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#Ghostly Hauntings i turn loose
genieofthebooks · 1 year
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Ghostly Memories
Pairing: Anthony Lockwood x Fem!reader [Not established but Established at the same time, Its confusing]
Part Two: Family Line
Reader gets sent into a vision of how someone died through touching the source, body or something close to them in their past life.
Warnings: Swearing, Angst, Reader's parents especially mother (Sorry if you are close to yours),mentions of death of someone close, ghostly activity, sadness, description of death, hints of abuse, Panic attack, Some comfort.
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It was early hours in the morning in London and all of Lockwood and Co. were awake, sat in their pajamas staring at a client who decided to come at the ungodly hour of Four in the morning. George was picking at the loose thread on his oversized shirt, Lucy was perched on the edge of the sofa leaving a gap between her and Lockwood as they all were waiting for you to get back from the kitchen with the tea they offered the client.
You walked into the living room balancing five cups of tea on a tray, your hair in a messy plait as it was way more messy if it was loose. You placed the tray of Tea on the table in front of the client giving him a tense smile as the three behind you lunged for their tea to give them a boost of energy to wake them up, leaving two mugs on the table. You picked up your tea and sat between Lucy and Lockwood, not relaxing fully into the seat unlike Lockwood who was lounged backwoods with his ankle resting on his other leg. 
“I apologise for the early intrusion” The client gestured between the quartet who were still in their pajamas looking at him as if he was insane, you were avoiding eye contact with anyone just looking at the floor trying to ignore the pain that was shooting down your back because of how tense you were. “I just didn’t want my wife to realise I had left, she would always get angry whenever I suggested that we extract the ghost that currently has been haunting us because she has an unhealthy attachment to the person the ghost used to be” 
You started to wring your hands in a pattern to soothe you but it was not working as you were under the watchful eye of the client who was someone you desperately tried to forget when you moved to London.
Lockwood spoke up watching you out of the corner of his eye but also wanting to know why the client was avoiding his wife and why she had an attachment to a ghost that their client was asking for them to remove so he turned to the client with a grin on his face. “May I ask why your wife has an attachment to the ghost”
That was the dreaded question you did not want Lockwood to ask, but the client happily answered it. “Well it is the ghost of my son who died when he was twelve, he is probably agitated that we kept him this long but my wife could not move on and his twin sister ran away a year after I think she was overcome with grief and didn’t know how to talk about it, so she ran.” The client looked straight at you when he uttered the last sentence, you still avoided eye contact with him but you felt his eyes on you.
Everyone knew that something was wrong with you because by now you would have had a few sarcastic comments about how early it was but you haven’t said a word, choosing to keep your eyes either trained to the floor or your tea. Lucy and Lockwood shared a concerned look behind your head when George was getting the address from the client. Lockwood placed his hand on your knee as a comfort even though he was puzzled on why you were acting so weird. If they didn’t know you they would have chalked it up to you being tired because of how early it was. But they know you, they know that you don’t put your defences up for any old reason. Well your sarcasm was a shield in itself but that was soon just a part of you.
You finally looked up from staring at the design on the inside of your mug as you had stressfully downed your tea very quickly. You locked eyes with the client meeting his eyes that he shared with the only person in your family that you truly cared about. 
“What, are you going to ignore your old man this entire time?”
“Well I was trying to” you retorted, slowly bringing your sarcastic shield up and not staying silent like you did when you were a child being berated by your parents for doing a simple thing wrong. You opened your shoulders up after gaining a boost of confidence and stared right into the clients eyes. 
“I’m sorry what is going on here?” George asked looking between you and the client.
“Hello, Father” You finally stated clenching your jaw because you thought you would never have to refer to someone as that again.
“Hello, my little hunter” He responded surprised you actually acknowledged him with a title. You frowned at your childhood nickname, it was lost after the death of your brother.
“Don’t call me that” You leaned forward and rested your elbows on your knee as you stared your father down. Lockwood’s hand slid to your thigh so that it would not get stabbed by your elbow and he gripped it slightly so that you would not bolt. Lucy gently rested her hand on the small of your back in a comforting manner because she was the only one who knew nearly the full extent of what happened before you arrived at Lockwood and Co. however you withheld some information because it pained you to talk about. You two shared a bedroom which used to just be yours but then Lucy arrived but you both spent many sleepless nights talking, her about Norrie and you about your twin brother. “Now why are you here?”
Your father took in a deep breath frustrated at your hostile behaviour towards him however in the back of his mind he knew that he deserved it. “The ghost in our house is your brother”
You scoffed in disbelief that he has only now wanted to get rid of your twin’s body “Of course it is him. You kept his body in a bloody locked room because you and mother refused to move on and he is haunting you because you won’t let him go to rest.” Your voice started to raise in frustration, a small sense of comfort was coming from Anthony but you turned your voice steely. “But why did you come here, not the other agencies and how did you fucking find me.”
Your father hesitated before continuing but treaded carefully with his words knowing the wrong thing could set your anger off. “I thought your mother would allow it if it was you.”
You stood up, glaring right at your father, your chest heaving as you were trying not to either start crying or punch him. “Bullshit. You know damn well that she wants it to be me that was dead not Jace.” Your voice cracked and quietened as you finally spoke the name of your missing half, your better and more kinder half. You spun round not able to look at your father any longer as you tried to contain your emotions but they betrayed you and tears started to stream down your face. you lifted your head and dug the palm of your hands into your eyes to contain the tears, because it was too much. 
Lockwood stood up and gestured towards George who was looking at you in concern as you were one of his best friends and he has never seen you like this. No one has. “George, Lucy why don’t you show Mr L/n the Kitchen”
Once they had left and it was just you and Anthony in the main room. Anthony slowly walked up to you like you were an injured wolf and slowly pried your hands away from your eyes, he noticed how glazed over they look as if your body was in the room but your mind was in a cavern. 
“We can do it” You broke the silence, shocking him with your answer and for the first time in a while his face didn’t hold the smile you had come to love instead he was deep in thought contemplating if they should do this case because even though he had missed being in the field while his legs and shoulder was healing he knew that you would never be the same after. 
“Are you sure?” He questioned holding onto your wrist to keep you in the present.
You ran your hand across your face because it was still early and you were already exhausted by the events that had occured in just the span of half an hour. You knew you were going to regret your answer because deep down you knew your parents no longer loved you but you wanted to grasp on the last sliver of hope that was drifting further and further away. “Yes”
Anthony placed his hand on your shoulder and you would not have believed that it was there if you did not feel the heat of Anthony’s hand against your cold and trembling skin. “It would mean-”
“I know what it means and I am up for it” That was one of the biggest lies that you have ever told.
Anthony patted your shoulder after a little while and then walked into the kitchen to tell George the news that you have accepted. Leaving you alone in the Living room to question your own stupidity.
It was now the evening where the sun was setting over the countryside outside of London and Lockwood and Co. were stood outside of your family home. The Dahlias and the violets were the same as when you escaped.
“Well it is good to be back” You sarcastically muttered walking up the cobblestone steps that wound up to the front door, so you could escape Lucy asking if you are okay for the hundredth time.
“Really” George questioned his tone laced with surprise, staring at you from the bottom of the steps.
“No” you breathed out when you arrived at the wooden door, seeing the grain of the wood and the circular pattern of the stained glass would have been a home to some but to you it was a void of what should be a home. No sentiment was rising in you but instead the happy memories of the only family member you loved turned bitter and painful like a hot knife being driven into your chest.
“Nice House” Lockwood commented giving you a smirk that fit his face perfectly but at this point you wanted to smack it right off his face.
“Shut the bloody hell up” you muttered while kneeling down and making sure your rapier sword hit his ankle. It’s the house making you mutter, you only ever muttered when you were talking to your mother. You felt underneath the ribbing of the doorframe looking for the cold touch of a key. “I would rather be ghost-locked than go in this house again, sorry luce” you added when you saw her wince out of the corner of your eye. She waved you off knowing that even though you meant it you did not intend for it to bring up painful memories for her.
“Y/n really, too extreme” George looked at you with an incredulous expression, you have always been a pessimist and it worked well with your sarcasm and you have often spoke of death but after the recent events that occured between all four of you everyone wanted to make sure everyone was alive.
“No, not extreme enough. Aha found the key” You stood back up and faced the three who had actually no clue what they were getting into. Rolling the key in your fingers before placing it into the lock and turning it until you felt a soft click.
Stepping into the threshold of your childhood home, you froze as you heard the sound of laughter. Two children came into view running around the hallway, the young boy held a small item that looked like a phone but was pretending it was a sensor and the young girl held a wooden sword slashing and stabbing at the air as if a monster or a ghost was in front of her. You couldn’t make out their faces but as they ran towards you you knew immediately who they were. The disappeared just as they were going to collide into your legs. It was you and your twin when you would pretend to be fighting ghosts.
You shook your head releasing a shaky breath before continuing into the hallway, photos filled of your parents and brother, hardly any of you. It was like you never existed at all except there was one photo of you aged ten where you held your wooden sword proudly and your brother was standing next to you with his arm round your shoulder. “I loved  that sword. No clue why though,”
Lockwood found another photo of you that you wouldn’t have seen as it was right at the back of the sidebord sheilded by photos of a happy family that did not have room for you. “Hey look it is a baby Y/n” 
"Aww you were adorable, What happened?" George teased and acting dramatic when you swatted him on the shoulder.
Lucy walked into the centre of the hall, trying to focus on what she can hear, blocking out the sound of the boys teasing you and you threatening. "Will you three shut up!"
You jokingly saluted her while spinning around making sure to hit George with your hair as you turned. "Yes Ma'am"
"Y/n!"
"Sorry, sorry." You stepped backwards into Lockwood who stedied you while George was laughing his head of at you getting scolded.
Lucy closed her eyes and was able to focus after the three had shut up. "I hear laughing, children laughing"
She opened her eyes and looked to you"Your brother is a very happy ghost"
"He was a very happy child" You shrugged your shoulders.
"The complete opposite of you then" Lockwood asked.
"Pretty much. Now follow me" You walked up the stairs without another word. Your combat boots echoing against the light wooden flooring. Leading the trio to the only closed door in the house as every other door was open for ventilation. The door was decorated with faded signs of names, Your name had faded ghosts and swords and your brother's name had books lettering his name. Lockwood noticed how similar it was to the door that he kept locked in their house, both doors containing a secret. Except you both have different ways of opening the truth.
You rammed your shoulder into the door not being bothered to look around for another key and it swung open and slammed into the back wall with a large crash. Your breath caught in your throat as the bare room that used to be filled with imagination had a lonely bed in the middle of the room.
"Friends! New Friends!" Before anyone could speak a small figure of a ghost started circling the agents who were broken out of their stares at what rested upon the bed. All three drew their swords and only you were unprotected as you started walking towards the bed slowly.
You walked as if you were in a trance eyes fixated on the closed eyes of the body. When you reached the neatly made bed, your body fell to the floor with a soft thud
In front of you was your twin brother. Still frozen in time at aged twelve which differed from your Sixteen year old form. The ghost of your brother had stopped flying around your friends and was floating inbetween Lockwood and Lucy and all four of them were staring at you.
"There is something about her that is familiar, but I can't put my finger on it" He floated over to George who looked at the ghost is shock that there was actually making conversation with them instead of attacking.
"Jace" Lockwood started but when he said your brother's name his ghost started buzzing.
"How do you know my name? Have you met Y/n?" At Lockwood's nod and his eyes flitted over to your knelt form next to your brother's body. The ghost finally caught on.
"Oh she is Y/n, She looks so different." The ghost mumbled quietly realising how tired and worn out you look. "But she got her job as an agent that she has always wanted."
"Yeah, she did" The four were staring at you again where you had now broken your gaze of the body and was looking around for something but your hand accidentally brushed against your brother's arm and you were pulled into the moment that you never wanted to live again.
It was if you were watching an immersive play, you were right in the action but when in an immersive play the actors could see you. The children couldn't see you. Your eyes couldn't focus and your chest felt as if it was being hit by a bat and with every hit getting stronger, and stronger. You couldn't leave until the death has been completed.
"Y/n!" Anthony ran next to you and knelt down next to your now shaking form. He hated the white glazed look in your eye. You looked like you were in ghost-Lock but with the ghost still over with Lucy and George they knew that it was just the curse of your talent.
"Y/n, Catch me if you can" Jace exclaimed running away from your tweleve year old form that had her beloved wooden sword attached to your hip with vines. The kids had ran out of the house and towards the woods. Unaware of the danger that lied waiting for them. Unaware that soon their bond will be ripped in half with one in death and one in life.
"I'm coming Jace, but please don't run off too far you know how dangerous the woods are at night." Your twelve year old self ran into the woods after Jace, muttering about his selective hearing that he must have picked up from their father. You slightly laughed at yourself when you were younger with how bossy yet caring you were. Now people would just say you are bossy and Sarcastic. You chased after the two children, who were cheerfully cheering when they tore down the brambles. The three of you ran into a clearing, Jace climbed up the hight tree. Your heart froze. This was it.
Anthony pulled your shaking form into his body your back against his chest. He caressed the side of your face, rocking you slightly so that when you awoke you would have a comforting presence. "You're okay Y/n" He muttered into your hair even though he knew that you could not hear him.
Your brother's ghost floated up to you with Lucy and George. "Is She okay... What's happening"
Lucy and George looked at each other with a solemn look, knowing Lockwood was trying to make sure you were okay so they decided to gently explain to the ghost. "Her Talent takes her to someone's time of death, did she not tell you"
Jace's ghost shook his head. "She was not allowed to talk to me about her talent, Mother and Father banned her fron talking about it and if she did well it would not end well for her." Jace muttered the last few words holding a resentment to his parents that they were fine with threatening and hurting their own daughter, his sister. "But I had a hunch as we went to our Grandma's house after her funeral, and she bumped into the wall and her eyes went white, but then a few seconds she awoke screaming and we had to leave the funeral quickly, she would not tell anyone of what she saw but the next day I saw she had a black eye and a cut on the side of her face but again she would not tell me who gave it to her but I knew who it was."
Anthony's head snapped over to the trio who were whispering. "Jace did they ever show this in front of you"
Jace's ghost shook his head. "Not when I was alive and by then I did not know how to leave this room but I heard shouting and screaming and dad had to stop mother from cutting Y/n out of the pictures when she ran away. I wish I could have protected her better but she was the stronger one of the two of us."
"You did the best you could, Jace."
"Y/n!" The scream that haunted your nightmares echoed throughout the air, Your brother's foot slipped from the tree. He opened his arms in front of him but they missed the branch by an inch. His body fell backwards as if it was in slow motion. His body hit the ground with a sickening crack.
"NO!" You shot out of Anthony's arms as you were brought back to reality. You pressed your hand to your chest to add a counter weight to your hyperventilating. Anthony motioned for the three to exit the room once again like this moring but instead of you just staring at the floor you were clawing at your chest and your breathing was shaky. Anthony placed his hands on the side of your face and brought his forehead to yours. "Come on Y/n breathe" He moved one of his hands from the side of your face to your shaking hands and rested it on top of them gently.
Your breathing started to even out and Anthony pulled his forehead away from you to make sure you were still okay. He kept his hands in your still trembling hands until you nodded signifying that you were okay.
Lucy ran into the room and encased you in a hug from what you went through as a child, because even though you told her about the death of your brother you had never told anyone or her about the mistreatment from your mother and your father just watching and not doing anything to help. His silence was what betrayed you more with your family. "I'm so sorry Y/n" she mumbled into your hair. She helped you off the floor where George pulled you into a side hug to make sure you were alright as your hands were slightly shaking.
"I know what the source is I just don't know where it is." You said after a while, remembering what you guys actually came to do. "It is my wooden sword but I have no idea where it is." You spoke to the other three but then Jace popped back through startling you.
"I know where it is, It is in the fireplace, Mother tried to set fire to it but I started to haunt her to make her leave the room" Jace Innocently stated with a giggle remebering what he did to her. You looked back on all the times that Jace played a prank on your parents slightly smiling at the innocence of him but you remembered feeling worried that if you played a prank on them the consequences would not have been a laugh and a pat on the head.
"Thanks Jace, yet I am not at all surprised" You walked over to the fireplace and crawled into the pit area of it causing soot to fly up and rest on your face, you found the sword and crawled back out but when you came out you started coughing as the soot flew up into your lungs causing a suffocating feeling to encase you some more but this time it faded.
You were met not with the faces of your friends but the hostile face of your mother who held a gun directed at your forehead. "Leave Jace alone"
"I could say the same to you mother" you spat out, not phased that she was holding a gun to you as she had attempted this once before but you were no longer a scared twelve year old. Lockwood, Lucy and George were also shocked as they had not heard another person come into the room.
"It should have been you and not him, He was just a child. My Child" She stalked up to you and placed the barrell against your forehead, you closed your eyes as if you were encouraging her to shoot. Lockwood stepped forward to quickly knock the gun out of your mother's hand but at a small signal from your hand he stayed put but his hand still rested on his rapier sword to draw it at any needed moment. Lucy and George were trying to distract Jace because even though he was twelve and a ghost no one should have to witness their own mother try to attack and kill their twin.
"I was also your child. But you never wanted me so go ahead. Shoot me" You spoke to your mother keeping your gaze hard, looking straight into her eyes. Her hand started to shake. "You can't do it can you? but you could hurt your own child with a straight face so what is stopping you from killing your daughter. Shoot me!"
Your mother lowered the gun after considering what you said and walked from the room without another word. Lockwood ran up to you and pulled you into an unexpected hug. "Never ask to be shot again. You are better off alive"
"Ironic, coming from you" you mumbled into his shirt causing him to let out a small breathy Laugh.
"Not to break up the sweet moment but it is nearly morning and If we are going to do it. We need to do it now" George interrupted while holding up the iron cloth.
You let go of Anthony and kissed his cheek briefly catching you both of guard, before taking the iron chain cloth out of George's hand and walked up to your brother's body and ghost who were next to each other. "It was nice seeing you again. Big brother"
Jace's ghost spun round in joy that you finally admitted that you were the younger twin but you were the twin that got to age.
You placed the wooden sword next to his body before throwing the irom sheet over his body. Jace's ghost dissapearing forever.
The four of you walked out of your childhood house where DEPRAC was waiting to collect your brother's body to finally put it in a grave and to arrest your mother for attempted murder of an agent.
"This was a weird day, For the first time a ghost did not try to kill us" George commented before seeing you wave mockingly at your mother and then stick your middle finger up at her where she glared at you from the back of the police car but lockwood pulled your hand down but instead of letting it go he held on.
"Yeah, That is why I called him casper the friendly ghost even when he was alive"
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obsessive-ego · 23 days
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Y/n: Though I know I should be wary, Still I venture someplace scary. Ghostly haunting I turn loose, Betelgeuse, Betelgeuse, Betelgeuse!
Disembodied voice: we're sorry, the demon you're summoning is unavailable, your ritual is important to us, please hold while we connect you to our customer service line
Y/n:???
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chimichangacongaline · 7 months
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though i know i should be wary
still i venture some place scary
ghostly hauntings i turn loose
BEETLEJUICE! BEETLEJUICE!
B E E T L E J U I C E!!!!
im so so happy with how my Lydia turned out inspired by the animated show, one of my favorite cartoons
her base doll was veronica storm from shadow high
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ghostgirl101 · 1 year
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Yellow! Loved your BEN Drowned Dating HCs, they made my heart skip a few beats. Pardon me if this isn't allowed, but could I request some sort of BEN "aftermath" scenario with a reader who's been distancing herself from electricity in order to escape BEN? (A tad bit like Netflix's horror movie Umma if you've seen it) Then one day, electricity pops back intro her life, hauling a BEN along with it who's not about to let you repeat the same mistake without knowing the consequences.
Condolences if that isn't allowed. If not, Ticci Toby Dating HCs instead?
BEN Drowned; You Can't Run
|| Word Count: 2.2K || Angst → Comfort → Fluff ||
A/N: Can do, I've been wanting to write for BEN again, though this did take me a while 🙃 and I'll add Toby headcanons to my list. I've been thinking about some stuff for Jeff The Killer too? I mean, if you want 😎
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A releasing click sounds as you pull the final plug out of the socket, flipping off the switches on the wall, the little red strips hidden as they're pushed down. Your hands are trembling, and you stay where you're standing for a few long moments, your uneven breathing all you can hear.
There. It's done. It's gone. Breathe.
Your home is stripped of its electronics, the TV screen dead, your laptop and phones' batteries lying beside them. Even some of the lights are off, every mains switch is turned off, red strips hidden from sight. This was the last resort, and you know it could work if you leave everything off for a while. BEN can't get to you without electricity to power your gadgets, practically all of which have been infected by his presence. He was everywhere, but like this, he can't get to you. You're okay.
It wasn't that BEN had ever tried to harm you, though you knew he could if he tried. The whole thing was just so unsettling and confusing, it kept you up at night. Your life went from normal, to a glitchy, disturbing version of Majora's Mask you'd found at a garage sale, from an old neighbour who was moving out garage sale. His haunting eyes pierced through you every time the Nintendo 64 powered on, empty, like the elegy should be, but very much alive.
He liked playing with you, teasing that was almost taunts if it wasn't for the oddly suggestive nicknames and phrases sneaked into each jumpscare and wrong moment of the game. At one point, you were so freaked out by the boy in the game that you threatened to destroy the cartridge, to anything that could hear you, the fireplace on and humming with burning energy as you readied yourself to take the game out and toss it into the flames.
That was when the haunting, materialized form of BEN Drowned had snapped to life and simply pushed itself out of the TV connected to the Nintendo. Those cold, ghostly pale hands had grabbed your wrists tightly, though not so tight as to hurt, and the same intense eyes from the elegy bore into you, masking any emotion as you dared not to struggle in the being's hands.
"You can't run."
No, you couldn't. What with BEN loose from the game and with free access to anything powered by electricity, you didn't have much choice but to let him invade your life. You kept reminding yourself of the questionable fact that BEN didn't seem to have any intention to hurt you, physically or mentally. He just showed up when he pleased, which was quite often, and watched as you worked, deleting a sentence or two just to get on your nerves, or played as a supposed robot on online games, the screen glitching with his presence every thirty seconds. You'd almost, almost gotten used to it.
It was when you were reminded of exactly who BEN Drowned was and what he could do that you panicked, hence where you are now. Even though at this early-ish point in your time together, most about him remains a mystery to you, you always knew just how deadly his antics could be. He tears people apart by driving them paranoid and crazed by what they see and experience, until they lose all sense of reality, most even ending themselves before BEN does.
Some girl from your class had started mocking you on a group chat, and you knew that as soon as you'd opened it, BEN had most likely read it before you did. Because, just minutes after, her account had updated with several posts that weren't all that wholesome at all, unflattering, candid shots of things no one should share on the internet up for all to see. Then the account was closed, and that was that.
She didn't show up to class the next day. BEN showed you exactly why.
"She shouldn't have done that."
All the blood, all the fear, the abnormality of it all, really got to you. It was one thing having a really odd kind of friend that seemed to just be overly protective, but this was too much. He had the strength to do the same to you. What if you said something accidentally that set him off? What if he got bored of you? How much more stable and normal could your life be if he moved on?
And the only way for that to happen is for him to not have any way to get to you. He has no proper reason to stick around, none that you can figure out, since you aren't one of his victims. What are you, then? Someone that interests him? He won't be mad for long, will he? He'll get bored.
Yes. That's it. He'll get bored. Of course he will.
The tense silence that fills your house when everything's unplugged makes you stay standing still for a long minute, double-checking everything's cut from power. You can make this work, if that's what it takes.
A day went past. Then another. And, all at once, after a boring day in class, your friend approaches you with a bewildered look.
"I did what you asked. Bit weird."
"What?"
"Why'd you unplug everything in your house? Some competition? Look, I managed to swing by yours and find the spare key under the mat to turn your stuff back on. I guess you're gonna need it like that if your parents are visiting. Don't want them to see you living in the stone age, I guess. Oh, and you owe me, bestie."
"Wait, wait," your voice heightened in dread, "I never asked you that. My- my parents aren't coming over! What are you-"
BEN.
Crap.
"What're you talking about? Are you messing with me? I got your text this morning, and since you work through lunch and I don't, it was easier for me to just run in. Look, no biggie, alright? Why do you look so worried? I didn't rob you."
"I- I know," you breathe shakily, forcing as genuine a smile as you can muster on your face, knowing that it would be more than unfair to expose them to BEN too. "Thank you."
"Sure."
Where do you go? Back home, where he's waiting for you? What'll he do? Most likely kill you. If you weren't his victim before, you must be now. Or maybe you can stay with a friend for... for what? Forever?
You can't run.
Every step you take that leads back to your home seems heavier and heavier, and although from the outside, the house looks perfectly normal and quiet, you know there's a fatal storm coming. All you can do now is face it and try to reason with it.
You unlock the door slowly, stepping tentatively inside and closing the door, leaving it unlocked in case you need to make a break for it, in the rare event that you get the chance to. And, as your friend confirmed, there's everything back in, ready for the counter to reset.
The hairs on the back of your neck stand up as you feel eyes all around you, and solid static coating the atmosphere, buzzing coming from every screen and making the light twitch when you turn it on. You take one step into the living room before the colour drains from your face, fear rushing over all other thoughts as a bloody spark blinds you momentarily, before revealing the boy. You squeak as freezing hands clamp onto your arms tightly, pressing you back against the wall.
You're forced to look into his eyes, his crimson stare blazing amongst the dark, hollow space around his pupils. They're bleeding, the deep red dribbling down his pale cheeks, his usual amused, smug smirk replaced with something much more sinister. He's scowling in untamed fury, and you can't make yourself take a step back, frozen stiff to the spot. The lights are practically sparking from how much they're flashing with his wild anger, and you can't do a thing about it, except look straight back at him helplessly.
"You shouldn't have done that."
Your mouth's agape, scarcely blinking in dread of what BEN might do, everything you've been scared of just leading to this moment. He speaks with a snarl, and you flinch, trying to make yourself say something to diffuse the situation, even by a little.
"I know," is what you manage to whisper brokenly.
"Are you stupid?! Bored and didn't want me anymore? Found someone better? Shutting me out's the safest way, is that it?!"
You jump as a lightbulb from nearby smashes by the force of BEN's anger, glass spraying over the floor as the brightness winks out.
"Please, BEN-"
"No! I gave you one last chance, remember? You can't play with me anymore. It- it's not fair!"
He's not making any sense. Playing with him? You catch a fleeting moment to study his dark expression, and you can practically see the cracks of genuine vulnerability seeping through his dangerous fury. The lights have stopped flashing as violently as they were a minute ago, and so you take the chance to ask the inevitable.
"BEN... why do you care so much?"
He hangs onto you for a while longer, obviously processing the question as his grip grows looser, clenched jaw relaxing slightly. It doesn't seem to be out of defeat, though, but out of tiredness, BEN's piercing gaze weakening but never leaving your face, his scowl dropping into a frown. He almost looks hurt, concerned, the hints of caringness contrasting with his unnatural, deadly looks.
"If I go, who'll protect you?"
You don't know how to respond, and so you don't, lips clamped shut as you stare at him apologetically, his cold hands leaving your arms.
"Who'll watch over you?"
You blink at his expectant, thoughtful look, shaking your head silently. The blood's stopped gushing from his eyes now, but trickles down his face slowly, eerily like tear tracks.
"Who'll understand you?"
You let out a shaky sigh, your body finally moving, taking a hesitant step closer to him. BEN's eyes drift over to the TV absentmindedly, a frown still on his face, and you dare to take a step closer, reaching a hand out tentatively, your warm fingers brushing against his freezing ones. His eyes snap to you then, and you speak up quietly.
"BEN, I'm sorry."
He doesn't say anything, staring at you indifferently, and you try again, your fingers wandering to his hand, which doesn't pull away at when you lace your fingers with his.
"I'm sorry, BEN, I am. I won't shut you out again, okay?"
BEN still won't answer, and you dither, before doing something that'll either get you killed by shocking stuns of electricity, or his miraculous, unbothered amused smile. You take back your hand to steadily, anxiously wrap your arms around his neck, pulling his cold body close for a hug. He stiffens at the action in surprise, and you squeeze your eyes shut, bracing for impact.
Impact that never comes.
A small poke at your side makes you shrink back with a stifled laugh, and you relax in relief and happiness when you spot BEN's signature smirk, though it's a little milder this time.
"That won't do you any good."
"Oh, come on," you plead, and he raises a brow, clearly enjoying the desperate attention. "I- I was just scared, okay?"
"I know."
"I won't run from you again, BEN. I know you wouldn't hurt me..."
He tilts his head to the side at the last sentence.
"Do you?"
You don't know how to answer the question honestly. "Well..."
BEN seems annoyed and almost exasperated by your response, and you notice how the blood has stopped leaking from his midnight eyes, his red pupils searching and reading you all too easily.
"Would it help if I tell you?"
You nod slowly, uncertain of his motives, but don't move away as he's suddenly an inch away from you, the lights flashing briefly from the electric energy.
"Yes?"
BEN nods, the cold skin of his hands pushing your middle back into the wall again, though much more carefully this time. Then, all too soon, the electric boy's lips are on yours, and your eyes widen in shock at the bold move, and the unusual, addictive feeling. He tastes electric and appley, his lips melding against yours perfectly, and there's nothing you can do but melt into the feeling, letting your eyes flutter shut within a second.
But then it's over after a few drawn-out moments, and you hold back from chasing the sensation as he lingers, his nose bumping against yours and his cool breath tickling your cheeks.
"I'd never hurt you."
You let out a shaky breath, a faded smile on your face.
"You scared me," you admit awkwardly.
"...So did you."
"I'm sorry," you plead again, and he shakes his head dismissively. You know he's forgiven you by the way he looks at you, with no trace of his previous aggravation in his red and black gaze.
"Never mind."
"Can't I make it up to you?" You try asking, but as soon as you've said it, you watch apprehensively as that signature, boyish smirk, that you've surprisingly missed, tugs at his lips.
"I can think of a few ways."
There's no running from that, either.
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mask131 · 4 months
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There's still a haunt on the hill...
In my previous post, I dug through the ghostly chain of adaptations of Shirley Jackson's "The Haunting of Hill House" starting by its various movie incarnations. But I am not done...
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Because in 2018, Mike Flanagan released on Netflix his massively successful television series, "The Haunting of Hill House".
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Flanagan's television series was strongly influenced by "The Shining", another major haunting-story of the 20th century, first marking American literature under the pen of Stephen King...
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... Then marking American cinema by the movie adaptation of Stanley Kubrick.
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Mike Flanagan never hid his passion and love for "The Shining", both the Kubrick and King versions, and it is for this reason he was the man behind the 2019 movie "Doctor Sleep"....
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... an adaptation of Stephen King's sequel-novel to The Shining.
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And fascinatingly, a lot of details and ideas of Flanagan's "The Haunting of Hill House" (or its sister-series, "The Haunting of Bly Manor") were reused for his Doctor Sleep movie...
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But, speaking of Stephen King, did you know he made his own "The Haunting of Hill House"? Well, almost... He and Steven Spielberg worked on a project in the 1990s: a remake of The Haunting/a new movie adaptation of "The Haunting of Hill House". Unfortunately this movie never came to the light of day, as the two men split apart due to creative differences...
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However this did not stop Stephen King from reusing the unused/unfinished script/concept for his "Haunting of Hill House" adaptation, throwing in a lot of elements from his own "The Shining", with several nods to the real-life Winchester Mansion, and tadaa! The result was 2002's mini-series "Rose-Red".
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Stephen King has very often praised Jackson's novel. In fact, in his eyes it is one of the two greatest ghost stories of American literature... Alongside Henry James' The Turn of the Screw.
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Do you recall Henry James? Sure you do! From the previous post... He wrote the "Ghostly Rental" story, that itself got adapted in 1999 into a horror movie called "The Haunting of Hell House" - confusing Jackson's "Hill House" with Matheson's "Hell House".
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Do the links stop here? NOT AT ALL! Flanagan's "The Haunting of Hill House" was supposed to be the first season of an anthology series about ghost stories. This project got cancelled, but not before a sister-series to "The Haunting of Hill House" was made... a second season called "The Haunting of Bly Manor", which is a loose adaptation of "The Turn of the Screw".
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AND THERE'S MORE! Because you see, before being re-adapted by Mike Flanagan, "The Turn of the Screw"'s most famous adaptation was a 1961 movie called "The Innocents". A movie which also became a classic of black-and-white haunted house horror movies, just like "The Haunting" that was released two years afterward... Film critics, cinema theoricians and movie enjoyers all agree that the two movies have to be compared, with something of a sibling relationship to each other.
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"The Turn of the Screw" - and more specifically the 1961's "The Innocents" movie - also had a huge influence on one of the greatest Spanish moviemakers of the 21st century: Guillermo del Toro. In fact, it was to pay homage to both the classic of Gothic that was "The Innocents", and the behemoth of the traditional horror that was Kubrick's The Shining, that he decided to create his own Gothic horror movie... The wonderfully horrifying "Crimson Peak", released in 2015.
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And not only does Crimson Peak unites The Turn of the Screw with The Shining (Guillermo also invoked the influence of other massive horror movies, such as The Omen or The Exorcist) - but this movie also is the final union, the ultimate blooming of Jackson and James' works. Because del Toro's original intention for this movie was to pay homage to the "two grand dames" of the haunted house movies... 1961's The Innocents, and 1963's The Haunting. The two ghostly tragedies finally united in one Gothic movie...
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Well... To be fair, the uniting of "The Haunting of Hill House" and of "The Turn of the Screw" had already happened long before del Toro's Crimson Peak, but with a much less famous and successful movie: 1971's Let's Scare Jessica to Death... A cult piece (despite its lukewarm reception), it was created with only one goal in mind: recreating a psychological horror story with ambiguous implications, in the style of James' The Turn of the Screw, and Robert Wise's The Haunting.
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(Think we're done? FOOL! Just you wait...)
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narutoverse-write · 9 months
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Given Enough — KAKASHI HATAKE
『summary: kakashi’s past still haunts him; even with the love and comfort from a possibility of a normal, domesticated life, guilt continues to consumes him. 』
cw: angst, mentions of violence, panic attacks, night terrors, F!reader, kakashi finally has somebody to calm him down
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❝Always the fool with the slowest heart, but I know you'll take me with you.❞
His lashes batted open, strangely calm compared to the familiar snap of wakefulness. He was wide awake now, his mismatched eyes shifting from each corner of the bedroom in order to remind himself where he was. Who he was.
He turns, attempting to nuzzle closer to the warm body beside him. Your smell alone can ease him back to sleep — he knows this, and reaches out — partially disregarding your light sleep patterns, he places his hand on your shoulder to pull your body closer. You can fall asleep again pretty quickly, he just needed to hold onto you.
His hand, as soon as the palm touched your shoulder, left a darkened print against your skin. In the midst of midnight rain with no other light available but that of booming thunder and silent streaks of lightning, the mark seemed to be a black tar, spreading from the palm of his calloused hands to the womanly curvature of your shoulder. His breath spiked, nearly rolling from the warmth and comfort of your shared bed to make his leave — to rid of his sins and guilt before you would notice them slipping through the cracks.
He was terrified you’d hear his staggered breaths as he bit back on a loud sob, haphazardly searching for the light switch in the bathroom after he closed the door behind him, using only the clean, bare-fleshed hand to touch anything else. With no visible cut or scratches, blood dripped from his fingertips at an alarming rate. The smell of singed skin and metal filled his nose, burning his eyes until crying became a forced reaction rather than something he slowly released. His clean hand turned on the faucet, it’s warm water quickly heating to an ungodly temperature. His hands burned, a light red tinting the flesh of his palms and lower arms as he vigorously scrubbed the guilt away. Suddenly, his weight shifted forward as he leaned against the countertop, soaking his loose fitting t-shirt with scalding water from his messy washing. Tears soaked beneath his eyes, pinching at his cheeks.
“It won’t come off,” He sheepishly cried, noticing the running water spinning down the sink’s drain; it’s crimson color never fading. Blood continued to gush all over his covered hand. As if the water was the blood. Obito’s eye cried with him, his vision becoming increasingly blurry from the tears and the disorientation from mismatched irises. Rin’s youthful tone disintegrated into an angry scowl, shouting Kakashi’s name over the sound of the running faucet and Obito’s dying wish. “It’s not washing off. . .”
He bit into his lower lip, tensing the carved muscles in his body to suppress the scream for help he so desperately wished for. His eyes burned and were eventually incapable of seeing his own hands beneath the running water. His body felt tighter and tighter, but it had not occurred to him that another pair of arms wrapped around his waist; small hands gently massaging the strained muscles in his core to relaxation.
“I got you,” Your voice — so angelic over the screams and pleas for salvation — kept him tethered to his surroundings. You were calm, pressing your cheek against his back as you held onto him; not tightly, but strong enough to remind him.
“Haven’t I given enough?” His voice was so low and sultry, you were uncertain if he had actually directed the question towards you or to the figments of his imagination. Still, you peaked your eyes beside him, watching with him as he vigorously scrubbed the palm of his hand, red and irritated to the touch. The steam of the water had fogged the mirror beyond assistance, turning your bodies into ghostly figures. You felt it’s heat on your knuckles, the closest part of you to the faucet. He sounded desperate and weak.
He had mentioned his run-in with Sasuke mere hours ago after returning home from the summit. Naruto’s pleas for mercy upon his friend failed, being promised repeatedly that Sasuke Uchiha was a national terrorist, threat, and is to be killed on sight. Despite the way your body sank as he spoke about it — a young boy, no older than seventeen being hunted for — he sounded unamused. He only slowed his pace when he passively mentioned that he would hold himself responsible; that Kakashi would kill Sasuke so Naruto doesn’t have to. Perhaps unknowingly, or maybe entirely aware, the thought process awakened his deepest guilt, flooded with fear of his past. He stirred in his sleep all night, reminded of Obito and Rin. Who was he kidding? Was he really capable of killing one more?
“You’re burning yourself,” You eased your hand further, turning the other knob just enough to rid the running water of it’s steaming grace, lashing at Kakashi’s abused skin. Your hand ran along his forearm, carefully inspecting each overworked vein and stern muscle, trailing closer towards his hand, rubbed raw. Unbeknownst to you, his gaze had latched onto your easing fingertips as they traveled closer to his, not caring about getting wet, or touching the gushing blood pooling in his palm.
His scrubbing — shifting his body back and forth — finally halted as your hand touched his, slowly intertwining your fingers with his, despite the small lacerations he created from the scratching. His body stiffened once more, suppressing a cry as he stood still. You heard his heart beat, pounding against it’s containing rib cage as your cheek rested against his back again. Despite the internal pounding for release, his breath remained shallow. Like a turtle terrified for it’s life, Kakashi kept his stillness, his anxiety, his heart contained to himself, despite your constant assurance that nothing would ever change between you and him.
“Keep your hands there. I’ll be back,” You softly cooed, feeling the cool relief of the water, certain it would feel much better than near-boiling. He didn’t respond, but instead remained still as you slowly peeled from his body, sliding your hand across his forearm again as you left the bathroom. You moved quickly but silently, grabbing your pillows and the comforter that was messily sprawled across your mattress to bring with you. You planned to do laundry today anyways.
Finally placing the pillow to the bathroom floor with a soft thud, you guided Kakashi away from the faucet, not bothering to turn it off in fear that he may snap into another anxiety attack.
“Come lay down, just right here,” You eased slowly, feeling as though your body was being crushed under the weight of him as he slowly went to the floor. His head barely hit the pillow and he curled inwards. His red hands were only irritated now, but at least they weren’t stained with blood that was not there. “There you are, baby. I’ll be right here.”
You laid down beside him — behind him. Your body wrapped around his again, just like before. His muscles eased, entirely complacent against your touch and direction. You placed a kiss against the back of his head, burrowing yourself into his scent and warmth like you always did before bed when he was home. You opted for his side of the bed and his clothes when he wasn’t.
“I love you,” You quietly announced, your arm finding comfort beneath his own as you molded against his backside. If the faucet had not still been running, you would have heard his breathing as it stabilized and his sniffles concealing a cry. You didn’t feel him move because of your quick drifting to sleep again, but he pressed against you closer, to be held tighter. He may not be in a bed — or comfortable at all, really — but he was with you.
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realityandrebirth · 3 months
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Green
Three scenes from an alternate universe. | A piece I'm never going to finish.
Warnings for mentioned/implied death.
.
The Chosen Hero
When she first met him, Harumi thought Lord Garmadon's weapons were glowing with the power that allowed him to kill the Great Devourer. But that was a long time ago, and Harumi had not only learned that the Golden Weapons were not his, but that they were glowing because of her.
"I can't be the Green Ninja," she told him. "I don't want to defeat you! I hate the ninja!"
"I know," Garmadon said, "and that is why I took you in. Had the ninja realized who you were, they would have forced you to fight against me–but I changed that!" He glanced back at her with a grin. "With the Green Ninja on my side, my victory is assured!"
Harumi nodded, but she still felt uneasy. The sea air was cold, and she had never been so far from Ninjago. "Why didn't you tell me before?" she said.
"I was afraid you would want to fulfill the prophecy. I understand now I had no reason to worry." Garmadon adjusted the sail and squinted through the fog. "If my calculations are correct, we should be reaching the dark continent soon…"
She wrung her hands together. "I'll never fulfill the prophecy," she said. "I won't be their Green Ninja."
"Yes, that's what I'm counting on. A-ha!"
The sailboat ran aground. Garmadon stepped out into the shallow water and picked up Harumi, putting her on his shoulders. "This will give us what I need to conquer Ninjago," he said. "I will rule over them as Lord Garmadon–and you will be my princess! Let's go!"
Harumi nodded. "The ninja will pay," she said.
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The Prized Possession
"Fix your posture," the ghost hissed. "Pull back harder. You've got living muscles, boy. Use them."
"I know what I'm doing," Lloyd said, and he set the arrow loose. It sailed through the forest brush and pierced the center of the target he had drawn on a tree. Soul Archer examined it and nodded in approval–the highest possible praise from him.
"Your targets won't be trees," he said. "Your next lesson is moving targets."
"I can hit moving targets," Lloyd said. "Ghoultar, throw me a puffy pot sticker!"
"Okay!" Ghoultar bellowed, and he tossed one of the dumplings into the air. An arrow promptly pinned it to a branch. While Ghoultar mourned the wasted food, Lloyd turned to Soul Archer with a smirk, only to be met with a disapproving scowl.
"I'm not training you to show off, boy," he said. "You have a destiny to fulfill."
"I know!" Lloyd protested. "I'm ready for it!"
He yelped as a third ghost grabbed his hoodie and hoisted him off the ground. "You'll be ready when she says you are," Bansha hissed. "You have a long way to go before you can think about seeing your father again."
Lloyd clenched his jaw. "I will be worthy of serving the Preeminent," he said carefully. "I will free my father and kill the Green Ninja."
Bansha dropped him. "Then get back to work," she said.
He stood up and summoned another ghostly arrow. "Moving targets," he said to Soul Archer. "What do I need to know?"
It was easy to hit every mark when he pictured Harumi's face on the target–the girl who had stolen his father from him.
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The Quiet One
"Your parents built this?" Harumi said, following the prince deeper into the palace. The floor was stone carved with intricate runes and symbols, and the air was cold enough to make her shiver.
"They had it commissioned," Morro said. He didn't seem bothered by the cold. Harumi knew very little about the adopted son of Ninjago's emperor and empress, just that he was a sickly child who shared a name with Master Wu's first student. For a long time, his adoption had not been announced for fear he would die before adulthood, but as it went, the heir had outlived his parents. He looked healthy enough, Harumi thought to herself, keeping an eye on him.
"It was done in utmost secrecy," he continued. "The contractors were paid very well. My parents had very specific needs."
"Did they need a haunted mansion?" Harumi muttered.
Morro laughed. "They needed a temple."
He stopped at the entrance of a large room. Harumi peered over his shoulder and gasped.
The three oni masks the ninja had failed to protect lay on three pedestals. Harumi's hand went to her sword.
"What's the matter?" Morro said, not looking at her.
"You have the oni masks," she hissed. "You're working with the Sons of Garmadon!"
"I'm more than working with them," Morro said. "Disarm her."
Harumi didn't know what he meant until a blow hit her shoulder. She yelped and dropped her sword. Strong arms wrapped around her middle and hoisted her up in the air. She recognized Killow's laugh as she struggled.
"What do you want?!" she shouted. "You have the oni masks! Now what?!"
Morro turned away. "My parents wanted a child," he said, "and after several failed attempts, they didn't think they would ever have one. They resorted to drastic measures."
"What are you talking about?!"
More Sons of Garmadon appeared out of the shadows. Morro snapped his fingers. "They had very specific needs," he said again. "They needed an obedient child, someone to teach and train, to mold into their image. A quiet one, even."
Harumi grit her teeth. "You're awfully chatty for the Quiet One," she snapped.
"I was not the child they wanted, no." Morro turned around and grinned. "They may have built the Temple of Resurrection, but they had no idea who they would get."
Her eyes widened. Memories flashed in her mind; You lost your parents? Morro said. I'm sorry to hear it. It must have been a tragedy.
She shook her head and planted a kick directly in Killow's gut. He swore and dropped her. Harumi darted away before he could grab her again. The rest moved to restrain her–Morro raised a hand and they froze.
"I'll make a deal with you," he said. "You let me resurrect who I want, and maybe I'll give you a turn."
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gothvince · 11 months
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GHOSTLY HAUNTINGS I TURN LOOSE, BEETLEJUICE BEETLEJUICE BEETLEJUICE!!!!!
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rebelmist · 10 days
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DPXDC Prompt 2
I want to preface this post by saying, I freaking thrive off of morally-gray Danny so this what it shall be pertaining towards. Also omg I’ve have like 3 different versions of this idea, at least, but holy fuck does it come up at inconvenient times.
Not to mention my memory loss issues. So some parts maybe be freaking missing but I need to put this somewhere so I digress.
TW:Suicidal thoughts, self-dehumanization
It had been a good few years since Danny’s gotten lost in the Realms, far from his home, his normal, and his fraid. But, what else really was there left back in Amity…it had been all too good to be true. Danny had grown into finding a balance in heroics and personal life towards the later half of his junior year; he had even sat his parents down to confess about his identity as Phantom alongside the support from Jazz, Sam, and Tucker. His parents had been stunned to say the least until it all boiled down to tears of anguish and loud apologies from both of the older Fentons.
“Mom, Dad, …I don’t think I can safely say that it didn’t have it’s lasting effects but in the end think about this way. I’m definitely a Fenton cause I did get that portal to work after all, and survived. Fenton luck, you know how it is.”
Safe to say that while he was immediately chastised after by everyone, they definitely appreciated the joke to lighten the air. Maddie cracked a bit of a small smile and Jack let out a loud snort.
He was 17.
Oh it was just going so well, but nothing ever really stays that way, does it? Reminiscing felt bittersweet and all too raw, but then it all blossomed to sheer anger at his next memory. He, alongside many other Amity Parkers had become too compliant or carefree towards the GIW. They had created a concoction of sorts with Blood Blossoms to slowly smoke him out of his haunt, as they had taken a particular interest with him being vastly different compared to the other ghosts. There wasn’t much he could do, and while the actual flower had a less than desired effect on him being half-human still, they had somehow made it effect the people he protected to have to avoid him less he started to become weak, even for a second as they sent out ghostly beasts that he had to fight. He really should’ve trust his gut that there was more to it than that, they had figured out his identity then turned their interest to his fraid, as though to dissect what exactly made him special and became the way he is.
If it was his blood (the blood was everywhere, the broken pair of googles and pieces of a headband), if it was his bonds that held the closest towards his friends, (the fallen locks of black hair and shattered pda beside a dark-skinned hand) or if it was the location of his haunt itself, (his city had become ruins, a former shell of what it once was, toppled buildings and destruction galore). In the end, he been weakened and actively suffering from the cracks in his core as there was death after death in his home, enough to the point where he had been captured.
He distinctly remembers every slash, cut, blunt force, stabbing, drugging and so much more as he went under their examination. He was gagged, silenced, and used as their guinea pig to test weapons and tools to go after the other ghosts. He was put under a constant hazy fog but that didn’t stop him from hearing their words; their lips always become loose around him, treating him as if he was just air. The longer he stayed there, the more he lost faith in his own humanity. He lived in a constant state of self-contempt and guilt, which was at times encouraged by the other agents when they become too arrogant. He responded back with bites to their flesh in the past until they created a work-around. Overtime he became detached and distant in his nature, but the revenge for his haunt dug it’s claws deep into his soul. The whispers from the ectoplasm fueling him with powers to end this farce soon, there was nothing holding him back anymore.
There was a few of the more impressionable agents they had, that sometimes looked at him with pity and so he played them, made them let their guard down and manipulated them into loosen some restraints. He made them think they broke him.
He waited and waited until the time was right, and at last, the whispers said to let go, to raise hell and he did. For the first time in his life, he killed, maimed, and demolished the bodies—human bodies, until there’s was nothing left. He hunted down each and every station, and burned their research to the ground before he finally returned back to his haunt.
There has been nobody left there, either they were able to escape or dead, he had no idea but he was met with an empty and eerie feeling as he looked around the desolate area. Danny stumbled back towards his old house to see that remains of the carnage was still left there, his fraid left unburied and unmourned by anyone else but him within his core and mind. He couldn’t take it anymore, the cracks they had left behind still ached their spots in his core.
And so with what little semblance of sanity and humanity left in him, he dug their graves—his hands trembling the entire time. Once he buried what he could, and laid down what little flowers from weeds were left, he did the same to those he couldn’t save. He dug and dug graves for days, until the last was mourned and given an apologetic goodbye.
He never thought he’d find a time where he cursed himself for being half-alive but then he stood there, among the rubble and broke apart. He wailed the rest of his haunt away; piece by piece, memory by memory until he returned back to the building (his home) and made one final grave for his name to lay against his fraid. He laid there next to their gravestones and wept. Tears ran out and he soon fell into exhaustion, the next time he woke up, he dismantled what was left of the smaller projects until he was met by the very bane of his existence.
The portal funny enough was still standing, the agents hadn’t been successful in creating their own so they left it as is. All it could do was stare at it with a sneer, and with every step towards the closed portal, it started to feel more enticed into the Realms. The portal could stand for a few seconds while the frame self-destructed and that’s exactly what it wanted. It packed what little memorabilia that had survived the destruction; some pictures, materialistic items, and all of the documents left of it’s parents’ work.
There was officially nothing that tied it to this place and it couldn’t just end it’s own life, that’d be too simple, simply too merciful for the likes of it. So it started the self-destruct sequence and walked through, to ‘live’ in eternal suffering as that’s what it deserves.
It was freshly 22.
Now all it was is a pawn—one loyal to the League. It had drifted to a particular spot of the Realms that both seemed foreign and radiated anguish, and decided the spot would be where it will reside till it’s afterlife. Soon it had fallen through the Lazarus waters and fueled with something likeliness to a drug from the waters and it clung into it’s cracks with it’s core.
Later it was met by the one, that calls himself, Ra’s Al Ghul. Seemingly fascinated by it’s emergence, he called out for it to serve him and give ever-lasting undying loyalty.
It agreed.
It was now 29.
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sdyd · 8 months
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𝑀. the secrets of life ... sentence starters from valentine wolfe's 2018 album, the haunting of mary shelley. feel free to change tense / pronouns !
you'll see me soon, or nevermore.
how slowly time passes here.
I am as fixed as fate.
I can't stop, or turn back now.
I've left too much unsaid.
I am your voice in the dark.
I have no friend.
they will try to cut you up.
they will put you back together wrong. so very, very wrong.
a vessel can have many purposes.
decoration lends a purpose
hold on to my voice at night.
you can be remade.
revel in the decadence as they wallow in their ignorance.
you will have all the knowledge they foolishly squandered away.
you won't ever be alone again.
you can hear her anguished cries.
your compassion makes you perfect, so perfect.
I know what you seek.
I know why you cry.
I know your breaking heart.
I know how you'll die.
[ name ] was as a daughter.
we thought that your compassion made you perfect.
the shadowed window pane offers a ghostly glimpse into your paradise of domestic bliss.
where is my place in this ?
I am an endless wanderer upon this land, a maker's thoughtless touch.
why am I so alone ?
you never stooped so low.
chase away my fears.
my tears must burn with rage.
lashing out in anger, my soul is fractured fragments.
this haunted world is littered with the ghosts of the past.
everywhere I turn there’s a part of me in all of them.
there’s so much of you in all of me.
but I don’t fit.
then sorrow shall follow behind me as my bridal train.
It’s a mystery I never understood.
it's not your story to tell.
she never knew her mother.
her voice was always there.
If only the good doctor had taken better care to imbue their new creation with a mother’s love.
what horrors might have been averted !
this author knew her subject well.
all men hate the wretched, how then must I be hated.
your actions have wronged me, I must have revenge.
I am miserable beyond all living things.
make me happy, I shall again be virtuous.
what flows out must pour back in.
I will be with you on your wedding night.
I will glut myself on your shrieks.
I will revel in your misery.
I bear a hell within me, I will loose it all upon you
you will learn to dread misfortune, you will learn the agony.
I will work at your destruction, I will desolate your heart.
the death knell shall be rung, each toll a stake into your heart.
in the halls of silence, electric genius cursed me.
I remember when I wondered : what if no one had to die ?
no more farewells.
you will never have to die.
it was not what I'd intended.
I was only ever meant to live alone until the end.
death is now a welcome guest.
the pages turn, the book never ends.
the story grows cold inside my head.
I only ever wanted to help.
the echo of you will never be enough, as long as the black veil separates us.
even stretched on your grave, I’m not close enough.
the reaper is a friend.
death's kiss is a gift.
you took from me, my agency.
now I'm just a whisper in a shadow.
I am leaving this world behind.
do not search for me in heaven.
they were atypical in their custom and belief.
yet, I am bound to them.
they would slander and decry that which they don’t understand.
ignorance will lead to fear, especially if it runs unchecked.
the only way to fight the dark is by lighting up the truth.
never once back away from what lies beyond.
your lies can't hurt me now.
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lady-jane3 · 6 months
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of course i have to request prompt 30 with mary :)
⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ haunting ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆
pairing: ghost!mary goore x reader
warnings: nsfw talk & mention of exhibitionism
a/n: trying this now to see if I can get mary back brb
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pic from pinterest
This was simply childish. No reasonable person believed in werewolves, the candyman, poltergeists, the bogeyman, or any other silly urban legends. So there was no way I was going to fall for all those stupid stories spreading like wildfire about Bloody Mary. Except, this one wasn’t some gaunt-looking lady with blood dripping down from her stringy strands of hair and wearing old-timey clothes.
A friend of a friend tried it and, apparently, Bloody Mary was some fucked-up looking guy. I laughed at the mention of it right at the start and didn’t change my mind on how naive my friend must’ve been when he finished talking through the story. This new Bloody Mary was called the same way as before: calling their name in the bathroom with the lights turned off three times over.
The friend of a friend wanted to try out the trend, went into her bathroom and managed to bring this Bloody Mary into her bathroom mirror. According to her story, the spirit seemed almost disinterested, wearing black leather and ratty jeans as they leaned back against the frame of the mirror then looked over at her. 
As the story goes, allegedly, Bloody Mary started asking her about what she wanted from them and stating that wishes were possible through their power but they would come at a somewhat difficult cost. The friend of a friend asked what the cost would be and Bloody Mary laughed, telling her that they would keep their place in her bathroom mirror for a week to watch her.
This woman wasn’t much of an exhibitionist, as far as I knew, but apparently agreed to the deal. Her wish of getting a promotion came true by the end of the week. Now, I knew this woman got a promotion in real life but I couldn’t believe that it had anything to do with some ridiculous story about a spirit.
Besides, spirits like that were meant to be unsettling, from centuries before, suffering in their unrest. Not some random dude. My friend assured me that he was telling the truth and that his friend wouldn’t make up a story like that. I told him that I would believe it when I saw it and came home to try it out, my phone in hand to record the experience as proof. 
Starting up the video recording, I turned the lights off in the bathroom and set the camera filter to night mode. Then came the test of truth.
“Bloody Mary… Bloody Mary… Bloody Mary…” I spoke monotone and bored, keeping the video on and waiting a few moments just to prove that nothing would happen. 
The few moments passed. Nothing happened. I turned to the side to turn the lights on to show the mirror in full illumination just to prove that there was nothing there. My mouth opened to announce that the legend was fake as I flicked the lights on and looked into the mirror, my phone aimed right at it. But I froze when I looked into it. Instantly, my hands shook and I dropped my phone to the floor as a scream was wrenched out of my mouth. 
“Hey there, stranger.” The spirit spoke as I turned away, trying to catch my breath. 
“H-Hi…” I stammered, my voice disappearing as disbelief shook me to my core.
Slowly, I managed to make myself turn around to look into the mirror. A figure was climbing out of it, hazy and ghostly as it stood opposite me in front of the sink. I looked over to the figure and seriously believed that I had lost my mind, that this was some kind of hallucination. 
The Bloody Mary was exactly as they described. Torn-up jeans showing off their scraped up knees. A studded black leather belt around their midsection. Some kind of loose, faded black tank top with some scratched-up font that I could only assume was the name of a heavy rock band. Their hair was black, short on the sides but long on top and falling into their blood-spattered face. Circles of kohl framed their green eyes, making them look even more sunken in. 
“So, what can I do for you?” The spirit asked, leaning back casually against my bathroom wall. 
“Y-You aren’t real.” 
He laughed, exposing his slightly crooked teeth and sharp canines, “I’m as real as you are, baby.”
“I’m… I must be sleep-walking. This is just a realistic dream after all everyone’s been talking about the Bloody Mary thing.”
He sucked in a breath through his teeth, “Nope. Sorry, dollface, this is all very real. You’re awake, you’re not sick, you’re not hallucinating. Tell me what you want from me, I’ll get my end of the deal, and then I’ll be out of your hair. Or, I guess, bathroom mirror.”
“Wait, so it’s true? You’re some kind of creep?”
“Creep? That’s far from the worst I’ve been called.” They spoke to themself. “All I do is consensual, you never have to ask me for anything and I never do anything you don’t want me to. I might make an offer but you can always switch it out for something else. Just last week, I was hanging out in some lady’s mirror watching her change her clothes and brush her teeth. Nothing too crazy, she just pretended I wasn't there.”
So… it was true.
“If you don’t want anything from me, you can say so now and I’ll poof away.” Mary informed me, prompting me to say something. 
Before I could even really think it through, words came tumbling out of my mouth as I asked for the first thing that came into my mind. It wasn’t too far off what my friend’s friend asked for, something to make living a little easier, and all Bloody Mary did was nod in consideration of my request. They scratched their head and gave me a more solid nod.
“Okay. That’s easy.” They started. “What do I get?” 
“Oh, do you not just… I dunno, tell people what you’ll get in return?”
“Not always. Can’t pick up on what you like just yet, so it’s easier if you just let me know what you’re cool with.” Mary explained. “But… I am getting the feeling you just want me to offer something first, right?”
I gave them a tight smile, not really wanting to admit it, but nodded.
He grinned, fangs on display, “You don’t seem the type to want me hangin’ around your mirror for a while, so I’m gonna give ya two options but you can adjust however you like, okay?”
“Okay.”
“I’m gonna let you have exactly what you want and all it’ll take is either a quickie over this sink or I get to go down on you later on today, what do you say?”
My eyes went wide at how brash and filter-less this spirit seemed to be, “Uhh… I- wait, wouldn’t the second option just be more of a benefit to me?”
He shrugged, “You underestimate how much I love giving. And edging myself.”
“Uh, sure. Let’s go with that then…” I trailed off. 
Mary grinned, “Cool, I’ll stick around here until you’re ready for me. Pleasure haunting ya, sweetheart.”
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final-girl96 · 14 days
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STOLEN HEARTS: CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
SIX MONTHS LATER
EDDIE
All I have been doing is writing songs. All songs about broken fucking hearts. Yes my heart was broken, but it was more about the heart I had broken by my stupidity. I felt like I came in the dark of night and stole something that wasn't mine. I had Stolen her heart but she had stolen mine as well. That's all it was just two stolen hearts.
Midnight Thief
(Verse 1)
Sneaking through the shadows, in the dead of night
A heartbreaker on the loose, stealing love at first sight
With a glint in their eye, they strike without a sound
Leaving broken hearts scattered all around
(Chorus)
Midnight thief, stealing hearts with ease
Leaving a trail of shattered dreams and memories
No one can resist the pull of your dark art
Midnight thief, tearing love apart
(Verse 2)
Whispers in the alleys, tales of love gone wrong
The midnight thief dances to their tragic song
They move through the night like a ghostly wraith
Leaving behind a trail of heartbroken faith
(Chorus)
Midnight thief, stealing hearts with ease
Leaving a trail of shattered dreams and memories
No one can resist the pull of your dark art
Midnight thief, tearing love apart
(Bridge)
But one day the tables will turn, the thief will fall
Their stolen treasures will mean nothing at all
For in the end, love will conquer all
And the midnight thief will meet their final call
(Chorus)
Midnight thief, stealing hearts with ease
Leaving a trail of shattered dreams and memories
No one can resist the pull of your dark art
Midnight thief, tearing love apart
(Outro)
So beware the midnight thief, with their dark allure
Their reign of heartache will not long endure
For true love will rise, strong and unbroken
And the stolen hearts will be awoken
I couldn't stop. It's the only way I could keep myself sober. I got help. I went to rehab. While in rehab I started to write. Maybe all these songs are all the same. I don't know. I also don't care. It was a way to get it out and to help keep me sober. I wanted to apologize but I didn't know how. I didn't know if she would accept my apology. I had a good feeling she wouldn't. I sent her flowers every week for the past six months. I didn't expect her to call or write. I don't expect her to forgive me. I just want to show her that I'm working on myself. I'm working to clean myself up and keep it that way. Or at least I'm trying to.
Bloodstained Souls
(Verse 1)
In the shadows of the night
Where the demons take their flight
Whispers of love turn to spite
Stolen hearts in the pale moonlight
(Chorus)
Bloodstained souls in the dark
Torn apart, leaving their mark
Forgotten love, a broken heart
In the symphony of metal sparks
(Verse 2)
Crimson tears fall like rain
As the echoes of pain sustain
A metal heart, a soul in chains
Forever haunted by love's disdain
(Chorus)
Bloodstained souls in the dark
Torn apart, leaving their mark
Forgotten love, a broken heart
In the symphony of metal sparks
(Bridge)
Rage and sorrow intertwine
In the power of a screaming mind
Lost in a world so unkind
Stolen hearts left behind
(Chorus)
Bloodstained souls in the dark
Torn apart, leaving their mark
Forgotten love, a broken heart
In the symphony of metal sparks
(Outro)
In the echoes of the night
Where the darkness takes its flight
Stolen hearts forever ignite
In the flames of metal might.
I saw her the other day, walking in town. She was so fucking beautiful, it took my breath away. She always took my breath away. I realized that I haven't felt that in a long time though. I haven't felt that feeling she always gives me. That feeling where your heart skips a beat or two or five. It feels like it stops completely. I feel like I'm floating on air and time feels like it stops completely. I look at her and everything disappears.
I fucked that all up though. I was also high or drunk or both. I was also too fucked up that it started to disappear because the drugs and alcohol numbed everything. She's the only thing in my life besides my music that makes me feel anything. I always said that if I made it big that I would never end up like every other rockstar out there. I said I would never let fame get to me. I wouldn't get caught up in drugs, not with how easy it would be to get them whenever I wanted them. That didn't turn out well for me. It didn't go well for any of us.
Eternal Betrayal
(Verse 1)
In the shadows of the night, a darkness creeps
A sinister plot from within, a love asleep
Promises broken, lies spoken, hearts torn apart
Betrayal's curse, a venomous dart
(Chorus)
Stolen hearts, bleeding in the night
Echoes of deceit, screams out of sight
Eternal betrayal, chains that bind
Lost in a maze of anguish, losing our minds
(Verse 2)
Whispers of treachery, a silent storm
Betrayed by an angel, once thought to be warm
The fire in our souls now turns to ice
A shattered dream, a twisted device
(Chorus)
Stolen hearts, bleeding in the night
Echoes of deceit, screams out of sight
Eternal betrayal, chains that bind
Lost in a maze of anguish, losing our minds
(Bridge)
Beneath the veil of shadows, we search for light
But the darkness consumes us, the end in sight
A symphony of sorrow, a dirge of pain
Our stolen hearts, forever stained
(Chorus)
Stolen hearts, bleeding in the night
Echoes of deceit, screams out of sight
Eternal betrayal, chains that bind
Lost in a maze of anguish, losing our minds
(Outro)
In the realm of broken dreams, we stand alone
Haunted by the echoes of a love now gone
Stolen hearts, forever entwined
In the cruel embrace of eternal betrayal's bind
One day I will get her back. I will show her that I can change; that I have changed. I will prove to her that I can stay clean. That I can turn my life around. That I can be good for her and take care of her. Treat her the way she deserves to be treated. I took advantage of her love; of her heart.
Forged in Regret
(Verse 1)
Darkness surrounds me
My sins weigh heavy on my soul
I've broken promises
And taken a heavy toll
(Pre-Chorus)
I kneel before the gods
Begging for forgiveness
But the echo of my apologies
Falls upon deaf ears
(Chorus)
I'm sorry, for all that I've done
Regret consumes me, I can't outrun
Forgive me, for my transgressions
In the shadows of my confessions
(Verse 2)
Blackened hearts, scars that won't heal
A broken mirror reflects my pain
I'm haunted by my mistakes
Forever chained in shame
(Pre-Chorus)
I scream into the void
But redemption seems far
My heart is heavy with sorrow
As I face my inner war
(Chorus)
I'm sorry, for all that I've done
Regret consumes me, I can't outrun
Forgive me, for my transgressions
In the shadows of my confessions
(Bridge)
In the flames of my remorse
I'll burn away my pride
A phoenix rising from ashes
I'll cast regret aside
(Chorus)
I'm sorry, for all that I've done
Regret consumes me, I can't outrun
Forgive me, for my transgressions
In the shadows of my confessions
(Outro)
Forged in regret, I'll rise again
My sins will be my strength
I'll wear my scars with defiance
And face my demons at arm's length
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fullofbees · 3 months
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Anon requested: Lucifer totally would want to have sex on a grand piano just because.
CW: Lots of religious undertones, tbh this is probably just straight up blasphemy
»»----------► Reader is Gender Neutral
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The time on your phone reads 23:08 as you slump in the loveseat, stretching your legs out before you. For six hours, you have locked yourself in the library, skimming book after book for a report that’s due next week. You’ve made decent progress, but as the night passed, the more certain you became about having to give up your weekend.   
The thought has you sighing in frustration and sadness. You had been looking forward to the weekend, having been invited out by Asmodeus for a spa treatment and much needed retail therapy. A Devildom influencer you liked had been raving about a new gel polish that you were desperate to get your hands on. And with Asmo by your side, you were sure to get one in each color, as his death glare would keep any lesser demons out of your way.   
You can already see the demon’s pout as you regretfully cancel your plans in the morning. You know he’ll hug you tightly, promising to get the polish for you anyways before kissing your forehead. That is all well and good, but you miss the lustful fifth-born.  
Focusing on it will only make your mood worse. Deciding to leave everything where it was– you did not have the energy to lug everything back to your room– you stand from the loveseat and put out the fireplace. Darkness overtakes the library in an instant, the eerie feeling creeping up your spine reminding you of the house’s haunted nature.   
Holding your D.D.D. tight to your chest, you know you’re probably being silly as you turn its flashlight on. As you make your way to the exit, you can hear faint music echoing from beyond the room. It only adds to the creep factor, making you feel like the lovesick protagonist of Guillermo Del Toro’s latest blockbuster hit. You’ll exit the library to find your ghostly lover at the end of the hall, and you’ll call and chase after them only to watch them vanish into thin air as after rounding a corner.   
The door creaks as you open it to the adjoining music room. Faint candlelight blossoms from the far corner, your supposed lover cloaked in a black silhouette. The melody flowing from their fingertips is soft and melancholic, as if afraid to be heard. Moonlight gleams from the windows, creating a tiled path up to the grand piano, cool grays melting into the warm golden light from the candles.   
You hadn’t realized you had taken a few steps into the room until the heavy wooden door of the library slammed shut behind you. You’re not proud of it, but you scream and end up tripping over your feet when you try to run away. Bruisably soft body meets unforgiving cold tile. The melody stops, being replaced by frantic steps rushing your way.   
Rushing blood causes your head to pound as you push yourself to your knees. You’re greeted with the sight of black Oxfords before you. Raising your head, Lucifer stares down at you with a confused look on his face. His large coat is nowhere to be found; his tie is undone, hanging loosely around his neck, with the first few buttons of his shirt open. A delicate rosy glow decorates the exposed skin, trailing up to his cheeks. His well-kept hair is now messy and tangled, like he’s been constantly running his hands through it.   
“Lucifer…?” You hesitantly ask, wondering why he’s not saying anything.  
The demon bends forward and offers you his hand, gloves absent for once, “Are you alright?”   
After placing your hand in his, Lucifer helps you off the floor. “Why aren’t you sleeping?”  
“I just finished studying,” you answer.  
“Very well, time for you to head to bed then.”  
You stare at each other, an awkward aura settling around. Lucifer’s eyebrows furrow in annoyance, “What is it?”  
“Uhm, it’s just– You haven’t let go of my hand.”  
He looks down at your clasped hands, fingers intertwined, and his expression softens. Still, he doesn’t release you from his hold, now too entranced by the feeling of your soft skin.  
“Lucifer, are– are you alright?”   
The first-born drops your hand suddenly, as if he has been burned, before taking a step back from you, “Quite. Nothing you need to concern yourself with.”  
You nearly roll your eyes, wanting to chastise him about how his health and happiness are always your concern as their assistant, but manage to refrain when you see how his gaze lingers. It’s not hollow, like he’s looking through you, but rather like he’s searching for something. A gut instinct tells you to defy his dismissal and stay; you have a feeling he wants you to.  
“I didn’t know you could play, you’re really good,” You lie, trying to use conversation as an excuse to stay. But Lucifer merely answers with a confirming hum.   
The awkward feeling returns, and you’re caught off by just how much it hurts. You forget that this isn’t your Lucifer; this is him at a time of vulnerability, of distrusting others, a time where you hadn’t existed to comfort him.   
“Can I listen?” Now it is your turn to extend a metaphorical hand to him. You just hope he takes it.   
The demon acquiesces with a gruff, “Fine,” before turning on his heel and making his way back to the piano. You follow behind silently, listening to the steady chorus resounding off the walls as your footsteps fall in line with his.   
You’re startled by the mess that surrounds the instrument. Music sheets litter the floor; some crumpled up and piled in a nearby wastebin, some torn in half, others in multiple little pieces, all of them with hasty scribbles of ink and jarring lines where the notes have been scratched out. An uncorked bottle of demonus sits precariously on the piano’s frame, though there is no glass in sight.   
Lucifer seats himself on the bench as you begin collecting the discarded papers from the floor. The demon doesn’t seem to pay you any mind, as he starts a slow melody, single notes echoing out into the adjoining planetarium.   
Some of his writing has not been completely crossed out, and the repeating themes of his words both confuses and saddens you.   
Dread encounters me  
My palate discerns disasters  
That my soul would choose suffocation  
And are not satisfied with my flesh?  
“I was there that day; the day my Father broke that man’s spirit... I had delighted in it,” Lucifer’s somber voice cuts through the chords, “Is it not poetry then that I would befall the same fate?”  
The papers rustle in your hands as you even the pile out, “And what fate is that?”  
He hums, gloved fingers idly hovering over the ivory keys, before chuckling and shaking his head, resuming his playing, “Forgive me, the demonus has loosened my tongue.”  
It always does , you want to say. You have lost count how many times Lucifer had whispered the sweetest, and filthiest, words imaginable to you because of the damned drink. How many mornings had he awoke to find himself drooling on your chest, his hair wild and unkempt from your hands during the previous night’s activities?   
It almost crushes you in its enormity; to realize how lonely you feel amongst the very devil you love, to feel his absence though he sits before you. You miss him so much.  
You remind yourself that you will return to him soon; that’s he’s not as far as he seems, all you need to do is form the pacts again. If you think about it, freshly fallen Lucifer is much like the Lucifer you knew when you first came to the Devildom, albeit considerably more brooding.   
It’s familiar. He’s familiar. You can do this.  
Lucifer had told you about ‘that day’ once, when he was but a babe of an angel, with only Simeon and Michael to keep him company. You had heard of the story before, as it had been spread amongst humankind for hundreds of years. You even had spent a a great deal of your own time studying it and any accompanying texts.   
No scribe could match the horrors he had shared with you. It was the worst you had ever seen him, save for tonight. It was a distant past wound to your Lucifer, but for the one before you, it is open and raw.  
Cautiously, you approach him, clutching the music sheets to your chest. You had comforted him once before, and surely that kind of bond can transcend time.   
“Therefore, I will not restrain my mouth; I will speak in the anguish of my spirit. I will complain in the bitterness of my soul.”  
The music stops. Lucifer now stares at you with both curiosity and apprehension. His gaze is piercing, intimidating, but it no longer phases you, for you have seen the tenderness that hides below.  
The demon shuffles over to make room for you on the bench and you graciously take the offered seat. Such a simple action should not thrill you so, but the warmth radiating from him is like your second home. The remnant of his cologne fills your lungs, and you’re pleased to find that it is the very same that he uses in the future. How very Lucifer to wear the same scent for centuries; you’ll have to tease him for it later.  
You’re about to speak, to further soothe his worries, but do not get the chance as his lips meet yours. His bare hands cradle your face, trapping you to the onslaught of feverish kisses, but it barely satisfies your craving for him. The papers you hold begin to slip from your grip before you cast them back to the ground so that you can run your hands through his hair.  
Tension quickly melts into desperation as you cling to each other, but your body demands air, and you are forced to separate. Lucifer takes the moment to stand, his hands dropping to your waist as he encourages you to rise as well. Once up, he immediately spins you around to press your body against the piano.  
Harsh and discordant notes chime from below as he balances you against the keys, hands gripping your thighs as he trails sloppy kisses along your neck. Your need is only intensified when he grinds his clothed cock between your spread legs, eliciting a small moan. He repeats the action again, harder than before, and it shakes the piano.  
You’re interrupted by the sound of glass breaking, and if the growing red puddle on the floor is anything to go by, a perfectly good bottle of demonus has just been wasted. Lucifer releases a deep sigh with a scowl, and tries to part from your body, presumably to clean up the mess.  
But you refuse to let him go, not when he was finally where you wanted him most. You push your heel into his backside, hands simultaneously pulling on his belt, forcing him back into position.  
“Don’t you dare stop.”  
•••✦ ❤ ✦••• Submit A Request | Read on AO3 •••✦ ❤ ✦•••
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charlesdrawsstuff · 5 months
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Though I know I should be wary, Still I venture someplace scary; Ghostly haunting I turn loose… Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice!!!
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reallyzanytrash · 5 months
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Anyone interested in beta reading a complete Beetlejuice fanfic?
Here are some basics:
It's a Beetlebabes fic. If that's not your thing, scroll on by.
No underage material, Lydia is in her 30s.
Universe is mostly musical and cartoon, with some movie references.
Just under 42.5k words.
Beetlejuice x Lydia is the main ship. Some background Charles x Delia and Adam x Barbara.
There's smut. The smutty parts are explicit.
Major character death, some Dead Dove Do Not Eat, mentions of suicide, mild violence, pregnancy, miscarriage.
There is a happy ending.
I'm not looking for super in-depth feedback on plot (unless you want to give it), I'm mostly looking for another set of eyes who can catch misspellings, missed words, autocorrect blunders, or unclear sections (can't tell who's speaking, that doesn't make any sense here, etc.).
A short excerpt after the jump:
The next time Lydia looked up from the journal, she saw that the light outside was slipping into twilight.
From her cross-legged vantage point on the floor, she looked over from the window and spotted something under the middle of her bed in the reflection in the mirror. Wiggling her way under the bed, she stretched for the object - which looked like a crumpled bit of paper. Retrieving the object successfully, she knelt on the floor and gently unfurled the tightly-wadded paper against the carpet. The same shade of yellow as the old journal, she squinted at the page and studied the faded words. It was written in a strange language she'd never seen before. Then she flipped over the page and saw:
Though I know I should be wary,
Still I venture someplace scary,
Ghostly hauntings I turn loose:
Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice!
"Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice?" She mused out loud. That’s a strange word, and an odd poem, but whatev-
Before she could finish the thought, the sky outside turned pitch black, cloaking the room in darkness. A flash came from the mirror and the last thing Lydia saw was a wall of stripes colliding bodily with her face and knocking her backwards, thumping her head against the wooden bedframe.
As her vision narrowed and her eyes slid shut, all she heard was a gravelly voice growling out "It’s showti- Oh shit!"
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spacerangersam · 27 days
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Screw it, some thoughts about the vague tm.a ghosts au that haunts my head:
It doesn't entirely follow the tm.a plot, the early seasons are mostly the same, but as it progresses, more and more of the ghosts decide that hey, they don't actually want the world to end, and begin congregating at the institute, hoping that the archivist might be able to stop it. Also no one dies. No one inportant anyway, and not every ghost plays a one to one role for the tm.a crew, but some do.
Pat is the cheery tea guy who's trying his best at a job he's not entirely qualified for, who was already susceptible to the Lonely because of his divorce and is almost fully taken in after everything goes wrong.
Captain is the newly promoted Archivist who's struggling to grapple with the responsibility of the role and later on, what it's turning him into.
I went back and forth on this, but I think George should be the head of the Button Institute, who tried to kill his wife, the previous archivist.
Fanny is said previous archivist who's miraculously still alive and kicking, just trapped in the tunnels underneath the institute, set free after the worm incident.
Kitty is an avatar of the Lonely. The Highams are essentially the Lukas', an entire family line dedicated and consumed by the Lonely, and while her father tried to groom her sister to become a full avatar, he unknowingly made a perfect avatar in Kitty, the forgotten child. She winds up in the institute after her sister goes missing.
Mary is with the Desolation, and survived her attempted burning at the stake all those years ago. She's just trying to enjoy the changing times without setting anyone or anything on fire, but when it comes clear all hell is breaking loose, comes to the institute.
Annie is a librarian at the institute who is immediately smitten with Mary, and immediately tries to figure out how they can kiss without her dying.
Julian is the Spiral, ending up in its hallways after a party and eventually taken over by it. He's mostly just a mischievous pain who enjoys annoying the workers of the institute.
Robin's either with the Hunt or Distinction. Either way, he's still a neanderthal just casually walking around with humans, who doesn't really want them all to die.
Thomas is a victim of the Web via Francis, and one who insists on coming to the institute daily to give hour long accounts of supposed things he's seen or experienced. He's not a very good avatar, truthfully, and the Captain can't stand his flowery, excessive accounts. He usually makes Pat deal with it.
Barclay is Simon Fair.child. he just is.
Now, for Humphrey, Alison and Mike... I'm not fully decided on them.
On the one hand, I think having Alison and Mike be Captain's assistants could be fun - maybe Mike's sister was taken by the Stranger when he was young, leading him to the institute, and Alison ended up there for a more ghostly reason. But, on the other hand, I really like the idea of them running a ghost hunting YouTube / podcast...
If we go with the latter, I'd instead have Humphrey and Sophie being the assistants. Sophie had a family member taken by the Stranger, leading her family to move to England and her to end up at the institute. Humphrey doesn't have one specific fear, he just keeps accidentally bumping into avatars but nevertheless escaping just in time. After his tenth statement someone suggests he just bloody well works there so he can write his statements himself and he's like okay :)
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