#they moved quickly and would spring into attack and hide over and over leaving wreckage and chaos

[theobot]

My brain keeps feeding me these intricately plotted, detailed dreams that feel like the beginnings or middles or ends of novels and I never dream so I’m lost in confusion

#today i was the young queen of a nation of mountainous islands #the king was someone of my age and we stood together in silence at a religious ceremony off to the side #we kept a low profile never wearing intricate crowns or fancy clothing and lived in no castles and ate no feasts #a humble royalty for a humble country of farmers and fishermen #someone burst through the doors of the sanctuary to tell everyone of the sea orcs attacking our ships #they moved quickly and would spring into attack and hide over and over leaving wreckage and chaos #we set out in our faster ships blaring signals to stay home or stay put but there was carnage on the water #a general spotted us and chased after us his boat equal in speed to ours but was distracted by a more intricate ship and sent a lesser ship #after us assiming we in our simple but quick ship were just peasants. a sorceress easily broke their ship in half #we made it to the main island; a country of sheep and goat farms woth chickens squaking up the mountain side reminiscent of the swiss alps #we called for them to blare the horns and the people ran for the tunnels to the great keep we had built in the center of the tallest mtn #accesible only through these narrow and hard to spot tunnels that we and only we knew #but the king and i instead ran up a narrow dirt path with a handful of key officials; the sort of path others would fall off #if they tried to follow us; and made it to the station where we could blare the final horn causing the fire atop the mountain to be lit #the fires atop the other islands lit and horns could be heard blaring from bbelow as everyone was warned of the threat and we continued on #up the mountain we went until we reached the ridge which we walled down until we reached a spot between to great peaks; a vallied ridge #with steep cliffs to either side and only a narrow single-file passage to either side and there in that space was our home #not much more than a moss covered log cabin with trees that made gettig to it without fallig off the cliff difficult for anyone unpracticed #and we ran into our home and lit our hearth and held together as he and the others discussed if there was more to be done but wait #and those with the best vision ran up to the small space of pur third floor that was only windows to assure all was as we had planned #all we had planned in case of attack and watched as the sea lay bare beyond rhe destruction in their wake #we the peaceful people of the sheep and goat farms of the mountainous small islands of fog and snow and rain and long green grass #did not fight but rather hid and fled to places others could not reach us #it was almost like a test of our system or a warning of what was to come #what was to come #rambling pixi

[fangirlfiles1]

Making Contact: Part Five

Summary: Humans!AU. Roman and Logan are professional ghost hunters. They get a call from Patton and Virgil about a ghost problem but it may turn out to be more than they can handle. There’s something weird about this Virgil kid, and will Roman even survive this?

Pairing: Prinxiety

If you read any of my writing, let it be this!

Warnings: This gets pretty intense and dark. A lot of blood, wounds, trauma, abuse of many kinds, guns, etc. If I need to tag anything else let me know. Basically if you’re looking to be stressed and enjoy some angst, here you go!

TW: car crash, mention of death, blood, description of wounds, cursing

Part one is here

Part two is here

Part three is here

Part four is here

Virgil’s face was buried in Roman’s chest, hiding from everything that was happening. Roman wanted to let him stay there forever, to never make him face the world and it’s terrible things again, but he couldn’t do that. Even if he could, Roman couldn’t protect him from the thoughts that were running through his head. He knew that Virgil felt like the man’s death was his fault. If he hadn’t told them the story, maybe he would still be alive. If he had been stronger and tried harder, he could have gotten Roman and Logan out of the house and things would have continued as normal. If he had paid more attention and kept Patton from ever seeing his scars, none of this would have ever happened. How could he not think that way, with everything that had happened in his life? Roman wrapped his arms tighter around Virgil.

A hand touched his shoulder and he looked up to see Logan standing over them. “I’ve alerted the authorities, but we can’t risk being here when they arrive. We have to keep moving.”

Roman nodded and Logan turned back toward their car with a curious glance at Virgil. Without a word, Virgil pulled out of Roman’s arms and picked himself up off the ground. He pulled the sleeves of his hoodie down over his palms in a failed attempt to cover the cuts that covered his hands. Roman stood and opened his mouth to speak, but Virgil was already headed to the car with his arms crossed tightly, determination in his step. Roman looked back at the dead man that hung upside down in the driver’s seat. He half expected to see the petrified stare of the spirit that he knew was still there, but there was nothing. He followed Virgil and headed back to the car himself.

They had been lucky that they had only spun out of control. The damage was minor and the vehicle was still driveable. Roman pulled his door shut and Logan stepped on the gas, speeding away from the scene just in time to hear sirens in the distance. As soon as they were out of sight of the wreckage, Virgil spoke up.

“Take me back now.” No one responded and he balled his hands into fists against his thighs. There was fire in his eyes, he was furious. “You said that if I gave you a good enough reason you would take me back. I think someone dying because of me is a good enough reason!”

“We still don’t understand the sit--” Logan began. Virgil growled and punched the chair in front of him hard, cutting him off and eliciting a startled squeak from Patton.

“Fuck understanding, okay!? The longer I stay out here the more people are going to die.” His fingers curled around Patton’s head rest, the material compressing under his tight grip. “He’s a black hole. He takes souls and he uses their power for himself and the more people die, the stronger he gets! Take me back and leave me there!”

“No!” Patton whipped around, seatbelt catching and tightening against his chest. He tugged at it, trying to free himself, before unbuckling it all together. Roman was taken aback by the outburst, and the anger that burned behind his eyes. “No. We aren’t doing that. End of story.”

“Patton-”

“No! Whatever the plan is, wherever we’re going, we’re not leaving you there. We’re just not. So stop it.” Silence hung heavily between the four of them. Virgil turned away to stare out the window and Patton nodded and sat back in his seat, buckling himself again. He had won that argument. “So. What’s the plan?”

Logan thought for a moment. “If we return to your house, we will be walking back into a sea of ghosts. If Virgil’s father takes power from the other souls, then it is safe to assume that he is strongest when he is with them. He has already expended a lot of energy in his last two attacks, and the sun is coming up now. If he is like other ghosts, then he will be weaker during the day. Though he does have some notable differences.”

“Get to the point, Lo. We need a plan.” Roman said as he watched Virgil. He was looking into every car that passed, occasionally craning his neck to look into the vehicles behind them. He wasn’t going to let there be a repeat of what had just happened. He wasn’t going to let anyone else die.

“The point is, we can’t stay out here like this, and we can’t go back to their house. It seems the only option would be ours.”

Roman leaned forward, his shoulder throbbing in protest. “Ours? It’s two hours away, at least. Could we really risk being out here for that long?”

Logan shook his head. “I don’t see another choice. I’ll take back roads and pay attention to what vehicles are around us. Of course it will take even longer with the sporadic navigation. Possibly three hours, if not more.”

“And when we get there, we wait for him to show up and then we end all of this.” Roman leaned back against the headrest. “I could definitely go for finishing this up quick and then sleeping for a week.”

“Okay, but… how do you kill a ghost?” Patton asked. He sounded exhausted. They all did, but he was completely at the end of his rope. A paleness had set in on his face, almost light enough to compete with Virgil’s own complexion.

“We have weapons for that…” Logan began his tangent, explaining how the weapons that he had modified worked against ghosts.

Roman tuned out on that conversation and looked to Virgil once more. He held out his hand between them, “hey. Two pairs of eyes are better than one.”

Virgil finally took a break from scanning the other vehicles to look at Roman, and he blinked as his eyes drifted to focus on the hand that reached out to him. He hesitated, but eventually he took Roman’s hand. The blood on his hands was sticky, but they had seen enough blood that day that neither of them cared. Virgil’s hand was shaking. They turned away from each other to stare out of the windows, both determined to keep the four of them safe for as long as they could.

The real fight hadn’t even begun yet but they were already bruised and bloody. They had never come across anything like this. A ghost that used the souls of others to increase its power was unheard of, and they really didn’t know what they were up against. Could their weapons really work against something so powerful? It couldn’t be so easy that one gunshot could kill this man. But they didn’t have anything else to go off. Either they killed him, or he killed them. There would be no in between.

--

It took four hours for them to pull into their neighborhood. Logan slowed the car, “we need to act quickly as we don’t know how long it will take for him to arrive. I think we can all agree that we need food, so Patton, you have full access to our fridge. There isn’t much, but whatever you can find will be fine.

Patton nodded, “sounds like my kind of job!”

“I will collect our weapons and take stock of anything else we may need. Virgil, you need to keep an eye out for any signs of him. Roman, stay with Virgil. That shouldn’t be hard for you, and you need to rest. We don’t need you passing out in the middle of this. Any questions?”

Roman rolled his eyes at Logan’s comment, but he was right. He glanced down to Virgil’s hand, still clasped tightly in his. It wouldn’t be hard at all for them to stay together. There was a pleasant heat there, and he didn’t want it to leave.

They pulled into the driveway and everyone climbed out of the car. Roman’s hand felt cold when Virgil’s slipped out of his. The house was dark and messy, the complete opposite of the home that they had been in for the last twenty four hours. Patton quickly turned on the lights in the kitchen and set to work examining the contents of their fridge, while Logan disappeared into his room. Virgil looked around quietly before settling onto the couch. He leaned back and winced. Roman had forgotten about the scratches on his back.

“Virgil, come here,” Roman said, heading into the bathroom. He was surprised when he heard the springs of the couch squeak from the other room.

Virgil appeared in the doorway, leaning against it’s frame. “Why?”

“Let me look at your back.”

“No.” He immediately recoiled and turned away, but Roman reached out and grabbed his arm. The familiar warmth returned, and he let his grip loosen.

“I’ve already seen it. All of it.” His hand fell back to his side. If Virgil was going to let him do this, it had to be on his own. He had to decide to trust him. “It hasn’t scared me away yet, and it won’t now.”

Virgil stared back, his gaze dark and contemplative. It felt like forever before he finally muttered, “fine.” He stepped into the small room and pulled the door shut behind him.

Roman grinned, and he realized that it was the first time he had really smiled all day. He instructed Virgil to sit on the edge of the bathtub with his feet in. Immediately, Virgil pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it into the corner of the room. He was clearly not in the mood for playing games or wasting time.

“Just get it over with,” he grumbled.

Roman stared at the marks that stained his back, feeling his stomach churn. Old scars were covered by new wounds and blood had dried in drip marks down to the small of his back. There were so many of them, criss crossed over each other. How long had he endured them, and how had he hidden them all this time? The new wounds were deep, but they had stopped bleeding a while ago.

He grabbed a clean towel from under the sink and ran it under hot water. He wasn’t very good at first aid, that was Logan’s thing, but he could at least clean it and bandage it well enough. It was better than nothing. He kneeled behind Virgil and gently wiped away the dried blood, avoiding the wounds themselves for as long as he could. Virgil didn’t even flinch, but he was rubbing his hands over his thighs with anxious energy.

“So, I have a question,” Roman said to break the tension and hopefully be a distraction. “If you weren’t living with Patton anymore when you were sixteen, and you’re twenty three now, how did you two end up together again? And how did you keep him from knowing that you didn’t get adopted like he thought?”

Virgil sighed. “Because I’m a good liar.”

“Oh, that’s a perfect explanation. I understand everything now, thank you,” Roman said, voice heavily laced with sarcasm.

“Why do you need to know so badly?”

“I don’t. I just thought that it would be good to talk instead of sit in silence. But if that’s what you’d prefer then I suppose we will do that.” Roman shut his mouth, focusing on the work in front of him. He had to keep rinsing out the towel as it stained with blood.

Virgil didn’t seem like he was going to reply for a while, but he finally spoke. “Like I said, I lied. When he found me, I pretended… I made up a family. I imagined them. I told him that… that I had moved out when I was eighteen, but that we still stayed in contact.”

“Didn’t he want to meet them?”

“Yeah, but I said that they were busy… or that they were sick, or any excuse I could think of. He thinks the best of people, he didn’t really catch on.” He spoke slowly and quietly, choosing his words carefully as if the wrong one would break him. “But they were good. And it was… nice to imagine that they were out there. Good people. It’s stupid.”

“I don’t think that’s stupid.”

“It is. I had to make up a family. How messed up am I?” He whirled around, making Roman drop the towel onto the floor. Virgil glared at it before staring intensely at Roman. “You don’t get it, do you? I had to imagine that somewhere out there, someone could maybe care about me enough to call me family. Because I’m a freak of nature, and no one wants me. That’s complete shit and you know it.”

Roman picked up the towel and rinsed it out once more, taking longer than he needed to. He stared at the red water as it spiralled down the drain. “Patton wants you. Isn’t he family?”

Virgil turned away again and picked at the seam of his jeans. “Yeah, I guess.”

“How did he find you anyway?”

“I’m not as good at hiding as I thought. I always checked on him and he saw me. He said that he had just moved out into his grandparents’ old place and that he had plenty of room for me. I couldn’t resist. I should have said no.”

Roman shook his head as he set back to work. He had no idea what to say. There was nothing that he could say to ease the guilt. If it had been him, he would probably feel the same way. It was no wonder that Virgil gave off such a dark vibe all the time.

“Anyway. This is stupid. You already know I’m a mess. Tell me how you and Specs started working together. You two are weirdly different.”

“Well that’s definitely a story,” Roman laughed. Virgil was silent as he explained.

They were both in their junior year of college, but they had never spoken to each other. Roman was a bored theater major and Logan was a man of science. They never would have crossed paths if it weren’t for the legend that the main stage was haunted. Roman, who was determined to entertain himself somehow, had set a quest for himself to find and kill the ghost.

He snuck into the school one night, sword in hand. It was dark, and he had walked onto the main stage when a loud “aha!” rang out from the theater seats. Roman jumped and drew his sword, flailing wildly, as the lights came on to reveal Logan with a night vision camera in the middle of the back row. As soon as he realized that it was just Roman, he was disappointed and angry, rambling on about a ruined investigation and how he would have to try again another night even though he had to work around a plethora of assignments and projects. Roman jumped off the stage and marched up the aisle to confront him about ruining his plans when he noticed Logan’s face pale.

He had been rewinding the footage in order to delete it, but there was something else on the tape, something other than Roman. Right next to him on the stage was a human silhouette. The legend was true. They both ran out of the theater that night, investigation and quest abandoned, but they became a team. At first it was just a plan to find proof of the supernatural, but eventually it became more. They realized that they could protect people.

“I guess that’s where we are now. Two broke ghost hunters, trying to do something good.” Roman tossed the towel into the sink one last time and stepped back. Virgil’s wounds were clean, but cleaning them had opened a few of them and his torso needed to be bandaged. He pulled a roll of gauze and tape out from under the sink.

“Yeah, and now you’re probably going to get yourselves killed protecting me.” Virgil stood and took the gauze from his hands. “I can do it.”

He leaned back against the counter and twisted to look into the mirror as he set to work wrapping the gauze around his torso. He looked like an expert, not even struggling to hold the loose end while he made the first loop. It was clear that he had been doing this for most of his life. It looked like second nature to him. When he finished, he paused. “Uh, I need tape or something.”

“Oh, right. Here.” Roman grabbed the tape and tore off a piece, gently pressing it on the seam at his chest. He ran his hand over it until it laid smoothly, then let his hand slide down to the bare skin of Virgil’s hip. He didn’t want to move. The heat that he felt when they touched was too much, but here, where it wasn’t accompanied by the sight of ghosts, it was good. He wanted it to stay, he wanted to keep that feeling forever. He looked up into Virgil’s wide eyes. “You’re worth protecting, you know.”

Virgil shook his head, a small movement, but enough to convey his doubt. He was hardly breathing.

“It’s true. There’s something about you… you’re different.” Virgil opened his mouth to reply but Roman continued, “no, not the way you think. In a good way.”

“I don’t know about that.” Virgil looked down, moving a hand to cover Roman’s, lacing their fingers together over his hip.

“It’s okay. You don’t have to.” Roman’s other hand drifted up to Virgil’s neck, tilting his chin upwards. “May I?”

There was hesitation and then a small nod, and Roman gently pressed his lips to Virgil’s. It was soft and still, their breathing loud against the quiet of the room. Virgil gripped Roman’s hand tighter, looking for reassurance. It was too soon when they pulled apart, and Virgil leaned forward to bury his face in his shoulder. “Did you completely forget that I shot you or what?”

“I don’t blame you for that.” Roman whispered, running his hands up and down Virgil’s bare arms. “And you have more than made up for it.”

Virgil nodded against Roman’s collar bone and a knock on the door startled them both.

“Food is ready,” Patton called through the door.

“Thanks Pat,” Virgil replied, standing up straight. He looked up at Roman with the smallest of smiles, but it was enough. “Food?”

“Yeah, food. Come on.” Roman grabbed Virgil’s shirt from off the floor and tossed it at him.

Next Part

--

A/N: Hey guys, long time no see! I’m so sorry that it took me six months or however long to get this next part out, but I truly hope that the events of this chapter were enough to make up for it! Love you guys. Let me know what you think, I love reading comments and such!!

#Making Contact #Prinxiety #Virgil Sanders #Roman Sanders #Logan Sanders #Patton Sanders #my writing #Humans!AU #sanders sides #sanders sides fanfiction #prinxiety fanfiction #prinxiety fanfic

[thespookydoor]

Twilight Zoned

Ever had one of those dreams that invades an important place from your childhood, turning it into a realm of foreboding and impending horror? For most of my life, my aunt M— and uncle K— lived in a nice, quiet little hollow, hidden from the highway by a steep, rocky bank. They lived at the end of a long dirt road, past a few other houses, with a considerable chunk of property surrounding the main house, enough room for a large garage, space for my uncle to park at least a dozen vehicles to ply his trade as a freelance mechanic, and still have several fields of apple and pear trees in the back yard, a side yard reaching up into the woods at the base of the mountain, and even a couple up on the bank. There was also an old, bent apple tree in the front yard, propped up in several places over a picnic table, as it had grown too heavily to one side to support itself anymore. In spring, those trees would be all in bloom, buzzing with bees, and in autumn, all of the apples that M— had no room left for jarring or canning would fall to the ground, and the place would be buzzing with wasps and hornets instead. All summer, you could see the apples grow from blossoms to fully ripened, as well as go and play up along the bank. The house itself dated back nearly a century, starting out as a two-room shack, and had been added on to by successive owners, even including a second floor by the time they lived there. By the last time I got to visit the place (summer 2003), they had even replaced the wood stove in the dining room with central heating and other upgrades. There was also an old outhouse behind the place, despite the fact that the house had a fully functioning bathroom for many years before they moved in. The house was built right up against the bank, with concrete steps leading up to a retainer wall behind it, on the same level as the outhouse. It was high enough that you could actually grab icicles off the edge of the roof in winter, and in the trench below there used to be several water storage tanks from before the house was connected to the local water lines. There were several other outbuildings, including a shed next to the outhouse that was used for everything from storage to a brief existence as a club house, a chicken coop (where M— would sometimes raise chickens), and a door leading under the bank that no one seemed to ever use for anything, possibly due to age and/or structural instability. In those days K— was a volunteer firefighter, making his living from vehicle repair and local plowing and sanding during the winter, M— became the local babysitter after their own children left the nest, taking care of kids ranging from toddlers to grade school age, as well as my sister and I some summers when we were younger. Thus the place seemed to have a bottomless freezer of popsicles and endless pitchers of juice, and she was no slouch at baking, especially during the Holidays. It was also the natural place for family gatherings on that side of the mountains. Though it’s been many years, it holds a special place in my memory, which made it a very creepy setting for something eldritch and disturbing to invade… …A portal to the Twilight Zone is about the best way to describe it, just over the bank, on the other side of the highway. Submitted for your approval: a bizarre border, to a foreboding realm where even the color drained out of everything, where the sky shifted starkly to a shade of grey that only exists in old black-and-white films. No one else who entered returned, and occasionally disturbing things would happen on this side of the line, when the twilight would press in a little further on our side of the line, as if reaching out to claim the last refuge of our everyday reality. A group of locals found themselves trapped in the hollow, seeking refuge on my aunt and uncle’s grounds, for this invading space seemed to cut off the outside world, leaving us all trapped in the face of an advancing wall of darkness. I am part of the only group to enter this realm and return, and we are preparing to enter the Twilight Zone again, to make one last stand against this invasion, and some of my friends are preparing some kind of high-tech gear for me to equip, when things get worse. Up on the bank, where some refugees are camping, a large truck, in the midst of backing up, becomes possessed by an unknown force, running over several people and smashing into several other vehicles that had been moved up there for shelter or something, while the driver can only cry out in alarm and warning and ultimately, horror. And all I can do is run away, hopping a couple gaps that don’t exist in the waking world, and retreating down to the lower level. There is a horrible sense of shame accompanying this retreat, as the people here see us as heroes of a sort, and I have proven powerless against this truck without the equipment my friends are making, which is in one of the vehicles the truck smashes in its ultimately self-destructive rampage. Our numbers now greatly reduced by this assault, and I find myself unable to face the survivors, instead turning back to the wreckage above. As one of the few who had seen it and lived to tell the tale, I know that the other side contains all the scary things from the Twilight Zone, and that even just moving around in the open can leave you subject to all manner of strange and surreal modes of attack. I know the only chance I have is sneaking through the debris and retrieving the gear my friends were making. Still wary of any more animated machinery, I manage to crawl into the camper my friends were working in. I find no sign of them, nor any clue if they escaped or not. There is a computer running, and I can see the display showing a bunch of upgrades made to what I now see is a suit of powered armor, which I proceed to don even as I look over the list of new features. None too soon, I discover, as I look out to see some vast, shadowy form has entered the hollow, apparently seeking to wipe out the remaining survivors, and I am determined not to fail them this time. By now, the Shadow has overtaken the entire hollow, shrouding everything in darkness, and draining the color out of everything, as it had on the other side of the rift, leaving my area a heap of broken silhouettes, which would immediately put my waking self in mind of Limbo (the video game). I quickly discover that one of the new features is a stealth mode that allows my to hide amidst the shadowy ruins, as well as a “mystery” weapon that is apparently my best chance to vanquish the Shadow and turn back this unreal invasion. The last part is the Shadow moving about the hollow, looming over everything, its glowing eyes scanning the scenery, a deep, rumbling voice repeatedly challenging me, seeking to provoke me into revealing myself, even as I try to figure out how to use my mysterious new weapon against it. Knowing, in that way we just seem to know things in dreams, that this gift was no guarantee of victory, but merely a fighting chance… …Much to my annoyance, though, I would never get to find out how this harrowing confrontation ended, as I was dragged awake by the neighboring building’s regular 4-am engine-revving contest. Which may well be part of why this dream still haunts me, even days later, that feeling of being faced with something monolithic and seemingly inexorable, as well as having failed those around me against something that failure might well be inevitable, like trying to hold back a tidal wave with your bare hands. At the same time, though there is also a sliver of hope, the possibility that human ingenuity might yet invent a way to prevail, and turn the tide against the Unknown. To say nothing of the way the setting itself, an important piece of my childhood imperiled, left me with a sense of being challenged on a very personal level. Of all the places for something like that to begin, it had to hit so close to home, as it always seems to happen in the Twilight Zone…

#Twilight Zone #powered armor #last resort #orchard #limbo #shadows #old house #outhouse #last refuge #invasion #hollow #close to home #dreams #nightmare #nightmares and dreamscapes #submitted for your approval #horror