#i saw something sitting on your bed! paranormal investigator | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

early2000smovieimagines · 3 years

Text

Meeting and Dating Royce Clayton

(Not my gif)(Requested by anonymous)

(I know the walls are supposed to be soundproof so I’m just gonna pretend that the ghosts can make you hear what they want when they want.)

- Being related to Cyrus had it’s perks …you supposed. You were aware of his “eccentric” work so when he died; let’s pretend he really did die, you were given the haunted house of hell.

- Considering Cyrus was dead and you would be living in his home alone; and possibly because his “lawyer” found you attractive, you were made well aware of what you would be getting into …but in this economy?

- Truth be told, you didn’t quite believe the lawyer when he told you that ghosts were being held prisoner in the home. You knew that Cyrus worked in the paranormal but you didn’t expect the reality of your situation; the fact that there were tangible entities locked up in your basement, so when you were brought down there and told to put on the glasses …well, lets just say it was a shock.

- So there you are, walking tentatively behind the lawyer as he acts tough, making jokes and borderline flirting with you; though you aren’t paying much attention to what he’s saying. The ghosts glared as they watched the two of you, well, most glared, others stared or watched with sick interest.

- You were so focused on watching the leering Jackal that you hadn’t even noticed the other figure that had suddenly materialized beside it. It wasn’t until you’d felt another set of eyes on you that you noticed; out of the corner of your eye, that the cage you were standing next to was no longer empty.

- Gasping, you whipped your head around and found yourself nearly nose to nose; separated by glass, with the one and only Torn Prince.

- The lawyer made a joking comment behind you about the ghost and said apparitions grin faltered as his eyes flickered towards the other man who guided you away from the cage with a hand. And, soon enough, you were being led back up the stairs, leaving the angry spirits behind you.

- The thing about living in a “haunted house” is that you can’t just pretend that it isn't; as much as you may try. After living a perfectly average and sometimes boring life, the thought of having tangible evidence of ghosts is your very own forbidden fruit ...so soon enough you return to the basement.

- Initially, you were obviously drawn to the more grizzly and disturbed individuals; perhaps occasionally the sadder ones if it was one of those days, but it was only a matter of time before you found yourself fixated on one ghost in particular; maybe if only for said spirits fixation on you.

- Every time you went downstairs ...there he was ...staring at you. A part of you was scared but another part of you ...the lonely, horny part of you ...sort of liked it.

- He only ever stared. Never swung at you, never acted aggressive, never even glared. He just ...stared.

- There’d been a few days where you waited to see what he’d do, sat down on the floor in front of his cell and resigned yourself to watching him back. He’d smile at you then, smile and walk around his cell, glancing back you every now and again to see if you were still watching.

- After some time, he’d mirror your position on the floor and watch you back with the same amount of intensity for as long as you sat there. Any attempt you made at speaking to him was futile, he never answered, not until about a month after you moved in.

- You’d had a busy week, busy enough that observing ghosts was the last thing on your mind. Well, the spirits were the last thing on your mind until you were going to bed and heard a harsh banging coming from somewhere in the house.

- Your immediate thought was that someone was breaking in; as implausible as that was, and so, you hesitantly picked up something hard and began to investigate.

- The farther from your room you got, the more you realized that it wasn’t coming from anywhere anyone could get in from, it was coming from the basement. With a sigh of relief yet a bit annoyed, you crept down the steps and looked for the culprit.

- Royce; it was obviously Royce, his chest heaved slightly as he panted from the effort of his actions (does he even need to breathe). You folded your arms and met his eyes as you stood in front of his cell.

“You do realize it’s nearly midnight, right?” He merely watched you like he always did.

“Okay,” you said, sighing and nodding your head at his silence. “Okay, yeah.”

- You turned from him and began to walk away before something stopped you. Before he stopped you.

“You look like a dream.” He’d called out as your back was turned and you immediately froze.

- Turning around, you eyed him in surprise, watching as he stared and toyed with his bat. As any rational; or perhaps not so rationally, person would, you backpedaled and stopped in front of his cell again.

“You just talked,” you stated before furrowing you’re brows and clearing your head with a shake. “What did you say?”

“You. Look. Like. A dream.” He emphasized each word with a step forward.

“This is incredible.” You spoke in disbelief.

“Thank you.” He’d replied with a bit of a grin.

- And thus, you began to speak with him quite often, whenever you could really. He was charming, cocky and confident in his own right; even though he was dead. You liked him, even if it was strange.

- That being said, when he asked you to let him out ...you were hesitant. You’d been warned against trusting the spirits so your immediate thought was that he’d been trying to fool you into releasing him all along. You’d quickly excused yourself and kept away from the basement for a bit of time, thinking the whole thing through.

- After some time, you’d decided that you’d take the chance, crept downstairs, carefully unlocked the door to his; you’d checked it to make sure about seven times, cell and let him out.

- You slowly stepped out into the hall after you did so, watching as he walked out of the glass cage with a smile. Your heart beat harder and harder as he gazed at his surroundings before focusing on and approaching you.

- Before you knew it, he was in front of you, his cold hand reaching out and trailing down your arm.

“Why don’t we go upstairs?” You whispered and he met your eyes, smiling in response.

- The two of you shared your first kiss about a week or so after you let him out of his cage. That lawyer had called you as the two of you were sitting together and after a minute or so of you speaking to him; and Royce hearing his attempt to ask you out leaving his mouth, the ghost had pressed his lips to yours.

- In an instant, the phone was forgotten and the lawyers attempt to get you for himself was ruined.

- But while your relationship with the living man was killed before it even began, your relationship with the spirit was only just beginning.

- As we saw, Royce can’t leave your home; not unless he’s released for good, so pda isn’t exactly possible. He’s an indoor boyfriend that can only really give you affection when you’re alone.

- Touchy, touchy, touchy. He’s been alone for a long time and was only about seventeen when he died so he’s at that “prime age” for being a horny, little bastard man.

- Cold touches and kisses. He’s dead so....

- Cheek strokes.

- Coaxing kisses; especially when you first start dating.

- Having kisses peppered across your face and body.

- Feeling a cool weight against some part of you and just knowing that it’s him.

- Sitting on his lap. I assume that it’s possible if he can touch you, right?

- Making out and heavy petting. He’s a bit of a whore for you.

- Occasionally, he’ll ask you to take off “those stupid glasses” so that he can see you as you are and look at your face up close. It’s a vulnerable, intimate sort of moment for the two of you when you don’t know what he’s thinking or how he’s looking at you; and he’s just full on lovestruck staring at you.

- He calls you a few pet names; things like “doll” “kitten” and “angel”, but when hes in a more serious mood, he just sticks to your name.

- He likes to spoon you from behind when you’re cuddling. He likes having you pressed right up against him.

- Him just rubbing your legs when you’re sitting together because you’re soft and he’s completely in love.

- Jumping and jolting because of random cold touches on your bare skin.

- Getting thrown over his shoulder. Even in death, he’s strong and agile as shit.

- Dressing up in 1950s clothing every once in a while just to surprise him. He nearly cried the first time you did. He got all misty eyed and his voice got that stuck in your throat, emotional tone to it; the image is burned in your memory.

- Having him teach you old school dances. He likes watching you fumble around and giggle shyly; he thinks it’s adorable.

- Listening to stories about his life. You can’t help but feel a little melancholy seeing the way his eyes sparkle and the smile that finds its way onto his face as he relives those little past experiences.

- Taking photos of his beloved ballfield and other places for him to see how they changed over the years.

- Letting him tell you baseball facts and recount the different games that he listened to over the radio or saw in the stadium.

- The first time you held his bat (not a poorly hidden innuendo) was borderline erotic for him. A pretty girl touching his prized possession and paying close, careful attention to it? His mouth went dry and he needed a little recovery time before he could speak.

- Movies and tv dates.

- Picnics and candlelit dates in one of your huge, empty glass rooms.

- Laying on the floor together, holding hands and staring up at the clouds through your skylights.

- Please give him a compliment; he wants your praise so badly. You’re literally perfect and he’s got half his face burnt off, he’s a little self conscious.

- He’s sort of shy about his face. He doesn’t like you looking at “it” too much but at the same time, he also gets insecure when you don't look at him. Just try to look at him without focusing on the …burnt side; at least at the beginning of your relationship.

- Being welcomed home by a whispering noise and a pair of glasses coming skidding towards you on the floor.

- Randomly just getting the faint smell of smoke, coldness, and old cologne; or just being able to smell that whenever you’re near him.

- It’s probably not best to have guests over. He’ll be in your ear the entire time, asking you who’s who and trying to make you talk to him, and I doubt most people would handle accidentally seeing a ghost loose in your house; and learning that he’s your boyfriend.

- Calming him down and trying to keep him that way when he gets a rush of anger.

- Cradling his head to your chest/stomach as he’s on his knees, his whole body heaving while he pants and tries to not destroy your house in a fit of rage over something. Royce is a ...troubled individual.

- Given his past, one can assume that Royce is a sort of impulsive. You might have to try and convince him to think things through. Though how much harm can he really do at this point, right?

- He’s dead and your alive, he’s stuck in your inherited house and you wander the streets alone. Your relationship is complex and admittedly difficult, how couldn't he get jealous?

- Royce sort of gets jealous of everyone, just to varying degrees. Your family and friends are meh; he’s more so just envious of them at times but he doesn’t start problems over them. It’s when people; usually men, who aren’t related to or aren't completely platonic with you come around that he actually gets jealous and contemplates …getting rid of them.

- You’re living in a house full of spirits that most likely want to murder you ...and then you’re going into the real world where literally anything could happen to you and he wouldn’t be able to do a damn thing. Of course he’s protective of you!

- That being said, a dark part of him sort of wishes that something would happen to you, not because he wants you to be hurt or because he doesn’t love you, but because he loves you so much. Your relationship is hard for the both of you but he’s the one that can be completely deserted if you chose to leave. He always feels extremely guilty after those thoughts but rest assured, he still has them sometimes.

- The two of you have quite a few fights, he’s just that kind of person. Most of the time it’s stupid bickering but depending on what you’re fighting about, he can get really angry, raising his voice and yelling, maybe making threats; which is when you leave and lock him away behind you.

- When you’re angry at him, all you have to do is take off the glasses and stay in your room …but god he hates it. He gets so, so angry whenever you do ...until his anger morphs into a sort of fear; a fear of you really getting sick of him. As silly as it may be, he can’t help but grow nervous, wondering whether you’re ever going to acknowledge him again.

- He’ll watch you as you go about your day, initially throwing a few tantrums, yelling at you and banging on walls with his bat. He’ll wait for you to forget to close a door or when you willingly leave one open and hesitantly come in, calling out your name in such a depressing tone that you can’t help but feel bad and accept his apology.

- He doesn’t tell you he loves you extremely often but he does say it; usually during very sincere and sweet moments. It’s always memorable whenever he says it.

- You might not know what the future entails but you’re enjoying each other’s company and that’s all that matters, isn’t it?

#the torn prince imagine #the torn prince headcanons #the torn prince headcanon #the torn prince imagines #royce clayton imagine #royce clayton headcanons #royce clayton headcanon #royce clayton imagines #early 2000s movie imagine #early 2000s imagine #early 2000s movie headcanons #early 2000s movie headcanon

116 notes · View notes

ps-i-dont-even-know · 3 years

Text

Devil may cry headcanons

You know I wasn't expecting you put a lot of Kyrie stuff in this one but I couldn't help it. Also there's dadgil in here because I really love it, sorry for no young Dante and Vergil I'm running out of ideas since I can't remember most of my childhood. Also for those who are interested, I’m thinking of starting taking request/ask for headcanons and writing, possibly drawing but their not the best, but I need to work stuff out at the moment.

Sometimes when Vergil has a mission near Nero and Kyrie, he stops by their house

The first time he did this was shocking to Nero, not only was Vergil there, but V and Urizen was there too, and it was going to be extremely ridiculous to explain this to Kyrie

And he knew how this was go and how she is protective over Nero since losing her brother and nearly losing Nero.

"Nero, who's at the... door", " Oh, um Kyrie I would like to introduce you to my dad, er … Dads?", "Your, Dads?", "Look its complicated and a long story, anyway this is my main Dad, Vergil, he's kind of nice but doesn't really talk that much. This is my dad's human half, V, he's nice, likes poems and has animals, strange one that is. And lastly is my dads demon half, um I'm not sure if he's nice or not since he raised the demon tree", "Oh that's nice, by the way which one was the one that hurt you", "Wait, Kyrie, No!"

Nero has to hold Kyrie back from trying to attack Vergil, mostly for her safety. Of course she doesn't forgive Vergil at first, because of what he has done and while she gives off a nice demeanor, her glares and scowls are anything buy warm and welcoming. Which Vergil approves of Kyrie dating Nero, having someone who will fight for you instead of turning tail when something bad happens

After a while Kyrie finally forgives Vergil, because she shouldn't hold grudges that are already in the past, and to move on. But she does tell him that if he were to do something like this again she would not hesitate to hurt him, and Vergil knowing that it would be impossible for her to hurt him agrees. And the tension is finally gone and she is more welcoming to him. Which is great for Nero's case since he felt like he was being smothered in between all their glaring and the tension.

Kyrie also makes apple pie when Vergil visits, since apples are one of his favorite fruits and because the one time he visit she made some for the orphans and she asked if he would like a slice and at first he said no, but soon gave in and had a slice, well maybe two or three but he wont admit to it.

He will also go grocery shopping with her when he has free time and Nero is busy, only to help find ingredients for new food Kyrie wants to try, and to get to know each other better.

On holidays when Vergil and Nero will help Kyrie cook some of the food. Sometimes Dante will try to sneak some sweets only for his hand to be hit by a spatula as Kyrie tells him, he needs to wait or he'll spoil his dinner. In which Dante's pouting, Nero and Nico are giggling, and Vergil is smirking.

Nero has Kyrie fix his jackets when he comes back from missions sometimes, normally he will tell her he doesn't want to put work on her, but she wants to do something nice for him. She also teachers Nero how to sew and stitch so when there are days she can't fix he can do it himself, which took a while but he got it down and not only does he fox his jacket but also helps make clothing for some of the kids, sure his stitching or sewing not the best but they love it nonetheless. Kyrie has also has sewn cat like ears on one of Nero jackets without him knowing until Dante was laughing at him, he chewed him out but still kept the ears on his hoodie because he likes it.

Kyrie got Nero into cooking and remodeling house shows, sometimes he’ll turn it on just to see how the house changed and kind of debated on doing it with their house. What surprised him was the time he came into the living room where the tv was and saw Kyrie watching crime investigator shows, saying she finds its interesting about how they solve the problems, which Nero also got into, along with most of the kids.

The kids will dog pile both Dante and Vergil, Dante loves it, play fighting with the kids and stuff. Vergil on the other hand he doesn’t expect it and isn’t used to the contact, so he gets stiff and weirded out.

Dadgil

He got a school suspension, because well doing his first judgement cut on an apple sitting on a desk while cutting the apple but also the desk was something he wasn't supposed to do, and also because there not supposed to bring weapons to school

Nero had brought the Yamato, Cerberus, Nevan, and Agni & Rudra to his school show and tell, because he want to knock the socks off the kids who brought in pets, toys, or food from a different country

Vergil was frustrated that he had gotten a call from the school that his son brought weapons to school and was being suspended because of it and was mad that Dante let the Nero bring the weapons to school in the first place because it was Dante’s day to take the kid to school and he was busy

He was proud that Nero had done a judgment cut for the first time even if it was tiny and told him not to do this again.

Nero technically has two dads. Vergil and V, he loves when V visits him because of his strange pets, and the way he acts, he's mysterious but kind and loves his poems

Nero will not sleep unless V or Vergil reads him something be it a poem or story, and will try to stay up when Vergil is out on a mission. Being read to helps Nero sleep

On that subject of sleeping, Nero has frequent nightmares. It might be something he has gotten from Vergil, but there will be times where Nero leaves his bed and walks to his dad's room asking if he can sleep in bed with him, and half awake Vergil will agree. Sometimes Vergil will softly sing to Nero because after his nightmares it takes him a while to get back to sleep, and god forbid if Dante heard him singing he knows that he will not let him live this down.

Nero wanted to learn an instrument because his dad knows how to play a violin, and his uncle knows how to play both the drums and guitar. Though the problem was he didn't know which one to go with, there was many to choose from, he kind of stuck with a trombone since it slides a lot and the style is kind of it is great, also he can get away with spitting on Dante.

Nero has only two fears, spirits/ghost and frogs. Its mostly Dante's fault for letting Nero watch paranormal horror movies at night. And Nero doesn't know why he is afraid of frogs, maybe its the way they look or something he doesn't know nor care.

When he was at the park with Nico and Kyrie, did his fear of frogs really show. They were over by the pond and Nico comes over to Nero with the frog in her hand, only for him to scream and start running, while Nico chase after him giggling. Kyrie was also giggling watching Nero run from Nico was too funny.

Nero also begged his dad and uncle for a pet, he didn't care what it was as long as its not a frog. Dante was close to getting Nero a hellhound or Cerberus, but Vergil literally had to stab smack some sense in his brother. They decided on ferret, they didn't want a cat or bird because V has one and they weren't sure if its territorial or not. Hamster and Guinea pigs are tiny and live I cates not much fun there same with Lizards. Dogs are a hassle and no one wants to clean up after it, so a Ferret is what they decided on.

Nero absolutely loves it and its a noddle he can wrap it around his neck and wiggle the creature. He decided on naming it Furret cause it looked like the Pokémon and he couldn't think of anything else

Every year for fathers day Nero will try and make Vergil something, he's make weird cup looking thing that you cant drink out of it because of holes, macaroni art, drawings, cards filled with glitter galore, paper hats, the list goes on and on. But he tried making those flower thing Dante makes, he asked him how he did it and Dante responds it comes to him naturally which doesn't help at all. So he tries only for nothing to appear to his disappointment, he tries and tries until he gets the tiniest and wimpy looking thing. But happily gives it to his dad who really appreciates it.

Vergil's refrigerator is covered with child like drawings given to him from Nero, he loves them and encourages Nero to do more and that he will be the greatest artist.

When Nero first met Patty was the same day Dante was given the mission to babysit her. She was kind of bratty and annoying at first and he didn't like that she would take all of Dante's attention. They argued a lot and Dante would yell at them to stop because it was giving him a headache and they should try to get along. After having to take Patty to retrieve her family money he did start to get along with her and they started to both annoy Dante together.

Nero absolutely loves dinosaurs and has loads of toys of them, and when he was going to the Zoo with Vergil he told him he was excited to see Dinosaurs there. Only for Vergil to tell them that there aren't any dinosaurs at the zoo. (This happened to a friend of mine).

Trish and Lady likes to take Nero out shopping, normally he doesn’t mind going with them, as long as he gets something out of it. Poor Dante and his debt when he finds out how much stuff they bough for Nero

Dante watching Nero while Vergil out can lead to many, many, different ways, and Vergil dreads all of them. Dante could feed Nero only sweets and junk food instead normal healthy food, Dante could probably lose Nero somewhere be it the park or his own damn shop, Dante could probably get Nero in danger because of the demons that show up to his shop and destroys it.

Nero does get into a lot of fights at school, half of them are kids making fun of him others are he’s a hard head and doesn’t let go of grudges. The school is very frustrated in how Nero always gets into these fights, but are nervous of his dad, because of his stubbornness and how he knows that half the time its not Nero’s fault. Like one time a teacher and Nero argued about how Demons do exist and how his dad, uncle, and two aunts go out and defeat. It resulted Nero getting embarrassed in front of the class and being sent to the office and a very angry Vergil that nearly killed the teacher.

#devil may cry vergil #vergil devil may cry #devil may cry #devil may cry headcanon #dante sparda #dmc dante #devil may cry dante #dante son of sparda #vergil dmc #vergil sparda #vergil #nero sparda #nero imagine #nero devil may cry #dmc nero #nero #dadgil

84 notes · View notes

mvrkgeoli · 3 years

Text

GHOSTING

pairing: ghost!yuta x reader genre: kinda 50s - 60s au for yuta, ghost au, angst, some fluff, kinda mature..? word count: 5.3k warnings: a handful of satanic themes, mentions of death / killing, bittersweet ending i’m sorry author’s note: lowercase intended. this is my first kinda lengthy fic and um yea i hope u like c:

settling into a new place where you weren't familiar with sure was draining, especially when you barely knew anyone around along with a long drive that separated you from your already long time friends. you had to move to alleviate the time it took to travel to the university you recently got into. renting a flat for yourself to live alone was the first "adult achievement" you had overcome, as how your mother would word it out. what definitely stunned you was how cheap the place was, for a whole flat you thought it would have cost you a few more hundreds at least.

from what you heard from the small old building's landlord, not entirely in detail, the flat was apparently owned by multiple in the past. you didn't mind it at all, you couldn't let such a price go for a student like yourself already struggling, happy with the fact that it was somewhat already furnished, furniture sitting dusted probably by the time that had passed from the last owner. some things stayed from all the years the building went through, mainly only the furniture and appliances being changed through the years. mentally reminding yourself to thank your bestfriend doyoung for helping you find places with affordable prices after you finish settling in the last of your belongings.

a few weeks had passed, finding yourself in a comfortable position in your bed along with stress clouding your mind from all the requirements already building up in the first semester. not to mention all the weird happenings that had been going on, you didn't know if you were just tired or already gone crazy.

the first time something happened was the day after you settled in the flat. the blinds in your room shut by itself just when you were going to bed, it had reminded you to close them before you drifted off into your deep slumber to shut off any peeping toms, you paid no mind to it thinking it was meant to be and nudged you as your first blunder.

the most recent one was by far the creepiest. the feeling of breathing against your ear sent shivers down your spine, sitting up from your bed abruptly, breaking you off from your little nap. the past ones had always been short hasty movements from the furniture or your belongings, sure they alarmed and spooked you but in contrast to the breathing occurrence, it was slow and calm, it felt so close. it continued for as long as it could until your wake that night, the feeling savored in your head for the rest of the day.

which leads you to today, texting doyoung if he knew anything about the unit before he suggested it to you. watching the small bubbles bobbing in your screen as you waited for his response, a short message making its way into your sight after a few moments.

dodoie | today at 6:23 not that i know of?? all i know is someone living there before but you already knew that :0

you sent him a brief thank you before shifting to your laptop to look for answers yourself, only thinking about it now after the breathing incident. first looking up the address, only the map and pictures of the neighboring buildings coming up.

after some time, you sighed to yourself, searching the last thing you wanted to if any incidents had happened in the building. woefully, an old article from a newspaper front decades ago popped up. the title reading, “nakamoto yuta, found dead in apartment…” a picture of the boy was attached, he had black slightly grown out hair, his smile was so pure you found yourself with a growing frown on your face.

what came next however, was a wave of shock running through your body at the discovery, quickly opening a new tab to search for the said name.

“local student uncovered to be a satanist—“ you trailed off, rubbing the palms of your hands against your face in stress.

clicking on another link to a 4chan discussion about the recent discovery, you saw a bulletin about the boy and some photos of the very unit you were in. he was apparently a sweet boy from what the neighboring people said. a boy who had a bright fresh smile that could lighten up any mood, it was unexpected for him to be revealed as such a person.

there was a picture of a girl next to yuta named kaiju, said to be the boy’s lovely girlfriend. the two lived together and were seen as the perfect couple.

after hours of scrolling through the page, you found a small recording of an old interview of the girl crying. “i-it was tragic… he was the perfect man— i thought he was the perfect man..” she sobbed. you frowned at your screen, eyes widening when a clip of the apartment rolled. it showed the floorboards under their refrigerator being opened to reveal different notes and certain objects that were said to be used for satanism.

you sat up to run to the kitchen, bringing your laptop with you. you compared the clip to the room in front of you. a cabinet sat where the fridge you saw was in the clip, you sighed to yourself before setting down your laptop to pull the cabinet aside.

nose scrunching in distaste as below you unveiled dust and dead bugs, taking the first utensil you could reach, in this case; a fork. you pried on the wood beneath you, pulling your shirt up to cover your nose from the dust that spread from your tampering. the wood popped open with a loud thump, you peeked inside to face dark emptiness. there sat cobwebs and dust for who knows how long, your eyebrows furrowed as the thought of the government probably collecting everything that had concerned the incident.

just when you were going to put back the floorboards, a noise rattled into your ears. you flinched back at the sound before taking into consideration to shine your phone’s flashlight at the darkness it held. there you saw the emptiness clearer. before you gave up, you saw one of the sides with little scratches and indents in the corner.

taking the fork again, you attempted to pry another piece of wood open, unfortunately failing when the prongs of the fork bent along with the burn of your fingers from using all your strength trying to open the side.

“almost...”

the voice seemed so close to you, letting out a yelp as you snapped your head towards the voice’s direction to face the empty kitchen. your breaths were heavy, heart beating at a pace you think it hasn’t been in before, your figure trembling as you hurry to unlock your phone to send all the articles you had found about this “yuta” to doyoung.

you slept by the unit’s entrance door that night in case you had to escape in a hurry.

you woke up to knocking on your door, groggily getting up from the floor to stretching briefly.

“hold on..!” you stood up and checked the little peep hole to reveal your bestfriend along with another boy.

opening the door immediately to face the pair staring back at you with questioning faces.

“jesus, did you sleep under a couch or something?” the unannounced boy spoke up. doyoung nudging him with his elbow in response, turning back to you with a small smile.

“sorry about him, this is donghy—“ “haechan.” doyoung rolled his eyes as he was cut off before continuing, “‘haechan’ right- this is one of my distant cousins haechan, i don’t think we have the money to hire a professional to check the place out but haechan here used to be in a ‘paranormal investigations club.’ and offered to help because he found you cute— ow!” an eyebrow raised at doyoung’s words as you watched the exchange between the boys. “anyways i called you and sent you messages hours ago, i thought something happened.”

you picked up your phone from the floor, the screen lighting up with multiple notifications. “oh.. sorry, i guess i was a heavy sleeper last night- wait you went all the way here!?” your eyes widened at the sudden realization, embracing the taller boy in your arms before inviting the pair inside straight away.

“holy shit the guy was into satanism?” haechan read in shock, his thumb scrolling through one of the articles you had sent doyoung. “you’re only reading it now?” doyoung scoffed at the boy as he shook his head, sitting himself right next to you on the couch.

“w..well yeah, i thought it wouldn’t be too big of a problem…” the boy rubbed on the nape of his neck in humiliation, to which your bestfriend responded with a low sigh. “i didn’t drive us an hour for you to end up useless, hyuck.” “—haechan!” doyoung only rolled his eyes at the other.

“and i’m not completely useless! one of the club members, chenle, used to say that ghosts usually only have unfinished business if they stay behind in this world. maybe we can confront this ‘yuta’ politely or make a deal with him-“ you raised a brow towards haechan rubbing the space between your brows in distress. “are you seriously telling me to make a deal? with a satanist? you’re basically making me make a deal with the devil, literally!”

haechan put his hands up in defense, eyes widening at your small burst. “okay, okay! what i’m saying is, if chenle was right about ghosts having unfinished business, maybe you can help ‘yuta’ to finish! if he was wrong, you can try getting a deal or something to leave you alone i guess.”

you sighed in defeat, this chenle guy could be right, but you would still take risk on having a deal with this guy. “so… how ‘bout it?” haechan shrugged as his eyebrows arched in proposition, to which you rolled your eyes. “okay kid, but how am i gonna summon him?”

“take this just in case.” haechan handed you a small bag, ‘iodized salt’ it read. you only nodded and casted him a quick thank you before he proceeded to enter the elder’s car first, giving doyoung another longing hug as he nagged on if you needed any more help. “sorry about donghyuck again, call me if anything serious happens. i’m also at fault here kinda ‘cause i suggested this place to you with no research.”

“what’s with ‘haechan’ anyway? and it’s fine, it was my fault i only looked at the price before deciding.” doyoung laughed and glanced over to the boy sitting in the passenger seat before turning back to face you. “he said it was a cool ‘code name’, he didn’t want any ghosts to know his name. anyway, seriously if worst comes to worst, it may cost more money but i’ll try helping with looking for another place.” you snickered softly before thanking him again.

and so, you were left alone again, waving goodbye to the car drifting off your sight. sighing to yourself as you went back into the building, sitting on the couch to research more about summoning dead people safely if that was even possible.

several hours had passed from reading about ghosts and looking for the right supplies, you just got back from a close bookstore to buy three new tall candles for summoning the little friend that had been haunting you, planning on doing it at midnight just like the “easy tutorial” donghyuck made doyoung send you.

later, moving to your bathroom hastily wanting to just get it over with, bringing the candles, a marker, along with the bag of salt donghyuck had given you. hunching over the bathtub to draw a decent sized summoning circle. placing the lengthened candles to three points of the summoning circle, you filled up the tub with at least an inch of water before lighting them.

you switched off the lights, closing the door before kneeling down behind the bathtub. taking a deep breath as you closed your eyes in advance of doing a cheesy chant along with saying the perpetrator’s name three times just like what donghyuck’s tutorial said.

“... nakamoto yuta,” the first holler of his name was said, already feeling stupid for using such a cliché way of summoning. “nakamoto yuta,” in an instant, your lips quivered when you felt your surroundings turn darker. “nakamoto..” the room felt colder, your ears ringing from how quiet the ambience had shifted. your breathing trembled as you finished the chant. “.. yuta.”

“so you did have the guts.”

your eyes crack open at the voice, only to face total darkness. the candles, from what you assume, blew over which meant something must have definitely happened. jumping back in a hurry as you rushed to turn on the lights, your breaths turned shorter as your eyes met with a dark haired man standing in the bathtub, right on top of the summoning circle you drew. your immediate reaction was ripping open the bag donghyuck gave and shoving it at the man as you recoiled your arms to cover your head in a corner.

a distant grunt echoed around the bathroom, followed by water sloshing around and dripping footsteps nearing your shaking figure. tears pricked your eyes as you felt the clear presence of the man get closer.

“this is table salt.”

thanks a lot, donghyuck.

your eyes creak open slightly, eyes meeting once again with the dark haired man. head still in your arms as you refused to lift your head for him, you spoke with a shaky voice. “yu.. yuta…?” your eyes were glued to the tiles of the floor, a peek of the man’s wet shoes making its way to your vision.

“that’s me— oh god, i don’t look like what i looked like when i died right??” your ears perked at the tone of his voice, eyebrows furrowing at the question. ‘oh god’? wasn’t he on the devil’s side? why was that his first question? why did he sound so soft? hearing the soft clacking of the soles of his shoes walking away, you lift your head to see the rear side of the man attempting to inspect himself and shake off the salt you threw at him.

“y-you’re a lot uh.. a lot less intimidating than i thought…” you spoke up, yuta turned to look at you with his big eyes before walking back to crouch down your eye level. “am i really?” you cowered back, his voice cutting you off before you could open your mouth. “i’m kidding, sorry..”

your fingertips reached out to feel his forearm in curiosity, lips pursing when it made contact to yuta’s arm. it felt real, the way your fingers would bounce back when pushed on the boy’s flesh. “you seem.. so normal- almost too normal…” his eyes trailed down to follow your finger’s movements, blinking to himself before speaking up. “i am normal- or i guess was… i won’t hurt you, don't worry.”

your eyebrows arched, skeptical of the man in front of you. eyes traveling down to let yourself think; in retrospect, for all of the things that have been happening, you will admit that none of them had hurt you in any way. your head tilted back up, still hesitant about everything and anything at that moment.

“okay, let’s- let’s have a small nice and calm talk—“

you sat across the ghost in the dining area in silence, your face buried in your clammy hands as you still couldn’t process everything. he sat stiff in front of you, blinking to himself as you both seemed like waiting for something to happen.

“it’s not true, y’know.” he broke the ice and attempted to make the first move to talk, he watched as your head tipped up at his voice, finally drinking in your features when you fixed your posture and pushed back the hair that got in the way of your face. “— the articles you read- i mean..”

you stared at the man in front of you dubiously. if he knew about the articles you’ve seen, how much of you did he see, you thought to yourself suddenly. blinking several times before thinking of a response. “the what?”

“the things you saw about me. they weren’t true.” his eyes trailed down to stare blankly at the center of the table as his fingers fiddled with the table’s ridges. you only raised a brow at the man, eyes following his movements.

“uh huh, okay..” you found yourself just nodding and humming to his words trying to talk you into him being good, you couldn’t trust someone that easily, even more so when it was a ghost who was known to be supporting the devil itself. “how am i supposed to believe a satanis—“ he looked at you with his wide eyes at this, palms laying flat against the table. “i’m not, i swear.. i haven’t done anything bad right?” listening to the man before you speaking softly shifting tone as he continued, almost as if he was scolding himself rather. “i didn’t hurt you? i didn’t hurt anyone who’s lived here before you! i didn’t hurt kaiju either!”

your eyes widened at the name, his past lover. staring closely at the man’s face, you almost see tears welling up in his eyes. choosing to silence yourself after the outburst not wanting to madden the boy in front of you more, you thought of anything calm to respond with.

you avert your gaze to the side as you saw the man stand up to walk away, listening to the soft footsteps he left behind him. lips pursing as you tried to think of anything to calm the mood.

“here.” you heard his voice ring from the kitchen area. looking up from your spaced out gaze to find yuta standing with his arms crossed by the cabinet you had previously moved. you stood up from your seat to walk to the kitchen in silence, making few steps to get beside the boy.

“open it again.” you only nodded, still feeling the awkwardness lingering in the air. you moved the cabinet aside once more, grabbing another fork from the kitchen drawer to pry open the floorboards. sitting on your knees as you face the empty compartment, eyes trained on the blemished side of the hollow cavity. you stared up at yuta only to face a blank look on his face insinuating for you to continue.

“i already tried…” you put the fork down to slouch. “i know, now try again.” he persisted, you only took a breath in before attempting to open another hidden compartment within the one already opened.

after several forks bent, a few dulled knives, the annoying thumping of a hammer ringing in your ears and your hands stinging with burns from the pressure forced onto them, you successfully pried open what seemed like the most superglued pieces of wood together to reveal an old looking shoebox. pulling it out before sitting comfortably to uncrate the box.

yuta crouched down beside you as you uncovered the shoebox. revealing a tattered pouch, something wrapped with worn down linen and some papers with characters you couldn’t read, opening the pouch with interest and dumping the contents onto the shoebox’s lid to exhibit different kinds of pendants and even some small lockets.

moving onto the linen wrapped item, you handled it with frail fingers, it weighed down your hands slightly making you more curious. it unraveled a small dagger.

you wince at the sight and dropped the dagger abruptly, the loud clang of the blade as it ground rang for what seemed like forever. it was covered with maroon. forcing yourself to think that it was just rust and not what you thought it was, you turned to yuta with your shaky eyes.

“she took one thing from people she had targeted after she was finished.” he said mindlessly, reaching forward to fiddle with the trinkets spilled from the pouch. you however, sat back to process the new discovery.

‘she’? you thought to yourself. kaiju? was it her? you blinked to yourself and tried to piece things together. the clip of kaiju sobbing appeared in your head. not once did she talk about the insights of their relationship when it was about ‘yuta’s satanism’. she even knew where the compartment was located after yuta’s death claiming he had left it open. burying your head into your dusted hands. yuta was haunting the unit not because he was bad.

he just wanted to be found.

you knew something felt off when you saw her smile whenever the public pitied her for the loss of her ‘lover’.

the thought of yuta staying for years being painted and seen as a bad person by the public made a frown quickly grow on your face, you fixated your eyes on the man beside you as he absentmindedly toyed with the small belongings of other people. the other people. did they stay behind and want to be found too? you thought.

“i’m so sorry…” you finally spoke words, yuta nodded and stood from the ground. “you summoned me to get rid of me right? sorry to break it to you but i was left here as a spirit beca—“ you took a sharp inhale at his words, standing up to face the taller.

“i wanna help you. this guy said people like you were left here as a ghost because they have—“ yuta looked at you with uninterested eyes. “unfinished business. i know, i was there when that haechan guy came.” he sighed and looked off to the side in contempt before continuing. “y’know, i’d be happy to accept but it’s hard when even i don’t know what my ‘unfinished business’ is. it made me think after what he said sunk in… what if we don’t move on after death. we don’t even know if that’s true.. who knows, maybe i’ll stay here as a ghost forever.”

you clenched your jaw as yuta spoke, he made fair points and what ifs. it made you even more mad that kaiju got away with it, yuta was portrayed as the bad guy and they left the case at that. “i’ll tell the police about this— i.. i can change what they think about you…!” yuta only shrugged, your eyes followed after his steps as he sat back down by the table. you trailed after him, sitting next to him this time. “it’s been years. i doubt all the people who were alive back then would care or would even remember.”

a sigh spilled from your mouth as you fell into a slump next to his careless state, you went from wanting to move out of the flat to feeling like you wanted to protect yuta and the apartment he had died in. “thanks though. for putting in effort i mean- all the people before you moved out in weeks or just ran away.”

he stared at your tired figure, eyes wandering to your distended fingers. he appreciated the pain your body had went through to see him, the thought of you wanting to even help him made him realize how much he missed how nice it felt to be given a care for. yuta watched as you straighten your posture back up to face him, he felt how dissatisfied you were by the droop of your eyes.

“then let’s still try.. we don’t know if what haechan’s friend said was true, just like you said but that doesn’t mean it isn’t. we just don’t know yet, it could be true! so let’s try..!” yuta blinked at your determination, letting out a chuckle for the first time since you met him. “you seriously don’t have to put this much into helping—“

“i don’t care! i don’t think i can live on with the thought of this man rotting here when i’m living my life like it’s back to normal. just let me help you… even if it fails i’ll be glad to know that i tried my best.” you thumped a fist to the table’s surface, seeing yuta flinch at the corner of your eye.

yuta had been rotting in this hell hole for years, he had long forgotten what it felt like to be important, even being thought about made him feel like he still had purpose. he was sure that if he still had a functioning heart, it’d be beating with how warm he felt.

“okay.. let’s try.”

a few weeks had passed, both of you agreeing to act like normal as if you were roommates, though the only difference was yuta not needing to eat nor bathe or anything, in an attempt to make your new ghostly friend feel happiness. he shared that he lived a pretty decent life, although short he was happy. he had no one who seemed like they would put up a fight with him, bad things that would come across nor anything physical that was unfinished from what he could remember of his life when he was alive- other than being killed and sacrificed to satan of course.

you contacted doyoung to tell and explain what really happened, he however didn’t know how to feel about the situation. a friendly ghost being by his bestfriend’s side almost 24/7, he was happy that you didn’t get killed or possessed or anything but he was skeptical that he hasn’t seen the man himself whenever you facetimed or called. yuta on the other hand refused to show himself even if he couldn’t be seen anyway especially if haechan was with doyoung, if you were in a call, he’d simply just hang around in a different room not wanting to lift some book just to prove he was actually the one moving it.

in yuta’s perspective, he thinks that this was probably the happiest and lively he’s been in years. he had someone to talk to, hang out with after he spent all this time trying to get attention from people and being lonely. you were there to listen to all the stories he had from all the exciting things he experienced and went through, and he was there when you needed someone to rant to even about the most random and little things. even teaching him about modern technology and watching series he hadn’t watched.

yuta felt like his presence was valued. sometimes he’d forget that he was even dead when he was having fun with you. you believe that everything was working out well, you almost felt like stopping because if you were to be honest, you probably had shared some of the happiest moments as well and didn’t want anything to end.

as more days, weeks, months passed by like nothing, yuta was at his peak of happiness spending time with you and learning about how things had changed through the years.

you made an anonymous 4chan thread about the truth, you wanted justice for yuta to be seen as someone he truly was. you named yourself as someone who lives in the flat currently and acted as someone who was curious about the old building. soon a small group who theorized yuta being innocent was formed, it made you glad that even a handful of people believed that he was actually good.

yuta shortly requested if he could lay with you in bed after you got comfortable with his company, claiming that ghosts could feel sore too. you only laughed and agreed, you learned that he had his ways to charm you into his silliness.

“so what was with the breathing?” you suddenly remembered the whole reason why you summoned yuta in the first place. he shifted his head to the side to look at you, bottom lip pushing out slightly as he tried to think. “the what breathing?”

“i remember feeling someone breathing against me, it was kinda the last straw with me back then before i did research about the place and found out about you.” yuta hummed to himself as he thinks all the way back to when you were kind of new to the place, he swore he could feel his face warm up when he realized what you were talking about.

“... i was uh.. you know how i get lonely right— i mean-! i swear i was just laying in bed! i didn’t realize i was so close to you and affected you!” you smirked at the response, giggling at how he babbled on and tried to explain himself. “hmm okay, perv.”

“i— what?” yuta sat up slightly, using his elbows to support his body on the soft mattress. “i mean, you probably have already seen me naked.”

“hey! i know being a ghost is creepy but i’m not that kind of creepy… i suppose i have seen— but i swear i didn’t think anything filthy of it-!” you laughed at the man’s embarrassed face, brushing off the topic to save the man from sinking further into shyness.

“y’know, i don’t think i’d get to see ghosts the same way as i did before i met you.” you started off, yuta only stared at you with interest as you continued. “i didn’t even believe in them before this, and everyone in the world thinks ghosts are always out to kill or haunt you or something.” your eyes trailed forward to look at your ceiling, thinking of the right words to say.

“but now i know.. a lot of you probably just want closure from death, it makes me sad that most of you just rot away not doing anything, moving stuff to get our attention and stuff, no wonder some tired and lonely ones end up haunting places with bad intentions.” yuta blinked at your sudden burst of feelings in words, he couldn’t help but smile at the thought of finally being understood.

“it’s too bad that you guys are usually interpreted as bad people, when you’re just finding your way to peace.” you didn’t realize a tear slipped down the side of your face until yuta wiped it off with his cold fingers. he fully sat up to face you, following suit to the man beside you.

yuta hesitated before leaning in slowly, you closed your eyes in content. lips pressing against his cold slightly chapped ones, you felt one of his hands travel up to cup your cheek gently. yuta felt himself flood his own tears after so long. the kiss lasted a good moment, it was sweet and genuine. pulling away with slightly hooded eyes, you cupped his cheeks with both hands, leaning in once more to kiss away the man’s tears.

“it’s okay, let it all out…” you whispered tenderly, he might be decades older than you but he was still the bright young hopeful boy he once was.

the happy moment quickly converted into confusion when you saw his figure slowly turn translucent, seeing the light sourced by the room peek through him slightly. he turned back to you with a happy smile this time, his voice rung in your ears with a slightly thrilled voice. “i think i understand what my ‘unfinished business’ was.”

your eyes widened further as you thread your fingers through his soft tufts of hair. “w-what do you mean…?” you weren’t ready to let go of him yet, your eyes swelled with tears as he spoke once more.

“yuta! no.. what—!?” you watched as your hands sunk into his figure. you couldn’t feel him anymore.

“thank you for loving me back.” you stared at the man in dejection, your breaths turning shallow as your time with yuta came to an end. he was finally at peace. eyes pouring rivers at the realization that he was actually gone, if past you knew that he was gone now, you would probably be happy.

weren’t you supposed to be happy? this was your goal from the beginning, why did it feel like a part of you died along with yuta’s disappearance. you slumped in devastation. yuta didn’t want to live perfect and happy.

he just wanted to be loved genuinely.

you didn’t even get to say the words to him, it was too late when you were certain you felt these strong feelings for the man.

“i love you too.”

80 notes · View notes

ghostpeblewrite · 3 years

Text

Paradoxical - Chapter 4

~~~~~~

Toast nudges the door to the bedroom open quietly, careful to not spill the hot cup of tea in his hand as he walks in. He smiles at the sight of Ghost, lying on his side on the bed. He quietly makes his way over, setting the mug down on the bedside table, sitting next to Ghost.

“Are you awake, sir?” Toast whispers, placing a gentle hand on his arm.

“I am now,” Ghost mumbles, not opening his eyes.

Toast chuckles. “Sorry about that, sir. I brought you tea if you want it.”

Ghost sighs, stretching a bit before he sits up, not looking at Toast. He sits against the headboard, bringing his knees up to his chest before he grabs the tea, just holding it in his hands for now. Toast smiles, scooting a bit so he’s sat next to Ghost.

“Are you feeling better now, sir?” Toast asks quietly, looking at him.

“A bit,” Ghost mumbles, before finally taking a sip of the tea. That relaxes Toast some.

“That’s good, sir,” Toast says happily. Ghost leans on Toast a bit.

A comfortable silence falls over the two. Toast closes his eyes, humming happily. Ghost just sips the tea, allowing himself to be relaxed.

After a bit, Ghost breaks the silence, mumbling a quiet, “Are Colon and Spooker here?”

“No, sir,” Toast answers quietly. “They had somewhere to be.”

“Good,” Ghost sighs.

Toast chuckles, “Is it, sir?”

“Yeah,” Ghost leans on Toast more. Toast wraps an arm around him. “I like it better when it’s just us two.”

“And why’s that?” Toast asks.

“It’s like the old days,” Ghost mumbles, taking a sip of tea.

Toast nods, humming a bit in thought. “Yeah, I suppose it is, sir.”

Ghost just turns a bit, burying his face into Toast’s chest, causing the brit to chuckle more. He puts a gentle hand on Ghost’s head, ruffling his hair a bit.

“You okay there, sir?” Toast asks, his smile obvious in his voice.

��Warm…” Ghost mumbles, the sound muffled by Toast’s shirt. Toast chuckles more.

“Alright sir,” He says, smiling as he messes with Ghost’s hair. Despite looking like a total mess all the time, it’s surprisingly soft. Toast doesn’t get to do this often. He enjoys it every time.

After a bit more silence, Toast finally bites the bullet, saying a quiet, “Sir, speaking of Spooker and Colon, I do think we need to look into the thing Spooker-”

“No,” Ghost cuts him off, pulling away from him. Toast has to fight off a sigh.

“Sir, please. This could be serious! It’s at least worth looking into? Better safe than sorry?” his eyebrows furrow together, his tone almost pleading. “I said no, Johnny,” Ghost says, setting his mug of tea down on the bedside table. “Leave it.”

“Sir, please,” Toast repeats.

“Johnny. No.”

“Sir, what is with you??” Toast sighs. “Ever since your incident, you’ve refused to listen to anything-”

“Oh don’t start with that again, Johnny!” Ghost groans, moving away from him. Toast grabs his arm to keep him from leaving.

“I’m not trying to start anything, Sir, I just-”

“You just what?” Ghost snaps, glaring at him.

“I just wish you would talk to me, Ghost!” Toast stresses, the worry evident in his face and his tone. Ghost studies him for a bit, before pulling his arm away roughly.

“I’m going for a walk,” he says simply, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. Toast can only watch in silent defeat as Ghost gets his shoes on and walks out the door.

By the time Spooker and Colon return, Toast has already worked himself into a funk. He doesn’t like arguing with Ghost. It makes him feel all icky.

Spooker and Colon find him sitting at the table, staring down at an empty teacup. He’s sworn off drinking alcohol, so he now instead stress drinks tea. He couldn’t say how many cups he’s had since Ghost walked out. He’d call Ghost, but he left his phone here. So, Toast just gets to wait in anguish for Ghost to come back. He almost thinks Spooker and Colon are him, but he hears the car and remembers Ghost doesn’t drive.

Upon seeing Toast, Spooker glances over at Colon, who shrugs back at him.

“Hey, Toast…” Spooker says slowly, walking up to him.

“Hi,” Toast says, forcing a small smile as he looks up at the two.

“Everything okay?” Spooker asks.

“Yeah, everything’s fine,” Toast nods, “How was your uhm… thing?”

The two glance at each other.

“It was fine,” Colon says.

Toast is about to respond, but he gets cut off by his phone ringing. He jumps a bit, pulling it out of his pocket. He picks it up, putting it to his ear.

“Hello, Johnny Toast uh- from PIE, Paranormal Investigators Extraordinaire,” he says. His intro is different from Ghost’s, but also not exactly as solid, Ghost made sure of it all those years ago. “How can I help you?”

Spooker grabs Colon’s arm, dragging him to the other room.

“Do we bring it up-?” Spooker asks.

“No- It’s too early,” Colon says, shaking his head. “We still need to find out more if we can.”

“Alright,” Spooker nods, glancing in Toast’s general direction. “He just… doesn’t seem the type, does he?”

“Not at all,” Colon says, “but we know better now.”

“Spooker, Colon!” Toast calls from the other room, drawing the other two back into that room.

“Grab your stuff,” Toast says, putting his phone back in his pocket, “We have an urgent job.”

“Alright, Toast,” Colon nods. Spooker’s already on the way to the extra room where he and Colon are allowed to keep their stuff.

The three are on the road soon enough. Even though Ghost isn’t there, Spooker and Colon still sit in the back, leaving Toast up front on his own.

“So, Toast, what did you mean when you said it was urgent?” Colon asks after a bit of silence.

“Oh, right-” Toast forgot to fill the other two in. Usually, he just fills Ghost in, and Ghost fills them in. He’s a bit thrown off with Ghost not here, but he couldn’t exactly get a hold of Ghost, and they needed to go at that moment. “According to the caller, there’s a horde of undead entities in a local park.”

“What?” Spooker’s surprised by that, glancing over at an equally surprised Colon. That doesn’t happen often, random zombies.

“I’m as surprised as you two,” Toast says, glancing in the rearview mirror at them. “This is totally out of the blue.”

Colon nudges Spooker. Spooker’s eyes widen, “What if it’s not out of the blue?”

“What do you mean?” Toast asks, though he already knows.

“The spikes on the graph!” Spooker exclaims. “They could be related!!”

“That could be so,” Toast nods, thinking about it. It would make sense. Spikes don’t happen for no reason. Something’s up, and he has a feeling a small horde of paranormal entities isn’t the end of it.

They reach the park soon enough. Luckily, it seems most people have run away, leaving no casualties. There does seem to be a few people around, watching to make sure the zombies don’t wander off. Toast approaches one of these people as Spooker and Colon get the equipment from the back.

“Eh, hello, sir,” Toast greets. “Were you the one who called?”

“No, I wasn’t, but I saw that guy leave,” the guy says, not looking over at Toast. He speaks weirdly, as if trying to cover up an accent. He also seems oddly familiar to Toast, but Toast is sure he’s just seen him around town. I mean, it’s not like he’s special looking. Looks to be of Hispanic heritage, medium-length brown hair pulled back into a man bun. He wears what any generic guy would wear. It almost gives off the impression that he’s trying hard to fit in, but Toast brushes it off. Some people are like that.

“Ah, alright,” Toast nods, mentally sighing at that, “I’m Johnny Toast from PIE, Paranormal Investigators Extraordinaire.” He offers the man his hand for a handshake, but the guy just looks at it, then back up to Toast.

“Are you gonna fix this problem or what?” The guy asks.

“I- Well,” Toast falters, putting his hand down awkwardly. He clears his throat. “Of course, that is what we do! However, I would like some background information. Do you know what happened here?”

“Yeah, everything was normal, and then those fuckers shambled out of the woods and started attacking people!”

“Oh dear,” Toast sighs, glancing at the horde, which is less a horde and more a small group. “Do you know if anyone got bit?”

“I’m not here to do your job for you!” The guy huffs.

“Well, no, of course not,” Toast says, “I mean, that would be ridiculous! But I wasn’t here when this happened, and presumably, you were. Did you see anyone get bit?”

“No!” The guy says, sounding fed up with Toast. “Can you just do your fuckin job?”

Toast recoils a bit at the man’s harshness, but nods nonetheless, “Of course, sir. Thank you for your time.” He turns on his heel, heading back to the car. Spooker and Colon stand there waiting for him.

“So, what’s the sitch?” Colon asks when Toast is close enough.

“Apparently, they just showed up,” Toast sighs, grabbing a few things, one of them being a crossbow. “Came out of the woods.” His tone is tense.

“Is something wrong?” Spooker asks, watching him.

“Well- Not really? It’s just… Odd. Undead entities don’t just show up. There are only two ways undead are made. Either a necromancer raises the dead, or an undead makes another undead by infecting a live person.”

“So what you’re saying is there’s a necromancer on the loose,” Colon says.

“Sort of,” Toast nods, “the only thing with that is how rare necromancers are these days. When Ghost and I were young, there was a mass wipeout of paranormal power. That’s why you don’t see people running around doing the things they used to anymore. Necromancy was especially affected because of how much power is needed for it. I… I can only think of a few people strong enough to amass that much power.”

“Who?” Spooker asks.

“Well, people like… The toilet toucher! Though he obviously isn’t, because… Toilets. But you get the point,” Toast says, checking to make sure his crossbow still works. He doesn’t get to use it much anymore, and he doesn’t want to have a defective weapon against these things. He’s been one before. Ghost nearly killed himself stressing over finding the cure. Of course, now they have a huge stock of it just in case, but still. It’s an unpleasant experience.

Once Toast is sure the crossbow works, he instructs the other two to stay near the car and heads out to deal with the problem. Zombies are notorious for getting back up right when you think they’re dead, but are easy to kill if you know where to shoot.

The guy Toast talked to watches from the perimeter of the park quietly. By the time Toast is done, the guy is gone.

~~~

Toast bein good at his job pog

#cw cursing #tw swearing #toast is so cool why is ghost so mean to him #also toast saying 'ghost' to ghost? thats when u know shits real :flushed:#lol #paradoxical story

9 notes · View notes

5-secondsofcolor · 4 years

Text

The Haunting of Hood House || C. H.

Prompt: "Listen, I know it's late, but I've been watching Buzzfeed Unsolved and...can you come over?"

Word count: 1.4k ish

TW: a little bit Spoopy and swearing

This is a part of a Halloween collab hosted by the lovely @maluminspace and @h0tsos (thanks so much for hosting these!!!).

EVENT MASTERLIST!

Calum settled onto the couch long ago. He didn’t plan for a marathon but the chilly October afternoon called for a spooky show. One episode of Buzzfeed Unsolved after another, he watches as Ryan tries to contain Shane between fits of fear. Calums only off the couch long enough to grab a pizza before continuing on with episodes of it.

It’s only once he’s run out of episodes that he realizes how late it’s gotten. The light from the TV is the only thing that illuminates his home.

It feels like the whole house stretches with him as he gets off the couch. The darkness plays with the space in his peripherals as he grabs his phone and flips on the flashlight. It's only then that he realizes he's afraid to go back across the room.

Was that something he saw? The photos in the living room feel like they’re staring, observing as he tries to calm himself. This is ridiculous, he thinks to himself as he walks into the living room and shuts off the TV.

Unsure why he felt the need to be so silent, he turned on the hallway light and started the way to his bedroom. Maybe, it’s a night to turn in early. Duke’s nails on the hardwood floor are the only noise he hears and he heads back down the hall and to his bedroom.

Paranoia only grows as he tries to shower. He’s hyper aware of every creek in the house and can’t help but try to plan what to do if someone tried to wander in now. He’d have nothing to protect himself with. What’s he going to do? Toss a shampoo bottle at a ghost?

Instinctively, he dials Vanessas number as he gets ready for bed.

“Are you busy?”

“A little bit. Just trying to sort out some things before work Monday.”

A creek from down the hall pushes him to cut the crap. There’s no way he’s sleeping alone tonight, “Listen, I know it’s late, but I’ve been watching Buzzfeed Unsolved and… can you come over?”

Her laugh starts to unknot the anxiety in his chest. “Cal, you’ve got to stop doing this to yourself. Remember the one time with Ashton?”

“It was not my finest moment,” he admits.

“That’s a funny thing to call the full blown paranormal investigation. All the apps on your phone. What was it? iGhost?” She lays into him. He knew she wouldn’t let it go the last time he had to ask her over for the same thing but he swears there’s something to the house.

“Well I was thinking, maybe we could have a nice breakfast in the morning,” he pivots. Not exactly happy to talk about the last time he did this to himself. That time he had to have his mom pray a protective karakia over the phone just to go back to spending time at home alone.

“You drive a hard bargain, Hood. Just sit tight with Caspar and I’ll head right over.”

Hes not that upset at her teasing but he can’t hide the bit of whine in his voice as he shouts back, “it’s not funny!”

“I’m sorry. I’ll stop. I’ll see you in a little bit.”

“Ok. Drive safe.”

He burrows further into bed to wait for her. The covers might be nothing’s more than fabric and feathers but they make him feel safer and the room grows darker and darker around him.

A large crashing comes from the back of the house and he knows he should stay in bed and ignore the noise. Something stronger pulls at him and he starts to walk down the hall and back into his music room, the only place something that large could’ve fallen.

He holds his breath, trying not to break the silence, as he pushes the door open, his eyes take a moment to adjust to the darkness. At first, he can only make out a few of the frames hanging on the wall and old awards that hang out on the bookshelves. Nothing looks out of order, yet.

Moving as quick as possible, he reaches into the room and turns on the light. The room itself is empty and not a single item is out of place. Double checking every possible hiding spot only causes his stomach to sink. There’s nothing to be found and that makes it all feel so much worse.

His voice is not loud, and he forces it to stay steady as he calls out, “Nessa? Vanessa?”

There’s no chance that he’d have missed her coming in. He would’ve had to unlock the front door but he still hopes for a mundane explanation.

No such answer is found. Instead hes left standing in the perfectly boring room, becoming acutely aware of the air, cold and thick around him and the odd babbling coming from the front of the house. It was not loud enough to make out words but steady enough to be undeniable. The house was alive in a way he had never known.

A laugh abruptly breaks through the murmurs but it was wrong, distorted as it rose filling the whole house with its inhuman sound. Then it fell. Leaving nothing but silence. Absolute silence.

It’s nothing, just tricks, the night and your brain playing tricks on you, Calum tells himself as he returns to bed. Maybe if he repeats it enough he’ll believe it.

——

The murmurms come and go a few more times, making it feel like the house is coming alive in waves. The time ticks slowly as he finds comfort in his room only. Duke held tightly to his side as he listened, too afraid to anger the house if he tried to drown it out with music.

Three heavy knocks on the door cut through all the noise. Finally. He hops out of bed and opens the front door

“Calum?” Vanessa’s voice sounds small, distant, as she steps into the house. “Are you ok?

“Yeah. Let’s just—let’s just go to bed yeah?”

He grasps her hand, wasting no time in getting down the hall and back under his covers, the only place that felt safe in the insanity. Last time he watches anything of the sort. No matter how funny it had been to think of haunted houses and demons on bridges, it would never be worth this feeling. He swears off everything as he finally feels a bit of security with her back home. The other side of the bed shifts. He pulls her in, his grasp loose and then tightening as the house settles and sleep slowly takes over.

“How was the drive over?” He asks as she settles against him. Her skin is unusually cold against his. It’s only then that he realizes she wasn’t wearing a sweater when she came in.

“Cold.”

“I can feel that,” he takes her hands into his. Clasping them between his own to warm them. He gently rubs them together. Even in the dark that something is missing.

“Where’s your ring?” He asks, the heirloom hardly ever left her finger.

“I don't know.” Her response is so nonchalant he takes it for exhaustion on her part. He accepts the night as done with; maybe the morning would be better. For now, her presence is comforting enough to lull him to sleep.

He wakes up in a room thats all too loud, the murmuring is back and sounds closer than ever. It almost feels like the noise is coming from within his head. The cold has him immediately reaching to pull Vanessa close but there’s no one there.

It takes a moment for him to register another set of knocks on the front door. He checks his phone for the time. “Missed Call Nessa” his phone reads back, a shiver runs up his spine as he turns to the empty bed.

Another call from her comes through, he’s quick to answer, “Vanessa?”

“Hey can you open the door? I’ve been waiting.”

“Waiting?”

The now empty bed turns his stomach as his mind runs away. He strides out of his bedroom, stopping by the hallway closet to grab his bat. It’s so stupid. It’s all so stupid, he shakes his head as he unlocks the door and calls, “Open!”

He watches, bat in hand, as someone — or something— takes grasp of the knob and it turns ever so slowly. Was it moments or hours that he stood perfectly still waiting for it to open. It’s Vanessa. It’s got to be Vanessa. Is it better for it to be Vanessa though?

“Holy shit, Calum!,” The alarm is clear in her voice as she stepped back out onto his tiny porch. “What are you doing with that thing?”

“Nothing. I just--”

Vanessa flips the switch, illuminating the living room. The shadows that had played with his mind receding.

He looks back down the hall, it’s normal. Plain and simple, it’s the same hallway he sees every morning, the light to his music room still on. Everything swirls in his head. The other Vanessa, the murmurs, the crashing. Was it all in his head? Will she believe him if he told her everything?

“Cal? Are you ok? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

#Calum hood #blurbs #ch blurb #calum hood fic #my writing #5SOS fic #5SOS #5 seconds of summer

44 notes · View notes

lady-divine-writes · 4 years

Text

Good Omens one-shot - “The Haunting of Warlock Dowling” (Rated M)

Summary: Warlock Dowling thinks his house is haunted. So he investigates, using a digital recorder to try and capture an EVP. He manages to record something he thinks might be one.

Nanny, however, strongly disagrees. (1454 words)

Notes: Just a random re-write for Halloween :) Warning for implied sexual content.

Read on AO3.

“Nanny! Nanny! Wake up! I have something I need to show you!” Warlock races full tilt down the hall, sliding across the polished wood floor in socked feet while imagining that he's James Bond, escaping the clutches of rogue agents by snowboarding down the Alps amid a hail of gunfire.

He throws open the door to Nanny Ashtoreth's room and flies onto her bed, climbing up her lumpy mattress to find her already awake and scrambling to put on her dark glasses.

“Warlock!” she snaps in surprise. “What have I told you about running in the house? And barging in without knocking?”

“I’m sorry, Nanny! But I had to come tell you straight away! I got one! I really got one!”

“Got one what, my little love?” Ashtoreth asks, intrigued. The last time Warlock said those words, he came bounding into the kitchen, covered in head-to-toe mud, and carrying something Nanny Ashtoreth could only describe as furry, squeaky, and highly annoyed.

Luckily, it wasn’t rabid.

Nanny wasn't too thrilled about getting her gown filthy, but the reaction of Warlock’s mother to the wretched beast made the whole encounter much more delightful.

“An EVP!” he announces proudly, holding up the digital recorder he’d gotten on his last birthday. “I was right! I told you! Our house is haunted!”

“Are you certain?” Ashtoreth asks, a concerned look on her angular face.

Warlock beams with confidence as he shakes the recorder inches from her nose. “Oh, absolutely! I listened to it five times! It’s definitely an EVP! It sounds exactly like the ones I heard on YouTube!”

“Now, Warlock - what did I say about watching videos on YouTube without my express permission?”

“Sorry, Nanny.” Warlock deflates, his excitement considerably dulled. “But I had to! I needed help gathering evidence! Everything I know about ghost hunting, I learned from the Paranormal Plumbers!”

“With a name like that, I'll bet they’re American, aren’t they?” Nanny grumbles, struggling to sit up straighter on the bed. “Why again, is it, that you believe this house is haunted? As far as I know, no one has ever died here.”

Nanny, in fact, knows that for sure. If there was a troublesome ghost lurking about, she would have dispatched it straight away. She doesn’t need anyone or anything interfering with her raising the Antichrist … the gardener, Brother Francis, notwithstanding.

Nope. This house is neutral - supernaturally speaking.

“I told you before, Nanny,” Warlock begins with a shake of his head. Why is it that adults never seem to remember the important stuff after he tells them half a dozen times? He’ll never understand. Aren’t they supposed to be smarter than him? Isn't that why they're in charge? “A few weeks ago, I heard moaning after everyone was asleep. It sounded like a soul in pain. Horrible pain! Like they were being tortured! Their eyes torn out of their skull and their intestines …”

Nanny puts up a hand to shush him. “Okay, okay. I get the gist.” Normally, she would love to sit and listen to him ramble on about the grotesque goings-on inside his tiny brain. But there are other, more pressing matters at hand. Warlock needs to be ready for school in an hour. And Nanny Ashtoreth needs to check in with the head office.

They need to move things along.

“Anything else?” she asks.

“I saw a large, shadowy figure walk past my room late at night. The floorboards creak and the lights flicker on and off when they shouldn’t …” Warlock pauses, but when Nanny doesn't invite him to continue, he sighs. As much as he's trying to get Nanny excited about his discovery, her face remains blank.

She looks uncomfortable.

He had hoped his nanny would be eager to examine his evidence. But she’s just sitting there, on her lumpy mattress, with the covers wrapped around her, looking anxious.

Like she’d rather be anywhere else.

“You don’t believe me,” he says grumpily.

“I didn’t say that,” Ashtoreth says, shifting her weight away from the lumpiest of the mattress lumps. “I’m simply trying to digest all that you’ve told me. It’s a lot to think about, my dear.”

Warlock nods glumly, his eyes dropping to his nanny’s tartan quilt. He’s never seen this quilt on her bed before. It’s lumpy, too. In that way, it matches her mattress perfectly. Warlock starts poking at one particularly squishy lump, his once shiny smile well and truly tarnished.

“Here …” She grabs the boy under his arms and lifts him onto her lap. “Why don’t we listen to your recording, and I’ll tell you what I hear?”

His grin returns times one thousand. "Okay!" he says and presses play. They both sit stone still and listen.

With any luck, he recorded himself snoring, Nanny thinks. Or talking in his sleep. Something that would be easy to explain in a way that would neither frighten nor disappoint an inquisitive eight-year-old. The last thing Nanny wants to do is discourage him.

But if Warlock did find evidence of some long-dead ghost who’s been popping by after hours, she’ll need to get herself a summoning circle.

Because someone has some explaining to do.

According to the counter on the recorder’s display, whatever Warlock heard starts at over two hours in. Warlock goes to bed at 8, so that would make this around 10 something. Nanny would have still been up, but she doesn’t recall hearing anything out of the ordinary at that hour.

The loudest noise in the room (per the recording) is the inhale-exhale of Warlock sleeping, and it makes Nanny smile. But not long after, another noise starts. It’s muffled, intermittent. To the untrained ear (and through several walls and closed doors) it does sound very ominous, like the notes of a sustained and painful cry rising up from the depths of Hell.

But to someone who knows exactly what they’re listening to, it’s clear as crystal. Nanny’s eyes grow wide behind her glasses, and she grabs the recorder out of Warlock's grasp.

“Uh ... that’s enough for now, Warlock, dear,” Ashtoreth says, turning it off.

“So what do you think, Nanny? Do you think I caught a ghost?”

“You caught something, alright,” Nanny mumbles. She stares at the recorder, unsure of what to do. "You know what, my love?” she says, helping Warlock off the bed and onto the floor. “Let me get up and get dressed. I would like to bring this to Brother Francis to have a listen.”

“You’re not going to erase it, are you?” Warlock gasps, worry scrunching his nose, creasing his brow.

“I won't,” Nanny promises. “I just want his opinion on the subject. You trust Brother Francis, don’t you?”

“I do, Nanny,” Warlock replies.

“Good. Then off you go. Get ready for school. I’ll be along in a moment.”

“Yes, Nanny.” Warlock rolls up onto his tiptoes to give Nanny a peck on the cheek, then hurries away, walking at a much safer pace back to his bedroom.

Nanny Ashtoreth waits until she hears Warlock shut his door. Then she rewinds the recording and presses play.

It’s not the moan of some faceless spectre haunting their halls.

It’s Brother Francis, moaning in the farthest thing from pain.

Ashtoreth kicks at the lump wedged between her legs beneath her blanket. “You daft angel!” The lump wails in agony, shimmying out from underneath, rubbing a sore spot on his belly. “You need to be more careful sneaking in here! And lock the bloody door next time! We're both lucky I still had my nightgown on! We'd've been sacked for sure!”

“I know, my dear. I know." Francis snaps his fingers, locking the door - too little too late seeing as they won't be going back to what they were doing moments ago. "But sometimes I forget. I just can’t help myself where you’re concerned."

"That's quite understandable," Ashtoreth says, breathing in deep, trying her hardest to quell what had almost been an earth-shattering start to her day.

"Young Master Warlock has some sharp knees," Brother Francis remarks, massaging the back of his neck as he watches Nanny Ashtoreth climb out of bed and get her uniform for the day assembled. "What are you going to do about the recording? You promised not to erase it. And you can't go back on yer promise. You'd break his heart."

"I know, I know ..." She had toyed with the idea of making the moans sound more like Mr. And Mrs. Dowling, but she can’t remember the last time those two were intimate. “I’m just going to make it sound like a genuine ghost,” she says, snapping her fingers. “It'll be easier to explain. And a lot less traumatizing.”

#good omens #good omens fanfiction #ineffable idiots #ineffable lovers #nanny ashtoreth x brother francis #brother francis x nanny ashtoreth #crowley #aziraphale

48 notes · View notes

deepwaterwritingprompts · 3 years

Note

ooh ask day! are you working on any of your own writing at the moment? what excites you about it? is your writing similar to your prompts in any way? or do the prompts fulfill something else for you?

mainly im working on getting my first novel published, which you can read about HERE. otherwise, the sequel, an adult fiction project, and an urban fantasy type YA about a town called florida. in florida. Florida, florida.

Florida project, working title BORDERLINE, is the most in line with my general prompt vibe here. a little cosmic horror, bent reality, just generally odd.

I never write stuff based off the prompts, but I DO write prompts based off my own stuff, very occasionally. for me, writing prompts is like scales for a musician. keeps my brain well oiled.

*still taking asks, no requests please*

anyway, ive been working on Florida project a lot lately. have an excerpt:

Backpage:

Lin O’Leary was born and raised in the town of Florida, Florida, tucked away into a corner of the state’s forgotten coast. All the locals know Florida is a strange place, rumored to stand on a borderline, where the veil is thin and mysterious forces wander alongside the human population. The daughter of Irish and Mexican immigrants, Lin knows you can only find trouble if you go looking for it, and like the rest of Florida’s residents, lives comfortably alongside the supernatural. This is before Momoko Kasahara disappears into thin air, frightening the town of Florida into a new, ultra-cautious existence. Five years after Momo’s disappearance, Lin is seventeen, a highschool dropout now working at a convenience store, her once vibrant town still plagued by fear. The days drag by, mundane as they come in Florida, occasionally punctuated by unpleasant visits from Bo Kasahara, brother to Momo and full time asshole. Then, one fateful late shift, Lin sees the missing Kasahara twin standing in the aisles, gone as quickly as she appeared. Meanwhile, a stranger arrives from California, claiming to be a paranormal investigator hellbent on uncovering the mysteries of Florida, and suddenly Lin is faced with a choice. Be smart and keep her head down, or dive headlong into the strange mist that so often covers Florida, to rescue Momo Kasahara, and return her town to the way she remembers it.

1. 100% humidity feels like breathing underwater.

L I N

Florida ate Momoko Kasahara on the most miserable day of the year, and washed her down with a thunderstorm. A lot of other important things happened that day, but Momo’s disappearance overshadowed them all. Momo was the coolest girl in our class. She had shiny black hair that ran down to her waist. She liked to wear a different flavor of lip gloss every day of the week, and could sing in Japanese. I was on my way home from the beach when I saw the police cars in her driveway, and her twin brother sitting on the porch, painted purple in the twilight.

He shook his head, at me, slow, and all the sound seemed to drain out of the world. The flashing police lights distorted his face, as bright white clouds passed too quickly above us. The whole scene drove a stake of wrongness hard into my chest. Sometimes even now, I dream about it. Bo and I watching each other. The dead silence. The purple light. The too white clouds. And Momo, eaten. For the first time in my life, I was afraid of my own town.

My name is Lin O’leary. I live in Florida, Florida, a nothing sort of place crammed into an extra forgotten corner of the state’s already forgotten coast. Some days I can forget about Momo, and everything that happened in the hours before she vanished. Heff says I’m good at keeping my eyes closed, even when they’re open.

I really wish he were right.

2. Cloudy with a chance of hotdogs (haunted).

J U L I E N

I was standing in front of the worst building I had ever seen. Slab grey and full of sharp edges, additions had been slapped onto every side until it resembled an impossible puzzle piece. The front windows were crowded with signs for cold beer and hot food, but the glass itself was opaque. It was a convenience store from hell, a collection of stationary parts so nonsensical I was worried it might grow a few new alcoves if I blinked. Above the door, an unintelligible sign in complicated neon cursive flashed electric blue. There was a neon clock too, flickering wildly, just striking twelve.

I must have walked halfway across town, and as far I could tell this was the only place that sold food at all, let alone past three in the morning. Still, I couldn’t bring myself to go inside. My stomach was a mess, and haunted convenience store hot dogs could only make it worse. I fished my phone out of my pocket, but the little service I had was, like the midnight clock above me, barely clinging to existence, my map application nothing more than a collection of beige squares. There was no one around. The sky was intensely dark, a pitch black blanket of clouds. Water hung thick in the air, the night time street so quiet I could almost hear beads of sweat sliding down my already slick face. No, there was nothing for it. I needed directions.

The bell above the door made a strange, flat sound as I pressed inside. If the building was weird from the outside, that was nothing to its interior. The shelves, tall and numerous, had been arranged like maze walls. The overhead lights were blinding, stark white, and every other tile on the floor was mismatched. Some were squares of carpet. The only thing really visible from the entrance was the register, a fortress made of dark wood and surrounded by lottery advertisements. Behind the counter, a girl was reading something intently. As I got closer, I saw it was the back of a box of oatmeal.

“Hi,” I said, adjusting the duffel bag that had been crushing my left shoulder for an hour.

The girl nodded, but didn’t look up. She had thin black hair, pin straight and chin length. Her skin was a warm, golden brown. Her shirt said something in miniscule writing, but my glasses were a little foggy, so I would have had to practically press my face to her chest to read it, which didn’t seem like a great first impression.

“Can you help me? I’m looking for the Fahrenheit Motel. I think it’s supposed to be around here.”

Finally, she glanced at me.

“It’s just around the corner. See the glasses store across the street? Go straight past that and make the second left, you’ll run right into it.”

She pointed out the window, and I realized they were one way.

“Who built this place?” I asked.

She shrugged.

“We’ve had a lot of owners. Everyone adds something new.”

There was something off about her. Like we were talking, but mentally she was still

reading the box of oatmeal.

“I’m Julien,” I said, sticking out a hand. She raised her eyebrows before taking it.

“Lin,” she said, with another small nod.

Her face was round, but her features were knife sharp. I wondered what she looked like angry. Maybe that was a really weird thing to think.

Not wanting to ask for a second set of directions, I wandered around the store for thirty minutes before returning to the counter with a gallon of chocolate milk and a bag of seaweed flavored potato chips.

“I can’t believe you have these. I didn’t think you could find them outside of California.”

Instead of replying, Lin held up the chocolate milk.

“There’s no fridge in your room at the Fahrenheit. You know that right?”

“I was told on the phone… ” I started.

“There’s a fridge, but it’s in the lobby, communal. Kimmy’ll drink this.” She gave the milk a little shake before scanning it. “Just warning you.”

“Thanks,” I said, as she stuffed my things in a smiling shopping bag.

I paused on my way out.

“Goodnight,” I said, “Or, good morning I guess.”

Lin stared at me, then glanced at the box of oatmeal and back.

“Morning,” she said, with a sigh.

***

I followed Lin’s directions, and wound up at last in front of a long, low building sporting a vacancies sign. Even in low light I could see about a hundred sad looking plastic flamingos had been stuck all over the lawn, the bushes, even the gravel path that led to the front door. I had to pick my way around them on approach.

There was no one at the front desk. The reception area was lit only by the green blue light coming from an enormous fishtank that didn’t seem to have any fish in it. As I approached the counter, I noticed someone had left the key to my room out for me, next to a scrap of paper bearing the wifi password. I picked up the key, old and brass, then watched the fishtank for a second, before turning around and experiencing heart failure.

A very old woman with wiry black hair was standing there in her nightgown, arms crossed and frowning at me. She didn’t apologize for nearly sending me to my grave.

“I’m up. I can check you in properly,” she said, shuffling past me. “I’m Kimmy, but you can call me Miss Kimmy. You got ID?”

I dug it out of my wallet while she opened a dusty guest book.

“The reservation is for Julien True,” I said.

Miss Kimmy glanced at the ID I had just handed her.

“That’s not what this says.”

“I know. It’s a stage name,” I admitted, “everything else is correct.”

She raised an eyebrow to herself, but didn’t ask any more questions.

“Now listen,” she said finally, shutting the guest book with a snap. “I’ll be honest, there’s not much to do around here. There’s a bus runs to the state forest during the day, and the beach isn’t going anywhere. If you’re hungry that’s too bad for the most part, unless you feel like walking down to Morton’s.”

“Is that the weird looking building? One way windows?”

“That’s the one. Midnight Morton’s, never closes. This late at night you’ve got Lin at the counter, nice girl.”

I don’t know what I would have called Lin, but it probably wasn’t ‘nice girl’.

“Thanks,” I said, glancing around for the hallway that led to my room.

I bid Miss Kimmy goodnight and lugged my things to Room 7, at the very end of the dark hall. Inside was simple, but stunningly clean, which I had in no way expected. The bed had a sunken spot in the middle, and there were a lot of paintings of tropical fish on the walls. Home sweet home. I changed into pajamas, and took a huge swig of chocolate milk before glancing at my duffel, still full of equipment.

It could wait. I was exhausted, sweaty, and more alone than I had ever been in my entire life.

3. Welcome to my grocery store how may I assist you.

L I N

“I want to drop out of high school,” said Roach.

We were sprawled out on separate tartan sofas, both angled towards the ancient television. It was after midnight, and the only light in the room was coming from the nature channel.

“No you don’t,” I said. “You’re not even in high school.”

Roach was a weird little girl. Eleven years old, she wore oversized thrift store t-shirts, and big chunky glasses, and cut her own hair. I loved her the most in this world.

“Yeah, but when I get there, I want to drop out. You did.”

I sighed.

“You’re smarter than me. You have to finish school and work in a laboratory anywhere but here. Those are the rules.”

Roach crossed and uncrossed her skinny legs without arguing. I knew she just wanted to hear me say she was smart.

We continued to watch the nature channel in silence. A documentary on the arctic ocean was playing, which I found devastatingly boring, but Roach was clearly glued to. I could hear dad snoring upstairs, a pleasant sort of nightly white noise, and tuned out completely until Roach clapped an inch from my face.

“Jeez,” I started, pushing her hands away.

“You were way out there. It’s freaky.”

I had been practicing my zone out since I was Roach’s age. On my best day, I could have an entire conversation without hearing one word the other person said. Call it a life skill.

“You’re doing it again!” said Roach. “Don’t you have work soon?”

That snapped me out of it. I looked at my watch.

“Oh, yeah. Thank you.”

I rolled off the couch as Roach sat back down with a huff. The arctic documentary was ending, and she picked up the changer to scroll through a long list of similar recordings. Roach loved animals, all of them, even fish that ate your insides, and grubs, and parasitic worms. Especially parasitic worms.

“Don’t stay up too late okay?” I said, tugging gently on her massive ponytail. Roach got dad’s curly, reddish brown hair. I got mom’s.

“Mmhm.”

I glanced in the hall mirror to see if there was any food on my shirt. Then I stepped into the mosquito ridden, muggy Florida night, and headed to my shift.

***

You might be thinking: where does a seventeen year old high school dropout work after midnight? And the thrilling answer is: the grocery store, sort of.

You might be thinking: what?

But that’s Morton’s.

The sliding doors opened smoothly for me upon arrival, which was always a good omen. I straightened the newsstand and went to look for Barry.

My manager, a small, Dominican man who loved to party, was in the produce section with a woman I assumed was his latest girlfriend. He was chucking the moldiest vegetables into an open trashcan.

“Our fresh produce is a travesty,” I said. “When was the last time someone bought an eggplant here?”

“I’m thinking of moving the veg,” said Barry, “they don’t like the energy in this corner.”

Barry was constantly moving things around the small labyrinth that was Morton’s. At least once a month he would take an hour long stroll from shelf to shelf, while I wrote down what was going where. I made a new map of the store for every big move.

“What are you guys up to tonight?” I asked, as Barry followed me to the register, bag of moldy vegetables in hand.

“Dancing,” said his date, with an endearing round of jazz hands, as Barry broke into a stationary samba while he gave me a list of stuff to work on. He treated me to his own enthusiastic jazz hands, and a few notes of a Juan Luis Guerra song as he samba’d in the direction of the door. As it swung shut behind them, I let the intense silence of Morton's wash over me. The fluorescent lights hummed gently. The food sat well behaved in slightly crooked rows. I turned my brain down to its lowest setting, and consulted my list.

...

20 notes · View notes

wynterlanding · 11 months

Text

tag dump –

#can your heart stand the shocking facts! ooc #coming attractions! answered #depraved stories from the underground! wishes #he's laughing up at us from hell! musing #in headspace no one can hear you scream! headcanons #my hearts beating outside my chest! ship aesthetics #queue of the damned! queued #so beautiful you'll die a thousand times! ship #speak of the devils on my shoulder! dash comments #styles from the underground! edits #the flip side of satan! audio #this motion picture is rated f for fabulous! ash likes #to avoid fainting keep telling yourself its only a meme! memes #welcome to our public service announcement! psa #vintage villains and shocking sinners! dash games #eye of the beholder! main #words like violence break the silence! filmmaker #sigma fi or die! college #the nights poet! alt college #i saw something sitting on your bed! paranormal investigator #nothing bad is gonna happen to you here! investigative journalist #sweet symphony of life! vampire #soaring sun and morbid moon! twin au #specters from the black moss! lance #twin styles! lance musing #pick your poison! journal boi plots #pick your poison! film boi plots #keep the streets empty! werewolf

1 note · View note

danadeservesadrink · 4 years

Text

Do You Believe in Fate Chapter 4

So How’d It Go? Read on AO3 here

Angst warning!! This is an important chapter but damn was it hard to write! Tagging @today-in-fic . Enjoy and please let me know your thoughts!

“Dana Scully speaking”

“So how’d it go?”

“You know hello would have been nice Missy”

“Tell me! You can’t just leave the house on Thursday with that dress in your suitcase and expect me to not want details?”

“Did you go through my luggage?”

“I was looking for a top. But who was the guy? Was it David from work? Or Mark from that bar that one time?”

“And why should I tell you?”

“Dana this is the first time you’ve gone out in a year-”

“10 months.”

“Whatever. I just want to know who the lucky guy is.”

“His name is Mulder…”

“Mulder?”

“It’s his last name. He doesn’t like his first.”

“Mysterious. I like it. Go on.”

“He’s living in my old apartment”

“Wow Danes that seriously some rom com shit”

“I know, I know. He’s cute. Tall, far too confident, obviously brilliant…”

“Sounds like you’re already in love”

“But I don’t think it’s going to work out.”

“What, why? It was only the first date what could he have possibly done wrong”

“He works at the FBI. On unexplained cases of the supernatural variety. X files he called them.”

“Oh.”

“I don’t know if I can see him again.”

“Does he know?”

“Did I tell him on our first and probably only date that if he looks hard enough he likely has a file in his office with my name in it? No, he doesn’t know.”

“Do you think he’s doing an undercover investigation on you?”

“Gee thanks Mis, because the only reason a guy would be interested in me would be because he’s on a secret case”

“I’m not saying that! But don’t you think it’s a little weird that the minute you moved out of your old apartment an FBI agent investigating the paranormal moves in to take your place?”

“I don’t know Missy. I don’t know, it's just too much to think about. I’m going to go to bed now.”

“Ok. You’re coming home on Monday right?”

“Yea. I’ll see you then.”

“Goodnight Danes.”

“Night Missy.”

It was her luck that something like this would happen. Hadn’t she already been through enough? She left Stanford with a medical degree and all the freedom in the world, moved to her favorite city, and started saving lives. She made the world a better place, worked her ass off day in and day out to help children, saving God’s little angels, and how does He repay her? By ripping her life into pieces and throwing them into the trash, and then lighting the trash can on fire. So she moves back home, stays with her family. She recovers, she fights to get the life she had back, and she finally develops some sense of normalcy, even getting confident enough to go back out with a guy. And he’s a fucking alien investigator at the FBI. Like she hadn’t dealt with enough G-men already. Now this man who had somehow captivated her mind for the last month was just another threat. And she really was so naive as to believe the world would throw a perfectly good man in her lap.

She certainly hadn’t been looking. When he had first called her all she wanted was for him to leave her alone. She didn’t trust men anymore, and certainly didn’t feel like putting in the effort to court one. But talking to him in her apartment made her feel those butterflies she hadn’t felt in a long time. He just had this air around him, an aura that projected both confidence and a pure wild energy, a mix that intoxicated her every time she drew near him. He grabbed her wrist and she hadn’t worn a bracelet for the next week. She could still feel the phantom grip of his fingers and the electricity that flowed through them, like a newly connected circuit powering up for the first time. He hadn’t left her head since. She tried to call him as soon as she got home the next day, but she had been so caught up with his floppy hair and lopsided smile that she had completely forgotten to save his number from her mother’s phone to hers. So she placed faith in the postal system and hoped he would be charmed by her antics. And it worked. She was going out on a date with a man who made her head spin, one who tried to pretend that he was unphased by probably the tightest dress she owned even though he didn’t close his mouth for a full minute when he first saw her.

The date was perfect until they had talked about jobs. And then he dropped the bomb and she tried to brush off the feeling in the pit of her stomach by making stupid jokes and he laughed but she couldn’t help but dwell.

“UFO’s, cryptids, anything from crop circles to spontaneous human combustion. If the FBI can’t solve it, they toss it in my pile”

Did he know? He couldn’t have. What kind of psychopath brings up the fact that he studies alien abductions to someone like her. And if he really was undercover he wouldn’t want her to know what his real job was would he? He would have lied.

Unless he was toying with her.

Unless this was another experiment on her, another way to keep tabs on her, make sure she didn’t talk, make sure she was doing her very best to forget everything that happened to her.

She got up from the bed abruptly and shut the blinds on the windows. They clacked together and then the room fell into deep silence again.

He didn’t talk about work for the whole rest of the dinner. He talked about baseball, about how he goes for runs in the park she used to walk through after a long day shift. He said “Behold, a man” when the waiter brought out her garlic and herb chicken. Mulder wouldn’t do that to her. Mulder was just a man with a job whose only interest in her life was whether she was free next Friday to go out again. He paid for the cab back to her hotel and opened the door for her to get in. He was a gentleman.

He’s trying to get her to trust him.

And suddenly everything clicked into place and the air left her lungs. She found herself stumbling to the bed, she knocked over the lamp but it was in her way and she just needed to be in bed. Her ears were ringing, she couldn’t hear, everything was going in and out of black.

He’s watching you. He’s with them. He’s trying to silence you. He’s going to follow you, gain your trust and then he’s going to kill you. He knows where you live, he can track you down, they’ve tried to take her before and he will try again. He’s with them, he’s with them, he’s going to kill you, they’re going to kill you.

Everything’s bright and she’s back in that place with needles and tubes in and out of her, and she knows she’s in a hotel in DC but as many times as she tries to wrap the blankets around her and tuck her feet under her she cannot become small enough to escape them. She feels tears hot down the sides of her cheeks and the sounds of drills in her ears and there's no escape. She hears pounding and wailing and hands grip her wrists and they burn, they burn, so she screams. She won’t let them take her again, she won’t.

“Scully, Scully it's me”

She fights it, and it’s him, it’s Mulder and he’s trying to take her, like she thought.

“Let go of me!” She shrieks, flailing about but she’s trapped, he’s got her trapped, in bed sheets tied around her wrists and feet. “Don’t take me!”

He lets go but she’s still trapped, still fighting.

“Scully no one’s going to take you.”

“Yes! Yes they’re going to take me! You’re going to take me!” He touches her hand and it doesn't burn but it makes a lump in her throat and her fist turns flat. He pulls a sheet off of her and she feels exposed.

“Scully look at me.”

She does. She looks through tears at a blurred man in her hotel room. He doesn’t look like a threat. He looks sad.

“How did you get in here.” He steps to the edge of the bed and she pushes herself back towards the headboard, away. He raises both hands and walks to the other side of the bed where he sits.

“You left your wallet in the taxi. He called me because I paid and I picked it up and brought it here. I made it to your room and I wasn’t going to come in but I heard the lamp crash. So I used the spare key in the wallet and let myself in.”

He seemed to be telling the truth, holding up the wallet as evidence. She hadn’t even realized it was gone.She unlocked the door with the key she kept in her purse. She started to take in her surroundings, the lamp crashed to the floor, the bedsheets thrown from the bed. She looked up at him and saw nothing but concern over his face.

Every emotion, shame, embarrassment, anger, sadness, all of it hit her at once and she sobbed.

He reached over to touch her but she shouted “No!”, like a wounded dog. Her voice didn’t sound real. “Please don’t touch me”.

“Do you want me to go?”

“No.”

He watched as tears racked her body, never moving from his spot on the bed. She cried in a ball, hands covering her face, arms and knees tucked to her sides, protecting her from nothing. Then, she laid down, and cried until the tears had to be blinked down the sides of her face while she stared at the ceiling. She felt him get off the bed, and she bolted up, dizzying herself, but he nodded and only walked over to the minifridge to pull out a bottle of water. She sat up and he resumed his position at the end of the bed.

“Drink some water. Can you breathe again?”

She hated the way he talked to her, like she was a child. But he was right. She accepted the bottle and drank half, gulping down cold water as a welcomed change to the hot sheets.

“Yes. I’m sorry you had to see that. You can go now.”

“Don’t be sorry. I know panic attacks can be bad.”

“I’m ok now. You can go.” The crack in her voice made both of them wince. A different type of silence filled the room.

“You know I am a psychologist, but it doesn’t take an Oxford degree to diagnose PTSD.”

“I said I’m fine. You can go now Mulder.”

“What happened Dana.”

She sat and stared at him, sitting on her bed, asking her to spill her darkest secrets to him. Everything about telling him felt wrong but this is the first time anyone has offered to listen.

“About a year ago, a man broke into my apartment and abducted me. He drugged me and put me in the back of his truck and drove me to a cornfield in Virginia. I remember waking up and seeing the stars and trying to run but I was tied down. And then a bright light came and I-” She choked back another sob, but he shifted closer to her, eyes wide, and nodded for her to continue. “I don’t remember what happened. But my mother found me on her doorstep a month later in a hospital gown and…” her voice cut out. He again moved closer and when she didn’t pull back he slowly raised his hand and put it on her knee. He looked at her as if to ask “is this ok” and she nodded in response.

“I don’t remember anything except seeing my mother’s face again for the first time. She looked so… so terrified of me. Like I had grown another head or something. And then I looked down, and I was holding a baby”. She felt another tear run down her cheek.

“I was holding a baby and I didn’t know whose it was and I almost dropped it. Mom took it from me and my sister came and helped me inside, the whole time they were asking me where I’d been but I didn’t know. I didn’t remember anything. All of these people showed up at our house and asked me over and over again “where were you?” “what happened” and I just kept answering them I don’t know, I don’t know. They said I went on a bender. That I ran away from work and responsibilities, probably with some friends. They said I was pregnant and didn’t know it, and they tried to take the baby for testing but my mother wouldn’t let them. She didn’t believe them, she knew I wouldn’t do that. I don’t remember much of what happened next, but we packed up everything and moved out of my apartment… your apartment. They didn’t even open an investigation on the man that took me.”

“I can.” She had been staring at the lamp on the ground, she hadn’t noticed him staring at her with such intensity it made her shiver.

“You don’t get it. They didn’t open a case on me because there wasn’t enough evidence-”

“They didn’t open a case on you because you were abducted. The FBI has been trying to suppress alien abductions for years and you are just another victim. I could open a case on you, start an investigation, really stick it to them-”

“I am not a case that needs to be solved, Mulder.”

“But I can help you Scully. Do you remember anything from that night, anything at all?”

“Mulder!”

“I don’t understand, why would you not want to know what happened?”

“Because Mulder, because sometimes the weight of what happened is too much to bear. Because while you try to hunt down monsters they terrorize me in my sleep. Because there’s a baby in my house and I don’t know where it came from.” She realized she was yelling at him but she didn’t care. “Because frankly it’s none of your goddamn business what happened to me if I don’t want it to be. The men who you work for threatened to kill me and my family if I tried to find out what happened to me and for all I know you’re one of them.” Her voice was shrill and sharp like broken glass and it cut just where it needed to.

“I’m sorry.”

She met his eyes again and they were wide and sad.

“I want to help you Scully. I’ll do…” he took a breath, “anything. I’ll do anything to help you.”

“I need you to leave.”

“Ok.”

He got up and she remained on the bed, drained.

“Will I see you again?”

“I don’t know.”

“Ok. Goodbye Scully.”

“Goodbye Mulder.”

#the x files #txf fanfic #msr #msr fanfiction #Dana Scully #Fox Mulder #angst #txf au #msr au #sam writes #plz let me know if you like this!#also my appologies again for the angst

47 notes · View notes

sweetwritertanya · 4 years

Text

Little Girl In A Pink Dress

Summary: Things around your house start getting strange right after a disastrous fire that happened and you don’t believe it is just your imagination.

Warnings: None, this is just soft HORROR. Nothing violent or graphic in any way, just a spooky tale I always wanted to write. If you read it, thank you so much in advance. I really appreciate it!

Word Count: 1299

It is strange, how suddenly houses can get haunted by the unseen spirits. A normal house, with no background of anything unusual happening before, can become a beacon for the paranormal overnight.

In your house’s case, it happened after a massive fire. An electrical issue made your home catch on fire during a summer night and you had to watch as the firefighters put out the flames and, later on, how the constructers rebuild from the ashes.

You thought it was just an unfortunate event, that it was over now and that you could be at peace once more in your newly rebuilt house, where you had lived for over ten years now. But after you moved back in, strange things started to occur.

It started simple, like your keys not being where you remembered putting them. Or a glass of water on the counter that you don’t remember being there when you left the kitchen. The creak of wood, as if a footstep when you lived alone.

Even so, these were all things you could look past, turn a blind eye on. Explainable, in one way or another. You were getting older, so maybe your memory wasn’t as reliable. Maybe you’re still stressed about the fire and your brain got a bit unfocused while doing mundane things. Maybe you were just imagining things.

A dog appeared in your backyard one afternoon. It was a big golden retriever, with kind chocolate eyes and a clean fur, so you doubted it was a stray dog. He looked at you with a curious stare and never wondered off your lawn, so you decided to just keep feeding it until it either ran away again or someone came and found him. He never allowed you to pet him though, which meant that maybe his previous owner wasn’t caring enough to look for him in the first place.

Turns out he became a much-needed distraction for when things got weird. But even he couldn’t help you when things got positively worse. You would be walking down your hallway in silent until you noticed the faint voices in the background, whispers like a conversation in another room. Of course, no one was there. Occasionally, you would open up a door or a cabinet and hear like a gasp or squeak.

One day, you were trying to sleep early in bed when the TV on your living room turned on by itself. Frustrated about all of this, you raged out of your bed, screaming to whatever was in the house to knock it off and turned off the screen. Only to in response hear screams mixing with the autumn wind outside. The dog barked alarmingly loud, a mix of scared and protective. Whatever it was, it did not like being challenged like that and you got a bad feeling.

Your house became like a prison. You started to question your every move, if anything would upset the entity residing with you. The town’s church was unwilling to help you, ignoring all your stories and refusing to acknowledge your situation. So, you had started to do research on it yourself. You started investigating, trying to figure out if this was just a ghost, a poltergeist or worst… a demon.

During a sunny afternoon in the midst of October, while you were at your computer trying to do some research, you looked out the window with the expectation of finding the golden retriever playing alone, like he usually did and you always found it funny to watch. But today he was not alone. There was a little girl in a pink dress playing with him.

Shocked, you stood up from your chair and run downstairs to your backyard, wondering where this little girl just came from.

“H-Hello?” you call to the little girl when you step into the lawn, going in the direction she and the dog were sitting at.

She looks up with bright vivid green eyes, a pale freckled skin and caramel blonde hair falling to her shoulders. The girl was a small infant, no older than four or five years old. Your maternal instinct kicked in and you looked around to see who she was with. But you saw no one.

“I’m playing with Chester” she says in a sweet voice.

“Oh? And who is that?” you ask, squatting down to her height next to her.

“Chester the cat” she responds, with a pat on the golden retriever’s head.

“You mean him?” You chuckle despite your worry and the smile stays as you speak. “He is not a cat, he is a dog. They’re very different.”

“Oh.” The kid simply says, almost indifferent as she keeps petting him. “My mom don’t want pets. But my uncle has a… a dog!” she giggles innocently as the dog licks her tiny hand.

“That’s nice. So… where is your mom?” you try and gather information.

“She has work today. So I stay with my aunt.”

“I see. And, can you tell me where your aunt is? I can take you to her, if you want” you offer, already looking around the street again and not seeing anyone.

“My aunt and uncle don’t like you much” she states with frowned eyebrows.

“Oh? Do I know them?” you get confused.

“I don’t know. They know you, but my aunt don’t like you.”

Something doesn’t feel right. Your heart starts pounding and you feel like the rug is slowly being pulled from under your feet. With a dry mouth, you keep questioning the young girl.

“Why? I’m a nice person, I think” you say, hesitant. “My name is Y/N, by the way. What’s your name?”

Instead of an answer from her, you hear a faint voice call out. The same faint voice you heard sometimes in whispers around the house, a female voice searching for someone and you can almost figure out what she was saying. When the girl gets up to her feet and runs towards your house, the dog following suit, you stand up and see it at last.

A young woman coming out of your house. Dark hair but light eyes, dressed casually and picking up the girl in her arms.

“Amy! What are you doing here? Playing with Chester?” she asks, her voice now crystal-clear in your ears. You feel like throwing up.

“Yes, aunty! And her!”

The kid points her index finger to your paralyzed form. You watch the woman’s eyes glance up your way with no recognition whatsoever behind them. They just look right past you.

“Who, baby?”

“The nice lady. Her name is Y/N, aunty. Why don’t you like her?”

The woman gets visibly shaken and shifts the conversation completely as she goes back into the house. Your house.

Your feet start moving even though your brain is still unable to work. You look at the dog, Chester it seems, and he looks at you just fine. Like he always did. The kid from inside waves at you before the woman puts her in a feeding chair.

Walking in, you follow the woman to the corridor as she takes her phone from her back pocket and makes a call, feet restless as she paces left and right. She is biting her nail before the person on the other side answer.

“Phil? Phil, hey, I think we need to move out.” A pause as the man speaks on the other side. “No, no, you don’t get it. Your niece just said she spoke to her. She even said her name, Phil! How could she know her name, we never spoke of it!”

Another pause. The world around you feels like its crumbling and the next line from this woman shatters it completely.

“Yes, Y/N. The woman who died in that fire a year ago.”

#halloween special #13 stories for halloween #halloween #original story #original fiction #reader pov #horror #horror story #horror one-shot #spooky season #haunted house

22 notes · View notes

imjeralee · 4 years

Text

Comfort in Despair: Chapter 10 - Tentacools in the Ocean

Leon x F!Reader

Disclaimer: Do not own Pokemon

Summary:

Galar is rich in folklore and tales of the supernatural.

As a Pokemon Researcher who specialises in ghost types, this is a great opportunity for you to investigate and learn more about the paranormal.

Along the way, you meet Leon (in the most awkward way possible) who becomes embroiled in your adventures.

^ Basically this story is about ghosts :/

Rating: General/Teen

Extra Note: this gonna be so long and so plot heavy, ngl. if y’all can get through this, well done :)

Tentacools in the Ocean (but None of Them are You) … … ["If there's something strange in the neighbourhood who ya gonna call?"] … …

It's night-time, and Horace the security guard is making rounds within the depths of Rose's Art Gallery in Wyndon.

The art gallery is not officially open yet; it is a brand new building with many exhibits and displays and the grand unveiling is due to open in a few week's time and many jobs were created thanks to this. Owned by Rose, it houses many ancient and wondrous antiques which his family had gathered for generations. They are finally put on display and will be available to the public after the Macro Cosmos marketing department discovered it could generate further profit considering people were willing to pay to look at old relics of Galar.

He whistles a jovial tune to himself as he patrols the empty halls with his torch shining on the floor, thinking about the TV show he watched yesterday and what he should eat when he returns home. He has a long night ahead of him but he's already into the new job for a week or so and it's been peaceful and quiet.

And it's a regular night as he follows the same route he takes, turning left to exit the butterfly gallery and into the conjoined, long stretch of the hallway where the benches are and that's when the silence and peace is shattered.

A loud banging noise can be heard a short distance away, and Horace pauses to listen but it is not the sound of the plumbing system or whatever noises buildings emits for Horace has a long career of being a security guard in buildings old and new and he knows what is right and what is wrong.

And this is wrong. It comes in twos or threes, and often it comes at random intervals. Perhaps there is someone else in here, he thinks, perhaps a group of rambunctious kids and should he catch them they will be in for a right scolding for there should not be anyone here at all, not at this ungodly hour anyway.

But what is this noise, and he cannot tell as he stops and shines his torch down the hall where the noise persists.

Something is knocking on the walls.

The noise continues, growing louder and louder in volume and as it started at the end of the hall, it seems to be growing closer. As though someone's palm is placed flat upon the wall and repeatedly pounding on the surface, he hears it all over as it travels from the end of the hall, moving closer to him, and the posters stuck on the walls begin to tremble and shake.

Confused, he moves the torch left and right but he sees nothing, feels nothing.

"Who's there?" he says, and he thinks it's a mistake for the noises stop as soon as he's spoken. He's informed it that he is here, that he is aware of it, and that he is alone.

Horace waits and the stillness returns and he's about to brush it off, perhaps he needs more sleep, yes, and his ears were playing tricks on him, but then one of the chairs begins moving, the legs forcibly scraping across the linoleum before it is lifted in the air and hurled halfway across the floor.

...

Oleana is the only person still working at Rose Tower at this hour.

She reads through the entries of your blog on her laptop quietly; Rose is too busy to look at it himself so he's designated his secretary to do the work and weed out the minor, trivial stuff and sift for the important details. She reads through your excursions in the Wild Area, the old house in the Rolling Fields, Gengar, the ghost of South Lake Miloch and many more until she comes to your first entry which is dated three to four years ago, more or less.

Penning down your contact number and some bullet points in her notepad, she silently collects her findings and is about to leave her desk until the phone rings.

Whilst she wonders who it could be, she picks it up and says, "Hello, this is Oleana speaking."

"Hi, this is - Arceus, I really didn't expect anyone to pick up!" a man squawks on the other end, clearly shaken.

"I'm still in the office, yes. How may I help."

"Ah, thank you, Miss Oleana, this is Horace...you know, from the art gallery? I'm a security guard and I'm on shift tonight...Um, I...I'm not quite sure how to tell you this but....the art gallery is....I think it's...I think it's haunted."

"Haunted, you say?"

"Yes, ma'am. I-I'm terribly sorry, um, I-I know how it sounds..."

"We're already looking into this matter."

"Oh, r-really?"

"Yes, we have received similar complaints. Chairman Rose is coming up with a solution. I'm terribly sorry, but can this wait until the morning?"

"Uh....s-sure...guess I'll pray to Arceus to keep me safe for now...."

"Thank you." Oleana promptly hangs up after exchanging goodbyes with the security guard.

…

Meanwhile, in Postwick, Leon can't sleep.

He's in his room, lying in his old bed, wide-eyed with insomnia and staring at the ceiling in the darkness. He hasn't been home for so long that his bedroom walls appear foreign to him. Having stayed many nights in hotels and inns, usually for his next endorsement or pokemon battle, he's used to the lively hum of the city outside so the quietness of Postwick is wholly welcoming yet sleep continues to eludes him.

Tonight's events keeps replaying in his mind over and over again, ranging from the many instances when he held your hand, the conversations he had with you and the casual glimpses the two of you kept throwing at each other throughout the entire duration. He finds himself smiling widely at thoughts about you.

You've passed the Charizard Test and according to Charizard himself, you had deliberately injured yourself for him that night without a moment of hesitation or lingering thoughts, and he still cannot fathom how you could've have done such a thing for him. In all earnest, Leon would do the same for you.

You had informed him that your family has vanished. Your father and little sister first, followed by your mother. He can't quite get his head around how that may have happened. The enigma of you is slowly being unravelled and Leon, having just managed to put a few pieces together, discovers there's far much more to know about you than he had realised.

He recalls how forlorn you had become once your family was mentioned and although you declined any form of assistance from him, there must be something he can do.

Troubled, Leon tosses and turns for the umpteenth time before he finally pushes the covers off him and sits up in bed, gets up and switches the lights back on and Rotom is snoozing but he gently picks up his phone and checks the screen. He's wondering if you may have messaged him but there is only a reply from Raihan whom he had messaged earlier.

The bedroom door squeaks open and he hears someone enter.

"Lee?"

He looks up from his phone to see Hop at his doorway. "Hop?"

"Are you okay?" his little brother asks, rubbing his eyes. Wooloo is by his feet, also looking rather drowsy.

"I'm fine. What's up?"

"Nothing, I saw your light was still on..."

"Yeah, I'm finding it hard to sleep. You okay?"

Hop shakes his head, "I can't sleep either. I think I ate too much...."

Leon chuckles. "Wanna chat?"

"Okay...I was gonna go downstairs to grab a drink though..."

"Let's make Tapu Cocoa," Leon suggests, and Hop grins widely in agreement.

He exits his room and joins Hop in the hallway with Wooloo trotting beside him and they both make their way quietly down the stairs only to see the light in the kitchen is on and Leon's mum is standing at the sink with rubber gloves, furiously scrubbing at some mould behind the taps.

"Mum!" Hop says, and she turns round, startled before she exhales a sigh of relief as she glances between Hop and Leon.

"Whoo, you scared me, boys."

"Hehe," Hop grins whilst Leon gives her a sheepish smile. "Mum, what are you doing?"

"Oh nothing...just doing some late night cleaning. What're you boys doing up?"

"Lee and I can't sleep!"

"I know what will do the trick; a good, big ol' mug of Gossifleur Camomile Tea."

"We were thinking Tapu Cocoa," Leon replies.

"Oh, that works too," mum says cheerily, and Leon and Hop each slide into the chairs of the kitchen table; Hop also settles Wooloo over one chair but it is so tiny it doesn't even reach the table. Mum adds, "Let me put on the kettle."

"Let me do it," Leon offers, but she shakes her head.

"No, no, dear, you just sit and relax," mum coos as she brings out three mugs from the top shelf. Hop has a white Wooloo mug and Leon has a blue mug with a Charizard on it.

As they sit and mum waits for the kettle to boil, Leon glances at his brother and mother before he says, "It's been a while since we sat down like this."

"You should come home more often, Leo."

"I'll try to. Are you guys okay when I'm gone?"

"Yes, of course we are, dear."

"How's gran and granddad?"

"They're fine, they just sit and watch TV with Purrloin," mum reassures him; as the water finishes boiling, she starts making the cocoa, pouring the hot water into each mug and stirring them with a teaspoon before she finally joins them at the table, settling down their mugs.

"Lovely! Here we are altogether, just like old times. This is nice... if only your dad was here..." mum says with a sigh as she takes a seat in the middle of the table with Hop on her left and Leon to her right. Wooloo hops off the seat and trots to a bowl on the ground, lapping at the water.

"Thanks, mum," Leon says, and Hop echoes him. The drinks are too hot so they leave it to cool down. It grows silent in the kitchen, the only sounds that can be heard are the Ledyba's clicking outside and the clock ticking on the wall.

"So...how is work, dear?" mum asks, breaking the monotony.

"It's good. I'm gonna be busy for the next few weeks or so but today was fun, right?"

"Yeah!!" Hop replies with vigour, grinning widely from ear to ear, "Lee, are you gonna invite your girlfriend over again??"

"Hop, she's not my girlfriend...We're just friends."

"But you kept holding her hand. Me and Gloria are friends but I don't hold her hand. She said only couples do that."

Leon splutters at once whilst mum giggles, taking a small sip of her drink. When did Hop see him holding her hand anyway? Leon begins rubbing the back of his neck, entwining his fingers into his unruly thick hair. "Well...um...That's because..."

"Did she keep trying to hold your hand? Was it the other way around?"

Leon shakes his head. "No, no! No, Hop, it wasn't her...ah, it was that obvious, huh?"

"Leo, you couldn't take your eyes off her," mum says with a giggle, "She's cute."

His cheeks grow pink. "Mum, I…” he leaves his sentence trailing and mum and Hop look at him mutely in response, waiting for him to finish but he doesn't. It's then Leon realises he is talking to his family about a girl...maybe he should've asked Raihan instead...

“What’s the matter?” mum asks, and his face grows warm before he gives her a reassuring smile.

The last thing he wants is his mother to worry about him. “It’s nothing, mum.”

Mum crosses her arms, pondering to herself and Hop imitates her action. Leon watches them wordlessly as mum unfurls her arms and sighs. "Just do what you think is right, what feels right. If she’s the one, then that would be lovely. But if she's not the right one, then…perhaps you shouldn't talk to her or hold her hand so much. She'll get the wrong idea. There's plenty of Tentacools in the ocean, dear. I just want you to be happy."

Plenty of Tentacools in the ocean, Leon thinks to himself.

It grows quiet as mum and Hop take sips from their mugs and Wooloo drinks the bowl of water. It occurs to Leon he hasn't thought about this properly.

There are plenty of Tentacools, but none of them are you.

...

After his grandma passed away and his sister moved to Alola, Jace lives on his own.

When he’s finished his shift at Wyndon stadium, he goes home with Joltik. He wanted to become an electrician and trained for a few years or so but unfortunately was unable to find a job and resorted to being a part-time Ball Guy, a job which he's held down for while now. Jace received an inheritance but avoids using it, concerned that it will run out soon in a few years if he doesn’t get a well-paying job, so he’s doing his best to find a new career.

Little does he know that you’re attempting to train him though he has much to learn. Although you dislike being called an ‘exorcist’, Ezra’s taught you everything he knows and he is recognised by the church as a fully-fledged exorcist and essentially you’re his successor, so you want to pass on everything you know too, and Jace seems like a good candidate.

He isn’t the bravest person you have met but he has good qualities. He’s good with people, he’s friendly (friendlier than Ezra, anyway) and he’s also had a spiritual encounter.

You’ve yet to tell him this so he goes on about his mundane, daily life: he has a microwave dinner whilst sitting in front of his TV, then he spends some time with his pokemon. He is aware of the Giant’s Seat incidence from the news and knew you had solved the case so he messages you to see if you’re alright before he heads to his room to fix the radio.

Jace works with the utmost attention to detail and care, grabbing his goggles with the magnified lens along with his box of tools. Aside from being a part-time Ball Guy, Jace is quite the handyman. The first time when your radio broke, he was able to piece it back together with barely any effort and since then, he’s fixed it for you time and time again.

He’s almost finished; Joltik sits on his shoulder, watching him work whilst Heliolisk sits in his lap. His Eelektross lazes on his bed, curling up to sleep and slobbering over his sheets.

Turning the radio around, Jace uses a small screwdriver to carefully ease some wires together and loop them around each other before he replaces some of the bolts and screws into their proper positions.

Once they’re fixed into their appropriate places, he inserts the case back on and turns the radio around again onto its front and does a test run, pulling out the antenna. The radio only has one dial and he rotates it gently, watching the little tuner move across the screen and the radio splutters into action.

It begins emitting white noise as Jace rotates the dial through all the channels and as he passes eighteen ninety-eight hertz, there is still white noise.

He proceeds to move the dial all the way to the very end. Satisfied that the radio appears to be back in normal working order, he moves the dial to the very beginning and as he passes eighteen ninety eight again, a male’s voice emits from the radio but Jace accidentally rotates the dial past the channel and so he misses what was said.

“What was that?” Jace utters to himself, before he slowly turns the dial back to eighteen ninety-eight and the deep, scratchy voice can be heard far more clearly.

“-a pocket full of posies, a-tishoo, a-tishoo, we all fall down. Ring around the rosie, a pocket full of posies...”

The mysterious voice unsettles Jace, it is sinister and full of malice.

“Hello, who’s there?” the voice says before it emits a chuckle, and if Jace knew any better it is as though whoever was on the other end was smiling. "Don't be shy. Say something."

Jace instructs his pokemon to keep quiet by placing a finger over his lips and he reaches over to turn the dial to a different channel.

“Jace, Jace, what a disgrace," the voice begins to chant, "Failure to his mother, failure to his father, should just kill himself hereon after.”

Eyes widening, Jace quickly turns the dial all the way to the very end and the room goes silent. He did the right thing by not responding and a sense of security washes over him. He breathes a sigh of relief, swivelling round in his chair only to be greeted with a tall and dark silhouette situated at the door to his room.

He lets out a howl of fright, his heart slamming hard against his ribs. In a blink, the shadowy figure is gone, replaced with the empty space of the doorway.

The silence is broken when the radio switches on with a loud click, sending Jace into another fit of temporary shock, and the dial rotates to eighteen ninety-eight, twisting around on its own accord and when the white noise disperses, the sounds of mocking laughter fills the room.

Reaching for the device with a shaking hand, he switches the radio off once more. When all goes silent, he exhales audibly, grabs his Rotom phone and dials your number.

…

A week has passed since the dinner with Leon.

He has returned to his duties as Champion and he’s left Postwick. You found out when you returned to their house the day after with the Wooloo plushie; his mum opened the door and she told you that he had already left. Then you check your Rotom phone and see that he hadn’t sent a message to let you know beforehand, which would have been nice.

You see him again when he is on the news, issuing his statement about the gym challenge and the Giant Seat’s incidence.

Leon addresses the people’s concerns and voices his empathy towards the deceased. Coupled with his good looks and overflowing charisma and confidence, his words are empowering and incredibly motivating. Just like that, people are returning to the gym challenge with renewed trust and faith.

The Giant’s Seat incidence is more or less forgotten, and Chairman Rose is very happy.

There was a funeral which Leon and Graves attended, but you didn’t go because you had no idea nor were you invited. Speaking about Graves, you're supposed to meet him tomorrow at Wyndon Police Station.

As you watch Leon on the TV screen with Gengar and Mimikyu, you remember watching the movie with him over a video call using Rotom, and afterwards you remember how enthusiastic he was.

You had engaged in lively discussion regarding the true meaning behind ‘Rosebud’ and you could tell how deeply moved he was by the film and he had even told you how much he had enjoyed watching it with you.

You mentioned you should watch another movie together and he agreed but following that, he has ceased to message you.

Out of your control, you messaged him first. Just a simple 'how are you' but unfortunately, you elicited no reply though your message was read and Leon was online which confused you but it doesn't take a rocket scientist to realise he is talking to everyone else except you.

You can't deny you feel a bit hurt, but you don't take it personal and try not to think about it too much for you assume he’s far too busy to deal with the likes of you any longer and so you should return to your normal schedule as well. After all, he’s the Champion of Galar and you’re a pokemon researcher. Your paths and priorities are bound to diverge.

However, you find yourself unable to stop thinking about him.

Leon occupies your mind day in and day out. When you’re meant to be working, you’re thinking back to the dinner and all the words that were exchanged, the looks he subjected you to and you would replay certain scenes in your mind again and again.

You think about what he said and what you said, and what you could’ve said differently… and you also think about what could happen should you see him again and what you would say to him. You think of all sorts of scenarios in your head: what if you bumped into him at a café, maybe in Wyndon? What if you saw him in the Wild Area again? So many endless possibilities.

These thoughts soon grow unhealthy because you had wanted to study Mimikyu and her origins and how she could speak human language, but then you’d suddenly find yourself recalling those fond moments of Leon’s dreamy eyes gazing into yours and how he held your hand. He held your hand so many times during that dinner.

You find that you are unable to study and with a heavy sigh, you rub your temples and groan. You need to forget about him for now because most likely, you're the only one who's thinking about him. With no new cases and Leon’s match scheduled more than a week away, you’re free to do as you please.

You have a new member on the team (your client did not want to take Mimikyu back so she will be staying with you) and it’s a good idea to head to the Wild Area tonight; you can even attempt some training…

After devising a plan to venture into the Stony Wilderness, you begin packing your bag until you are interrupted when you receive a call from Jace:

“H-hey chuck,” he sounds shaken when you answer, “…I-I-I fixed your radio…can you come over right now, please? Please???”

“Okay, I’ll come over.”

He breathes a huge sigh of relief. “Thanks!”

You abandon packing a full bag and merely bring some essentials with you before you head out and arrive at his place in roughly twenty minutes. You see that he had spent those minutes waiting with all the lights switched on and the TV turned up to a high volume in an effort to drown out the monotony. You ring the doorbell to his apartment and from within, you hear him exclaiming loudly with relief and rapid footsteps rushing over.

A pale-faced Jace greets you along with his Joltik, Heliolisk and Eelektross who cling to his arms and leg. Jace is trembling, holding your fixed radio in hand. His blonde hair is usually styled but he’s left it alone, loose strands flopping untidily over his forehead and eyes.

Before he can say a word, you glance around, looking at his lounge and the conjoined kitchen and utter, “Your house feels off. Let me do a quick sweep...”

He nods in agreement. “Thanks…”

“Good thing I brought holy water today."

“T-thanks, chuck…Your radio is soooo cursed, I hate it so much,” Jace moans as he returns his pokemon into their capsules in case they accidentally interfere with your ritual. As you remove your shoes and enter his lounge, he closes the door then hands you the fixed device and adds, “I heard a new voice: it was a man, not your father either. It knew my name and told me to go kill myself. I switched the radio off, turned round and saw this shadowy figure standing over there.”

He points to his bedroom doorway where the door is wide open and you head over to inspect.

“It went away but it scared me half to death," he says with a shiver. "Are you sure it picks up transmissions from the spirit world only?"

You ponder to yourself, glance at the radio then pocket it into your bag, “I'll check with Ezra. Jace, I'm so sorry…thanks for fixing the radio. I’ll make sure to be more careful and not break it anymore.”

“It’s fine, duck, I know you can’t help it and you know I’m always happy to lend a hand.”

“…Thanks, Jace.”

He gives you a wide grin as you smile weakly at him, then he pats you on the top of your head and shuffles to his kitchen in his flipflops so you can perform the cleansing ritual in peace.

Rolling your sleeves up, you begin murmuring the appropriate chant to bless and purify the house before you take out a bottle of water from your bag, unscrew the lid and empty some on your fingertips. Jace watches as you murmur under your breath and sprinkle some of the water over the doorway.

“Ave Maria, gratia plena, dominus tecum. Amen,” you murmur, and once the dark presence lifts, you nod to yourself; the task is complete. “That should do it.”

He gives you a wide grin as you smile weakly at him; closing the door behind you, you wander to the lounge and Jace gestures for you to take a seat on his grey couch. “Thanks. All good, right?"

"Yeah."

Whatever it was, it's gone now.

"Let’s have a nice cuppa tea and catch up.”

The décor of his apartment used to be old-fashioned and full of Purrloin plates on the wall or photos and calendars of Snubbulls in various costumes courtesy of his grandmother, but now it’s become more of a typical bachelor’s pad with the casual grey sofa, glass coffee table, the modern blinds and the high chairs that line the counters that stand in the middle of the kitchen which itself has become more modern; there are no more frills and florals, Jace has replaced the wallpaper with white paint and spotlights embedded in the ceiling.

“I like what you’ve done with the place,” you say and he grins.

“Thanks, it took me a while to get it renovated but I’m glad I got it done.”

“It’s more you.”

He chuckles under his breath. “Thanks, chuck. How’s things anyway?” he asks; he’s putting the kettle to boil for two cups which he’s laid out over the counter, tossing in teabags.

“I have a problem.”

The kettle finishes boiling and Jace pours the water in. “What problem?”

“I think I’m in love with Leon.”

“And so do ninety per cent of the female population of Galar,” he replies flatly as he stirs the tea with a spoon then heads over to the sofa with the mugs in hands.

It’s piping hot, so you’re extra careful as he hands you your mug of earl grey tea. “I’m serious, Jace.”

He seats himself comfortably on his plushy sofa, then grabs the remote and presses the button and the channel changes to some dancing show called Strictly Come Krumping where a dancer is busting some aggressive-looking moves with her Scraggy on the podium.

He flicks through the available movies and TV shows, passing a popular detective drama called The Killer Sableye and eventually move to the documentary section where Jace stares at the blurb of a comedy docuseries called ‘Hiker Dave’s Adventures in Alola with Kiawe’.

“So…Leon, huh. I thought someone like Kiawe would be your type. Not Leon.” Jace muses, “I didn’t think Leon would be your type at all.”

“Me either. I can't stop thinking about him, I can’t seem to focus on my work anymore. I noticed I can’t stop smiling whenever he’s mentioned or if I'm around him, my heart thumps like a Spoink on steroids and I get so nervous, it’s driving me bonkers and – is that a documentary about Leon?? Put that on, quick.”

Jace raises a brow and rolls his eyes but clicks on the program anyway.

“This is so exciting.”

He sighs and you deadpan all of a sudden.

“Dear lord," you mutter, "What’s happening to me?”

“Relax. You just have a crush on him, that’s all. It’s totally normal for girls your age. It’ll go away and you’ll realise it was just a phase and you’ll return to normal,” Jace mutters before he grabs a biscuit and dabs it into the tea.

What if you don’t want it to pass though?

And what if you want Leon to return these feelings?

“...You’re right," you end up uttering, shaking your head to clear such ridiculous thoughts, "this is just a phase. I need to snap out of it. I need to maintain a distance from him and I need to stop thinking about him because he sure as hell isn't thinking about me.”

“There are plenty of Tentacools in the ocean,” he adds. “Plenty of Tentacools.”

Yes, there are plenty of Tentacools in the ocean, but none of them are Leon.

…

In Hulbury, Leon is faithfully carrying out one of his Champion duties, which is to help out at a soup kitchen for the homeless.

He usually attends the one in Stow-on-Side, but on this occasion, the soup kitchen in Hulbury requires his assistance.

It’s wholly voluntary and the amount of people who turn up is staggering, ranging from up to thirty to three hundred so Leon has a busy half-day ahead of him.

Swapping his champion uniform and cloak for a t-shirt, overalls, apron and hairnet, the people of Galar probably wouldn’t recognize him nor would they find this hardly fitting for the Champion of Galar, but Leon is happy to lend a hand to the charity and they are extremely grateful for his assistance.

Leon enjoys working with the homeless; they are a lively bunch though most people would be repulsed by the foul stench due to living on the streets and their unsightly looks. They line up one by one in front of the tables that have been set up with Tupperware boxes full of food and cutlery, and Leon assists with the handouts.

“Arceus bless you, Mr Leon,” says a man with a toothy smile and an equally toothy Growlithe by his side.

“And you, sir,” Leon replies with a grin, as the man waddles away with his food for the night. “Enjoy your meal!”

The next individual steps up in line; it is an old man dressed in black with a mop of messy black hair and eyes that are entirely white and glazed over. He slowly shuffles over whilst coughing harshly, balancing an unlit cigarette between the cracked corners of his dry lips.

An Absol trots beside him, carrying a silver flask fastened to a harness that’s looped around her body.

“Here you are, sir,” Leon says, handing him a cutlery set and a plastic box full of hot rice, curry, potatoes and mushrooms, and the man blindly grasps for the box. Leon notices immediately and places the plastic tub into the old man’s palm, his long and gnarled fingers curling over the plastic.

“Thank you,” the man grunts out with gratitude, “C’mon, Absol, let’s go.”

The blind man begins to wander away with Absol plodding silently beside him until another homeless man comes rushing over in a hurry to join the queue and slams into his side none too gently, causing the blind man to topple over and the box’s contents to spill everywhere as it clatters to the ground.

“Oof,” the blind man grunts as he lands on the floor, cigarette falling out of his lips.

“Watch where you’re going, old geezer!” yells the other man before he sprints away, and Absol hisses angrily at him, her eyes glowing a bright blue. She attempts to chase him down but her owner stops her in time.

Having witnessed the entire scene, Leon hastily grabs a new food box and heads over. The blind man attempts to get up though he is helplessly sprawled over the ground, trying to locate his cigarette by patting the space around him with his hand.

Once he’s arrived, Leon lowers himself to his knees and helps the blind man up by grabbing the back of his elbow firmly. “Are you alright, sir?”

“I’m fine, thanks,” he grunts, rubbing his aching hip.

“Can you stand?”

The blind man nods and on the count of three, Leon helps him up though his knees shake and his legs wobble. Leon glances around the floor with all the spilled food and calls for some of the volunteers from the soup kitchen to help clean up; they acknowledge with a nod and arrive at the scene with a mop and long-handled brush.

“Where’s my cigarette?” the blind man growls under his breath, and Leon quickly picks up the little stick and hands it to him.

“There you go.”

“Thanks, kid,” the blind man proceeds to place it between his lips, “You new here? You don’t sound like the regulars.”

“I’m assisting the Hulbury soup kitchen for today only.”

“Hm. I see.”

“I brought you a new box of food.”

“That’s very kind of you, new guy. Usually if I cock up and rejoin the queue, they tell me to scram.”

“I couldn’t possibly do that. That’s not fair on you.”

The blind man lets out a huff of agreement. “They need to be more like you, new guy. You’re a good ‘un. Now, uh… I need to siddown …”

“I’ll help you,” Leon grasps his elbow and helps the man hobble over to an empty space near one of the stalls whilst Absol purrs with appreciation at Leon for his help.

Her owner pats her on the head and turning to Leon, he looks up at the Champion with his empty white eyes and says, “I can manage from here, new guy. Don’t mind me, I’m just a blind and useless old man.”

“I need to make sure you’ll be okay,” Leon replies, and he helps the blind man sit down on an overturned plastic box, allowing him to sigh and smack a clenched fist over his knees.

Another volunteer hurries over with a batch of paper towels. “Ezra, are you alright? That was a nasty fall.”

Leon blinks at sound of the name. “Ezra?”

“He’s one of our regulars,” the volunteer proceeds to inform him in a hushed whisper. “He’s an ex-convict…he was jailed for the murder of his wife and kid.”

“I may be blind but I ain’t deaf,” Ezra barks and the volunteer goes red in the face.

Leon glances at Ezra wide-eyed, unsure if he is willing to believe what his ears just heard. However, he chooses to stay put and asks, “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m alright…” Ezra grumbles, before he throws his empty gaze to Leon’s direction, then jabs a finger at the volunteer, “Hey, you should hire more people like this new guy. You can learn a lot from him.”

“This is Leon, the Champion of Galar!” the volunteer exclaims.

“Champion, eh?”

“Yes!"

Ezra nods to himself. “New guy. You remind me of my disciple. You got a big heart, just like her.”

“I know your disciple,” Leon says excitedly before he can help himself. At the mere mention of you, his face has lit up and a huge grin has appeared. Reaching for Ezra’s ragged hand, he shakes it firmly and Ezra raises a brow, “She found me when I got taken by a Froslass and I went with her to a haunted house with Charizard and she deducted that it was actually a Zorua-“

“Whoa, hold it right there, champ. Slow down, have a seat,” the man replies, and Leon eagerly moves to sit beside him whilst the volunteer decides to saunter away. Emitting a wheezy laugh, Ezra rests a hand on his knee and says, “So, you’ve met my disciple?”

“Yes, Mr Ezra.”

He chuckles at Leon's formality. “Saved you from a Froslass, huh? You were one of the missing folk at the Giant's Seat?"

"Not exactly, but she still saved my life."

Ezra chuckles louder. "She tell you much about me?”

“Not much, only that you’re frightening and that you taught her everything she knows.”

“Hehe, that’s right,” the old man says with a smirk, “I used to be the pastor for the Church of Circhester. Decided it really wasn’t for me. I stay in Greyson’s Cemetery now. I’m the caretaker. Come visit when you have time."

“Thank you, sir. How did you meet her?”

Ezra snickers in response before he rubs his chin, “Huh, now you’re testin’ my memory…She tried an Ouija board in the cemetery and summoned a demon. Ended up possessin’ her. I found her and performed an exorcism, woke up in hospital and she was there. She kept apologizin’ and started cryin’ too, thought she’d gotten me killed… and I told her it’d take more than that to kill this old man. Think she was kinda…traumatized or somethin’ after that ordeal…but then she turned up to the graveyard one day and kept comin’ back every night and askin’ me if I could teach her stuff."

Leon nods in response as Ezra opens his flask and takes a brief swig. It smells of strong beer.

“She’s a good kid, Leon. A poor kid, too,” Ezra adds, wiping his chin.

“She told me her family are missing.”

“Yeah, that’s right,” the old man says with a sigh, “she says nobody believed her and that’s why she came to me for help. I was the only one who did. Now you’re best not to get tied up with our affairs, you know? It’s dangerous.”

“Yes, sir."

"And uh, could you do me a favour? If you see her...give her this, please?" Ezra lifts out a strange stone with a fissure in the middle and Leon recognises it as the Odd Keystone. "Tell her it needs one more spirit. She'll understand."

"Sure. Thank you, Mr Ezra. Take care.” Leon replies and he pockets the keystone and before they depart, they shake hands and he returns to his station, pulling on a new pair of gloves and begins serving the next few individuals in line.

When he’s finished with the soup kitchen, Ezra heads to the cemetery, waving to Leon. It’s growing dark and following a message from Chairman Rose, Leon returns to Rose Tower.

The journey to Wyndon is a short one and when he has arrived at the penthouse with Charizard's help, he knocks on the door and waits patiently. It’s been a long day but he still has many tasks ahead of him. Leon hasn’t even begun his training with his team yet. He hears the door click open and Oleana appears.

With a stoic expression, she greets him with a polite bow of her head. “Hello Mr Champion.”

“Hi Ms Oleana.”

“Thank you for coming,” she utters and she opens the door for him and he enters the penthouse without further delay to see Rose sitting on his large leather couch, engrossed with the little flashing screen of his Rotom phone which is playing a video.

"Good evening, sir,” Leon says, and he looks up.

“Ah, Leon! You’re here. Please, come over and have a look at this. Tell me what you think," Rose says as Leon joins his side, before he hands him the phone, pressing 'play' on the screen.

A screechy song can be heard, with a violent mix of percussion and bass guitar riffs blasting out in high volume.

"Ghostbunkers, hoooo yeah! Ghostbunkers, ghosts beware!!! GHOSTBUNKERS!!!" a charismatic but deep, gruff voice belts out. It ends in thirty seconds or so and Leon stares as a young man proceeds to appear on screen in the dark. His form is an eerie pale green in colour, his eyes are glowing pools of light due to the night-vision camera. "Hi, hello! Tan here, and welcome back to another exciting episode of Ghostbunkers! Tonight, we're heading to the abandoned Thrifty Megamart in Alola!"

He returns the phone. He's seen enough. “Sir, what is this?”

"An interesting duo who call themselves the ‘Ghostbunkers’," Rose mutters with a small smile gracing his lips.

“Is something wrong, sir?”

“Do you recall the art gallery event?”

“Yes sir. It was due to open but it got postponed for unknown reasons.”

“Indeed. Well, we received a call from one of the night security guards. It was another complaint regarding the art gallery being 'haunted'.”

“Haunted?” Leon says, surprised. This would be the first time he’s heard such a thing.

“Yes, we didn’t want news to spread so kept it secret. Anyway, I was thinking it's time we hired a couple of experts to inspect the building.” Whilst Rose hums under his breath in response, Oleana does not look amused with the direction as to where this conversation is going, “And you have just met a pokemon expert who deals with these sorts of things. It's great timing. If she's available, I'd like to ask her to help....if she's up for the task, that is.”

Leon is uncomfortable. He put in a good word for you and he told Rose about the Giant's Seat incidence but he didn't realise this sort of thing would happen. “Sir, she is a good person. Please do not-“

“Don’t get me wrong, Leon. I am treating this as a very serious matter…though I'm not inclined to believe in ghosts but what choice do I have? The art gallery’s opening has been delayed for far too long."

“I understand, sir.”

With that, Rose steeples his fingers together and nods to himself, "Excellent. Then it's decided, we'll ask this pokemon researcher and these...'Ghostbunkers' for help. Oleana. please call them at your earliest convenience. Explain to them our circumstances, the art gallery, the hauntings... The fee can be discussed later."

"Very well, sir," Oleana acknowledges with a short bow as she clasps her hands gently together.

"Thank you; I'd also like to meet the pokemon researcher in person. Can you arrange a meeting for me at the hotel tomorrow?"

"Yes sir."

As Oleana begins to exit the penthouse to make the phonecalls, Rose rises from his seat, sliding his hands into his pockets. “Very good. That's another matter off my chest. Leon, let’s go have dinner, shall we? I have a booking at The Captain’s Table. All the gym leaders will be joining us tonight. We're celebrating your smooth recovery.”

“Yes, sir…” Leon utters, as he follows Rose outside; he can’t help but wonder what he’s gotten you involved...

…

You’re on your way home, sitting in the Corviknight taxi whilst checking Rotom; you still have not received any messages from Leon. Suddenly, Rotom's screen changes, indicating to you that an unknown number is calling you. It must be a new client.

“Hello?” you say as you swipe the screen and hold Rotom to your ear.

“Hello,” says a stern voice belonging to a female, “Am I speaking to the ghost-type pokemon researcher of Wedgehurst?”

“Yes, that’s me,” you reply and she mentions your name for further confirmation, “Who’s speaking?”

“My name is Oleana. I work for Chairman Rose of Macro Cosmos.”

“Ah, hello. How may I help you?”

“Chairman Rose would like to meet you to discuss a proposition. Would you be free tomorrow afternoon?”

You remember that you’re supposed to meet Graves tomorrow as well. “Sure, I’m free anytime except one pm.”

“Very good. Please go to the Rose of the Rondelands in Wyndon tomorrow and inform reception you have a meeting with the Chairman at three pm sharp.”

“Okay.”

“Do you have any questions?”

“What is this proposition?”

“The Champion has recommended and vouched for you and your credentials, so Chairman Rose would like to personally meet you to enquire about your services. You will find out more when you see him tomorrow.”

You're taken aback. “...Alright, sounds good.”

“Thank you. Have a nice evening.”

…

#leon #dande #fanfic #fic #archive of our own #leon x reader #Leon x you #reader insert #reader #pkmn #pokemon #pokemonshield #pokemonsword #pokemon shield and sword #jeralee #comfort in despair

19 notes · View notes

cajunroe · 4 years

Photo

sledgefu + paranormal!au ft. ghost hunter!sledge + demon!snafu ↳ever since they met, gene’s noticed little things about snafu that give him pause and make him wonder about the man’s past. but he doesn’t want to lose the friendship and companion he’s gained. not to mention the fact that snafu was the only person who showed genuine interest in gene’s dream of ghost hunting. the occult had always interested him but everyone else in his life thought he was crazy for trying to pursue the goal of finding proof of the paranormal. and as they reach two years of ghost hunting, gene thinks they might be right because every time something has happened, snafu had been at the ready with a logical (mostly) explanation. then, on what’s supposed to be a normal investigation, gene finds out the paranormal is all to real and all too close by.

read below or on ao3

Gene always thought there was something odd about the ease in which Snafu handled terrifying situations.

When they were stuck in a house supposedly haunted by a murderer, Snafu did nothing but laugh every time Gene jumped when he swore something tried to grab him.

When investigating an abandoned asylum with tons of recorded activity, and Gene was certain he heard someone whisper his name, Snafu just claimed it was an open window and continued walking like Gene’s heart hadn’t nearly exploded in fear.

And now, in the middle of what was a routine investigation, where a chair has clearly flown across the room after Gene asked for a sign of a presence, Snafu’s only reaction is:

“Gravity is a strange thing, Sledge.”

Gene’s on the ground staring at the broken chair, mouth open, and heart-pounding.

He looks up, and as Snafu shrugs, Gene loses it.

“What in the goddamn hell is your damage, Snafu? That chair nearly took off my damn head and I know you didn’t throw it at me! Could you cut the skeptic shit for one second and just help me figure it out?”

He knows it’s harsh, but he can’t stop freaking out long enough to care.

They’d been doing this for two years and Snafu’s calm indifference had slowly been driving him crazy, not to mention the fact that it’s the reason Gene’s slowly fallen in love with the man.

He wipes his eyes harshly and when he opens them, Snafu’s in front of him, holding onto his arms.

“It’s alright, Sledge,” Snafu states, concern evident in the way he says Gene’s name.

“No, it ain’t Snafu! Whatever is here just tried to kill me! I won’t even be right again.”

Snafu stood abruptly then and when Gene looked up, he swore Snafu’s eyes were as pitch black as the night outside.

“You’re right about one thing there, Gene,” Snafu replied with cold intensity, the cadence in his voice making is deeper, darker, and making Gene’s hair stand on end, “Whatever is here did just try to kill you.”

Gene’s certain his heart will stop because there’s no way it can handle the major fluctuations it's experiencing tonight.

There’s no way Snafu just admitted to something paranormal, supernatural happening.

They’d been doing ghost hunting for long enough for Gene to be 100% certain about one thing: Snafu didn’t believe in ghosts, demons, or anything paranormal. As a die hard skeptic, Gene was always curious why Snafu had been so ready to join Gene on his mission to find proof of the paranormal. Even when they met at an occult bookstore, Gene wondered why the man had stopped to ask him what he was reading. He thought he was trying to pick Gene up, but when Snafu made no move, Gene launched into what he was looking for. Snafu had listened to him for hours, the day they met, and they’d been friends ever since. Still, despite being so close, Gene always felt like Snafu was reticent like he was hiding something. When he thought too hard about, late at night in another dingy motel room, Snafu asleep in the bed beside him, he chalked it up to his natural speculative nature and would eventually fall asleep.

Now, though…now he’s wishing he’d looked deeper.

Snafu is circling the room, feeling different spots of the wall like he’s searching for something.

“Snaf, what’s going on?” He wishes his voice were steadier, but the fear suddenly gripping him tight won’t allow it.

“Gene, you have always been honest with me. Seems only fair I’m honest with you.”

Gene swallowed heavily, his instincts telling him to run, but his curiosity forced him to stay.

“I ain’t who you think I am.” He declared as though the statement managed to be Gene at ease in any way.

“For once in your life, Snafu, make some fucking sense. Please.”

He watches a fond smile form on the brunette’s lips and despite being scared shitless, Gene’s still in love with him.

“My name’s not really, Snafu.”

“No shit sherlock.” Gene snaps, he always got ornery whenever Snafu was intentionally invasive.

And Snafu, he just laughs and keeps searching the room.

He stops suddenly, crouching in the middle of the room, hand running along the floor.

Snafu looks up quickly, smile bright, but feral as he lays his hand firmly on the ground.

But Gene can’t recognize anything beyond the fathomless pools of black that encompass Snafu’s eyes.

“My real name is Seire, Eugene. I’m a demon.” Then Snafu’s hand disappears into the floor and when it reemerges and Snafu stands, he’s gripping a creature. Half it’s head is missing and its skeleton is covered in the thinnest, greyest skin Gene’s ever seen. He can’t breathe, can’t look away and when it snarls and reaches its razor-sharp claws towards Gene, he doesn’t even flinch.

Snafu holds it in his grip, with ease, by the throat as it tries to scream but fails.

“This looks like one of, hmmm,” Snafu turns his head to the side taken in the creature as though deep in thought, “one of Raum’s little leeches, huh?”

The creature gets one ear-piercing shriek out before Snafu tightens his grip again.

“Guess the rumors about him trying to move up were true. Thought he’d have enough gall to face me himself.”

The creature tries to speak and Snafu lightens his grip just enough for it to speak.

“Not you.”

Gene both hears it and doesn’t hear it, like a whisper passing by him.

Snafu’s eyes shift from Gene and back to the creature in sudden understanding.

They weren’t after Snafu, they were after Gene.

“Little pet. Weakness.”

Snafu’s face turned serious, severe and he tightened his grip again and Gene watched as the man he loved held demon spawn in his grip like it was nothing. He’d never been more attracted to Snafu since they met.

“You’re wrong.” Snafu replies, a torrent of barely controlled anger held in tense shoulders.

He pulled the spawn closer to him, watching as the creature snarled and tried to escape Snafu’s grip.

He looks to Gene with a soft smile then looks back at the creature.

“Love is strength.”

Gene’s heart skips a beat and Snafu must be able to hear it because he laughs like he always did where Gene was concerned.

“I have a message for Raum when you get back down there.”

Gene hears another whisper that sounded have of a snake’s hiss and a surprised “What?”

Then the creature bursts into flame and without a sound, it’s gone, and Gene is left alone with Snafu. His best friend. The one he loves. A demon.

For the first time in his life, he’s the one in doubt, the one questioning what’s real or not, what he saw with what he knows.

He doesn’t know why, but the first thing he needs an answer to is…

“So, you love me?” He asks, still trying not to lose his mind.

He hears another laugh, this one breathy as though the demon was nervous.

“You find out I’m a demon, Prince of Hell, as a matter of fact, and your first question is whether or not I love you?”

Gene presses if only ease his mind of this one thing.

“You didn’t answer the question.”

Snafu sighs and its wistful nature makes Gene look up and stare.

“Hard not to, Gene. All my time in existence and I’ve never wanted something as much as I want you.”

Snafu replies gently, like someone who’s seen too much but is still in wonder with the world.

He sits down on the splintered, dusty floor in front of Gene who was still attached to the corner he was in.

Gene takes a deep, shaky breath, shocked more at his acceptance and handling of the last half hour than over the fact that the man he loved for two years loves him back and at the fact that the man who loves him isn’t entirely a man, but a demon.

Still.

“A lot of things about you make a lot of sense now.”

“Like what?” Snafu asks, voice lilting at the end in genuine curiosity.

Gene smiles at that.

“Your indifference to all of this,” Gene gestures around the abandoned house, “the way you talk sometimes like you’re adopting speech from another time, your overt politeness.”

“That’s just a southern thing, Sledge, not an immortal thing.”

Despite his better judgment, Gene laughs as he grabs Snafu’s hand surprise to find it can be just as gentle as it is deadly. The heat of the touch warms Gene from head to toe.

“I don’t know if I like your real name so much, though.” He states with a grimace ad smiles when Snafu rolls his eyes.

“Neither did I, at least not up here. Snafu was the first nickname anyone ever called me up here and it just stuck.”

Gene links their fingers, mind racing and following eight thoughts at once, the greatest of these being –

“Hell of a nickname.”

Gene’s eyes widened when he realizes what he said, but Snafu just looks at him with intense adoration and fondness.

It's easy then, to shut off his brain, and follow his heart.

He crawls the little space between them on his hand and knees, then watches as Snafu just waits for Gene to commit. It heady and the way Gene’s heart is racing is making him dizzy with lust and power. He lifts Snafu’s chin an inch higher and locks their lips together harshly. It’s an aggressive and powerful first kiss with biting teeth and hot breaths, and Gene feels like not even the fires of hell could be so hot.

He breaks apart with a gasp, reality crashing in at the worst time, but not keeping from holding a breathless Snafu close.

“Are there gonna be more of those things?” He asks, breathless himself, but demanding.

Snafu looks ashamed for the first time in all the time Gene’s known him.

“Yes and it's my fault, Gene. I’m sorry, but I couldn’t stay away from you and you wouldn’t leave no matter how hard I tried to get you to because I couldn’t.”

It all clicks and Gene pushes Snafu so hard he falls back onto the floor.

“You asshole! All the hauntings? That was you?!”

Snafu looks guilty but still satisfied, and how Gene never saw the bit of the devil in Snafu, hell never know. Love truly must be blind.

“Tricks of the family trade,” Snafu shrugs, humble and shy. Gene has to take a moment to let that sink in. A demon, shy and humble at their supernatural abilities.

“But yeah, it was me Gene and you’re so damn persistent and brave that you just kept coming back for more. You’re a reckless idiot and I fell in love with that.”

Gene laughs despite himself, disbelieving but full of so much happiness, lust, and lingering fear, that he could hardly believe this was his life.

“Guess I’m gonna have to add exorcist to my resume.”

Snafu stares for a long moment before bursting into laughter. Gene joins him after a moment and he’s never felt lighter.

Despite it all, the love that Gene feels for Snafu is sacred.

And while Snafu may have more oddities than most, his love for Gene is the most natural thing in the world.

They would make it work, make it last, even if it meant going through hell itself.

#sledgefu #sledgefu week #My writing #my edits #my stuff #ugh i wanted to write more but i didn't have the time today #still hope it's good #:) :) :)

31 notes · View notes

behindtherobinsmask · 3 years

Text

tagged by @runnfromtheak

Rules: list the first lines of your last ten stories. See if there are any patterns. Choose your favorite opening line. I write the most random things so if you can actually find a pattern then... let me know. Help a fool out.

P.S. - I know it says opening line and not paragraph but come on, that doesn’t do any story justice.

Gonna do my tags before because this turned out to be longer than expected - @elwon @stevieraebarnes @epistemologys

1. All The Times Damian Wayne Felt Loved

This was a birthday fic I wrote for a darling friend of mine. The whole time I was writing this my biggest fear was that the characters were going to... just not be right. Still have that fear.

“Gripping onto a pillow, Damian walked down the dark halls of his grandfather’s house, uncertainty clouding every step that he made. At this hour of the night, no one seemed to be around yet he could feel eyes watching his every move. The eyes of the stars in the sky, the moon and the many trained soldiers that had years of practice when it came to blending into the shadows. It was their presence that forced him to walk with his head held high, to bat away the tears in his eyes and pretend that everything was alright. Pretend that he wasn’t afraid.”

2. To all the stars that are listening

Another birthday fic (maybe that was the pattern all along jk). I actually really enjoyed writing this fic because I felt like I was back in my zone (my zone being angst). Can’t wait to get started on the second part.

“Dick’s life had been anything but ordinary since he was a child. As someone who grew up in the circus, his morning was spent studying with the other kids that travelled with his troupe while in the afternoon, he practiced with his heart and soul to fly as beautifully as his parents. In the nights, he’d stand on the sidelines and watch them perform, absolutely awed by the way their bodies moved, each twist, each turn so seamless, every difficult stunt seemed easy in their skin. Clinging onto the edge of the tent, he wished with all his heart that someday, he could be just like them. A bird freed. With every wish, his voice grew louder and louder until somewhere, up above, a star heard his cry. It heard his desire to be free. The chains that grounded him slowly slipped away and he flew with practiced grace. And just as Dick spread his wings, his parents fell. Birds flightless.

Freedom he had asked for and freedom he had received.”

3. Come here, won’t you hold my hand?

Listen, I spend hours of my life playing genshin impact. Did you really think I wouldn’t write a fic for it?

“After chasing the traveler away, Xiao sighed, wondering if now was the time to head back to Wangshu Inn. There he could stay away from the harbour and its people, away from the wishes made on stars that could never hear them, away from their fragile happiness that he could shatter with a single touch. Someone like Xiao, so burdened with sins, could never mingle among the mortals without bringing harm. Wherever he went, only misery ever followed. But even though he knew that it would be best for him to leave, a part of him, as silly as it was, worried that the journey back would make him miss out on the opportunity to see an old friend. While he never attended the Lantern Rite in Liyue, he always made sure to catch a glimpse of the Mingxiao lantern that always honored the adepti. It was only at that moment that he could lose himself to the past momentarily and remember a time when he wasn’t so alone, when his battle wasn’t only his to fight.”

4. Jon Kent Must Die

A jaydick flashfic challenge gave birth to this crack series and I will happily go down with this ship. I’ve written too many of these and maybe, in the future I’ll write more. Who will stop me? God? I don’t think so.

“Damian was sick and tired of his siblings.

Never had he met two people who were so dependent on their partners that they needed them around 24/7. It didn’t matter whether it was day or not, whether they were at the manor or in their respective homes, wherever his brothers went, their fool boyfriends seemed to follow. The obligatory family dinner had been turned into a circus with Todd’s usual clownery that had Damian rolling his eyes so hard that sometimes he was afraid they’d just pop out of his skull. Kent was no better. In fact, on more than one occasion, he had encouraged Todd’s rambling as though he was God’s chosen prophet, sharing his truth with the world. Damian really wished, just for a day, the two of them would simply go away. It wasn’t that he missed his siblings or anything. He just wished to have a conversation with Richard that didn’t end with him wanting to stab someone. Hopefully a 5’11 man with black hair with a streak of white and deep green eyes that could find a conspiracy in Titus’s preferred pose for napping.”

5. I wanna be in your arms by the sea (studying your freckles so curiously)

Yes. It’s another genshin impact fic. Sue me. (Please don’t I’m broke).

“Every night, Zhongli saw the same dream.

Caressed by the gentle winds of the Guili plains, he watched over his people, Guizhong’s people as they lived in prosperity, enjoying the calm and gentle wind that wrapped around them. Serenity was a blessing and they had an abundance of it. In the beginning, when Guizhong had described such a scene, something knit carefully in her imagination, he had not believed her. But now that he was seeing with his own two eyes, he was glad that he had agreed to her terms. Glad that he had formed a contract that had been beneficial for all.”

6. I stay up late and talk to the moon (And I can’t stop telling her all about you)

A christmas exchange fic that I loved writing because it really got me back into the writing for jaydick. It had been a while since I touched anything fandom related. Then this story happened.

“According to Jason, there weren’t many things that Bruce really got right. Not with his rules that could never be bent for anyone or his sickeningly righteous sense of justice. But if there was one thing Bruce excelled in, it was throwing the world’s most boring party ever. Every event that ever took place in the Wayne manor was the same. Classical music. Champagne flutes. Appetizers that could never replicate Alfred’s cooking and finally, the same old rich folks of Gotham who needed to be filled in on the latest gossip lest they melt into a puddle.”

7. Now I’m going down on you (proving what I want is true) Who told me I could write smut? Please take away my license. “Click. Click. Click. With a heavy sigh, Dick switched off the TV and tossed the remote aside after an hour of clicking through the channels, unable to find anything that would keep his mind occupied. Two weeks ago, during a drug bust with the rest of the bats, Dick had suffered an injury to his shoulder which he considered rather minor. But Alfred and Barbara said otherwise as he was benched until he healed, his own city taken over by other vigilantes while he was forced to sit at home and entertain himself with murder mysteries with plot twists he saw coming from a mile away. Unfortunately, even when he hit the gym to let go of some restless energy, he could only do the most basic of workouts, the kind that simply weren’t enough for someone who was so used to being active all day long.”

8. Wayne Boys Unsolved

Another crack fic that I really enjoyed writing. Poor Yvonne though. She was really suffering.

“Yvonne’s body was thrumming with excitement as she peeked out the window of her room, her eyes falling on the black car that just pulled up in front of her house. Four boys stepped out, ones that she was so very familiar with. After all, she had spent many nights watching every single video they uploaded on their blog. They were paranormal investigators of sorts, the kind that didn’t believe in the supernatural and lived to debunk the stories that revolved around each haunted location. Because people loved to watch them so, both alive and dead, the boys had become famous in every circle possible.”

9. You make me wanna die (I’m burning up in the light)

Another birthday fic and the first dark story I ever wrote. Writing this was fun but also nerve-wracking.

“I think we need a break.

Two years, three months, four days and seven hours. That was how long it had been since Jason had said those words to Dick, sitting in the middle of the bed they shared, silk sheets pooled around his scarred waist, the white of his hair sticking to his forehead with sweat, droplets of it swimming down his throat and across his bare chest that was bruised red with bite marks, across the autopsy scar that he had been reborn with. He looked like a picture, each feature painted so delicately with colours that pulled, that hypnotised and drowned. The fingers of his right hand flexed, parted and then brushed across the back of his neck, tracing the bond mark that tied him down to Dick, shuddering slightly under the imprint, his heady scent spreading across the room like a drug. Strong, so fucking strong that Dick could still taste it on his tongue. Looking like that, after everything they had done, when he opened his mouth, when he said the words that had been sitting on the tipping of his tongue, it was only to end everything that they were.”

10. Come fire up the night (make me feel alive)

Who told me I could write smut (2)

“Staring at the ceiling of his apartment, Dick lay in his bed, tired but unable to fall asleep, the ticking of the clock haunting him. Tick. He took in a deep breath. Tock. He closed his eyes. Tick. He tried to sleep. Tock. Every memory of Jason came rushing back to him. The dark hair with a streak of white that framed his chiselled face. The plump lower lip that he often dreamt about kissing, pulled between his teeth until Jason was groaning. The freckles that were scattered across his nose and cheeks. Those deep green orbs that gleamed with mischief, teasing and taunting, burning with unbridled fury, one look enough to make Dick’s knees tremble. And as goosebumps spread across his arms, he found himself waking up, lest he did something that he knew he would regret. Like calling up Jason and confessing feelings that were better left unspoken, buried in a special graveyard from which there would be no sudden resurrections.”

3 notes · View notes