it, explaining to you that maybe it’d be better to let the souls rest. If you’d sneak out then Bucky of course would track you down, finding you easily and of course it’d be at a time where you were stuck somewhere or lost. Here comes Bucky, not even having to tell you “I told you so” or anything but still, you can tell yourself that he told you so.

Wanda Maximoff: Kind of like Steve, she’d be up for it. Wanda would be curious about the after life at times, what harm would it be if you guys were just looking? There was an adrenaline rush in this hobby of yours and Wanda knew it. It’d become a great feeling for her. She’d look for places on her own time, suggesting new methods and ideas of where to go next. You’d be able to even start your own scrapbook of ghost hunting adventures together. Wanda made you promise each other not to go without each other, both for your safety and also because she liked it just as much as you do.

Loki Laufeyson: Kind of laughs about it, but then sees that you’re serious. He actually has quite a bit of knowledge on spirits and those who live in the other world. Loki would be delighted to enlighten you on said topics. He’d advise you not to go disturb them though. If you absolutely insist, or go without telling him, he’d find you just in time before you’d fall down the second floor or down the stairs into a pretty serious accident. There would be a silent “I told you so” moment, but he’d still smother you and comfort you endlessly. So, preferably an at home Halloween date would be more ideal with him.

Cloud Strife: Doesn’t understand why you’d want to do anything like that at all. He just overall doesn’t understand it and honestly he doesn’t really want to. That doesn’t mean he won’t go with you though, he will. Cloud isn’t the best at jump scares, constantly ready to fight whatever surprises you both on the way. This wouldn’t really help his PTSD or anxiety, so maybe it’s best to forget the ghost hunting and maybe read about it instead.

Aerith Gainsborough: Kind of scared of ghosts? But also so excited about them as well. She loves anything that looks remotely creepy or enchanting, telling you constantly “You should give them a chance” Aerith truly knows how to find the beauty in everything and if it’s anyone that could convince you to find the beauty in a beaten up spiderweb infested home, it’s Aerith. She’s terribly empathetic towards the lives who have ascended your reality, often wanting to get to the bottom of their story and could sit there with you for hours trying to figure out what they’re trying to tell you two.

Sebastian Michaelis: Won’t entertain it. Sebastian is not a fan, if it’s not an actual threat to you or himself, he finds it to “just be another creature” It’s amusing how nonchalant Sebastian is in the presence of a ghost, not caring for their story or their past. If you wanted to know, he would tell you still. Sebastian wouldn’t mind explaining to you the history of souls and where they wander, how they came to be and the whole ordeal. Hopefully it would suit your curiosity enough to keep you from trying to hunt them down.

Spencer Reid: Soooo down. He’s probably the one that suggested it in the first place. Spencer already has a map of all the said haunted locations in town, he’d even color code them to coordinate where you’d go to first. Spencer would love to keep a scrapbook of different notes, pictures and whatever “evidence” you both find regarding the souls you’ve encountered. There would be times too where Spencer could be out of town on a case, he’d promise you to go to the nearest creepiest or most haunted house in town and take pictures to add to your scrapbook. Nevertheless, the most immersive s/o on this list to go ghost hunting with!

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hispipsqueak · 3 years

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Permission to request Kyoutani, Tsukishima, Matsunkawa, and/or Sakusa (Basically the guys that give off dark aesthetic vibes) with a s/o (or girlfriend) who’s a small little innocent ball of sunshine with a pastel kawaii aesthetic? Please and thank you if you do it 🥺👉👈

ANON THIS IS SO CUTE!!!!

now i'm soft. I hope you like these <3 Thanks so much for the request bby!

Everyone is 18+ and these are pretty sfw (minor drug mention and language) Reader is GN.

Tsukishima

Tsukishima will not admit how cute he finds you, though his phone is full of pictures of you and he thinks you are the most adorable creature on the planet. I mean this guy hangs out with Yamaguchi and loves strawberry shortcake. He clearly has a soft spot for rays of sunshine.

No one can believe that you two are dating because how can you withstand that much salt? The entire Karasuno team (Coach Ukai included) rarely see Tsukishima excited about...anything and though Tsukishima isn’t a different person, he won’t tease you as relentlessly as he does anyone else.

He teases you but also is HELLA protective. Noya and Tanaka get too flirty for his liking one day and somehow a volleyball ends up whacking Tanaka in the back of the head. Will never admit he’s jealous though.

Will not let you put clips in his hair, but he has a box in his night stand of your extra clips, scrunchies, accessories. Says it’s because you’ll complain about losing them, but he secretly likes having it there.

Also he has a picture of you in his phone case, with a strawberry sticker. He told everyone you put it there (but it was him.)

Favorite activities with you: cafe dates and library dates! (Ghibli museum date?!?)

Name in his phone: Brat 🙄🧡

Matsukawa

Matsukawa just looks intimidating, but at his core, he’s pretty lovable. Definitely the most touchy out of these four. Hands on your hips, your shoulders, resting his head on your shoulder...he just likes to be near you.

Probably also the most likely to match with you as well. MATSUKAWA IN THESE WITH YOU. I get mad stoner vibes from him, so if that’s your cup of tea, he’s all about it. Will also let you paint his nails. He’s a whole ass mood.

He loves the way you dress, thinks it’s cool how you have such an iconic style. Walks into the gym with his arm around you, proud as fuck that you are his s/o. Sometimes the opposing team will think he’s soft and then he dominates them at volleyball, and goes for a congratulatory kiss to his sweetheart, while flipping them off.

Also the king of selfies. You basically take up his entire Instagram now, and he has those little photobooth photos on his mirror.

MATCHING KIGURUMIS!!!

Favorite Activities: Carnival dates and picnics. Will make bets on how much cotton candy he can eat, so watch out.

Name in his phone: Baby girl/boy💖🥰

Sakusa

Sakusa isn’t the most...affectionate man, but he cares for you a whole lot. He definitely spoils you with plushies, charms, bags, etc. He’s not much for being matchy matchy with you but he does have a My Melody charm on his bag and a Sanrio face mask.

The best thing about Sakusa is how much he values your interests. He doesn’t just look at you as his adorable s/o, but he knows which characters you love, your favorite movies, and why you love them. Because of this, I definitely can see him having stuff that reminds him of you in his room (where it’s safe and contained). A picture of the two of you, a plush of your favorite animal, maybe a throw blanket you like to use at his place.

Sakusa doesn’t like a lot of things, but he loves you and seeing you smile so he tries his best. He has the vibe like "this is my human and they are mine."

He really likes Katamari. He's not a massive gamer but something about the whole Katamari vibe has him intrigued.

Favorite activities: He’s not the most social guy, so I can definitely see him stargazing with you.

Name in phone: Y/N🤍

Kyoutani

This man has a permanent scowl on his face and you look like a human cupcake. His arm is always around your shoulders and as you chat absentmindedly about your day, he is on the watch to make sure everyone knows you’re his.

The great thing about Kyoutani is he just does not give a fuck. He shows up in his big boots, dark clothing...and a pastel charm bracelet that matches yours. Pulls out his wallet and it’s a light lavender with a picture of you two in it. He dares someone to say something, but since no one has a death wish, they stay silent.

Kyoutani is also super old fashioned. He may look scary, but he’s a gentleman. Opens doors for you, walks on the street side of the sidewalk, pays for dinners. (This is for both genders, he just feels like he should be the “responsible” one). Not because he thinks you can’t take care of yourself, but because it makes him feel good to take care of his s/o.

Also super into Aggretsuko. He gets her.

Favorite activities: Ghibli movie nights (he really digs the soot sprites) and concerts! He is the scariest guy there, so you usually get right to the front of the stage.

Name in phone: Babe🖤

#pip asks #haikyuu headcanons #hq headcanons #hq hc #tsukishima hc #kyoutani headcanons #matsukawa hcs #sakusa hc #tsukishima kei #kyoutani kentarou #matsukawa issei #sakusa kiyoomi

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grailfinders · 4 years

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Fate and Phantasms #48: Lancelot

Today on Fate and Phantasms, we’re building Chaldea’s weirdest dog, Zerksalot! Lancelot is, surprisingly enough, still a full paladin, focusing on gaining proficiency with every kind of weapon. And we do mean every; melee, thrown, ranged, random bits of rock left lying around, they’re all deadly weapons in his hands.

You can check out the in-depth breakdown below the cut, or the summarized build over here!

Race and Background

What exactly Lancelot has become now is up for debate: he’s probably still a human, but most humans have... y’know, faces. Still, Variant Human is as good a choice as any, and it gives him the Tavern Brawler feat right out the gate. His unarmed attacks deal 1d4 + his strength modifier, is proficient with improvised weapons, and he can grapple those he hits with unarmed attacks or improvised weapons. Right now improvised weapons only deal 1d4 damage unless otherwise ruled by the DM, but we’ll have ways to improve that later.

As a Variant Human, Lancelot also gets +1 Strength and +1 Dexterity, as well as proficiency with Land Vehicles. You can replace this with whatever kind of vehicle is most likely to show up in your game, but generally planes and boats are a niche subject.

Lancelot is also a (fallen) Knight of the Order, so replace Persuasion with Intimidation and also pick up a History proficiency. You know who your king is, and that’s pretty good for a berserker.

Stats

Start with as much Strength as you can; most weapons will use it, and you don’t hold back. Next up is Charisma; you’re a scary guy, and this will also help you remember more smites. More smites is more good. Whatever weapons don’t use strength tend to use Dexterity, so that’s next. You can take quite a beating, so pick Constitution after that. Then go for Intelligence; you’re a berserker, but you can also speak in full sentences sometimes, which is impressive. Finally, dump Wisdom. That helmet blocks out your sight, all the screaming messes with your hearing, and the madness enhancement blocks out reasonable thoughts.

Class Levels

1. Full armor is kind of your thing, and unfortunately that doesn’t mesh with barbarians. Don’t worry, we’ll get a berserker rage-eventually. For now, you’re a Paladin, giving you proficiency with Wisdom and Charisma saves, as well as two paladin skills. Athletics will help you move around in the unconventional ways you do, and you remember your son got a cup once, so your Religion isn’t terrible.

First level paladins have a Divine Sense, letting them spend an action to sense celestials, fiends, and the undead. If you can pick up on Merlin’s scent, Arthur probably isn’t too far behind. You can also Lay on Hands, using an action to heal someone you touch for up to five times your level. You can call this a healing factor if you want, or just say you were good with medical supplies before you went mad.

2. Second level paladins get a Fighting Style, so grab Unarmed Fighting for even more power. Sometimes you get caught without any weapons, or your DM accidentally makes an empty room. It happens. This feat means you can deal 1d6+your strength mod in bludgeoning damage to a creature with unarmed attacks, or 1d8 if you put both hands into it. You can also deal 1d4 bludgeoning when you start grappling a creature and when attacking it while grappling.

You also can start making some Divine Smites at this level, burning spell slots to deal at least 2d8 radiant damage to whatever you’re hitting, with fiends and the undead taking extra damage. This is the feature that makes your random log just as good as a real sword; blast that sucker full of magical energy, then beat someone over the head with it. This only works with melee attacks though. We’ll have to get creative for ranged ones.

Speaking of spell slots, you have Spells now, which use your charisma. Most of them will be going towards smiting with your improvised weapons, but you should also check out Divine Favor. It lasts for up to a minute, and adds 1d4 radiant to any weapon attacks you make. It essentially doubles the damage of some improvised weapons and can be applied to ranged and thrown attacks as well.

3. Third level paladins get Divine Health, making you immune to disease. Lancelot knows the importance of wearing a mask, and so should you.

You also take your sacred oath at this level. A bit awkward, since you’ve already broken it, but the Oath of Conquest will at least serve us mechanically. Conquest paladins get two Channel Divinity options that can be used once per short rest. Conquering Presence forces everything near you to make a wisdom save or become frightened of you for a minute. What can I say, you’re an intimidating figure. Guided Strike lets you add 10 to any attack roll after you make it. Your dexterity is okay, but it’s never going to be great; if you get stuck with a bow (or minigun) you can use this to keep your damage consistent.

Conquest Paladins also get Oath Spells, which don’t count against the number of paladin spells you prepare at once. Again, we’re pretty much ignoring Command, but Armor of Agathys gives you a counterattack option if someone gets too close.

4. Use your first ASI to round out your Strength and add a point to your Charisma. We’re going to be stuck with one odd number for this entire build; just do your best to ignore it.

5. Fifth level paladins get an Extra Attack, meaning you attack twice per turn with your action, or three times if you use your bonus action to attack with your off hand. Divine favor works on a time limit, so stuffing as many attacks into a round as you can is a good idea.

You also get second level spells at this level. Hold Person is another spell we’re ignoring, but you could use Spiritual Weapon if you want. You can also use Magic Weapon now to enhance whatever you’re using against magical enemies. Just don’t waste the spell slot on a rock or something.

6. Your Aura of Protection adds your Charisma modifier to all saves made by you and friendly creatures within 10′ of you while you’re conscious. This takes your wisdom save from Okay to Actually Kind of Good. You may have dumped wisdom, but that doesn’t mean you’re easy to control.

7. Your Aura of Conquest means that any creature within 10′ of you who’s frightened of you has 0 feet of movement, and starting their turn in your aura deals half your level in psychic damage to them. Remember that time Artoria found out who you are and had a breakdown? It’s like that, but for anyone around you when the mask comes off.

8. Your next ASI is being used to grab the Fighting Initiate feat for an extra fighting style. Thrown Weapon Fighting lets you pick up thrown weapons in the same action you throw them, meaning you can use all of your attacks with thrown weapons in one turn, and add 1 to all damage done with thrown weapons. This feat only really matters if your DM is a stickler for the “One object interaction per turn” rule. If they let you throw multiple weapons in a turn already, throw this one into Dexterity.

9. Ninth level paladins get third level spells. We’re ignoring Bestow Curse, but Fear can be useful if you’re saving your Channel Divinity uses to buff your attacks. Some other spells you should check out are Crusaders Mantle (Divine Favor but for multiple people), and Spirit Shroud. You surround yourself with negative energy, and for up to a minute, you add 1d8 Necrotic to all your attacks within a range of 10′. Any creature who takes that damage also can’t heal until your next turn. On top of that, any creature that starts within 10′ of you loses 10′ of speed for a turn. More ways to deal ranged damage, and it’s flavorful!

10. Your last aura is you Aura of Courage, preventing any friendly creatures within 10′ of you from getting frightened. It’s hard to be scared when the scariest thing in the room is on your side.

11. Eleventh level paladins finally get Improved Divine Smite, meaning you can stop wasting all your spell slots on smites. With this, all your melee attacks deal an extra 1d8 radiant damage, no spells required. Now you can use up all those spells on your ranged attacks!

12. Use this ASI to maximize your Strength. Yes, we have been ignoring any sort of defensive stats up to this point, that’s how berserkers work. This is also going to maximize your carrying capacity, maximizing the number of things you can throw at people.

13. Thirteenth level paladins get fourth level spells. Your oath spells (Dominate Beast and Stoneskin) don’t really work, though you could argue beasts might count under the vehicle domination clause of Knight of Owner, if they look unusually weapon-ish.

14. Fourteenth level paladins have a Cleansing Touch, letting you end one spell on you or a willing creature as an action. You do have a bit of magic resistance, so between your save boost aura and this, you should be able to shrug off anything that gets thrown your way.

15. Conquest paladins get a Scornful Rebuke at level fifteen. Whenever you take damage, the attacking creature also takes your charisma modifier in psychic damage. The one spell I wish you could get for this build is Shadow of Moil, and this is pretty much a passive one of those.

16. Your next ASI is boosting your Constitution for more health and even better concentration saves. All those spells that boost your ranged damage are concentration spells, so saving some spell slots where you can is a good idea.

17. Seventeenth level paladins get fifth level spells. Again, your Oath spells (Cloudkill and Dominate Person) don’t fit this build, but I can see an argument for Holy Weapon. It adds a first level smite effect to any weapon, including ranged and thrown, for up to an hour with concentration. As a bonus action you can also use your bonus action to detonate the weapon, dealing 4d8 radiant damage to everything you want to hit within 30′ of the thing if they fail their constitution save. Also if they fail, they’re blinded for up to a minute. That’s right, you can turn random rocks on the ground into holy hand grenades.

18. Eighteenth level paladins get Aura Improvements. Every aura you’ve amassed so far-protection, conquest, and courage-have their range extended to 30′. This means you can hop into a group of enemies, Fear them up, and more or less incapacitate a good portion of them for up to a minute, all while screaming about Arthur.

19. With your last ASI, put that all into Charisma for better fear saves and more spells remembered. If odd numbers really bug you, grab the Fey Touched feat, though that covers normal Lancelot more than you. That being said, you’re both Lancelot, and you were both raised by the fey, so it fits either way.

20. Your capstone level lets you transform into an Invincible Conqueror, essentially the closest thing you’re getting to a berserker rage. You can use an action to transform for one minute, and while transformed you resist all damage, get an extra attack on your attack action, and deal crits on 19s and 20s. This means you can do four attacks per turn with the best of fighters, and you have twice as much a chance to deal critical damage with each of them. Combine that with some smiterly action, and you’ve got a lot of damage going AAAAARTHUURRRRR’s way.

Pros:

Most martial classes get proficiency with everything, but you really have proficiency with everything. You are a Macgyver of death, and the only limitation is what you can get your hands on. Also; your carrying capacity is 300 lbs. That means most humanoids fit into the category of “what you can get your hands on”.

Unlike the typical berserker, flying and magically resistant enemies aren’t an issue for you. You’re just as happy flinging stones around as you are with a greatsword, or even pulling out a bow and arrow when you really need it. Plus, a lot of your damage comes from smites and buffing spells, which deal magical damage.

For a berserker, you’ve got a lot of support options. You have 100 HP on standby for those who need it, and your Aura can negate some negative status effects or prevent your party members from getting them in the first place with enhanced saves.

Cons:

Improvised weapons aren’t really that good? Without a DM’s say so, most deal only a d4 of damage, and using all your spell slots on smites feels like throwing good money after bad, especially early on. Burning a spell slot on every single attack will wipe out your supply very fast.

You are a faceless screaming hunk of metal, so your social skills aren’t great. I don’t just mean your soft skills could use higher numbers (they could but that’s not the point), but that playing someone who only screams for an entire campaign is going to get old, fast. This is a problem most berserkers are going to have, so I won’t bring it up too much. I just felt it needs to be said at least once.

Working to your fullest potential will require you to read your spells very carefully. Some work with only melee attacks, some work with only weapon attacks, and some with just melee weapon attacks. It’s weirdly complicated for someone whose tactics entirely consist of “Apply Object A to Face 1″, where A is anything that exists and 1 is also anything that exists.

If you can survive until level 11, you’ll be able to start using your spell slots more judiciously, and it’s smooth...er sailing from there. Maybe ask Nimue to tag along as a translator- it worked wonders for Link.

Up next: The General of Repetition. The General of Repetition. The General of

#fate grand order #fgo #dnd 5e #Lancelot #Fate and Phantasms

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draganasimpsforjeff · 3 years

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Hunting Dogs: Chapter Seven (proxies x reader)

Age was nothing but a number to them and most, if not, all the time it meant nothing. Like part of the human race, you can die at any moment but you take precautions and you try not to be a dumbass and take care of yourself and you'll be fine. Every year was celebrated with a birthday, announcing that you were still alive to your loved ones.

But when you're a proxy, there is nothing to celebrate. If there was, it was just to get by another day. They didn't live life by miles and those are limitless and no one knows when those miles will stop. For proxies, if you reached the age of 25, it was like a big deal in a way that not many men got to see or get to. Yes, in the mansion there are countless beings older than such, but there was less pressure as there was on these three men.

It was complete hell for Hoodie and Masky when they first started as Slender thought he would need to test every aspect of them in anyway he could, even if that meant putting them near death. But, they are over the age of 25. Although, don't be a complete idiot if you think that makes them safer. It doesn't. It just means they got past a milestone that a great percentage didn't have the opportunity to get to. Toby was the youngest out of them, 23, almost 24. But hell, no great being like a Slenderman could threaten to ruin his life when the damn boy does it to himself everyday. The only difference is that He could make it the ultimate ending and act like Toby never existed and he would expect the same from others.

So, in ways the three men relationship was complicated, much like a Zeppelin Bend, when they worked together they were stable, so tight-knit that they knew each other's next move, thoughts, feelings.etc., they could be stable when they wanted to and be the scariest goddamn creatures ever known to man. But, if something was in the way or their thoughts didn't link together, the connection between all three was nonexistent. Like it wasn't bad enough that after a good day and a mission completed, they would cut the cord so fucking quick and lash out, becoming blood thirsty monsters that just wanted each other dead.

And who could blame them? The stress of them job mixed in with their emotions, the need to survive, and whether or not a mission was high-impact or not they were expected and felt the need to have the right. And you wanna know what their treat was for not fucking up? Not a nice dinner, no hot baths with bubbles, no 'here take a day or two to rest' or any bullshit like that. It was, Congratulations! You get to live another day! Now go back to your dim lit rooms with just a desk, bed, nightstand and closet, that half the time it looks like they had nothing to themselves. Whatever they had, they could fit in a backpack, but what was the point of personalizing a room to your liking for your own self expression when there was a chance you could be gone and hell... they didn't even know who they were, self identity was a crucial factor here.

Sure, they may remember bits and pieces of what they like or, rather, what they thought they liked, but it was all blurry and covered in smudges, like imagine going to see ophthalmologist and instead of having you look through lens to correct your vision, it's worse and it's covered in black shit, yeah, that was basically they're mind. Amnesia though was the worst for Masky, but not like it was new to him at all. he suffered through it during his childhood and teenage years up till now. Hoodie just stopped caring even though he does miss his life in college and he became so invested in his study of Psychology and maybe that's something that comes in handy with this job, studying emotions, body language, and movement from a person or anything to be honest, the best course of action, why someone may be acting a certain way(most of this thought goes towards Toby) Masky lets himself be easy to read, even with the mask, nothing could hide an animal like him...unless sedated. Although, Hoodie does remember Alex and how he was no longer Brian..okay well, he was Brian, but...not the same.

It's life, going through life lessons and you're in the process of character development, it was like that but it happened so quick for him that he was like a switch, he doesn't remember the last time he felt 'normal'.

Now, Toby. It was like a slow boil, adding in ingredients, not following recipe and wondering what was gonna be created. So much had happened to him with bullies, his step dad and whoever else wanted to get on his nerves. He didn't have much but Lyra and that was pretty much all he remembers now. Bits and pieces of his past, only just enough to make sense of why he should be grateful for Slender and why Toby has taken this position among the proxies. But he didn't mind it so much, why the fuck would he want to remember his past- apart from Lyra. Yeah, sure it hurt and feels like there is a piece of him missing all the time, but, at least there was a reason for him being so unhinged.

"Wake up, Tobs." Hoodie says, kicking the edge of the mattress a little, trying to stir Toby awake with his best ability to not also make him upset. If there was one thing that he could agree with Masky on, it's that Toby becomes the biggest dick ever when forced to wake up- that or he's whiny. He got no response back from Toby and he sighs, kicking again, but again, no response. "Dammit...Masky, did you force the sleeping pills down his throat?' He growls, looking over his shoulder at Masky who was leaning against the wall by the door.

"And have the possibility of me having to carry him around like a limp dick that he is? No thanks. Maybe he just hasn't gotten enough sleep lately." he shrugs. Hoodie sighs, nodding as he looks down at Toby, who as he was an active sleeper, his legs were tangled up in the blankets, pillow tossed over his face, his body angled in a weird way and the bed sheets were pulled off.

"NO!" he suddenly shot up, the pillow flying and his eyes widened and like he was out of his mind, psychotic almost, but Hoodie knew better. He rushes over as the younger one breathes heavily, cold sweat breaking around his skin as he starts to shake. Hoodie sits near his legs, making sure to get in his line of vision. He doesn't snap or touch him as that would trigger Toby and it's not a good thing to snap someone out of an episode like this. "Hey, hey.. It's okay, You're safe." Hoodie says softly, moving his gloves hands in different motions and directions, making Toby focus in and follow them. "Breathe, inhale...1..2..3...hold...1...2..3..4 exhale." he continues this for a few more minutes until he knows that Toby's breathing was back to normal and was blinking, looking around at his surroundings, bringing himself back to reality.

"T-thanks. " He mumbles, he hates having to get help over something he should know how to deal with already. He's had these fucking nightmares for years and yet, they always feel like the first time and remain fresh on his mind until he snaps out of it. Masky swallows thickly, watching the two with mild interest before noticing the change outside. "It's not raining anymore." he says, making the other two look at the nearest window and nod, agreeing. "Let's get back to the mansion. Grab the things we need and see if BEN can figure anything with the girl." He says, standing up slowly from the bed as his back still hurts from when he fell off the ledge. He recovered mostly, thanks to Slender but his spine did give him a hard time whenever he had to bend a certain way. He use to be the type of sleeper to be on his back, but after the injury he had to figure out another way to sleep.

The men got situated, tightening their shoes and securing their items. Medication check, gun and bullets check, making sure they didn't leave anything behind of theirs or something that they may have missed in the apartment before leaving.

It was still chilly and their clothes were damp, but it was better than nothing and they were sure they spotted a laundry mat a few blocks down. Masky collected some quarters around the house so, at least they could get their hoodies warm and dry. After that, they made their way to the mansion.

"I don't know ma, I already paid for the room so I might as well use it." your mom called you this morning, wanting to visit you or vice versa. She thought that you could use a little break from working so hard and being 'so alone' at your place. Which, you appreciate the thought and could definitely get away from all the bullshit that was happening, but you were scared to go back to your apartment and pack what you needed. Plus, you didn't know if the men were there and just waiting for you. The thought makes goosebumps spread over your arms and neck, rubbing it nervously as you were forming an ache from the cheap bed. "I know, honey, but here, I can pay you the money you spent and take you out. It's been a very long time since I've seen you and I miss you sooooo much." you couldn't help but smile at that. Who could say no to getting paid for the money they wasted, getting spoiled and whatever else would happen.

For fucks sake, it wouldn't hurt you and you wouldn't have to think about being hunted and feeling like you can't close your eyes for even a few hours of sleep. "Okay, well, you know I don't have a car-"

"I'll pick you up. Just give me the address again and I'll be there in a few hours, mama had lots of coffee." she giggles, making you shake your head as she was a bit hyper when she has more than three cups of coffee. "Alright, just be careful. I'll text you the address." you say, stuffing items back into your bag and grabbing your keys and wallet, letting your pockets swallow them. "Okay, bye, love you." she says and you say the same, hanging up.

You blow out a breath, making your bangs lift up a little as you muster enough courage, picking up the bag and leaving the hotel room.

Please let things go back to normal.

#Hunting Dogs #HuntingDogs #proxies x reader #creepypasta x reader #cp headcanons

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bts-reveries · 5 years

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daddy diaries

“No.”

“Why not?” Yoongi smirks, watching your terrified expression as you looked at what was in front of you. You only answer with a shake of your head, backing up a bit, which made Yoongi laugh. For the first time since you got here, you were quiet. He grabs your hand pulling you in through the dark door. A whine escaping your lips.

“Why choose a horror house as the first thing we do on our date?” You finally say, your grip on his hand was tight. The two of you were walking down a dark and narrow hallway. Only relying on your two senses, touch and hearing.

“It’s a good ice breaker. Look, we’re already holding hands,” he laughs, making you scoff.

“I’m only holding your hand because I’m scared.”

“Relaaax~ there’s nothing here yet,” He says. And like it was on cue, a masked man jumps near the both of you, screaming into your ears.

“AAAAAAAAaaaaHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!” You both jump. Your arms instinctively wrap around Yoongi’s torso, but he flipped you around, grabbing your shoulders and using you as a shield instead.

“YOONGI.”

“What the heck What the heck What the heck,” he repeats.

“Oh my gosh, what was that,” he says in shock, completely ignoring you, as the man walks away, ready to attack the next victim. You turn around slapping him on the arm.

“Jerk, you’re supposed to be protecting me,” you pout, crossing your arms over your chest.

“I did! Didn’t you feel me pull you to my chest when the monster got near us?” He argued. You glare at him through the darkness.

“I did. I also felt you hide behind me.” Yoongi lets out a sheepish laugh, grabbing hold of your hand again.

“Whatever, let’s go and find the exit.” Unfortunately for the both of you, to get to the exit, you have to go through many more jump scares and creepy rooms.

“I don’t like it heeereee,” you pout and whine. Yoongi pulls the hand he was holding to his chest, pulling you a bit closer to him.

“Don’t be scared, they’re all fa--- aAHHH WHAT THE FU--.”

“YOONGI.”

Another unknown creature comes in between the both of you, breaking you two apart. Yoongi was flailing around in the darkness trying to find you.

“I got you, I got you,” he says, holding onto your hand. Or at least he thought.

“YOONGI THAT’S NOT ME,” you yell, still squinting through the darkness, in attempt on finding him.

“AaHHHHHH WHO IS IT THEN,” he yells, and hear a growl in return. He starts pushing whoever’s hand he was holding away and the man runs off to who knows where. Yoongi finally finds you.

“Is this you,” he says, his hand smacking your face multiple times.

“Oomph, ah-- yes-- stop--,” you giggle, pushing his hand away.

“Okay let’s go,” once again, he grabs hold of your hand, but this time he pulls you to his front, wrapping his arms around your shoulders and walking together with precaution. If you weren’t ready to pee yourself right now, you would be blushing and feeling butterflies, but you were too scared to realize, and Yoongi probably felt the same.

“Oooh! There’s light over there!” You yell, pointing to the nearest exit.

“Oh thank goodness,” Yoongi breathes out. Finally reaching the end of this horror house.

The two of you rush in through the door, only to be disappointed.

“Oh you have got to be kidding me,” he groans.

You’ve only gotten through two jump scares, thinking the next door was the exit was a mistake.

❀ ❀ ❀

“Aw, man. That wasn’t too bad was it?” He says when you both finally have gotten out. You cocked an eyebrow at him. As the monsters and creatures jumped and scared the two of you, it got less and less scary. For you at least. Much to your surprise, Yoongi got even more scared as you got closer to the exit.

“Excuse me mister Min Yoongi, but your grip on my hand says otherwise.” You say, lifting up your intertwined fingers. He blushes, quickly letting of your hand.

“Sorry,” he mumbled. You giggle, shaking your head.

“It’s alright. How are you going to protect Hana when you two go in one of these?” You questioned. “Will you use her as a shield too?” You joked.

“Pfft, of course not.” You tilt your head at him, waiting for the rest of his sentence.

“She isn’t allowed in one of these at all.” He walks away from you, shoving his hand back in his pocket, trying to regain back his calm and collective self. You burst out laughing, running behind him, trying to catch up.

❀ ❀ ❀

“We should’ve gotten one of these before we went in the house.” You say, picking up two frog headbands. You hand one to Yoongi and he tries it on, shaking his head no and putting it down, making you pout.

“Ah!” You say when you found the perfect hat for him. At the same time he bends down and picks up a pair of cat ears.

The two of you turn around to face each other at the same time, he looks at the hat your holding in shock.

“Why do you want that on me,” he says, pushing the hat away when you try and put it around his head.

“It’s cute!” You struggle a bit as he was taller than you and kept pushing you away, but you managed to get it strapped on. He sighs.

“This is so big, I don’t think I can walk around with this on.” You giggle, shaking your head no. Taking the headband he picked out for you from his hand, you put it on.

“You look really cute with a giant puppy around your head.” You laugh.

❀ ❀ ❀

“Why’d you pick an amusement park for our first date anyways, when you get easily scared on things?” You say, taking a bite of your churro.

“I told you, I wanted to try something new so we can get to know each other better. We can’t get to know each other by watching a movie, and sitting down to eat is the same thing we do every morning. I got to know you like that already.” He shrugs. You tilt your head in question.

“So what have you learned about me so far?” For a bit he just stares at you with a blank expression, before turning to look down at his food and taking a bite.

“You’re deathly afraid of clowns. You proved that when you jumped on me and clung onto me like a baby koala during that one room in the horror house.” You laughed, embarrassed.

“You’re in love with rides. The scariest ones especially.” You giggle, remembering how in the past hours, you pulled him to every big ride, making him cry.

“There— there’s more but I can’t say them all right now if you’re going to look at me like that.”

“Like what!”

“Like that, hurry and finish your churro so we can ride my favorite ride.” You pout, angrily biting your churro, making Yoongi chuckle.

“What about you? Anything about me you found different?” You nod quickly.

“You’re not as tough as you look. You act like your some emotionless person that doesn’t care about anything. Hana’s a different story though. I only see your emotions when your with her, but today. Today I saw the Min Yoongi, terrified and crying. I didn’t think you would cry and scream on all the roller coasters.” You can’t help but laugh. Yoongi even screamed his head off during the pirate ship ride. So hard that tears fell down his face. Despite it all though, his gummy smile made multiple appearances right after.

“Hey I’m not emotionless okay,” he argues, “I just have to keep it tough for Hana. The last time she saw me upset. She cried for a week. Never doing that again.”

“Aw wow.”

“Oh and I should thank you by the way.” He says, the topic quickly shifting.

“For what?”

“Keeping Hana happy and distracted during this time of year.” You looked at him with a confused expression.

“What do you mean?”

“Around this time, Hana is extremely happy because of her birthday of course. But sometimes it hits her when she remembers her cousins have moms to make their birthdays extra special. Like the party decorations, the cake, the getting ready for the party part, you know, the pretty stuff.” You nod, quietly listening.

“All her birthdays, it’s just been me. I’ve tried making every year more special than the last. That’s why I do my best to make everything on her wishlist come true. It makes her birthday a lot more special you know? But I guess it started being extra special ever since she met you. You make several appearances on her list.”

“Do I really?” He nods.

“When she wanted to go to the bakery almost everyday, I thought we would be a bother. I didn’t mind it because it made her happy, but I didn’t want to bother your business because my little munchkin won’t stop talking to you during your hours,” he laughs. “She really enjoys your presence and I was just there watching her be happy. It wasn’t until we started spending breakfast there that I actually got to know you. Making my daughter happy was already a win for me, but your personality and your beauty was just extra points.” Your eyes widen a bit, slightly choking on the churro but you ignore it.

“I realized I was starting to have feelings the night before the pool party, which I guess triggered those flirty comments at the pool. I don’t know where they came from, I don’t remember the last time I flirted with someone,” he says, looking out into space in deep thought.

“Anyways,” he says, finally looking at you. the conversation quickly hopping from one topic to another, without you saying a single word.

“Are you almost done? I think we should get back to riding rides. But, my pick this time.” Quickly, you shove the last piece into your mouth, and nod quickly. Yoongi stood up, reaching his hand out for you to hold. You take it and he intertwined his fingers with yours, making you blush. I guess his somewhat confession made him a little braver.

“Can I ask you a question?” Yoongi says, repeating the same words you told him that day he asked you out. Which was yesterday.

“Hm?”

“What made you suddenly confess your feelings to me?” You shrug. It was like the two of you switched roles.

“I was just in bed thinking. It was an easy day at the bakery and I spent the whole time thinking and talking to myself. Then when I got home, I just plopped on my bed and couldn’t get the thought out of my head. I was just thinking does he like me or am I imagining things?” You look over at him and see him nod.

“Well I liked you too, I’ve been for a while actually. I never wanted to admit it, the girls teased me a lot about it,” you laughed. “But I thought you were really sweet for bringing Hana in all the time. I love having her around and I loved the fact that you were always there too. You’re super sweet with her and I knew you were soft under your cold exterior, and wanted to see that part of you.” Finally, you managed to make him smile and you can’t help the butterflies in your stomach.

“You know the tsunderes in animes? You reminded me of one of those, it’s kinda hot.” Yoongi gets surprised with your comment, and laughs uncontrollably.

“Are you serious?”

❀ ❀ ❀

“Ahhh, I don’t want to leave,” you whine. Yoongi was now dragging you out of the park. It was getting late and Yoongi didn’t want to pick up Hana too late.

“We have tooo~ you have work tomorrow and I miss my baby, let’s goooooo.” With one last tug, Yoongi managed to pull you out of the gate of the park, pulling you straight into his chest. With the full day of screaming, crying, riding, walking, running, jumping and whatever other word that ended in ‘ing’, you were completely drained. You melt into Yoongi’s chest and loosely wrap your arms around him. He chuckles, wrapping his arms around you too and turning to walk towards the car. He looks down at your face and sees you looking exhausted.

“Wow, I would have never guessed that you can run out of batteries.” You groan in response. Too tired to talk.

❀ ❀ ❀

daddy diaries

❀part fifteen: it’s kinda hot❀

→ singledad!yoongi x baker!reader

a/n: it’s nearly 3am, im sleepy but i wanna post this. im hoping there’s no error and yes im just gonna end it like that, im tired lol ill do the social media parts tomorrow hehe

!! taglist is closed !!

taglist: @dammit-jjk @io-is-lame @yoongistruth @passionate-hedgehog @rjsmochii @live-2-fangirl @mizz-kraziii @sugarrimajins @yoongismainhoe @toobroken4u @ddaengtwice @chims-dimple @moon6rop @baojinnie @dearbangtan07 @snowythellama @oneweirdbean @abrupt-aesthetic @aejae-ssi @joanc24 @mayumioutloud @beanstalkyoongi @maaayleee @sparky-isnt-a-vampire @ultimitae @raconteurgirl @thebleuprince @lylanie12 @triviayoongles @oh-worm-yee-haw @adriennemichelle98 @weasleys-wizard-weasleys @minhyunie-lovely @ajhdr @parkjiminstan16 @cherryicy123 @take-u-2-an0ther-w0r1d @chilloutlatin @lyndseygoregasmxo @moonynessx @yoongiismytruelove @hispoutylips @hellboundblogger @yoongims @velvetaroma @chims-kookies @taetaetata1230 @knjhype @kisskissshutmydoor @sayanne @ineveryflavor

taglist is closed! sorry everyone :(( if you want to be notified when i post, you can turn on my post notifs by going to my blog, clicking the person icon and clicking ‘get notifications’ [at least on mobile]

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lailannajacobs · 5 years

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A Deadly Rock and a Hard Decision (Handmade Thieves pt. XII)

Pairing: Loki x fem!Reader

Summary: Reader unwittingly finds her way onto Asgard and has to deal with all the attention that follows being a mortal in the extravagant realm. To his surprise, Loki finds himself having just as much trouble if not more than reader in dealing with it.

Warnings: None!

Word Count: 3.6k

A/N: So this lil chapter is from Loki’s POV and it’s quite different in that you don’t make much of an appearance in this chapter, my dear reader, but it should explain quite a few things! After a crazy week I couldn’t get much editing done so I apologize in advance if there are a whole bunch of mistakes. Regardless, I really hope you enjoy it! Let me know what you think!! <3

Handmade Thieves | Chapter 12

Loki paced the length of his bedroom floor, wracking his brain.

It wasn’t supposed to be this hard to find.

He let out a bitter laugh, the sound echoing off the walls of his empty room. Of course, it was supposed to be this hard to find. He had been lying to himself if thought it wasn’t. Odin would have found it centuries ago if any mere Asgardian could find it. That was precisely the reason Loki believed that he would be the one to find it. He was no mere Asgardian. He was born to live in greatness rather than the shadows of others. Even if he had taken a liking to the freedom he found in the shadows, it did not mean he was content to remain there. Instead, it meant that he had found friends - or more precisely tentative allies - with the creatures in the darkness. His familiarity with the shadows would be the exact reason he would find it when no one else could.

His rightful accession to the throne was so close he could sense that what he was looking for was barely out of his reach. He only needed to search one last forgotten corner of the realms to find it. But the gala’s change in venue meant his opportunities for slinking away unnoticed would be slim. All he had to do was think everything through carefully - and he always did - and he could manage one last search before the event at the end of the week.

He knew that it was not necessary to pressure himself to find it before the gala, but he would rest easier if he did. Even hours after the meeting with Odin, Loki couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling that had been plaguing him since he had walked through those doors. After his…little chat…with the Midgardian, he had locked away Odin’s words and buried them deep enough that they would no longer distract him, so he could focus on what was truly important.

Why had Odin called both of them into the meeting?

When Loki had been summoned, his immediate thought had been that Odin had caught wind of the purpose of his little outings, but when the Midgardian had been summoned as well, the only emotion he had felt had been confusion. And possibly, though unlikely, a minuscule amount of worry. But that worry was only regarding the success and smooth execution of his plan. Nothing else. Nothing that had to do with her.

Loki was glad he had walked off the balcony when he had. For a moment, he had felt his control begin to slip and he didn’t know what he would have done if he had stayed there any longer. He hadn’t been lying when he had told her that she was the scariest thing on this planet. She was the only person here who made him feel so exposed, as if she blew past the facade everyone else bought so easily. Or maybe it wasn’t that she could see past it. Maybe she was the only one who didn’t judge him based on what she expected to see.

Loki had to keep his wits when he was around her. She was there to facilitate his plan and only that. It didn’t matter that she kept standing by his side, almost as she were his true ally. She had her own goals - goals that had nothing to do with him. He was alone, would always be, and he did not need anyone else for that matter.

But just because he didn’t need her didn’t mean that she couldn’t be a useful asset. Loki refused to call it luck - he didn’t believe that he was the kind of person who wasn’t cunning enough to have to rely on it to get by - but her crashing on Asgard had been exactly what he had needed to set a plan in motion.

Never in a thousand years had he imagined that Odin would have thought of keeping a Midgardian prisoner, but her reputation, even if it had taken Loki by surprise, had been enough to make Odin hesitate. The moment Odin had paused and suggested that she become an ambassador, Loki realized that he could use her to properly execute his plan. All it had taken to ensure that the Midgardian live, was a bit of reverse psychology, so basic it only would have worked on a child. Or Odin.

There was no one Odin listened to less than his own son and when Loki had opposed the Midgardian’s qualifications to become Asgard’s ambassador, her sentence as a prisoner had been solidified. It had given him enough time to convince her to make an opened ended deal, ensuring he would ultimately get his way. Although she had stubbornly made him work harder for that deal and use more magic to keep her alive then he had initially planned, it was all going to pay off. However, that was on the condition that he found The Warlock’s Eye.

The real one had gone missing from Odin’s vault almost two hundred years ago. Loki had considered trying to find a few years ago in order to take the throne, but there was the possibility that Odin could resist its magic and that wasn’t a gamble Loki had been about to make. His other possibility had been finding and returning it in exchange for the glory and respect of the people, but he knew that would be a false hope. No one would trust his intents regarding something to powerful. Yet, Loki knew that a well-crafted lie, the promise of peaceful relations with another realm and a foreign dignitary could tip the scale in his favour.

Until recently, he had been planning on accusing the Midgardian for having stolen The Warlock’s Eye, and outing her in front of the council, knowing the discovery and return of such a valuable object would have granted him the exact closeness he needed to take the throne. But, as he walked away from her earlier tonight, the thought of what he wanted to do set him on edge. He could tell the feeling had been building up for some time now but had only now fully decided to change his plan. Not because of her of course, but because he figured that the population of Asgard much preferred a king to begin his reign on promises of peace rather than condemnation and hostility. If he and the Midgardian presented The Warlock’s Eye to Odin as a promise of peace and continued harmony between the two realms, in front of enough gullible and powerful Asgardian’s along with the council, then he would be mere steps away from his goal. Loki could create the liaison between Asgard and Midgard that would make Thor jealous. The people of Asgard would love and respect him, and they would soon come to realize that a younger, more capable king was exactly what they needed.

Loki stopped his pacing. Now all he needed to do was find the relic. Because regardless of whether he used the Midgardian’s help or not, he wouldn’t be able to complete his plan without it.

A smile snaked its way to his lips. He suddenly knew exactly where to look.

“Where were you yesterday?” She puffed, hands on her knees as she tried to regain her breath from their latest sparring session.

Loki wanted to tell her. He wanted to smile as bright as the sun and tell her that he had finally found the most important piece to his plan, but he couldn’t tell her. No. She couldn’t know until he was ready to tell the rest of Asgard, because he knew that if he did, she would refuse to help, and he wouldn’t risk failing.

Instead, he offered her his usual shrug and said, “Nowhere important.”

She rolled her eyes the same way she did every time he answered this question, “I find that hard to believe.”

“And why’s that?” Loki asked, wanting to see what she saw when she looked at him.

He liked watching the way she tried to put everything together despite missing so many pieces to the puzzle. It always interested him to see how close she could get to the truth, her observational skills probably due to her many years as a thief.

“The main reason is because you’ve gone on so many little outings that I doubt they aren’t all connected,” She stood and took a long gulp of water before continuing, “But you also look like the cat who ate the canary and I doubt you’d look that smug if it wasn’t anything important.”

Loki hadn’t thought he looked smug, but then again, after having successfully broken into one of the most highly guarded vaults in the universe and having been most annoyingly stabbed for no good reason a few weeks ago, he figured maybe he deserved to look a little smug. However, he knew it would only look suspicious if he did and tried to mask his relief a little.

“If I look that way, it is only because you have never beaten me once during our little practices Midgardian.” He drawled.

Her lips pulled into a knowing smile that always managed to worry him a little, “Seeing as you didn’t deny my first assumption, I’ll take that as you basically telling me that I’m right. And how about we go for another round and I wipe that smug look off your face.”

Her words only made his grin widen and he beckoned for her to try her best.

She put down the flask and backed into a fighting stance. She had to know that she wouldn’t win, but she had never once given up and it didn’t look like she was about to now. As a human, she was seriously outmatched, but her determination and intelligence made it that she could keep up long enough for him to have fun toying with her. They never used weapons - he was afraid she’d get hurt if they did - but regardless, it was a good way to exercise and keep his mind off of his plans for an hour.

Although the past week had been busy with preparations for the gala, they had found time to train every day, both of them needing to let off a little steam after the excruciating meetings. He was glad she was here, though he would never say that aloud, lest she get the wrong idea. With every meeting, her role as ambassador solidified, which only aided his cause. Having her around also had the side benefit of him having company through meetings he never would have endured alone. Oddly enough, he almost found himself looking forward to the months after the gala, knowing everything would return to normal. After another week of playing, Loki was still losing their little game 8-9, and he had every intention of righting that wrong. If he played his cards right, he could even finish the night ahead.

He snapped out of his thoughts, barely dodging the fist she sent flying toward his face. Although he held back, making sure that whatever happened to her she could easily walk off without more than a bruise, she never held back, aiming to cause as much damage as humanly possible. Of course, he probably deserved whatever harm she intended on causing - he would especially deserve it once he announced his plan in front of half of Asgard - but he would never let her win. It wasn’t part of his nature. But Loki didn’t only do it for his own benefit, he did it for hers as well. He knew that she would take offence if he let her win. She would fight and steal her way to victory the same way she had been doing her whole life. He wasn’t about to give her a break now.

Her grin widened when she noticed she had caught him off guard, and she sent the next two hits with twice as much force. He blocked both easily. Expecting another overly confident hit, he twisted, planning on returning with a blow of his own, but she feigned right and twisted in the opposite direction, managing to hook a leg around his.

Stunned, the maneuver pulled him off balance and she sent the hilt of her palm smashing into his chest. Whether he liked it or not, the force of blow was strong enough that Loki knew exactly what was about to happen. Before it did, he decided that if he was going down, he was going to take her with him and he wrapped his hands around her arms, pulling her to the ground with him.

The wind was knocked out of him as they landed, her body lined up on top of his. All he could hear was the sound of her cackling until, between breaths, he heard her choke out, “I did it. I won.”

He looked up into those crazy eyes, bright with joy, and he didn’t feel a single ounce of the usual disappointment or frustration that should have come with losing.

When her laughter died down, she raised an eyebrow, “What are you smiling about?”

He hadn’t realized he had been.

She frowned. “Had I known you were going to stop I wouldn’t have said anything.”

She was about to push up but stopped when he asked, “And why’s that?”

Loki realized it was a question he often found himself asking her. He decided it was because he wanted to know more about the average Midgardian’s train of thought. Which might have been the truth if he actually believed she was average.

“Because it’s not a bad look on you.” She offered with a small smile.

Her words suddenly made him aware of her proximity, one he wasn’t sure he minded. “I’ll have you know that I smile every day Midgardian. You’ll see it all evening at the gala tonight.”

“But it’s not going to be this smile.” She murmured, shaking her head, “Every single other one has a purpose. Not this one. This one is…different.”

“Good different or bad different?” He found himself whispering, drawn in by the wild look in her eyes and her flushed face.

She nodded. “Good.”

Just then, her stomach made the strangest sound he had ever heard, and her eyes widened before she burst out laughing once again and rolled over to the side, “Just so you know, I beat you on an empty stomach, which is even more impressive.”

She stood, brushing herself off and looked down at him as if nothing had ever happened - not that it had - waiting for his witty comeback. He should have had something to say, but all he could do was lie there for a moment, thinking about how much warmer he had been with her so close.

“I can assure you that it won’t happen again.” He came to a stand in front of her. “I was simply distracted.”

She titled her head, look up at him with a playful smirk, “By what? My charming good looks and stunning personality.”

“By tonight’s gala.” He answered curtly, taking a step back.

His words wiped all the teasing humour from her face, and for a moment her wished he would have taken them back. But he knew he couldn’t, and it was better that way anyhow.

Remaining silent, he watched as she looked up at the darkening sky. “Well…I guess I should probably go get ready right…We don’t want to be late for the party.”

He nodded.

“When will you be at my door?”

“I won’t be. Whenever you’re ready you can make your way to the ballroom.” He clasped his hands behind his back, “I will meet you there.”

“Oh…” A strange look crossed her face but was quickly replaced with a smile, “Take as long as you want. It’ll only give me time to keep convincing gullible Asgardians that brown cows make chocolate milk. Just so you know, I’m winning 9-8 for that too.”

“Don’t get too confident Midgardian.” He grinned, backing away with his eyes trained on her, “I won’t be far behind.”

He watched her shake her head and walk off, a tiny smile on her lips, before he went his own way. There was something he wanted to do, and there was no way he could do it properly if he came to get her and they walked in together.

Dressed and ready for the gala earlier than he had planned, Loki decided to take the long way to the ballroom. There was a chance that the Midgardian wasn’t there yet, and although it didn’t matter if he arrived before her, coming in after meant making an entrance. And quite frankly, Loki loved a little show.

The halls were deserted, most of the people already at the gala, and the few there weren’t felt no need to take the smaller, winding hallways. Loki strolled as if he had nowhere better to be, taking in the silence of the empty palace. He had been attending events like these since he was a child, yet he knew he would be craving silence about halfway through the night and would want to slip away for a little. As much as he enjoyed spotlight and the festivities, he knew eventually he wouldn’t be able to think anymore, which would ultimately lead to him creating a little chaos to clear his mind. He couldn’t have any of that tonight, so he took in as much of the silence as he could before it began.

The voices down the hall weren’t loud, but the emptiness of the palace sent the whispers echoing toward Loki. His heart picked up when he realized it was Odin’s voice he was hearing. Loki slowed his steps, erasing all sound around him. Whatever was going on, he intended on hearing it.

“I couldn’t simply kill her.” Odin spat, clearly annoyed.

Another voice, one he recognized as the head councilman spoke next, “Why not? You had her in the dungeon for weeks.”

His heart dropped to his stomach. If he had any doubts as to who they were talking about, they were gone now. Loki supposed he should be thankful he was finally getting answers to his questions, but all he could feel was dread.

“I held her in the dungeon while we searched the realms to see if there was another planet who wanted justice for her crimes.” Odin explained.

“And were there?” The councilman asked.

“Yes, but none of the planets were ones we could have traded her in for a peace alliance. We had decided it was better to kill her ourselves, make sure she was truly dead.”

Even though Loki had suspected all this while she was being held captive, hearing the words aloud and the casual mention of her death sent him on edge. He let his anger simmer in the back part of his mind, refusing to let it distract him from hearing the rest of the conversation.

“What are you going to do about it? Why ask her to come to the gala? Why make her blend in?” Loki was relieved the council man was actually asking all the right questions.

“Because the people have grown to like her and expect her to be there. And I’m making her blend in so that she does not attract the attention of the foreign council members.” Odin replied, slowly as if talking to a child.

“Why not?”

Everything around him went cold. The councilman might have been confused as to what Odin was planning, but Loki was almost certain her knew what Odin was about to say.

“Because the gala is the perfect opportunity for a thief to take a precious artifact from the vault and disappear with it.”

“And you think she’s going to do that?”

“Highly doubtful.” Odin laughed, the sound humourless. “She believes she is free in two months time. She would not risk it now. She’s too smart for that.”

“Then how does this help you?” The councilman asked, his mind taking far longer to understand the plan than Loki’s.

“It’s the perfect excuse to feed the people and get her off our hands. What thief wouldn’t use an important gala to try and rob the vault? They don’t need to know what really happened to her or that she’ll have been framed and executed for a crime she didn’t commit. She’s a blight on the realms, no one will miss her.”

The words rooted him to the spot. Loki’s heart hammered so loudly in his ears, he barely heard the councilman speak, “You believe this is true?”

“Absolutely. Midgard is not aware she is here. She’s a thief and whoever she works for must know that as well. If she gets caught, I’m certain they want nothing to do with her.” Odin affirmed.

“Then that settles that matter. One final matter before…”

The conversation quickly moved to other gala aspects, but Loki could no longer hear what they were saying. He looked around uselessly, hoping the answer to his new problem was somehow written on the gold walls.

They were going to kill her. Tonight. He was going to have to decide what he wanted to do about her and his plan. And soon.

#loki #Loki Laufeyson #loki fanfic #loki fanfiction #loki x you #loki x reader #loki x female reader #MCU fic #MCU fanfiction #loki asgard #asgard fic #fan fiction #fanfic #reader interactive #reader insert

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seth-the-book-dragon · 5 years

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My Top Four YA Fantasy Sets

City Of Bones by Cassandra Clare (The Mortal Instruments)

When fifteen-year-old Clary Fray heads out to the Pandemonium Club in New York City, she hardly expects to witness a murder― much less a murder committed by three teenagers covered with strange tattoos and brandishing bizarre weapons. Then the body disappears into thin air. It's hard to call the police when the murderers are invisible to everyone else and when there is nothing―not even a smear of blood―to show that a boy has died. Or was he a boy? This is Clary's first meeting with the Shadowhunters, warriors dedicated to ridding the earth of demons. It's also her first encounter with Jace, a Shadowhunter who looks a little like an angel and acts a lot like a jerk. Within twenty-four hours Clary is pulled into Jace's world with a vengeance when her mother disappears and Clary herself is attacked by a demon. But why would demons be interested in ordinary mundanes like Clary and her mother? And how did Clary suddenly get the Sight? The Shadowhunters would like to know.

It's been a while since I’ve read anything by Cassandra Clare but in the past I have laughed and cried and loved in her world. I got the first Mortal Instruments book some time ago as a gift and it lay unread on my shelf for some time until my family went away for a week and Mum said I could only bring books I hadn’t read before (Troy by Adèle Geras and The Girl In The Mask by Marie-Louise Jensen were the others; also excellent books). I devoured it. I sat down and absolutely lost myself in Clare’s New York and the world of the Shadowhunters. I have since collected most of her books and read the original series at least three times fully through. It’s powerful and drags you right in even if you’re a stubborn thirteen-year-old determined to hate it. I know it’s gotten a lot of hype and that often puts me off but in this case it’s because it’s magic. It does get a bit confusing in the third and fourth book, but all makes sense in the end.

Even the prequel and sequel sets are enjoyable and draw you in. I didn’t think I would like the Clockwork series because of how much I’d loved the original characters and their little nook of life but once again Cassandra Clare proved me wrong. I highly recommend these books but do expect to get your heart at least a little bit broken.

Glass Houses by Rachel Caine (The Morganville Vampires)

College freshman Claire Danvers has had enough of her nightmarish dorm situation. When Claire heads off-campus, the imposing old house where she finds a room may not be much better. Her new roommates don't show many signs of life, but they'll have Claire's back when the town's deepest secrets come crawling out, hungry for fresh blood. Will she be able to face the town's terror or will she drown like everyone else?

Probably one of the first sets on this list that I read. The Morganville Vampires is filled, once again, with a group of close friends. Claire a sixteen-year-old science student, Eve a goth coffee shop employee, Shane a chilli cooking video game lover and Michael an up and coming musician.

The complex love-hate relationship between the human and vampire inhabitants of Morganville is often a cause for conflict and suspense.

I will admit that the plot starts to get a bit far fetched nearing the end but then again, there is fifteen books so it can’t be easy coming up with storylines for all of them. The ending is a classic happy ending I am glad to say.

One thing I really love about Morganville is the number of characters with questionable morality, those who you are never quite sure whose side they’re on. There’s nothing I’m such a sucker for as eccentric characters, grey morality and platonic love so it’s no wonder that I like these as much as I do. And really, who couldn’t love a character with vampire bunny slippers and a giant pet spider called Bob?

My Soul To Take by Rachel Vincent (The Soul Screamers)

She doesn't see dead people. She senses when someone near her is about to die. And when that happens, a force beyond her control compels her to scream bloody murder. Literally. Kaylee just wants to enjoy having caught the attention of the hottest guy in school. But a normal date is hard to come by when Nash seems to know more about her need to scream than she does. And when classmates start dropping dead for no apparent reason, only Kaylee knows who'll be next.

I found the fifth book in the library and absolutely loved it. However, I wouldn’t recommend starting with If I Die because it’s a major turning point in the series, the first book is probably a better starting place.

Kaylee is a complex heroine who never wanted to be in the limelight, she just wanted her family and friends to be safe. She goes through so much development as a character throughout the series and emerges stronger than ever at the end. You finish the series feeling proud of what the main characters have achieved and a tinge of sadness for those that didn’t make it.

These books are a prime example of slotting fantasy elements into our world – it is bone chilling because it’s so easy to see how it could be real and how easy it would be to be one of those clueless, helpless humans. The scariest things are those which are very close to something normal but just slightly off.

The thing that really stands out about the Soul Screamers is that the supernatural beings are varied and not just your bog-standard vampires and werewolves. The diversification of urban fantasy is something I love and one of the reasons why I love it so much.

Now don’t get me wrong, I love happy endings as much as the next man – characters deserve happiness and perfection. However the bittersweet ending of this series feels right and not forced or realistic.

Vampire Academy by Richelle Mead

Lissa Dragomir is a Moroi princess: a mortal vampire with a rare gift for harnessing the earth's magic. She must be protected at all times from Strigoi; the fiercest vampires - the ones who never die. The powerful blend of human and vampire blood that flows through Rose Hathaway, Lissa's best friend, makes her a dhampir. Rose is dedicated to a dangerous life of protecting Lissa from the Strigoi, who are hell-bent on making Lissa one of them. After two years of freedom, Rose and Lissa are caught and dragged back to St. Vladimir's Academy, a school for vampire royalty and their guardians-to-be, hidden in the deep forests of Montana. But inside the iron gates, life is even more fraught with danger . . . and the Strigoi are always close by. Rose and Lissa must navigate their dangerous world, confront the temptations of forbidden love, and never once let their guard down, lest the evil undead make Lissa one of them forever . . .

I read the first one a few years ago and thoroughly enjoyed it though didn’t go looking for more. However, when I found the next three in the charity shop last year I had to read on. I devoured the and read the entire set of six in four days. I will admit that my homework suffered that week. They begin slowly, getting you used to the world of Moroi, dhampires and Strigoi – all words used to describe creatures in Romanian folklore and not words made up by Richelle Mead as I first thought. But good grief when it gets started, it really goes for it. Rose is a firecracker and incredibly loyal to her best friend. Dimitri is a rock, trustworthy and ever dependant. Just a rock with a stake. Mead writes in a way that even if you don’t like a character first off - *cough* Adrian *cough* - you end up thinking of as one of your favourite characters. They take twists and turns that you never see coming – and a couple you do, with an ominous churning in your stomach.

Even the sequel set Bloodlines is excellent. I didn’t have high hopes initially after the joy of the Vampire Academy but I was surprised. It’s not as good but still highly enjoyable.

The only negative I could highlight is that the main romance in each set follows the same ups and downs. It gets to a point where it’s almost predictable.

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lovemesomesurveys · 5 years

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1. Are you related to the last person you spoke to? Yes, I was talking to my mom and brother. 2. Are your blankets normally kicked all over the place when you wake up? No. 3. Do you wear an eye mask when you go to sleep? Nope. I’ve been wanting to get one of those eye cooling sleep masks, though. I get bad headaches and cold washcloths help with those, so I figured a cooling sleeping mask would be great for that. And for when it’s hot. 4. Are family get-togethers fun or awkward for you? I like them. 5. Are any of your friends hoping to be famous one day? No.

6. What do you do if someone way too old for you hits on you? I’d decline. 7. Can you eat a whole pizza by yourself? I typically only eat 2-3 slices at a time. 8. Do you wear a lot of red clothes? No. 9. Do you lock the doors? Of course. 10. Is coffee better with or without milk? I only use milk (well soy milk) when I order lattes/mocha/macchiatos. If I order a regular coffee at like a restaurant then I use Half and Half and sugar. At home I use flavored creamer. 11. When was the last time you were at a hotel? Last weekend briefly when dropping my brother off. My mom and I went up to check out his room and stuff before we left. 12. Who would you kiss right now if you could kiss anyone? My doggo. 13. Are you afraid of the dark, or were you ever? I mean, I sleep with the TV on for some light and sound because I can’t have it completely dark or silent. 14. Do you have trust issues? Not really. I just have a hard time opening up and expressing myself to anyone. 15. When was the last time you cried from laughing so hard? I don’t remember. It’s been a long time since I’ve laughed that hard. 16. What are your plans for Thursday? I don’t have any plans for tomorrow. 17. Have you had your birthday yet this year? Yes, back in July. 18. Are you playing hard to get right now? No. I’m just hard to want. 19. Do you still talk to the person you were dating five months ago? I was single and still am. 20. Does cuddling freak you out? No. 21. Are your toenails painted? Nope. 22. Have you ever told someone you were in love with them? Yes. I laid all my feelings out on the table for Joseph, which took every ounce of courage I could muster up. It was so hard for me. 23. Ever slapped a guy in the face? Only playfully, and it was lightly. 24. Would you ever dye your hair blonde? Nah. I had blonde highlights for several years, but I never went full on blonde. 25. Did you make anything to eat today? I had a sandwich for lunch. 26. Do you wear eyeliner? When I wear makeup, which is rare nowadays. 27. What’s your favourite part of the song that you’re listening to? I’m not listening to music right now. 28. Do you think you’re a good friend? I haven’t been at all for the past few years. I’ve been very shitty. :/ I can’t even call anyone a friend anymore. 29. If the year consisted of only one season, which would you choose? Fall. 30. Could you go out in public looking like you do now? I’m wearing leggings with Santas all over and A Christmas Story shirt at the moment... in October. :X lol I’d really rather not. Plus, my hair is messy. Like, I couldn’t even just throw a hat on it. 31. What was on your mind mostly today? Blah. 32. Who was the last person you got into a small argument with? My mom and I bicker sometimes, mostly cause my moody moods get especially bad and I just end up butting heads with everyone. :/ 33. Can you handle the truth? Depends. 34. Are there some songs you can’t listen to because they remind you of someone? I listen to them anyway and get sad. 35. Last night, did you go to sleep smiling? I never go to sleep smiling. 36. Where did you sleep last night? My bed. 37. Did you have a good day yesterday? It was alright. 38. What was the highlight of today? I’m getting my favorite pizza for dinner. 39. Do you hate anyone? Besides myself, no. 40. Do you wish you had the chance to tell someone something right now? Not right now. 41. Who was the last person you talked to on the phone? My mom. 42. Do you think someone is thinking about you right now? No. 43. Do horror movies these days scare you? I love horror movies now it’s so weird. I used to be such a scardy cat. It’s October aka spooky time and I want to watch a ton of scary movies. 44. What is the best thing that’s happened in the past week? Spending the afternoon this past Sunday in one of my favorite touristy cities that’s near water so it’s a lot cooler there temp wise and it was great and getting my favorite pizza twice. 45. What colour is your hair? Naturally it’s dark brown, but I dye it red. 46. What did you do yesterday? Same stuff I always do. 47. What are you doing tonight? Eat pizza and watch AHS. 48. Have you ever thrown your cell phone in anger? When? No. 49. Do you think you will be in a relationship three months from now? No. 50. Do you want to fix things with anybody? Yes, but I know I’m not in the right space mentally to do so yet. 51. Could you go the rest of your life without drinking alcohol? I’ve gone 6 years so far since the last time and I have no desire to drink as of now. 52. Is your hair long enough to pull over your face like a mustache? Yeah. 53. Do you ever find yourself making up survey questions throughout the day? There’s been times I’ve thought up a question or two. 54. Who is your favourite online friend? I think the survey community on here is pretty cool. 55. What was the last thing you tried for the first time? Hmm. I can’t think of something at the moment. 56. What was the last thing you said out loud, and how loud were you speaking? I was saying goodbye to my mom and brother who were leaving to go get our food. 57. What’s your favourite nail polish colour to wear or see on others? I liked wearing black the best. 58. What was the last thing you learned? Hmm. 59. How warm do you like your showers/baths to be? Not scorching, burning hot, but hot. 60. Are there any advertisements/commercials you actually like? Which? There’s been some commercials that I actually like, but generally I don’t pay much attention to them. 61. How often do you visit your relatives? Not often these days. There’s some family members I was really close with that I haven’t seen in a few years, which is crazy. I just really became withdrawn, distant, and reclusive these past few years from everyone. :/ 62. In your opinion, what is the scariest natural disaster? All of them sound terrifying. I’ve thankfully never experienced one. So far anyway... 63. What design is on your bed sheets? They’re just pink. 64. What is your favourite brand of fizzy drink? Like soda? I like Coke and Dr. Pepper, but I haven’t actually soda, only just a bit when I take my medicine, in like 2 years. I used to have one a day and I had been drinking soda since I was a kid (not regularly as a little kid, but I had it sometimes. I regularly started having it in middle school). 65. As a kid, did you use toothpaste that wasn’t minty? Yeah, I remember having bubblegum flavored ones. 66. What is your favourite vegetable? Spinach, potatoes, broccoli. 67. Do you have any other countries’ timezones saved to your computer/mobile phone? No. 68. Is your username the same for every website? No. 69. What do you have in your online bookmarks? On the bookmarks bar on Chrome I have Google, Facebook, Twitter, Tumblr, and YouTube. 70. Do you have a lucky number? Why is it so lucky? I don’t believe in luck, but my favorite number is 8. 71. Do you set your browser to remember passwords? No. 72. Describe the perfect burger: I’m not a big burger person, but if I were to have one I’d just want cheese, ketchup, mustard, and mayo. 73. What was the last thing you made yourself to eat? A sandwich. 74. Do you agree that the nude scenes in movies are generally unnecessary? Uhh sometimes, but it’s whatever. I still act like a kid and mostly look away, though lol. 75. Have you ever stood on a sea creature while at the beach? Uh, no? 76. What’s worse; speaking in all caps, or all lowercase? When people type in all caps my mind reads it like yelling. 77. What’s your favourite place to go for fast food? Taco Bell, Burger King, McDonald’s, Chick-Fil-A, or Jack in the Box. However, I haven’t really been into fast food at all for the past few months, oddly enough. 78. How many fillings do you have? A lot. 79. Do you prefer warm or cold hands? I’m fine with my hands being warm, just not me overall being hot. 80. Have you ever had a mud fight? No. 81. When you see people in love, is your first reaction “ew” or “cute”? Cute.

82. Have you ever woken up from a dream and thought it had actually happened? 83. Do you know anyone who closely resembles someone else? Yeah, family members. lol. 84. When your sunburn peels, do you leave it or pull at it? I’m the worst cause I pull it. :X 85. What type of food do you find yourself craving most (sweet, savoury, meat, etc.)? Savory. 86. Why did you last go to the doctors? Monthly checkup for one of the ongoing things I’m dealing with.

#personal #text #survey #surveys

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decantae · 5 years

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A snippet from For Queen and Country that’s about a year old. The premise of this scene is Louise (radio personality and fledgling vampire) handling the aftermath of an on-air hijacking used to incite violence against the Other.

If you would like to be tagged in FQAC writing posts, please let me know - I lost my tag lists!

Word Count: 1,478

"That was the single scariest thing I have ever had to deal with on air," Louise said as soon as she tagged in her replacement. Even getting to her feet was a struggle with legs like jelly. Joe pressed a mug of hot coffee into her hands, and guided her through to the break room. "And that includes that one caller who phoned-in when he thought he'd committed a hit-and-run. Though it's a close thing."

Joe let her ramble until they were in the kitchenette. Several passing workers (including a few rubberneckers from next door's underground anarchist magazine) made reassuring comments on their way by, and Louise maintained a shaky public smile through it all, but once they were alone, she leaned heavily against the sink, mindless of spilled water soaking into the back of her faux fur coat. "I hope it's not a slow news day on the BBC. Or ITV. Or Sky News. That message does not deserve any more air-time than it's already gotten. Fuel to the fire. Did you get it recorded?"

Joe shot her a funny look, then head tilted to the side quizzically. It drove her to wonder if there was something on her face, and she bent down to check in the nearest reflective surface, the microwave door. It may have just been the dim lighting but she seemed to have adopted a pallor that even her make-up couldn't hide. Beneath red lips and blush she was chalky-white, reading to her eyes as an embalmed corpse ready for the open casket funeral.

"Yeah, we got it. I'd advise you to slow down and breathe just a sec,” he continued, “but all the horror flicks I've ever seen suggest vampires don't need oxygen. Can't say I've ever seen one of your sort go into shock."

"It would be just my luck to be the first to do so," Louise said faintly. As much as she had grown used to life as a creature of the night, it felt no less taboo to be discussing such matters with a human –– even one in the pocket of the Collective, as Joe was. He had previously made it clear that he would never bring it up at work unless it was critical.

Silence reigned. She gulped down her coffee, which satiated a thirst, but not the thirst; the one that made the back of her throat itch, as if there were slivers of microscopic glass tuck in all the little fleshy crevices down her oesophagus. Her mind couldn't stop refocusing on the sensation, like worrying at a hangnail, or picking at a scab.

Her gaze slid to the fridge. "Joe," she began lightly, breaching a sensitive topic. "Do you mind if I—–?" "Oh, God no. Go ahead. You look like you need it, and, um, I'm anemic, so... Whatever you need to do." Her manager waved a hand and took up a position in front of the closed door, a guard against any curious colleagues. In the meantime, Louise descended upon the paper bag in the fridge like a bat out of hell, pausing only to rummage around in one of the cabinets for a reusable metal straw.

Drinking from the packaged blood inside was sweet, sweet relief after a long day, even if it was cold. (Still, after the DIY AB+ ice-lollies she'd attempted to make from last summer, anything was an improvement.)

While Joe was purposefully fiddling with his phone as she sucked the bag dry, careful not to smear her lipstick, she allowed herself to muse what it would be like to drink hot, living blood. Apparently, according to some of her brothers and sisters in the Collective, it was easy to acquire a taste for the 'real thing'. When the man coughed uncomfortably, she averted her gaze.

Already, her throat was soothed and her frayed nerves were bolstered. If there were to be interviews for the telly, she thought she might be able to stand and do one of them now – or at least sit for it. "Right," Joe said, when her straw could suck up no more. As Louise moved on to slicing open the bag with one fang to get at the trapped liquid, he unsuccessfully masked a wince. It was just a bag. "This is a big old mess, and we're going to have to work overtime on working out a plan of action with the Collective. Take the night off, Lou."

"What?" She looked up, and the blood in the plastic ran over and dripped down the corner of her lips. "No way. I haven't missed a day in four years and six months and I'm certainly not going to start now. That would be absurd." Something in Joe's eyes told her that it was a position he wouldn't budge from. "What is it?" "You know what? Make it a long weekend."

"Did I do something wrong?" Louise asked, stunned. "I know I was a bit shaken by the whole thing, but I'm sure I'll be as right as rain tomorrow. Besides, I'd like to see Chris Moyles or, god forbid, Chris Evans do any better in that situation." Perhaps if she kept lying, one of them would scan as the truth. "Really, I'm good."

"Yeah, um, not to make this workplace discrimination or anything, but you're literally dripping blood on the tiles." Louise looked at the plastic bag scrunched in her hand, the trails of blood running down her arm, and then the circular splashes on the ground before tossing it into the rubbish bin. Joe continued with palpable uncertainty, gesturing to her chin and cheek, "And you've got a little bit of it on your face––here. And there."

She ran her thumb along the worst of it and licked it off. "Wow, I'm so sorry, Joe. I'll clean this up right away. This has never happened before..." As she reached for the paper towels, he stopped her. Finally, she recognised the twin emotions in his face that she had confused before: concern and apprehension. They did not seem so unwarranted now.

"Don't worry about this, pet. It's only blood –– I'll handle it. Won't even write it up as a biohazard." Joe patted her on the shoulder as he moved to clean up, passing her a sheet of kitchen roll for her face. Though a slip-up of such a magnitude was unheard of for her, she knew to dab off blood like excess foundation rather than smear it, at the very least. It was times like these that Louise was reminded that Joe had been in the employ of the vampires for longer than she had been one. He must be used to spillages. "Do me a favour and head home."

Her protest was fainter this time; she could barely hear her own voice. "You said we're going to have to sort things out with the Collective..."

"And, tell you what, if you feel like calling up Queen or Kaminski or one of the others later on, you can do that. As long as you take a nap first." He shot her an easy grin. "Or have a stiff drink. When was the last time you had a Friday and a Saturday off?"

Louise hesitated, though she knew the answer. "Four years and six months..." "Exactly. Now go on, get. And if I see you in here tomorrow, I'm adding another day."

Louise nodded, and with one last check in the microwave door to ensure the blood looked enough like a student project rather than a murder victim, she left the kitchen area and On the Edge studio with great haste, only diverging from her path to pick up her Prada bag from the cloakroom. What could only be disassociation marked her exit: one moment her heels were clicking on the linoleum of the empty corridors and the next she was tripping over her own two feet on the tarmac of the parking lot.

It was only once she was in her car, a yellow Mini, that she closed her eyes against the sunlight. Joe asked a workaholic to stop working, and this was the effect. What else could she possibly do with her time? Message the bosses, that's it. Sliding her phone out from her bra, she scrolled through her contacts to ascertain who would be the best one to ask for guidance–– ––until, for once, she didn't feel like sorting it out immediately.

The best place to find a vampire was to show up at one of the clubs. Drinks were good, but it wasn't even midday yet. She could survive until they opened with a bath (plus bubbles) and some soothing music, but she hadn't been out on the town alone since her 21st, and given how bloody that night ended, she was not excited to relive the trauma.

Unless.

#louise #my writing #original writing #writeblr #wips #vampire stories #amwriting #creative writing #fqac #vampire

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news-mashable-yahoopartner-blog · 6 years

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17 terrifying creepypastas guaranteed to keep you up at night

The age-old tradition of telling ghost stories around a campfire has gotten a digital upgrade with creepypastas — scary stories or pictures that spread across message boards, becoming internet lore that are discussed both on and offline.

People around the word share their bizarre and terrifying creepypastas, hoping that the tales will gain popularity and become classics, often quoted or cited by horror fans and frightened netizens.

Like with the ghost stories of old, not all creepypastas are particularly scary or good, even if they are frequently passed around. Reading a long story with an interesting title or image is no guarantee of a frightening payoff, and the writers often forget that just having someone meeting a quick and unfortunate fate does not an interesting story make.

When a real gem of a creepypasta is found, it makes all the searching and scavenging worth it (at least until it's time to fall asleep). So grab a friend, turn off the lights, and prepare to be scared to scroll any further — here are 17 of the scariest creepypastas.

1. The Slender Man

A post shared by SLENDERMAN ™ ☛ALWAYЅ WATCHES (@slender.mxn) on Aug 23, 2018 at 12:40pm PDT

Before this pale, faceless ghoul had his own movie and video game series, he haunted the forums of the internet with his finely pressed suit and unnaturally long limbs. The Slender Man's story is not a narrative one, but a pseudo-historical look at this monster's history with humanity that is tied into several other creepypastas.

Typically, the Slender Man preys on children and those who become obsessed with his existence, though no one knows exactly what happens to the bodies since no one has ever escaped from an encounter with him. Suggested stories featuring the Slender Man include The Tall Man and the Marble Hornets videos.

In the real world, this creepypasta figure became a key figure during an assault and subsequent criminal case in 2014 involving three 12-year-old girls. Wisconsin teens Anissa Weier and Morgan Geyser, lured their friend, Payton Leutner, into the woods during a game of hide-and-seek. In an reported attempt to appease Slender Man, the duo stabbed Leutner 19 times and left her at the scene. Leutner managed to drag herself to a nearby road where a cyclist found her, and she was immediately taken to a hospital where she recovered from her injuries.

Soon after the attack, Weier and Geyser were arrested and tried for attempted second-degree murder. In 2017, Weier was sentenced to 25 years in a mental institution, while her accomplice Geyser was sentenced to 40 years in a mental hospital in 2018.

2. Candle Cove

A post shared by Nicky (@burialshroud) on Mar 6, 2018 at 12:52pm PST

Everyone has a television show from their childhood that they fondly remember. Like those who nostalgically recall the adventures of Dora the Explorer, Mister Rogers, and Sesame Street, some adults rediscovered their favorite show from the 1970s, Candle Cove, on a television forum in this creepypasta. Slowly, their memories of the show grow darker and more disturbing until one of the adults asks his mother about the true nature of the show.

The forum format of the story adds a spooky realism to the tale, also making it easy to recreate and share on other boards. If you find this story particularly compelling, watch the first season of the Syfy original series Channel Zero, which is based off this creepypasta.

3. Robert the Doll

A post shared by 😱معرفی فیلم های ترسناک👻 (@filme_tarsnak) on Apr 3, 2018 at 12:48am PDT

Not for the faint of heart, Robert the Doll really exists. The myths surrounding him vary, especially since it became so popular on the internet. The doll was given to artist Robert Eugene Otto in the late 1800s or early 1900s by a servant working in his family home. The doll, which he named after himself, then took on a life of its own and began to terrorize the family.

Otto is said to have kept his doll into adulthood and it subsequently tormented his late wife to insanity. When the doll was found by another family, the girl to whom it was given was terrified of it and refused to have it in her room.

The doll is currently residing in the Fort East Martello Museum in Key West, Florida. Visitors must ask Robert politely if they want to take his photo. If they mock him or take his photo without permission, Robert is said to lay a curse on them.

4. Anasi's Goatman Story

A post shared by Only Stupid Answers (@onlystupidanswers) on Aug 15, 2016 at 10:04am PDT

Based on a Native American legend, this creepypasta was originally found on 4Chan's paranormal board /x/, where some of the best creepypastas can be found.

The story follows a teenager who goes down to Alabama to be with his extended family. While he, his cousins, and their friends are camping out in the woods, they see a strange figure — the Goatman — jerking and spouting gibberish as it follows them. They spend the rest of the night in fear as the Goatman slowly infiltrates the group, terrorizing the teens into a frenzied state of paranoia.

This mix of pre-existing lore and new narrative is not rare for creepypastas, but it's the strength of the writing that really makes this particular story worth sharing. There are variations of this story, but most follow a similar formula where a group is stalked by the titular monster with different outcomes.

5. The Russian Sleep Experiment

A post shared by All Things Horror Lover (@allthingshorrorlover) on May 5, 2018 at 1:10pm PDT

A staple of best creepypasta lists everywhere, the title of this story itself carries with it a sense of dread and horror. Shortly after World War II, five political prisoners are subjected to an experiment in which they have to remain awake for 30 days in a tank filled with an experimental gas. As with most science-gone-wrong stories, the test subjects begin to lose their minds among a number of other gruesome symptoms. The horror does not end when the experimenters try to save their subjects — far from it.

Just know that this story may not be appropriate if you are squeamish or dislike gore, as the narrative goes into graphic detail about the physical state of the patients. Thankfully there are no pictures, or this would be the ultimate nightmare fuel.

6. Jeff the Killer

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A post shared by @creepypasta_0505 on Sep 4, 2018 at 10:30pm PDT

If you've never laid eyes on the infamous image of Jeff the Killer before, consider yourself lucky. The basic story concerns Jeff, a serial killer who hides in the closet and whispers "go to sleep" to its victim before slaughtering everyone in the household. Even more disturbing than his M.O. is his appearance — his face is smooth and stark white, a huge grin and small lid-less eyes. He is one of the most easily recognizable creepypastas, with his eerie stare posted across forums.

His origin story involves a fight that resulted in a chemical burn on his face and caused him to suffer a mental break. Soon after, he murdered his family and disappeared into the night to make guest appearances in your nightmares.

7. BEN Drowned

A post shared by you shouldn't have done that (@ben.is.drown) on May 3, 2016 at 4:04am PDT

Hacked video games are often found in creepypastas, but none is more infamous than BEN Drowned, the story of Matt, a college-age boy who picks up a hacked cartridge of The Legend of Zelda: Majora's Mask at a garage sale.

As the boy plays, he captures the strange occurrences in the game and real life until it ultimately culminates into a full haunting. The narrator and BEN's fates are left up to the reader's imagination, but the tale implies that a happy ending is not in the realm of possibility.

This creepypasta is one of the few that integrate multiple types of media into the story. There is the text of the story itself — both a formal post version that went up on 4Chan's /x/ forums in real time and a diary included on the final post — and videos of the disturbing gameplay under the YouTube channel Alex Hall (originally Jadusable). The footage includes a warped soundtrack, terrifying glitches, and a creepy statue that is supposed to be BEN following the player around.

While the story is clearly fictional, the level of dedication to creating this eerie story makes it worth the read.

8. Persuaded

A post shared by Dark Town (@darktown.cz) on Jul 12, 2017 at 6:29am PDT

Zombies definitely have a place in creepypastas, especially after having taken over the majority of pop culture. However, in the spirit of keeping readers on their toes, these zombies don't need frenzied biting to increase their numbers, which elevates this tale above and beyond other zombie-inspired creepypastas.

After a massive oil spill, all those touched by the substance begin to viciously attack other creatures, causing mass panic across the country. The nameless protagonist holes himself up in his apartment, waiting for the screaming, violent horde to come crashing through his door and tear him limb from limb. If only that had actually happened, instead of the two day-long nightmare that really unfolds.

9. Smile Dog

A post shared by Son Of Darkness (@son_of.darkness) on Aug 24, 2018 at 5:57am PDT

If there's any story on this list that best captures the message "be careful what you wish for," Smile Dog is it. The creepypasta deals with an image posted on an old bulletin board system back in 1992 called smile.jpg. Those who saw the image either disappeared or died, save for one Mary E., who the narrator goes to interview. What he eventually learns is that some things, even simple pictures, are better left as mysteries than dealing with the horrifying truth.

In case you were wondering, the story does come with an accompanying image, but you may not want to see it after reading the full story. Though, in the end, you may not have a choice.

10. Annora Petrova

A post shared by The Unknown (@daily_creepypasta) on Jan 4, 2015 at 9:27am PST

This tale reminds us that it's best not to Google yourself, no matter how tempting it may be. Annora Petrova was one of the most promising figure skaters in the United States, until she discovered a sentient Wikipedia page about her. After trying to selfishly alter her fate by editing the page, her life spirals out of control in the most unexpected ways, until she is a friendless orphan (which isn't even the worst part).

While the Wikipedia page does not actually exist, it's a harrowing tale about messing with the unknown forces of the internet. If you do check this story out, make sure you click on the image at the bottom of the email for an extra layer of spookiness.

11. NoEnd House

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Yo, if you're not watching #ChannelZero on #SyFy get 👏 on 👏 that 👏 shit! Each season is a different story, season 1 is on Shudder, the other two are on SyFy.com #horror #candlecove #noendhouse #butchersblock

A post shared by WHO GOES THERE PODCAST (@whogoestherepodcast) on Aug 18, 2018 at 9:34am PDT

Haunted houses are at the center of many famous scary narratives, and surviving the night in one earned teenagers instant respect. Still, is the potential trauma and death worth the admiration of people who you'll likely never see again after graduation? This creepypasta answers with a firm and decisive "no."

NoEnd House promises $500 to whomever can survive a trip through its nine rooms of torture, a challenge that our narrator David readily accepts. The rooms begin to grow increasingly sinister and evil, pushing the limits of David's psyche and humanity. Are nine rooms really worth such a small monetary compensation that won't even pay for one therapy session?

The Syfy series Channel Zero also covers this creepypasta in its second season if you want to add some visuals to this spooky story.

12. Psychosis

A post shared by The Art Of Milta Svartvis (@nordteufel) on Aug 24, 2018 at 6:31am PDT

Can you really trust what you see and feel? Is your life all a computer simulation? Do we live in the Matrix? Are we all just people in someone's else dream that is bound to end? Is this the real life, or is this just fantasy?

Existentialism may not be the scariest of philosophies, but Psychosis shows that proving human existence beyond innate fears and paranoia is an inner battle that can never be won.

John soon finds out that he's been cut off from the rest of the world — his only communication with other people is through electronic devices. He quickly becomes paranoid and becomes convinced that everyone around him is lying, trying to get him to come outside his door so an unknown entity can get him. His logic tries to defy his gut feeling, but he falls further into the belief that something has gone horribly wrong outside, and it's coming for him next.

13. Doors

A post shared by The Unknown (@daily_creepypasta) on May 17, 2014 at 1:48pm PDT

This creepypasta is popular for its Shyamalan-esque nature. The tale follows a family with a young male narrator who talks about their daily lives together.

One night, the household is attacked by a mysterious figure that our intrepid protagonist tries to chase out. Giving any more of the plot away would ruin the surprise, but this story proves that brevity can be an effective tool when used to properly horrifying and amaze.

14. Gateway of the Mind

A post shared by Synther (@creepypastap0sts) on Jun 23, 2013 at 9:29am PDT

Ever wonder what would happen if you couldn't see, hear, smell, taste, or touch? Well, this creepypasta is here to put that theory to the test in what is honestly the most terrifying science experiment.

The story centers around a group of scientists who wish to make contact with God, and they believe that this could be possible by removing the body of all five senses. After performing a complex sensory surgery on a test subject, the poor person is completely disoriented and begins to hallucinate and "hear" people who have passed away.

What happens at the end is extremely meta, but the grueling details involving the pure mental torture the subject goes through is enough to absolutely creep anyone out.

15. The Rake

A post shared by Creepypasta is my life❤ (@creepylenya) on Jan 20, 2018 at 12:35am PST

This monster may not be as famous as his cousin, Slender Man, but he sure is just as creepy. The Rake is a humanoid creature that is completely pale, hairless, and has a thirst for human flesh.

According to Know Your Meme, this creature was originally created in 4chan's /b/ board where someone opened a "make your own monster" thread. The description that eventually became a part of The Rake was, "no apparent mouth, pale skin, six feet tall when standing, but usually crouches and walks on all fours, no nose, no mouth," and many other disturbing physical features.

Eventually this creature played a central role in many creepypastas. Most of these stories primarily involve documented encounters with the monster, and more often than not, the person dealing with The Rake never makes it out alive.

16. Lavender Town Syndrome

A post shared by Aura\|/ (@aurablade0012) on Mar 11, 2016 at 7:55pm PST

A classic video game creepypasta that hits a little too close to home for those of us who grew up playing the original Pokémon Red and Blue during the late '90s. This creepypasta centers around the game Pokémon Green, which was only released in Japan in 1996.

According to the legend, rates of illness and suicide in children in Japan between the ages of 7-12 have reached a fever pitch. The common connection between all of them? They all played Pokémon Green and had reached an area known as Lavender Town whose theme music had extremely high pitches.

After conducting studies on this phenomenon that became known as "Lavender Town Syndrome," scientists realized that there was a certain tone in the town's music that only the ears of young children and teens could hear. This had essentially drove this demographic who played the game to insanity, causing them to have headaches, ear issues, and die from suicide.

While this sparked many theories and creepypastas surrounding Lavender Town and the original Pokémon games, this creepypasta is actually loosely based off a real-life incident involving a Pokémon episode that only aired in Japan in 1997.

During the airing of the 38th episode of the original Pokémon television series titled Electric Soldier Porygon, a scene that made use of extreme flashing images gave hundreds of children epileptic seizures.

17. The Expressionless

A post shared by the eEyore (@the.eeyore) on Jul 24, 2018 at 6:52am PDT

In this creepypasta classic, a woman wearing a white gown that was covered in blood stumbled into a hospital in 1972. According to the nurse who is recounting this event, she said that this woman had the appearance of a mannequin, but was very much human-like in her movement and mannerisms.

After throwing a kitten she had clamped in her jaws on the ground, doctors and nurses rushed the woman into a hospital room for evaluation. Little does the hospital staff know that they have no idea who, or rather what, they're dealing with.

WATCH: These are the creepiest dolls we've ever seen

This story was originally published in 2013 and updated in 2018.

#_uuid:1aadc453-4bc8-36d4-913b-77dbb7a37915 #_category:yct:001000002 #_lmsid:a0Vd000000DTrEpEAL #_author:Xavier Piedra #_revsp:news.mashable

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crappierpasta · 6 years

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Hollow

She was beautiful.

She and I would sit with my laptop for hours on end, looking for the scariest things we could find. It was an odd relationship, but it worked. Something just clicked when I was with her. She was the love of my life and my best friend. Nowadays, I would give anything to have her back.

She knew of the things I had seen. She dismissed it. Ah, Jordan, it's just your mind playing tricks on you. I wonder if she still thinks it was just my mind.

Really, she was always worried about me. I suppose that when you look at it from her perspective - the perspective of one who hadn't lived the way I had, who hadn't seen what I had seen - it would rationalize her train of thought. Sometimes, I wonder if she thought me insane. I know there were some times she did. The love in her eyes when we lay together, when we made love, and when we scared ourselves silly... I kjust knew that it was because of that love I would never lose her. She was mine 'til death did us part.

I really don't know how to describe the things I see. Beautiful, lumbering, graceful, damned, hateful, loving... I wouldn't be wrong in saying slender, and that's no allusion. Just as damned as the drunk that walks down the street from the bar each night, scratching his sickly face and adjusting the worn hat on his head, only to have it fall on its slant once more moments later. Just as loving as a mother to her kin.

They are us, essentially, with long, cracked-looking limbs and expressions that can be both grotesque and beautiful. They are young and old, just as we are, and they are all greatly varied. They are the walking souls that never lived, not unborn and not undead. I've been seeing them for three years now, in numbers just as great as humans. They are their own society, treating us as though we do not exist. They do not behave as we do, however. I told her and saw fear in my eyes - not of the beings of which I spoke, but for myself and my mental state of being. She loved me, but... alas, she couldn't see. Seeing was believing.

There was a day, about two months ago, when I walked with her. The same walk we'd walked a thousand times before. We lived on a circular road and often made the loop together while talking. I'd noted that, although the loop was our usual route, there'd only been one route we'd completely avoided in all those months we were lovers. It was the road the mayor lived on. Bowater. This particular day, I suggested to her we walk up through Bowater. I'd never gone far enough to reach the end of the street in question. She devoutly refused and explained that there was a night long ago when she was followed down that road by a large, black, burly figure of insurmountable height. Knowing what I've seen, she also dismissed anything of paranormality. I was unconvinced, but I left well enough alone and we continued on our usual treck.

I really should have seen it coming, but we were so vulnerable.

Julia called me one night... or, rather, morning. Around 3AM, to be precise. She told me she was scared. She was seeing and hearing things. She needed to talk. I stayed on the phone with her for two hours, trying to calm her down as much as possible. I did my best. It almost worked. She was dozing off and I was happy to hear it. I was tired, too. Then... a thump. It was almost a footstep, but not quite. I couldn't hear it well over the phone, but I could tell it wasn't a footstep. Okay so... Julia. Back to her.

After the thump, I heard her stop breathing. I panicked and called her name twice. She cut me off the third time with a scream. I heard a commotion. I heard her running. I heard a door slam and lock, then more running and moving curtains. I spoke her name a couple of times more.

"Julia?" I asked. "Julia?" "Jordan, don't go," came the reply. "Please don't go." "It's okay. What's wrong?" "She's out there. In the hallway." "Who's in the hallway, Julia?" "I don't know who's in the hallway, Jordan. It's just a she. It's white. It smiles with its eyes. She smiles. She." "Julia, calm down. Calm down. What is she?" "I don't want to talk about it, Jordan. I can't describe it. I just want to forget. Talk to me, Jordan. Talk to me, please. About anything. Just not that."

There was a reason I wanted to know. I wanted to know because I've never ever seen one in a house... until the night before that. What I'd seen was unlike everything else.

Everything else had remained very humanoid to an extent. This was... like a mafia murder gone wrong. Like someone had stuffed her body in a suitcase and left her alive to grow that way. Her face... Her face was smiling. It was a sickly black, toothless grin with wide, white bloodshot eyes. A black object that looked to be a horn with a ball end extended slightly from where her nose would have been.

What sickened me was that her face was hanging - literally - from this ball-ended horn. It was like a child's halloween mask. The gap between her face and head was held together loosely by blood-soaked skin, stretched to purple like tiny little slimy rope ligaments. Her face wriggled and spun loosely, hanging by the ball end and ligaments. It made small squelching noises as she moved. Her arms stretched under her legs and bent with four joints each, to become hind legs of some sort. It was like some kind of sick, disfigured child was trying to play leap frog. Her legs were relatively normal, though I couldn't see them well under the pure white dress she wore. The last defining feature of this thing were the three grotesque humps protruding from her back.

It was on my porch. I'd gone to use the washroom and decided to use the kitchen light on so I could find the bathroom light switch (our bathroom connects to the kitchen for some reason). I turned on the light. Everything was fine. I went to the bathroom, finished my business, and walked over to turn the kitchen light off. I was greeted by the sight of that thing as I neared the porch. It looked up, its head lulled sickly to the side, and it smiled at me. I was used to seeing things, but the sight of this creature sickened me so badly. I felt that instead of hitting the switch and making a run for it, I'd have to run to the toilet to puke. I followed through with the former, however, and kept my door locked for the rest of the night. I did eventually fall asleep, but it was light and restless.

I was sure Julia was seeing exactly what I had the night before. I couldn't pressure her about it, however, or I'd scare her even more. I spoke gently to her and calmed her down. Soon, she drifted off to sleep, allowing me to finally sleep myself.

The days went by. Julia still refused to go near Bowater. There was a new path she was trying to stay clear of, too: a trail we always used to cut through to the park. She was hiding something. I resolved to find out what. I spent most of the days with her. The sweet summer air was a welcome change from the rain we'd been experiencing. I tried to ask her about that night, but she refused to talk. She wouldn't say a word about it. We went to my place. She wasn't excited about our scary hour anymore, so we just cuddled. I swear to God there was never a moment that day that I doubted she was the love of my life.

We went our separate ways that night, parting with a long, lingering kiss. It was another reminder of our promise to one another. I told her to tell me if anything happened. I'd be over in a second if she needed me. She did. After all, I only live across the street. That night, she didn't say a lot online. I tried to elicit conversation, but was met with nondescriped ooh and ahs. Around 1:30AM, she went offline. At 2AM, I got a text. I sighed with relief that it was her. The content of the text, however, made me uneasy.

"Im going for a walk, sorry"

I looked out the window, toward her house, and saw not a single light on. Not even in her room. I noticed her front door was open and watched as she walked - or at least stumbled - out, cloaked in her long, pink jacket. It was far too large and hot to be wearing on a summer's night. I couldn't see her face very well. I tossed on some shoes and ran outside just in time to see her nearly disappear on the loop of that circular road. I walked fast, keeping my distance and keeping quiet. When she stopped, I felt fear.

She was standing in front of the trail. The one she'd avoided so heavily. She stood there for a good five minutes and almost moved to go with her before noticing she was no longer alone.

One of the things walked out of the trail. This one was different as well, but nowhere near as grotesque as the one I'd seen before. This one wore a wooden mask. It was what I would have called a plague doctor mask. The long "nose" of the mask descended to its chest and it was, otherwise, cloaked in black. A long, skinny arm reached out of the cloak and Julia reached toward it, holding something in her hand.

No.

No no no.

It wasn't a hand she held out.

It was a foot.

My heart stopped. I knew. I just knew. I'd never bothered to question the way she walked, as though drunken. I never bothered to look at her feet or her hands. I looked down and, sure enough, there were two hands with spindly, long fingers stretched over the road in the streetlight's midst. My heart stopped and broke at the same time, for I knew that the face I looked at was that of my beloved. My beloved. My Julia. I yelled. I yelled with so much force and anger that the plague doctor himself flinched. Julia turned and I got my first clear look at her face.

Scared.

Regretful.

Dead.

The plague doctor walked up behind her, grabbing the jacket from the front, as if hugging her, and tore it open. I was greeted by the girl-thing from the night before, her body cozily hugged by my Julia's ribcage.. for a spine, neck, and head were all that was left of my beloved. I cried. I cried out, to myself and to the things that killed her. I cried with rage and heartbreak - loudly and angrily - and began to run. I ran toward them, glaring at that detached face and waiting for its stupid fucking grin to fade. I glared, waiting for the satisfaction I'd get at seeing the fear in its bloodshot eyes before I bashed its fucking skull in.

It smiled widely.

I made it under the streetlight, merely ten feet away from the thing sickeningly cradled by Julia's body, when I was grabbed. I spun around to see nothing, but when I looked to my side there was a bony, blue hand holding onto my shoulder. I looked up and there was another of them. It was hanging from the streetlight, a noose tightened around its neck. Its face was blue and cold, like the rest of it, and it was smiling. Unlike the girl-thing, this being had no eyes. Rather, it had a crazy, wise glint in its empty sockets. Its feet were suspended feet above my head, but its arms were disgustingly long. Long enough to grab me.

I tried to run, to continue towards the killer, but those fragile-looking limbs held me in place. I looked up again and cursed that stupid fucking thing for keeping me from killing the killer. It merely smiled and smile that would have looked encouraging on a normal old man and, for the first time, I heard the voice of one of them. It spoke as it smiled, in an old man's soft voice. It spoke but one word before tossing me a good five feet back. I landed on my side and a sharp pain shot through my body, temporarily paralyzing me. I got up and they were gone. All that was left was the hollow body of my beloved, on the ground and staring up at me sadly.

I ran. By God, I ran. I ran home, snuck inside, and went straight to my room. I soberly reflected on everything I'd ever done with Julia. I reflected on all of it and smiled. That morning, I awoke with the firm belief that my beloved was alive and all of it was a bad dream. I phoned her, to let her know how much I loved her and how thankful I was that I'd met her in the first place. Her father picked up. He told me her body was found two hours ago by the park trail. I hung up and proceeded to break down. It's been a month since she died and I still think of what the hanged creature told me that night.

One word.

Samhain.

Written by Jordan.

#Creepypasta #Hollow #Creature #Unexplained #Murder #Jordan

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marzipan-moon · 6 years

Text

Everything.

Characters: Korekiyo & his sister. Warnings: Graphic descriptions of illness/dying. No spoilers for DRV3 beyond Korekiyo’s freetime. Crossposted: To AO3 Author comment: Phew!!! This really took a lot out of me, haha. I’m really, really proud of this, though! There’s a lot of folklore: I tried to use good sources wherever possible, however, I’m no professional so please take it all with a grain of salt (ha.) Also, a massive, massive shout out to @kumaspagheddi . Without you, I don’t think I would ever have given myself so deep into our shared hell. I was thinking of you and our discussions a lot while writing, so I hope you don’t mind if I dedicate this piece to you. Thank you for everything.

“In the Anmatyerre tribe of central Australia, the women and children are taught to fear a great spirit called Twanyirika,” she begins. She’s speaking so softly, the cover of her futon pulled up to her chin. “Now, Korekiyo, what does central Australia look like?” She always begins stories like this. She needs to know the geography, paint the landscape. Peel back the walls of this room and let in the hot dust and red-whipped sand. “It’s a desert. Flat but peaks that jut out of the land like boils. Green shrubbery, snakes and kangaroos. Frequently subjected to bushfires, violently red as the earth it chars. ” “A harsh landscape, wouldn’t you say?” She smiles. “Can you imagine? We’d melt in the heat.” She glanced down, humming a laugh. He could tell she still wanted to see it, a melted puddle or otherwise.

“Yeah, we would.” She smiled. “Well. Anyway. The Anmatyerre tribe have long adjusted to these conditions, and of all the things to fear between the heat and the fire and the venomous creatures - a child is taught that the scariest of them all is the great spirit Twanyirika. He grows up hearing, with the other children and the women, the sound of his eerie, booming call screeching from the bush. Whenever a male child is to become a man, he must face Twanyirika himself - be consumed by him and reborn.” “Not an uncommon theme,” he offered - kneeing next to her. “There are countless stories of man facing death only to come back stronger. Siberian shaman hallucinate having their own limbs shorn off and consumed right in front of them before they may practice their medicine and tricks…” She nods enthusiastically, a pale hand reaching to squeeze his knee. “Mmhm. That’s right. But there’s a little more to this story.” “Oh?” He tilts his head, bringing his hand over hers. She pulls it back, fluttering it on her chest. “So! The child grows up. His social unit is just a little cluster of his intimately known relatives, all of whom, in the heart of the desert, walk naked. He learns everything orally, written knowledge eschewed for the stories of his elders. He relies on them wholly, they are the secret-keepers to the universe. So he trusts in them, even, when he is just twelve and taken to be circumcised. He learns the stories of his ancestors through the twisting and turning of dancers, the present and the past mixed together all at once. And throughout it all, he is reminded that he must stay still, he must not cry out, he must remember that Twanyirika awaits. And he can hear the spirit, while all this is going on - his voice swelling out from the bush.” “Finally, the boy is circumcised. All the while, the tribesmen sing in thunderous, deep tones - so loud that they begin to drown out Twanyirika’s cries. Can you imagine? The madness of that moment, the way the world swirls as the men you trust so much pull your foreskin forwards and cut it off - your so paralysed with awe and fear that you don’t even think to cry out. The smell of their bodies, the rounded sound blaring all around you, the frightful beast drawing ever closer.” “And then…” She looked up at him, smile widening. “And then. Out from the bush come other tribesmen, bull-roarers in their hands. They bring the little wooden instrument up to the boy’s wound, catching his blood. And they tell him, then - this simple little slat of wood, carved from a knife and swung round a man’s head, vibrating the air to produce a deep, eerie sound - they tell this child, this new-man, that this is Twanyirika.” “‘Here is Twanyirika, of whom you have heard so much’”, She laughed at that, her fringe flopping over her eyes. “And so, the last of his childhood is destroyed. The final monster is slain. A joke to be laughed at, a screening technique to separate the men from the women, the adults from the children. Can you imagine that? Can you really, really imagine that?” He lifts a finger to his chin, rubbing the material of his face-mask. “Yes… quite the relief, I would imagine. And what a rush of power. If Twanyirika is just a joke, then all else must seem trivial. Ah… Sister! I can see why this story excited you so.” He beams at her, the room slowly fading in - the roar of the bull-roarers and the sound of strange songs and pounding feet being replaced by their quite little home. Tatami mats and low candle-light, their whispers barely above breathing. She smiled back. “Well, Korekiyo. The next story’s yours.” — Needless to say, anthropology had become somewhat of an addiction for them both. “Now, which story should I tell you today?” She was sleeping, but it wasn’t a natural sleep. He didn’t know if she could hear him, but that wasn’t to matter. Even like this, it was enjoyable just to speak to her. The air in the hospital was stagnant, the lights far too bright. The machine that pumped air into her made the most unpleasant noises, the air-conditioning unit humming just to the left of her bed. He hoped she would not listen to that drone, and would instead be lead by his voice. “… Should we look at some manga, dissect it together?” She lay unmoving, the world completely out of her reach. No matter. She was just like a caterpillar wrapped in its cocoon, the shaman deep in his transformative trance, changed into a bird and drifted far and away to the spirit plane - at any rate, she would soon be back. He reached into his bag, pulling out a parcel-shaped book. Leaning his head onto hers, careful not to dislodge the strings of tubes that flowed into her, he flipped it open.

— “Ah! Yes, there - you see the way they merge into each other to gain one another’s powers?” She asked, excitedly, pointing at the page. This was usually how things went. No matter what they were reading, they could never get through it at a quick pace. Everything had to be discussed, every mythology picked out and pointed at. Author-intent be damned, they could open anything and see the strings of the world pulsing through. “Mm. Yeah, I do.” “Well, notice how beautiful and androgynous their bonded form is,” she stroked her finger over the page. “Ah! Isn’t that such a common motif?” “Hmm… Yes. The Ancient Greeks thought that in the beginning, all peoples were joined together. Creatures of male-male, female-female, female-male varieties - powerful things that Zeus himself feared so much that he had to separate them. Romantically, they say that we - the decedents of those creatures, are always searching for our other half.” There was a briefest of pauses as they shared glances, a soft laugh tittering out of her. “Yes. And from Adam - the androgynous mirror of God, out from him came Eve. Angels with no genitals. Eunuchs trusted with holy power. Mmm, and even Yin-Yang, the perfect state of balance, the merging of the two halves back to the perfect one, the wholeness.” She stroked the page again, smiling wider. “And they really are beautiful, aren’t they?” — She said none of this as she lay quietly in bed, his voice a river running over her. The world was still rolling outside, the pulse of it seen through those black and white pages. He analysed everything for her, every page another story, another insight, another thing that tied them to something far, far away from all this. It was so quiet without her voice singing the song of the world alongside him, but he wasn’t alone. She was here, in some way, in the sound of her machines - the warmth of her hand. Her consciousness just a tiny, frail ball - buried somewhere deep, deep inside of her. He hoped it was warm in there. He hoped it was a pleasant dream.

He hoped she wasn’t alone.

—

Sometimes, they’d sing. When they couldn’t play or grew tired of reading or she had a headache - sometimes they’d sing. Singing had curative powers, supposedly - but really, it just made for an excellent distraction. Folk-songs suited their voices best. It was the way they were meant to be sung, by unprofessionals, brimming with passion and a sense of purpose. Songs to pass the days, songs to honour the dead, songs to remember some event that history had long lost.

And their singing, at least, could drown out the awful hum of those roaring machines. —

When they were younger, she a little healthier - they were still telling each other stories. Countless stories. Yes, with less detailed analysis - primitive interpretations, he was sure - but still, this was how they grasped the world. A thousand different threads, but in each moment they could pick just one. Better than that, it used to be that they didn’t just tell their tales through soft whispers over quiet candle light. Mother and Father worked long hours - and so, she’d raid their closet. She was particularly attached to Mother’s bridal furisode. The long sleeves, the draping train - matched with her hair, it was like everything flowed away from her. Of course, it was much too big for her. Nor was she particularly good at tying, worse still at doing her hair. He was equally hopeless. So there she was - a mess, no make-up, her hair loosely tied and sticking this way and that, in clothes that neither fitted nor entirely suited her - but in those moments, she transformed. They transformed. The walls of their house fell down, and suddenly they were up in the snow covered peaks. She became Princess Kaguya - a child born from bamboo, her eyes wide and staring up at the moon, longing to return but all the earthly attachments winding round her feet to keep her here. He’d hold onto her ankles and pretend to sob as she was dragged away by mythical forces. Or, she’d drop her hair - throwing the ornaments to the floor, wrapping herself up in her thick, black strands. A beautiful woman come to visit him, to tempt him - and he’d ask her to come to the bath. Run it until it was warm - beg her to join him. And when she finally did, she’d scream and disappear under the water - a mess of bubbles, just a coil of thick black hair. The ice-woman melted. A fantasy as fleeting as snow. Or, she’d sneak up on him - padding quietly through the house, hair completely covering her face. And then she’d grab him by the mouth, whisper some chant in his ear, drag him back into hell and pretend to eat him. Sometimes he’d catch her first, run into the kitchen - drawing salt circles on the ground. Sometimes he’d throw the salt on her, watch as she wailed and writhed and melted into the ground - before bursting out into a laugh, melting the dark night and the freezing snow and bringing back a warmth louder than any fire. She’d get her revenge, she warned - pulling her face out through her hair. And he was any number of mythological creatures. He “borrowed” masks from his Father’s trips around the world, a Kitsune his favourite. But when he wasn’t a trickster fox, he was Mwaash aMbooy and Xipe Totec and Krampus - and each one filled his spirit with its own and suddenly he was so much more than himself. Suddenly these countless, stiff stories became real. It was all fun, wildly inaccurate, even - but all of it was something far, far away from here. “Stab me, Korekiyo, stab me harder. Stab me like you mean it! I took everything from you! I gobbled up your children and your wives and your siblings and you think stabbing me like that will get you anywhere?” She’d scolded, once. He didn’t want to, but by her encouragement, he squeezed her ribs harder. And when that didn’t get him anywhere, he tickled his fingers down her sides and she roared out in ‘pain’, kicking him in the stomach with a laugh more ferocious than he’d ever heard. And with that weakness discovered, no matter what monster she changed herself into, he knew how to defeat her. Then she got tired too easily.

Suddenly, she didn’t want to pretend she was a vengeful spirit anymore. He didn’t think that she grew out of it - after all, nothing seemed to embarrass her anymore. But she didn’t want to play those games anymore.

—

Sometimes, he wondered if she was Kaguya. When she slipped away from them, disappeared into the sheets of the hospital bed, he wondered if that was the moon calling on her. Was the heavenly entourage coming to take her away, a feather robe to wipe away all of her sadness and compassion for the people of Earth?

—

Anthropology wasn’t just a way to peel back the four walls that always seemed to surround them. It was a shield to the world - a great knowing, a tap into the higher knowledge that only they knew how to turn on. They could see the knot that bound them all together, even if the ignorant fools around them couldn’t see the obvious. You see, their behaviour can be explained. All behaviour explained. Everything with a reason, everything with a story attached. It was so much more interesting to look at what compelled them to act in such a way, rather than being hurt by their words. Detached from the situation, looking at it like one of their many stories - life eased. Every instance just a mirrored reflection of one that had happened a trillion times before. To be made beautiful, precious in its own way. “So, you see, those bullies are simply exerting in-grouping behaviour. It’s an obvious human behaviour, no? Useful for creating homogenous societies, whom are much easier to manage and control.” “Ahh… Father’s detachment from us is a coping mechanism, his constant ‘overnight’ shifts just an escape. Like any victim of a Yuki-onna. He’ll suffer for it, in the end.”

She was screaming at him. “You don’t understand any of this, any of it at all!” Her fingers gripped the cold railing of the hospital bed, her knuckles threatening to push through what was left of her skin. “You get to have a normal life,” she snapped, “You can learn languages and play instruments and travel the world, you’re going to get to go to high school and university and have all these nice, wonderful friends - while I’m sitting here just rotting in this… this disgusting, filthy, rotting body.” “I can’t do anything,” she’d say, rolling her fingers over her eyes. “Except read. Read and read and read and read until my head turns to mush and the words don’t make any sense anymore. And… and you can. You can. You can do all this stuff. All that living.” He lowered his head, patiently listening. “All of it. You can do all of it, anything you want to. I… I can’t even taste anything anymore, did you know that? Everything’s just the same bland mush in my mouth. I’m so sick of this, I’m sick of this… ! And you’re just sitting here like my eulogy singer. I’m not dead! I’m not dead yet!” “So… why don’t you just leave? I’m serious. Stand up and go live somewhere else and be happy. Leave me alone here so I can… I can finally just, just, just rip my skin off. Rip it all off,” she lifted her fingers to her arms, nails digging into the skin. “Peel it all back so I can get out of this fucking prison!!” There was a tremble in his voice, but he looked at her, and said, “A selkie.” “What?” “The selkie tears its skin off and transforms into a seal. She can only maintain her human form for so long, often long enough to fall into a tragic love affair from which she must depart from - the sea forever calling her as her true home.” She looked at him poe-faced, her mouth parting. “Or the Squonk, an American creature whose skin is so ill-fitting, covered in warts and blemishes that cause it to become ashamed of its appearance. It spends much of its time weeping. Clever hunters who try to catch it are often baffled, for on capture, it will dissolve completely into a pool of tears.” Her lips trembled. “Or perhaps you’re…” She laughed, she was laughing loud and clear. “You’re trying to analyse me, is that it, sweet Korekiyo?” She buried her face in her hands. “I… I must apologise.” —

She died. He stopped thinking that she’d returned to the moon, or that the sea had called on her, or that she was on some epic journey within herself - waiting to be returned stronger than ever. And though they’d read a thousand, million stories about death - it’s trappings, it’s grief, it’s effect on every single behaviour anyone could think of…. None of them came to mind. It was like all his memories had been stripped away and there was just a great wide nothingness. All her wires had come undone, the threads that bound them snapped. There was no knot at the centre of the universe. Everything was disconnected, far-flung and moving ever further away. Alone. Getting colder. He’s not scared of anything, anymore.

— The cord’s bound too tight, his neck drawn back like he’s stargazing. The noise is impossible to bear, deep throated chanting thunderously enveloping him. The ropes bleed into him like the endless tubes that fed into her. Nothing makes any sense. Not that, not this - his hair spilling out of his head and drowning the room, pouring out of this paper house and coiling round the whole world. Winding round their necks. Down their throats. Suffocating them all. Suffocating every single thing. The world goes to scratches and stars, his lungs aching in a red hot burn that takes his consciousness. And suddenly he’s not so helpless, rigid and stiff - unable to move. Suddenly he’s crawling along his own hair, fluid and shapeless, spilling outwards. Spilling upwards.

Nothing, nothing. It’s a great wide nothing. And then there was light. And then there was warmth. The cords slid round him, all the lines of every story like thin movie reels, swirling through his hair. The single red rope around his neck. A tangling of hospital tubes. Vines bearing roses, obi ties and belts, bandages wrapped around a body, wrapped around his hands. Blood lines, rivers, stiff kanji black lines of ink, the flow of time like one huge line that pointed straight to. Her. She’s standing there. Her face a mess of lines. Pale and naked, her hair like cracks in her skin revealing an infinitely dark sky. There’s the roar of the hospital. That eerie call of the air conditioning, the screeching, booming gasp that came from her ventilator. It’s so loud, it’s all he can hear, and there’s nothing more frightening in the world because when he hears it he can’t see her. But then behind him, her fingers slipping over his mouth. And as soon as her fingers brush his lips, everything goes silent. He can feel her body at his back. It’s a shape he’s so used to, a shape that’s so unmistakably hers. And she’s warm. She’s so so so warm. But it’s not until she whispers in his ear that he finally understands. He understands all of it. Every single thing. “Here is Death, of whom you have heard so much.” She’s laughing. It was all a joke! Do you get it? All of this, this whole time - a secret for only those who have been initiated. The curtain peels back, the cry of the machines pumping air into her tired lungs just the bull-roarers calling from the bush. She’s laughing, she’s laughing - Death had been twirling all around them, driving them mad, making them afraid. But don’t you see, Korekiyo? The last of your childhood is gone, this was the secret! The final monster slain. Don’t you feel relieved?

Don’t you feel powerful?

Doesn’t it all just seem… so trivial, now?

All that suffering was just to make the punchline funnier.

“I have so much to tell you.” “I know it all already.” She lifts herself up, twirls through the air. Earth stretches out long and far away, every person and every place and every story at the tips of her fingers. She’s looking at him, her hair covering all of her face except for her smile. “Now go. Go and do all that stuff. All that living.” She’s laughing, she’s laughing, he’s laughing. Whirling their own bull-roarers, the secret theirs to keep.

Earth comes back to him, and suddenly, everything’s connected.

We’re never alone.

クククククククククククククク

#korekiyo shinguuji #Danganronpa V3 #NDRV3 #korekiyo shinguji #korekiyo #ayumu #any feedback is most appreciated #thank you so much for reading!!#writing

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the-barrens-are-ours · 6 years

Text

Happy Holidays!

Hope you have an amazing holiday season @galactiglitter

Here’s some Stanlon from your Secret Santa, hope you enjoy it!

Word Count: About 5,800

Warnings: Mentions of violence, suicide, death

It was times like these where he just needed to remind himself of the good times.

To let himself drown in the memories of sunny days, blissful hours, and best friends. Of the time they spent running barefoot through the Kenduskeag, lighting off fireworks, and whispering late into the night on starry evenings. Of the times they had laughed, of the times they had smiled, and of the times they had cried.

It was times like these where Mike Hanlon was desperate for any memory of something strong enough to distract him from the harrowing pain of loss.

Though, it was also times like these where he sometimes wondered if drowning in the past was even any better. Maybe what he need was to simply forget everything. To wipe the slate clean and pretend as though nothing had ever happened, as though nothing had ever even been there, to begin with.

‘But he had been there,’ Mike thinks, ‘he was there and he changed your life. Don’t you dare forget him, you coward.’

Of course, Mike knows the thought of being able to control what he can and can’t forget is soon to be out of his hands. Afterall, he just first hand witnessed the impact It had on the memories of his friends.Still, the thought of one day not being able to remember just who he was to Mike leaves his mind reeling with uncertainty and his stomach feeling sick. He doesn’t want to forget his best friend, but he doesn’t know how he could possibly live with this pain. Even though it was twenty-seven years ago that it happened, in the memory in Mike’s mind it still feels like it was only yesterday that Stanley Uris had first spoken to him...

“You want to shoot off some firecrackers?”

Despite everything that had just happened to him, being hunted down by Henry, chased through a junkyard, and having to fight off the scariest gang of kids in town with rocks, Mike couldn’t stop the smile that formed on his lips at the other boy’s words. His body was tired, sore, and ached more deeply than the could remember, yet he’s never felt better.

Here these six kids were, bruised, cut, and bloodied because they stood up for Mike and protected him, without even knowing his name. Mike felt oddly honored. He felt welcomed.

The boy cracked a smile when he saw how widely Mike was grinning back at him. He stuck out his hand to Mike. “I’m Stan. Stanley Uris. A pleasure to meet you.”

Mike grabbed his hand firmly and shook it. “Mike Hanlon. And trust me when I say the pleasure is all mine. If you hadn’t been there for me, Henry Bowers would have had my guts for garters.” Mike looked at the other kids standing around Stan. “Thank you, all of you, really.”

Another boy laughed. He had curly black hair and was putting an obnoxious pair of glasses on his face. Mike recognizes him as Richie Tozier. He remembers that he talked to him once, and it was a very odd experience, to say the least. “ Ah, don’t worry about it, kid. Any excuse to turn the table on Henry and kick his ass for once is fine by me.”

Mike looked back over at the kids, seeing how injured they were. “You didn’t need to get hurt for me though. I’m sorry about that.”

The girl with red hair glanced down at the cut on her arm and shrugged. “We’ll heal. Everything we got is way less than what you’d have gotten if Henry got you, anyways. This ain’t so bad.”

Mike glanced at Stan with a look of uncertainty. Stan just gave him a reassuring smile in return. “Don’t worry about it. Besides, that’s what friends are for.”

He froze.

‘Friends,’ Mike couldn’t help but think to himself, ‘I’ve never had friends before.’

He smiled at the other kids with an expression bordering on tearful. “Thank you.”

“Really, Mike, don’t worry about it.” Stan waved his hand dismissively before reaching into his pocket and pulling out a firecracker. “Now, what do you say we light some of these off?”

Mike, overwhelmed by the kindness shown, merely nodded his head in response. Stan handed him one of the crackers and gave him another smile.

“You know,” Stan said an hour later as the seven kids (or, as they seemed to refer to themselves as, the Losers) made their way back to the Barrens after they had lit off their last firecracker. “You’re not bad, Mike. I think we’re gonna be great friends.”

Mike gave a small laugh. “You ain’t too bad yourself. I think we’re gonna be great friends too, Stan.”

—

It was less than a minute until the bell rang and Mike couldn’t help but anxiously tap his foot. It still felt weird to him to be attending a public high school after attending a private religious school all his life. He was just glad his parents were understanding enough to let him attend the same high school as the other Losers. Getting to see them every day certainly made dealing with Derry High’s lacking academics more bearable.

The second the shrill sound of the bell pierced through Mike’s thoughts, the boy was grabbing his backpack and heading out the door.

Dodging and weaving his way through the crowd, Mike quickly made his way to locker 819, the locker closest to Mike’s seventh-period class that belongs to a Loser. Of course, it didn’t just belong to any Loser either, no. It belonged to none other than Stan Uris, and that fact could be confirmed by the cut-out image of a baseball taped to the front of the locker with Stan’s name and baseball uniform number written on it in his neat handwriting. All other members of the baseball team had similar images on their lockers as well.

Mike stood in front of his friend’s locker, carefully trying not to get in the way of students hustling to leave school at the end of what felt like a very long day. He stood up on his toes scanned over the tops of student’s heads trying to spot the curly mess that was Stan’s hair that would be coming from his seventh-period biology classroom. At last, the man Mike had been looking for came into view, smiling at his friend.

“Hi, Mike,” Stan says, giving his friend a small wave before turning to open his locker to put away textbooks.

“Stan!” Mike was beaming. “How was biology?”

“About as good as learning about how grand our existentialism can become gets.”

Mike giggled, and after a moment, Stan joined in. After being friends for so long, Mike had slowly adopted Stan’s bizarre sense of humor, much to the other Losers discomfort since they still didn’t understand it.

Once his books had been swapped, Stan closed his locker and he and Mike made their way out of school and to the Barrens to meet up with the other Losers. The two friends strolled along, chatting casually and enjoying the warmth of the afternoon sun shining down on them. As they passed by the entrance to Memorial Park, Stan stopped dead in his tracks, grabbing Mike’s arm to get his attention.

“Mike, Mike, Mike, Mike, Mike,” Stan whispered in a hushed yet excited breath as he pointed into the park. “Look, look, look.”

Mike followed Stan’s pointing finger and saw a bird at the birdbath located just beyond the gated entrance of the park. He wasn’t much for birds, but Mike did have to admit it was a beautiful creature. It was a striking and bold red in color with a tuff of feathers sticking up on its head, an orange beak, and a black mask over its face. Mike knows he’s seen a bird like this before, but he couldn’t place the name.

“What is it?” He whispered back to Stan, ready for the long explanation and description he was going to be given about the bird. You could hardly ask Stan anything about a bird without being given a whole lecture about it, and that was just one of the many things Mike enjoyed about his friend.

“It’s a cardinal, a male cardinal specifically based on its vibrant coloring, and they’re super rare to see in Derry. I was told a few years ago that there was one that often visited the bath here, but I’ve never actually seen it before…” Stan began to trail off, too caught up in awe of the bird to properly finish his thought.

The two watched the bird as it hopped around the bath for a moment, splashing in the water and ruffling its feathery wings from time to time. After about three minutes, the bird took off, flying across the park and out of their sight. Stan stared after it longingly and Mike couldn’t help but chuckle at him.

“That’s it. It’s been decided.” Stan said firmly after his mind finally returned back to his body.

“What has?”

“My favorite bird. It’s a cardinal. I wanted to be left without a specific breed of bird I was more fond of than the others, but that cardinal was just… stunning, was it not?”

Mike smiled. “It certainly was something.” He nodded his head as he and Stan continued walking.

Stan was quiet for a minute, a small shy smile evident on his lips. “I’m sorry, I’m just still reeling from… this!”

“You’re such a bird nerd.”

“You can say that again, Mike.”

“You’re a bird nerd.”

Stan laughed. “Thank you.”

–

It was a well-known fact that Mike’s home was always welcome to any Losers at any time. It was no secret that most of his friends didn’t have good parents, and Mike’s parents had more than enough love to share to make up for that fact. So when Stan Uris just appeared in Mike’s room, Mike couldn’t really say he was surprised.

“He’s an asshole,” Stan said, flopping down on Mike’s bed.

Mike spun around in his desk chair to face Stan on his bed. “Who?” He asked, already knowing the answer to his rather rhetorical question.

“My dad!” Stan exclaimed, throwing his arm straight up in frustration before dramatically letting them flop back down onto the bed.

Mike stared at his friend for a moment, observing him. He had known Stan for many years now and he knew just how bad his dad could be. As a well-respected member of Derry’s Jewish community, he always expected Stan to follow in his footsteps and become a rabbi like he had. And while Stan was passionate about his beliefs and heritage, Mike knew that Stan also had dreams that differed from that of his father, and that could make family interactions very tense. Mike also knew that Mr. Uris was not shy about playing the ‘I’m disappointed in who you’re becoming’ card on Stan, and Mike couldn’t even imagine how deeply it’d hurt to have to hear those words from one’s parent.

It was blatantly clear from Stan’s demeanor and body language that he was more than just angry about his father. After years of being around him, Mike was able to see through all the hidden chips in Stan’s armor and see just how badly he was hurting within the defenses he’d put up to protect himself. Mike’s heart ached for his friend.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He asked genuinely, giving his friend a comforting smile to show that he was there to support him and wouldn’t force Stan to talk about anything he wasn’t comfortable with sharing. The other boy was quite comfortable and trusting with Mike, but he knew that sometimes Stan would get so upset that he was shut down and close himself off completely from everyone for a while, and Mike didn’t want to overstep any new boundaries his friend may have established. But Stan just stared at Mike for a second, and in that brief moment, Mike saw the walls his friend put up start to crumble down. Then Stan began to talk. He talked about anything and everything that was in his mind. The pressures his father put on him, the uncertainty of his own future, and the doubt that Stan carried with him at the core of his being. Once he started going, he talked and ranted as fast as the sun was setting outside Mike’s bedroom window, drawing out long shadows across the room as the night crept in.

Mike knew Stan well enough by now that he knew based on how Stan was talking he didn’t want help with his problems. No, he didn’t want solutions, he just wanted to say everything on his mind and have someone listen to and hear what he had to say. And Mike made sure he heard every word of it. He nodded along thoughtfully, keeping all of his attention on his friend who at this moment in time needed to know that someone was there for him, and Mike was determined to make sure Stan knew he was there. Stan didn’t have to be alone. He’d always have Mike by his side whenever he needed him there. “And he’s just so… so…” Stan made an angry gripping motion with his hands, staring at the fists he made with rage and frustration as tears started to form in the corners of his eyes.

“Hey,” Mike said, carefully grabbing his friend’s hands to get him to stop before his nails punctured the skin of his palms and he hurt himself. “It’s alright, Stan, I get what you’re trying to say. Don’t worry about not having the right words now, they’ll come to you when the time is right.”

Stan sighed heavily, slowly relaxing his hands. “You’re right, you’re right. I’m sorry.” He sniffled and Mike’s heart ached.

“No, no, no, no. You don’t need to apologize, Stan, I understand. It feels good to let everything out, but you don’t want to hurt yourself.”

Stan pulled his hand from Mike’s. “Yeah, I don’t want to hurt myself either. He just makes my life miserable.” Stan forced out an awkward and uncomfortable laugh to cover up the pained sob that was threatening to spill. “It’s probably time for me to calm down now. This is getting too emotional.”

Mike understood immediately that Stan was done being vulnerable for the time being. He had a lot of insecurities, it was just who he was, and he often times wasn’t comfortable with so openly expressing his emotions.

“Of course.” Mike nodded, turning his desk chair back around to his desk to grab a pad of paper and a pen. “Wanna draw some birds?” He asked.

Stan smiled, taking the paper and pen from Mike’s hands gratefully. No one was ignorant to the fact Stan liked birds, or even the fact that he loved drawing the birds he’s seen in his bird book, but only a few people knew was that the number one way to get Stan to calm down and to relax when he was upset was by drawing birds. The boy just gets so swept up in meticulously replicating the intricate design and details of birds, that all his worries vanish from his mind, even if it is only for a few hours.

So there the two boys sat, tucked away from the vileness of the outside world in the safety of Mike’s room, hidden from sight in the cloak of the night as they drew. Stan laying on his stomach on Mike’s bed, carefully making sure each and every part of his drawing was beautifully accurate towards the real thing, while Mike awkwardly drew blobs with a beak, talons, and wings at his desk. Mike never really was one for drawing, but he would do anything to help his friend feel better, even if the act alone held no interest to him.

Seconds passed quickly, becoming minutes which accumulated into hours, and before either boy noticed, it was two in the morning. They had spent the night talking and drawing, and now they both struggled to keep their eyes open.

“Stan,” Mike whined, flopping down on the bed next to him. “I’m so tired.”

Stan’s small chuckle quickly turned into a yawn. “It is late. I should probably head home.”

“No!” Mike rolled over onto Stan. “Don’t go home yet to your asshole dad. Stay the night, we can have a sleepover.”

Stan gave a choked cough from under Mike. “If I agree will you get off of me?”

“Oh shit. Sorry, Stan.” Mike laughed, rolling off of his friend. “What do you say though?”

Stan quieted, pretending to ponder the offer though they both knew there was no way Stan would choose going home over staying the night with his best friend.

“You know what? Sure.” Stan finally said, and Mike beamed at him happily before scrambling off his bed to pull his sleeping bag out from his closet for Stan.

After watching Mike rush around his room, gathering things for him so he’d be comfortable overnight, Stan got up and helped his friend set up sleeping arrangements for the night. Once the bag was comfortably arranged on the floor with one of Mike’s spare pillows and an extra blanket since Stan always got cold during the night, the two friends gave each other proud smiles before settling down for the evening.

“Need anything else before I turn out the lights?” Mike asked after they both got situated in their respective beds.

“No, I’m good. And thanks for everything tonight, Mike. Thanks for being their and listening and helping. It really means a lot to me.”

Mike chuckled a bit. “Of course. What else are friends for?”

Stan was quiet for a minute, before shifting over to dig through the pockets of the jacket he had discarded when they got ready for bed. At last, he pulled out one of the drawings he did earlier and handed it to Mike. “Here. I know it’s nothing great, but think of it as a symbol of my appreciation and gratitude and friendship.” He gave a shy smile.

Mike took the page, looking at the drawing printed on its surface. It was a cardinal with its wings spread gracefully in flight. It was beautiful. It was also personal, Mike realized when thinking over how cardinals were Stan’s favorite bird.

“Thank you, Stan. It’s wonderful.” The look he gave Stan was full of love, joy, and appreciation. It was also clear he was trying not to tear up at the small yet meaningful gift.

“Don’t you dare cry on me, Mike Hanlon, cause if you do, I’ll cry,” Stan said, blinking quickly to prevent any tears from building up.

“I can’t make any promises, Stanley Uris.”

“I figured not.”

“Love you, Stan.”

“Love you too, Mike.”

“Goodnight.”

“Night.”

Mike clicked the lamp off.

—

“And with this mostly useless piece of paper you’ve given us all here today, Derry High, I must say to you, thank you. For four unpleasant years. And to another four at college, here here, folks!” Richie cheered, throwing his graduation cap up into the air as the crowd gave him a confused yet energetic round of applause. Mike laughed as the principal rushed across the stage to herd Richie off who only just laughed and made faces at the crowd. Ben, who was arranged to sit right next to Mike due to the closeness of their last names, gave him a bone crushing hug after they all had thrown their caps in the air, following Richie’s poor example. Students quickly began to leave their seats in the center of the gymnasium and make their way outside where they could meet up with their families once again. Mike and Ben, however, got out of everyone’s way once outside, heading off school campus over towards the designated spot the Losers had picked out in advance to meet up at after the graduation ceremony had ended. The two boys saw, as they approached, that Stan and Beverly were already there waiting for them. As soon as they arrived, Bev quickly went to hug Ben and Mike. Stan looked on, smiling happily for a moment before Bev dragged him over to join in on their group hug. “Some valedictorian speech Richie gave there, eh?” Mike asked Stan with a chuckle once Bev let them go to sprint over towards Bill who she spotted making his way over towards them. Stan laughed. “I do suppose that is one way to give an important speech. To give Richie props, it’ll definitely be something we remember for the rest of our lives.”

“You can say that again.”

Beverly made her way back over to them with Bill in tow and a recently found Richie and Eddie not far behind. The seven friends, finally reunited, cheered, celebrating their graduation from high school.

“Wait, wait, wait, Mike,” Richie said, smiling at him. “You got your camera with you?” Mike smiled, taking out the Polaroid camera he had attached to a strap that hung around his neck. His parents wanted him to take pictures of his graduation, so he had to sneak his camera in under his graduation gown.

The Losers quickly scrambled to strike a pose as Mike set up his camera for a group photo. After setting the timer, he quickly rushed over and threw his arm over Stan’s shoulders, smiling. The camera flashed and Richie cheered again, reaching over to ruffle Eddie’s hair as the Losers started to disperse.

Mike went over to grab the photo that came out and Stan followed after him.

“So, staying in Derry, Mike?” Stan asked.

Mike looked up from the image he held in his hands. “Oh, yeah. Can’t really afford to go out of state, and you know what they say: no place like home. What about you?”

“Heading to New York State. Nice university. No offense, Mike, but I’m glad to finally be getting out of here and away from my dad.” Stan frowned slightly at the thought of his father, before returning the small smile Mike gave him. “Well, you’re going to be missed here, Stan.”

“I’m gonna miss you too.” Stan quickly embraced his friend. “You better keep in contact with me, Mike.”

“I will. And you better not forget me, Stan. I know you’re leaving and will undoubtedly move on to bigger and greater things, things grander than what this small town can offer, but don’t forget to look back and remember your good ol’ childhood friend, alright now?”

“I won’t, Mike, don’t worry. Jeez, you sound like my mom. Want me to write you every week too?”

“Yes, that would be preferable.”

Stan laughed and Mike gave him a joyful smile back. “Every week then. And you better write me back every week too then, Mike.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

—

And it had been a plan, Mike remembers. A plan that had started off rather well. One week after Stan had left for university, Mike had received a postcard from him that he quickly responded too. The two had gleefully exchanged cards every week, and on rare occasions, they’d even call each other on the phone. Mike had kept every card he’d been given by Stan in a small box of keepsakes hidden safely under his bed, and his pile within it continued to grow regularly. But as time had passed, the postcards would start coming later and later from Stan, until one day, Mike never got a response from him.

Mike couldn’t say he was surprised when he realized he wouldn’t hear from Stan again until the day when he might have needed to call him and all the other Losers back to Derry. He knew that the Losers who’d left were destined to forget about their hometown, childhood, and friends, though that didn’t stop it from hurting when Stan had finally forgotten him.

As Mike sat at the edge of his bed, the box of keepsakes in hand, he couldn’t help but think about what he’d been told about Stan’s fate. Reports state that after receiving a call from a friend, Stan had excused himself to go take a bath, and when his wife had gone up to check on him mere minutes later, he was found dead in his bathtub, wrists slit.

Mike knew without a single shred of a doubt that he had been that friend that called Stan right before his death, and even though he knew Stan would never blame him, he couldn’t help but feel guilty. Guilty that he might have driven his friend to do such an extreme thing after he reminded him of a promise he had made nearly three decades ago. A promise to fight an ancient evil that had nearly killed them all before. An evil that wanted another attempt at killing them. And before It had even gotten Its attempt in, Stan was gone.

Mike bite his lip as he tried to control the tears that threatened to spill from his eyes. He knew that there would be time to grieve later, plenty of time assuming he was able to live through Round Two with It, and Mike knew that this final fight had to be his main priority. But this fight could also wait a damn hour, long enough for Mike to feel what he needed to feel after learning about his friend’s death.

Taking a deep breath and sniffling a bit, Mike opened the box.

His box of keepsakes was hardly something he even really went through. Most times when it was opened, it was just because Mike had something else he wanted to add to it by throwing it on top of the pile. This meant everything within the box was in reverse chronological order from the top down. This meant that the last letter from Stan was the first thing he saw. The sight of it felt like a knife had been plunged deep into his soul.

It had been evident by this point that Stan had almost completely forgotten who Mike was. The mood of the letter was hesitant and uncertain like he no longer knew how to properly interact with his friend. It was kept formal in tone, and all inside jokes that the two thoughtful weaved into their messages had been scrubbed clean from the words staining the card. The note was brief and to the point, lacking any new personal life details that they usually included, as if Stan was no longer comfortable with sharing with him. Almost like Mike was a complete stranger to him.He supposed at that point, he pretty much was.

Mike took a few breaths to control his breathing that had become slightly more erratic as the knife he had been hit with twisted inside of him. He knew this would hurt, but it appears he had underestimated just how much it would.

The gently lifted the card out of the box, setting it down next to him as he began to look through everything else within it.

Most of them were postcards from Stan, especially towards the top since mail deliveries were all he had gotten from Losers once they moved off out of state to college and beyond. No more little hand-made personal gifts, and small objects of sentiment that represented a shared moment of intimacy between him and another one of the Losers. And the last picture he had of all of them together was taken right after the graduation ceremony. Mike tried to ignore the part of him that stated that this was the last image of all seven of them together, alive and well, that would ever be taken ever, even if that part of him was correct.

Seven had become six.

And no matter how painful that thought was, nothing would ever change it.

As Mike continued to sift through letters and other miscellaneous items within the box, he noticed the familiar look of the page at the bottom, underneath everything.

He pulled out the piece of paper and stared at the drawing.

Stan’s cardinal was just as beautiful as he always remembered it being. Despite the fact that it had nearly been twenty-five years since it was drawn, the picture was still in incredible condition. No tears in the paper, no smudged or fading lines within the drawing, nothing. Nada. It hit Mike strongest with the memories he and Stan had shared. For a brief moment, it felt like he was back in that night, staring at the newly acquired image before turning his lamp out for the evening. He remembered what he thought when he was given the drawing.

‘Stan and his birds.

He truly is amazing, isn’t he?’

Mike stopped fighting the tears and wept.

—

Memorial Park was just as dead as the rest of Derry was. The entire town had died right along with It, and as painful as it may have been for Mike to say, he missed his hometown. Everything he had grown up knowing and loving was destroyed and gone, leaving Derry almost completely unrecognizable. When Mike had first seen the little remains of downtown Derry once he was released from the hospital after he had been attacked by Henry, he certainly wouldn’t have guessed it was the same town he had always known.

Memorial Park was, only the surface level, the least destroyed place left in Derry. Mike supposed it was rather hard for an entire park to be destroyed in comparison to a building that could easily crumble and topple, but the influence of Its death was still evident. Trees lost their leaves, the grass was turning brown, and the sidewalks throughout the piece of land were crumbling. Mike still found it hard to believe that the life of Derry was tied to the murderous spirit that preyed off the people that lived in the town.

Mike limped carefully down one of the paths of the park, being careful of the wound on his leg that was still healing. He didn’t know why, but he had been overcoming with the desire to go out on a walk to Memorial Park, and after all he had been through, Mike was not going to ignore any instinctual feeling that came to him. After all, he owed everything he had in his life to said feeling. Even if everything he had in his life was now almost completely gone; either destroyed or being slowly wiped from his mind until nothing was left.

After a bit of walking, Mike’s injury started to throb painfully and he was forced to sit down at one of the park’s few remaining benches for a minute to rest. The day was warm and surprisingly calm despite the destruction that plagued the town. There weren’t many people out and about, probably due to the current dangers of being outside, but Mike did notice a few other individuals mulling around the park like he was. He sighed contently, trying to enjoy the day as much as he could.

Life was going to be hard over the next couple of months, Mike came to realize. Between having to find a new job since the library was demolished, to having to find a new home since his house was gone, to just overall having to start a new life in a new city since Derry was dead, there was a lot to do. Mike knew he was also going to become a new person once he finally started over someplace else. He would no longer be a librarian, a lighthouse keeper, a historian, a Loser. All of those sides of him that Mike associated with his childhood friends were going to be cleansed from his mind alongside them. He was already having difficulty remembering what buildings Ben had designed, what books Bill had written, what the style the clothes Beverly designed were, and how many Voices Richie had. He remembered even less about Eddie since his passing, and Mike was pained to admit that he could only remember very few details about Stan. He remembered he was Jewish, married, lived in the south, didn’t get along with his dad, and that he was Mike’s greatest friend. Most other facts and tidbits about him had already slipped from his mind.

It wouldn’t be long, Mike thought, until the rest was gone too.

Mike’s train of thought was interrupted by the flutter of wings and a flash of red. Quickly looking up, he noticed a male cardinal, a brilliant red in color, resting out on one of the barren branches of a tree in front of Mike, with its black eyes trained on him. When he laid his eyes upon the bird, Mike was hit with a sudden memory so strong that Mike was left lightheaded and reeling. Cardinals were Stan’s favorite bird. How could he have ever forgotten?

Mike remembers the first time he and Stan had seen a cardinal together when they were barely even teens. He remembers the night Stan had come to him, drawn a cardinal, and given it to him forever. He remembers rediscovering that drawing buried under memories in his box of keepsakes right after he was informed of Stan’s passing. He remembers the knife of grief he felt when he had looked back at the picture. He can still feel that pain as intensely as if it had just happened.

He also remembers an old memory, buried deep within his mind. He doesn’t recall from when or where it came from, and the memory itself is covered in dust, long forgotten, but it still returns to him.

“Did you know,” Stanley Uris had once said to him, “cardinals represent the fire of life that is said to burn within our souls, even in the darkest of time. Fascinating, isn’t it, Mike?”

“It sure is.” Mike had nodded in response. “It sure is fascinating.”

Mike thinks about what Stan had said to him as he stared at the small bird that in returned stared right back at him.This small red bird was meant to represent life, burning brightly in even the blackest of nights. Mike knew it was no coincidence then that this bird also reminded him of Stan. Someone who was there for him, who’d stay by him in dark times. He remembers now how fearlessly Stan had stood up for him during the Apocalyptic Rock War against Henry Bowers and his gang of goons. He had also saved him and the other Losers when they had fought It when they were kids. He was always there in the darkest times. He was always that spark of life that kept things lively and bright and hopeful. Stan was a cardinal.

And Mike realized that even if Stan passed on, and even if Mike forgot him, he’d never truly be gone. Part of Stan was right in front of Mike, staring at him, watching over him.

The red bird turned, spreading its wings and taking flight. Mike watched it go for a moment, wondering why that bird was so important to him as his thoughts of Stan once again disappeared from his mind.

Mike decided at that moment that cardinals were his favorite bird.

Something about them just made him feel warm inside. Safe. Protected. Loved.

Whenever Mike encountered the colorful bird from then on, he would always get the faint feeling that he had forgotten something.

Something important.

Someone important.

#stanlon #mike hanlon #stan uris #the losers club #it movie 2017 #it stephen king #it secret santa

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rilenerocks · 4 years

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When Michael and I were expecting our first baby, we spent lots of time talking about the type of parents we wanted to be, along with the kind of atmosphere we hoped to create in our home. I think that’s what most people do. Michael in particular wanted to build a space where our children felt totally accepted for who they were, where their friends were always welcome, a home that was a truly secure haven. So what was one of the first things we did when we brought our little girl home from the hospital? We put her little downstairs daytime bed right underneath the stereo in the orange room which was our combination music room and library. After ten years of rocking out at mega-decibels, we wanted to make sure she could get used to sleeping with the volume turned up. The photo above shows her lying there, angelically asleep, with Michael smiling as one of our dogs gazed at this novel little creature. I’m there, too, my top half missing from the shot. I’m sure the whole room was vibrating.

Our plan worked. We created a little rocker who fit right in with us. Her early musical tastes were focused on a lot of one-hit wonder tunes, like Mickey and Come On, Eileen. Michael, who through his record store had access to all kinds of music, started making House Favorites tapes and then, CD’s, first for all of us, and then eventually, just for our little girl.

In early 1983, a pop song named Whirly Girl by the group OXO was released and climbed into the top 30 records on the Billboard Charts. Our baby was crazy about it so we played it all the time. The other day as I was working out in the yard, it popped up on a random shuffle in my headphones. Initially, I was swamped with memories from that time but ultimately I focused on the song title because that’s how my mind feels right now – whirly.

There’s a certain amount of time I spend every day thinking about either the masks war, in which people absolutely refuse to wear a mask because doing so stomps on their individual freedom, or the fact that so many who do comply, wear them incorrectly. When I venture out into the world, invariably I run into either one or both of those types. I absolutely do not get any of this. Absent the financial means to afford one, I don’t understand how anyone who is a member of a community greater than one, treasures this freedom of theirs as more valuable than public health. I wonder how they’d have felt if they had to sew yellow stars on their clothes so they could be easily identified by their religion. I get pretty roily inside when I think about how small and selfish their minds must be. Especially when they wrap up their righteous rage in the flag or the Constitution. Grrr. Then there are these folks who are actually wearing the masks absolutely incorrectly. Their noses aren’t covered, the mask is below their chins or hanging off one ear. I find this particularly maddening when I go to pick up food from an institution with a big sign touting all the healthful protocols their business is taking to protect everyone’s health. Do these owners check on their employees? I mean, is slipping two loops over your ears as complex as solving a Rubik’s cube? Rocket science? Should I gently point out their mistakes? Or just continue to fume away about the level of stupid and selfish I see around me? I guess the pandemic is turning me into an intolerant, crotchety old lady. Or maybe that’s who I’ve always been without the old part.

Of course, there is the daily dose of Trumpian dystopia which relentlessly escalates, despite the feeling that each awful revelation from the day before is the zenith of his horrors. The bigotry and racism seemed hard to top, along with the denial of the Covid19 crisis, but now we find ourselves in the midst of a new madness, which essentially put the lives of American troops into a dark marketplace of murder and headhunting for bounties. Do I feel incredulous? Sadly, no. Truly, this person seems utterly devoid of any interior moral foundation. He is the definition of self. I don’t know whether his simple fascination with tyrannical leaders is just wishful dreaming, or whether Putin really does have the ultimate blackmail item in his back pocket which he can pull out at any time. Right now I’m glad that the EU has banned travel from the US into their countries. Given everything, that action seems fitting. My mind indeed is a whirly place.

Final approval of your loan is in progress…You have conditional approval on your loan application. We’re currently reviewing the remaining documentation required for final approval.

In the midst of the outside big world jumble, I managed to complicate my life a little further. Back in 2012, when Michael got diagnosed with his cancer, we refinanced our house. We were looking to pay off outstanding bills, get extra cash for out-of-pocket treatment costs and enough money to take some trips. When you get a diagnosis with an almost certain prognosis of death, you try to stuff in as many life experiences as you can, especially the ones you thought would be part of a retirement that would stretch out for years, given the longevity in Michael’s family. The best-laid plans, right? During the five years that Michael survived, we took advantage of that strategy. After he died in May, 2017, I wasn’t in the mental space to give much thought to mortgages and the like. I was in survival mode. During the last three years, I’ve done my own traveling while trying to adjust to my highly undesired new life. But during this time of isolation, I have swung back around to the business of my big old house. I’ve done a lot of physical fixing. Noting that interest rates for mortgages had dropped well below what we’d gotten 8 years ago, I decided to refinance, shortening the term and saving lots of money. Sounded like a good plan – everything was moving along nicely when I suddenly realized that an appraisal was required. After the sordid housing crisis of 2008, the lenders have tightened up the requirements from appraisers. They now take photos of every room in your house, all the mechanical items and even the basement and garage. Uh-oh. I’ve made a few sporadic efforts at cleaning the garage, Michael’s domain, which is full of intriguing stuff. The only time I go into the basement is when it’s time to change the furnace filter. It’s actually a dark, creepy cellar with awful stairs which is accessible only from the outside. Years ago, one of my son’s friends was making a horror film. He asked if he could shoot part of it in our basement as it was one of the scariest places in town.

What a nightmare. I spent hours down there, sweeping, sorting, finding a few treasures and mostly ancient junk like carburetor parts and old lawnmower engines. The garage wasn’t much better. This business-y idea turned out to be grindingly hard labor. I stashed aside some potentially salvageable 45’s and albums that were somehow overlooked when we divested ourselves of Michael’s collection. Most of everything else went into the garbage. The appraiser came and went. She said things were fine. If only she’d seen it all before my massive efforts. Ah, well. All that’s left is my exhaustion and a who-do-I-think-I’m-kidding-at-my-age hangover that’s making it hard to get up from my chair.

Whirling back to the outside, life in the yard is good. I have nesting house wrens, cardinals and robins. They’re making good use of my birdbaths and cubbies for raising their hatchlings. The monarchs have found the milkweed. I could do without the big influx of rabbits along with the omnipresent squirrels who’ve eaten too many plants, denuded blossoms getting ready to open, and vandalized vegetables for no good reason that I can discern. I’ve engaged them in a race for the black raspberries, though and have chalked up a minor victory.

The flowers of course are magnificent and bring me great joy. The labor involved in urging them out of the ground is worth it. Just looking at them helps ratchet down the constant whirling thoughts that flit from subject to subject in my clicking head. Today, I put my coping skills to good use by enhancing my personal relaxation space with an outdoor mini-spa for myself. I don’t see getting back in the water any time soon. This will do for the present. As the saying goes, “adapt or die.”

As I mull over this life, so different from what I ever thought possible, I did have one recent experience that was delightful and satisfying. One of the hardest issues I’ve faced since Michael died was the collective responses that people have had to me and my feelings about my future. I’ve always known that I would never want to have another partner. That attitude was met with different reactions. Some people thought my grief was too fresh for me to know what I’d want. They’d say, give it some time to go through the stages following a big loss. Then we’ll see if you change your mind. If I talked about the challenges of being alone, they’d say, but you have your children and grandchildren. And that means what? They have their own lives. We intersect, as always. But it’s not the same as climbing in bed every night with your best friend and lover. As the months have passed, I’ve concluded that there’s just a lot of discomfort in these kinds of discussions. Unless you’ve lived the same life as someone else, you just don’t know what will work for them. And everyone’s relationship with their partners is different. I believe mine was an aspirational love that was rare. I had it for 45 years. I’m still in it. I feel my relationship every day, deep in the core of me. I don’t believe I could ever have that again and anything less is irrelevant. I have a number of people, most importantly my kids, who get this.Often, I draw a blank stare. But I had a great thing happen with one of my oldest friends, someone that both Michael and I’ve known for over 50 years. Our lives have been closely connected all that time.

Glenn and Michael met at college in 1967 and lived in the same fraternity house, although Michael moved out after a year. I met Glenn when I came to college in 1968, through a high school friend of mine. I didn’t meet Michael until 1971, but he and I both always knew Glenn. We all socialized, but initially, with different groups of people who ultimately became blended. Glenn and I had a date once – the most memorable part of that for us both was really enjoying the album we were listening to – Tea for the Tillerman.

When I was arrested in 1971 at an anti-war demonstration, Glenn bailed me out of jail. All three of us worked at the record store which ultimately became Michael’s career for the 27 years before he became a history teacher. When Michael and I became a couple in 1972, Glenn would visit us on a regular basis to enjoy the verbal sparring and bickering we engaged in, very different from his non-confrontational style. Glenn told me he was afraid that I’d overpower sweet Michael with my combat-boot personal style, but that never happened. We were with him through a series of his relationships up to and including his marriage which has now lasted decades. We shared life events together, from having kids to losing family members. He and Michael went on white-water rafting and canoe trips. We played Hearts and Spades together on a regular basis and wound up going to a lake in Michigan every summer for years with a group of old friends for family camp. Glenn worked for the city for which Michael was an alderman and later, head of the city’s planning commission. They were both involved with the local food bank. When we had our daughter, Glenn gave her more gifts for her first birthday than we did. Twenty-five years later, he became a certified wedding officiant and performed her wedding ceremony. When Michael was withdrawn into the last stage of his life, he saw Glenn once, the only person who got into our house besides medical professionals and our family.

Last week, I went to see Glenn and his wife Colleen for an outdoor social distanced visit, the first time I’d seen them in many months. We had a lot to catch up on, what we’d all been doing, what was happening with our kids, how we felt about the current state of the world. Glenn asked me how I was managing, going through this weird time on my own. I told him that I never really felt alone, as Michael’s presence is just here, all the time. In the most normal, conversational tone, he said, “you know, it feels like your relationship with Michael right now is a lot better than it was right after he died.” I was startled, delighted and I laughed a lot. I’ve been laughing about it periodically. I told him that I was so utterly drained and devastated after Michael’s death that it had taken me awhile to recover from the expensive emotional price wrested from me by those challenging years. Now I’ve had a lot of recovery time and the way I feel with Michael is like the majority of our life together, wonderful, rather than those painful, stressful times. So, yeah, we’re good. Still arguing in some of my dreams, though. I was really delighted that for the first time, someone acted normal and accepting of me rather than awkward or judgmental. That meant a lot.

I’ve covered a lot of mental turf in this post. As I said, these days, I’m a whirly woman. Actually that might always have been true – it’s just that these days, everything feels exaggerated. On to the next set of thoughts.

Whirly Woman When Michael and I were expecting our first baby, we spent lots of time talking about the type of parents we wanted to be, along with the kind of atmosphere we hoped to create in our home.

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