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#unhappy with this but it’s halloween-y so I’m gonna post it
ceciliaspen · 4 days ago
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I dunno man. Pumpkin patch or something
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glxygavvy · 2 years ago
Surviving The Dark
I'm back with a combination of day 11 & day 12 (Aliens and Social Media) of @ghosstkid's horror-a-day challenge and I really had a lot of fun with this! I had a bit of a bump yesterday, which is why I had to skip over writing aliens on its own, but I think that waiting to write a combination of the two worked better than doing them on their own.
Trigger warnings: blood, mentions of death, body horror (to a certain extent)
I hope you enjoy!
The shield of the night hung low over the desolate town. Fog settled heavily over the abandoned houses and the destructed cars, making it look like something straight out of the apocalypse rather than a quaint town it the middle of Florida. The remains of the towns inhabitants laid across the pavements as though they were just rubbish left beside bins, rather than bodies of the dead. Trails of clear and silver goo, extra-terrestrial lead up and down the streets, looking something alike the trails that snails left behind them in the grass during summer. A few streetlights flickered on and off over the suburbs, cutting through the thick fog and illuminating the bodies in a way that would make the strongest person throw up.
“I don’t wanna go!” Mason cried, hugging a pale pink fox close to his chest. “I-I wanna wait!”
Smitty crouched down to his level and smiled softly. “We can find your friends at the safe place that Jay’s taking us to, okay? If we get walking now, we can get there quicker and then we can find all of your friends.”
Mason cried. His head was pressed against the ripped material of Smitty’s shirt and his arms were curled against his chest. “I don’t wanna.”
Smitty lifted him off of the cold tarmac with a grunt. “We have to, Mase.”
“W-Where are we gonna go?”
Cam turned around and raised an eyebrow at his son. “We’re moving to a new house, but we gotta walk because the car doesn’t work anymore.”
“Why?” Mason looked up from Smitty’s shoulder with his bottom lip quivering and his bright blue eyes painted with tears.
“The evil monsters stole all of the engines in the cars and now we can’t make them go any more.” Cam turned away and started to look over Jay’s shoulder.
“That’s a mean thing to do...” Mason wiped his nose against the back of his hand and nodded.
Tears still stained his cheeks red and left them to shine slightly under the faint blue light from Jay’s phone. The soft material of his fox plushie ticked against Smitty’s jawline as they started to walk. It’s plastic eyes and nose were cold and sharp as Mason started to wiggle around, to make himself comfortable, but Smitty wasn’t someone to complain about something so insignificant – especially when it would only end in more pointless tears.
Their house faded into the fog faster than any of them realised. The place that they’d built a family from the ground up disappeared into the mass dance of shadows that had overtaken the small town. It was too dark to see a metre ahead of themselves, but the outlines that stood tall told them more than enough about where they were in relation to where they had been before. Blood stains became more frequent as they walked away and decapitated bodies lying still against the hard tarmac below became almost like Halloween decorations, as opposed to the sweet elderly couple who gave them boxes of chocolate for Christmas.
Smitty started to wonder which of them would be the first to go. His grip on Mason got tighter as his mind wandered further and further down the hole that he was unknowingly digging. He’d seen his best friend get taken before his eyes, and he still wasn’t over the sight of the body lying outside of the front window. He’d had to blindly shoot one before it got Cam as he made his way back from a supply run, and he’d woke both Mason and Jay up with the sound of glass shattering alongside the crack of the gun. One of them had left a sharp scar down his back as he fought to get away and it still stung as though it was freshly made. He hadn’t seen what it looked like, but he could feel the eyes watching him Cam aimed a bullet inches over his head, and he could still remember the feeling of collapsing into Cam’s arms with blood dripping down his back and burning hot pain trawling up and down his body at an alarming rate.
Cam lifted Mason out of Smitty’s grasp and set him down on the floor. “You look like you’re a million miles away, love... What’s wrong?”
Smitty frowned and leaned into his chest. “I-I’m scared, Cam.”
“We all are, Smitty.” Jay glared at the pair and kicked a stone down the thin pathway they were on.
“Stop being a-a... A dickhead, Jay.” Mason hugged his fox closer as he spoke to his older brother, who choked on air upon hearing the 7-year-old speak.
“Language, Mason!” Cam had to hold back a laugh.
Mason grinned, his tongue poking through his teeth a little. He seemed proud of himself. “I-I’m just copying what you call uncle Toby when he makes you mad.”
“Service!” Jay jumped from the ground with a grin and cut Cam off before he even had chance to start his attempt at scolding Mason. “I-I got service!”
“Find my friends, Jay!” Mason tugged at his sleeve with wide eyes.
“Most of them made it somewhere safe... Canada, I think.” Jay frantically scrolled through his Twitter feed and skimmed through most of the words on the screen as he searched for something to indicate that his friends were alive. “Sw-... Oh fuck.”
Jay shook his head and stared down at the screen. His dark eyes were wide with what could only be described as fear. He was shaking.
“Show me, Jay.” Cam reached out for the only phone they had left while still keeping Smitty held in his grasp.
Smitty didn’t look up as Cam gasped at the image on the phone. He didn’t need to see another one of his friends dead, watching John die had taken enough of a toll on his state without seeing another. He didn’t need to see another dead body of somebody who he loved. He couldn’t make himself look even if he wanted to. He was frozen against Cam’s hold.
The aliens had figured out how to use social media to scare the survivors into their grasp within days of arriving. They posted photos of the dead across all of the platforms they could, hijacking the phones that were on the bodies to let people know that they were dead and luring people into their traps by posting supposed safe places on accounts that had been abandoned for years. Government pages had been hijacked and threats were posted in retaliation to the few small uprisings that had popped up around the world in the few days after they arrived. They knew every move that was being made at every second of the day because of it, almost as though they’d been watching humanity from afar and making sure that their plan of attack was perfectly ready to be executed.
They only moved around during the day and hid themselves during the night. Nobody knew where they rested during the night and that only lead to the survivors becoming even more paranoid than they had been to start with and had sent the population into a state of near-complete anarchy within hours. They left trails of clear and silver goo after a kill, which gave the people left a chance to get out of the area before they were caught and killed themselves.
“No... No, they didn’t...” Cam sounded like he was struggling to keep it together as he handed the phone back to his eldest son. “Fucking... Shit!”
“Language, dad!” Mason stomped his foot against the ground and folded his arms over his fox. He grinned at Cam as he repeated his own words.
“Who is it?” Smitty looked away from Cam’s chest and let out a shaky breath.
“Swagger.” Cam frowned at Smitty. “It’s... They got Swagger this morning.”
“Fucking hell.” Jay shook his head as he kept scrolling. “There’s so many photos of them, dad... Fuck.”
Mason hit Jay’s leg. “Language, Jay!”
“If you say language one more time, Mason, I will snap you like a twig.” Jay glared at his brother, who stuck his tongue out in reply.
Smitty bit back a sob as he pushed away from Cam’s chest. He wiped under his eyes with his wrists and took a shaky breath of the foggy air. He interlaced his fingers with Cam’s and squeezed his hand in a way to comfort them both. Mason took hold of his free hand and started to swing their hands like he would when they walked down the beach in the middle of summer, his demeanour just as carefree as it was on those days. Jay watched them with the faint outline of a scowl pressed against his features.
“Let’s... Let’s get moving before the sun rises.” Cam nodded to himself and blinked harder than usual to get rid of the tears that sat in the corners of his eyes. “We’re gonna have to make time up tomorrow night.”
“We’re not gonna make it to tomorrow night if we keep up at this rate.” Jay muttered. “There’s a body down at the end of Sixth, so we gotta head as... As far north as we can before morning, which is... This way?” He pointed ahead of himself and checked the screen again before nodding to confirm it. “Yeah, this way until I say we can stop.”
“That’s so far.” Mason complained, dragging out the last syllable of ‘far’ to emphasise how unhappy he was with the decision that had been made. “Can you carry me until we get there, dad?”
Cam shook his head and started to follow Jay down the path. “I have Smitty and the big bag, Masey, I can’t.”
“Jay will y-”
“Don’t finish that question unless you want to be dropped into a bin and left there.”
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mysticmikalla · 3 years ago
Hi, sorry for the super late reply!!
Okay so I’m the LAST person who can say things like, ‘Believe in yourself’ and things like that because I honestly don’t even follow my own advice lol, I’m always so self-conscious about everything I post and I compare myself to other writers on here all the time. BUt!!!! I found that its  A L W  A Y S better to trust an outsider’s POV rather than just solely on your own. 
And I don’t mean seeking validation from other people, but sometimes you can just....get SO caught up in your own insecurities that you fail to see the good in your writing. You’re seldom as bad as you think you are!! 
But I get it, applying for a zine is t e r r i f y i n g, especially when my confidence in my writing was bad enough. Getting rejected stings, but it doesn’t mean you are not a good writer! It just means that maybe your style wasn’t right for that zine or that the mods were looking for something else. 
There is still a long time before apps close, so please don’t rush yourself! Doing a zine is amazing but please don’t stress yourself too much over it! There are always other zines in case you don’t feel like applying for this one!!
But don’t push yourself!! Don’t do it if it will make you unhappy or stressed, 
Your happiness>zine work!!!❤
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loveisyondublue · 3 years ago
Vital: Part One - Terra (A Yondu x Reader Fic): Chapter Ten: Lightnin’ Strikes
Click here for: Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | Chapter Six | Chapter Seven | Chapter Eight | Chapter Nine | Chapter Ten | Chapter Eleven | Chapter Twelve | Chapter Thirteen (NSFW) | Chapter Fourteen | Halloween Special | Chapter Fifteen (NSFW) | Chapter Sixteen | Chapter Seventeen | Chapter Eighteen Rated M for language and future NSFW chapters (these will be marked as such).
A/N: Before you get the end and hate me, just know that this had to be split into 2 chapters cause it got so long. Posting Chapter 11 right after this! 
You left the music on in the kitchen while you’re upstairs taking a shower, and Yondu finds himself listening.
...I've had my share of losers, liars and users, looking for a heart to break - so if you're like that well, take a step back …. If you're gonna hold me, hold me like I'm leaving, if you're gonna kiss me, kiss me like you need it, baby if you're not you best get to leavin'...if you're gonna love me, love me like you mean it....
Did you put this song on for me? he wonders. He sits back, turning his arrow in his fingers. He thinks about all the women he's had one-night stands with. He can probably count on one hand the women that he's been with more than once over the years. Through all these thoughts, your face keeps slipping into his mind, overshadowing all the others. He can't imagine treating you that way. But why? He rubs a hand over his face.
He's never been alone with someone for such an extended period of time - in prison cells, there's the other inmates, the guards. On board his ship, there's no privacy except in his cabin. When visiting bars, brothels, or suppliers, he's always with his crew. Even when he was with the Kree, there were other slaves. He's never been one-on-one with...hell, anybody before. And you're different. You care about him. Sure, Kraglin cares. Quill cares. Even the Twig and Rocket, and the other Guardians probably care some for him. And the crew he has right now is loyal for the right reasons. But the way you care is so different. You care about him not out of some long-standing loyalty or kinship, or found him bleeding out in your kitchen and decided to save him. He figures any other Terran would have called in soldiers or something. But not you. Despite all he's told you, that he's a Ravager - a smuggler, a thief, a criminal and a killer - you've not treated him any differently. You trust him. It still confuses him why that is. You expect nothing from him, and have given him everything. You've healed him, fed and clothed him, given him a place to sleep. Like you would treat another Terran. More than that. Like you would treat a friend...and yet, more than that.
His heart swells at the thought of your smile. He remembers the feeling of you in his arms in the lake last night. Dancing with him. Sitting by him on the couch. Your eyes, your laugh. A sudden thought hits him like a crashing ship.
He might be falling in love with you.
He almost yells as you touch his shoulder; he rockets out of his seat and whirls to face you.
"Whoa!" you laugh, holding up your hands and taking a step back. "Sorry. I was calling you, but you didn't hear me. Lost in your thoughts?" You smile warmly up at him, and his heart beats faster.
"It's a perfect day for a picnic, did you want to go?"
"Sure, sweetheart.”
You eye Yondu as he helps pack things into the small cooler; he’s been acting a little strange on this trip. Not bad-strange, but like something is causing him some weird sort of anxiety. You smile as he grabs a blanket from the closet, just watching the way he moves and remembering how gentle he was as he danced with you last night. When he took your hand, and when he held you in the lake, you had a rush of emotion that you haven’t felt in a long time. That warm, tingly, butterflies-in-your-stomach type feeling, but stronger. As he carried you up to the cabin, his eyes locked on yours, you’d felt safer than you ever had before. And happier.
You didn’t realize until now how unhappy you were with Devon. How unhappy you were before Devon. For years you’ve been trying to convince yourself that you exhaust yourself at the hospital in order to help people, when you really doing so to bury the sadness and loneliness you’ve felt since your father and brother died. But no matter how hard you work, it’s a hole that never been filled. And Devon made that hole deeper, somehow. He didn’t fill it up; not like Yondu.
You like him. He makes you laugh, he respects you, he’s fun, and he cares about you. You recall his interaction with Devon, and smirk.  
“What’s so funny?”
“I was just thinking of you punching Devon.”
He grins that shark smile. “That was damn satisfying,” he says, throwing the blanket to you.
“For both of us.” You stuff the blanket, some paper plates and cups into a large bag, and swing it over your shoulder. You hand Yondu the small cooler, and you head off down the dock and along the beach.
It’s a fair walk to the picnic spot, but it’s worth it when you get there. The water is shallow, quietly lapping up against a shady bit of beach under a grove of willow trees.
You talk with each other as you eat, talking about doctor and Ravager life, your respective family and friends, the past and the future. As you listen to Yondu relate a story about Peter when he was young, you watch him, and feel that warm butterfly feeling. You love the way his eyes twinkle when talking about when Kraglin and Peter were just boys, or the trouble he used to get into when first under Stakar. You love his soft smiles and goofy grins. You love the little glances he steals at you when he thinks you’re not looking.
This last thought makes you pause, and you stare at him, not entirely hearing his words as he relates his story. Does he like me, the way I like him? You find yourself blushing, and take a sip of the soda pop you brought with you. This isn’t high-school, stop acting like a teenager.
After a while, you’re both just content to sit, listening to the lake as you munch on some snacks. Then you see him eyeing you. He shifts closer, and you turn to him. You laugh, a little nervously, as he reaches for you. "What are you...?"
His voice lowers to a murmur and his ruby eyes lock on you. "Jus’...." He cradles the back of your head, and your breath catches. Is he going to try and kiss me? The thought catches you off guard, and you feel your heart triple its pace.
But he doesn't. His other hand goes behind you too, and you feel him loosen your ponytail, then pull the band out. Your hair falls around your shoulders and catches in the wind, swirling around your face.
"I...I just wanted t'see it down," he says tentatively, and you see there's a purplish blush across his cheeks. "Y'always have it up."
 You laugh, all of your nervousness gone, and you sweep your hair to one side. "What do you think?"
He gives you a sly smile. "I think you should wear it down more."
"Well maybe I will. But not right now, it's too windy." You hold out your hand for your hairband, and he places it in your palm. You think his hand lingers against yours for a second longer than necessary, but it's probably just your imagination.
Am I really fallin’ for ya, girl? Yondu wonders, watching you. He feels a bolt of heat in his lower belly, and he digs his nails into his palms to quench the sensation.
Decades of bondage under the Kree hardened his heart to sentiment and the kinder emotions, he’s the first to admit it. Stakar, and Kraglin and Quill chipped at that stone casement over the years, and now it’s crumbling all due to your gentle influences. He's finding that he's telling you everything. He's been so, so careful with what he's divulged and with who, but you're so patient and so intent on him when he talks. You listen and are interested in what he has to say, not because you have a mission that depends on it, not because you owe it to him out of fear or debt.
With more difficulty, he offers you the same courtesy. He's used to dominating conversations and not caring what anyone else has to say, but he's been feeling since the mutiny that that's something he really has to change, and has been making a conscious effort to do so. It’s usually not simple. He has to be actively listening, and actively stopping himself from interrupting. With you, though, it’s easy. He likes learning about you. The stories of your childhood, your interests and irritations, your loves and dislikes, your passions. Hours pass in the blink of an eye, and soon you both notice the sky darkening. You both look up, but the sun is still fairly high in the sky.
Storm clouds are rolling in aggressively, and as you both get to your feet, you hear the patter of rain hitting the grass and tree leaves. In a few minutes, you’re both pretty wet as you try to gather up the picnic materials.
The two of you duck under the thick curtain of one of the willow tree's branches. It's not perfect, but it's a lot drier than outside. You laugh breathlessly and shiver, trying to rub warmth back into your hands.
"Cold, baby?"
"A little. I'm ok."
"C'mere." He holds out his arms, and you swallow as you accept his embrace. He's warm, and he rubs your arms gently.
You stare at one another, both afraid to cross the unspoken line between you. He moves first, tilting his head ever so slightly towards yours, and his hands increase pressure on your arms just enough for you to notice. Your heart is beating like a marching band in your chest, so loud in your ears that it drowns out the noise of rain. 
Every one of Yondu's muscles is tensed. He's never felt like this. Kissing a woman, it's supposed to be easy. Just part of the seduction process, leading up to making love, then it's done. The woman's gone, and he doesn't care. 
But this? This is not easy. He's nervous about even entertaining the idea of kissing you. What if he messes it up somehow? What if he does it wrong? Hurts you? Or you don't like it? Millions of questions and scenarios flit through his brain, each one worse than the last. He's never been afraid that a woman would reject him. He's had hundreds - maybe thousands of women over his career as a Ravager. He's used to them throwing themselves at his feet, but you're different. He’s had some dangerous women, those that will put up a little fight, which is nice for a change, but he always wins them over with charm or force and takes them to his bed. He's tried his charms on you, even openly flirted with you on occasion, to see what might happen, but you haven't quite bit the lure. And there's something about you - your patience, your kindness, your care - that prevents him from taking you by force. For the first time that he can remember, the next move is in the woman's hands, not his. His thoughts reel.
Then you place your hand tentatively against his shoulder, lightly gripping the wet fabric of his t-shirt, and his mind just goes blank. He's suddenly super aware of every little thing - the sound of the rain outside, the smell of leaves under his feet, the wet sheen of your hair, the slight coldness of your fingers seeping through his shirt, the rosy color of your lips. His eyes linger on them for a second; this isn't the first time he's thought about how you'd taste. He has a guess – coffee, and that honey you like to put on your toast sometimes.
Your beautiful eyes are locked with his, searching for something that he can't express, and you tilt your head up towards his. He leans in a little closer, and watches as your eyes flutter closed. That's it - that's his invitation.
You feel his breath on your face, and his lips just barely brush against yours. 
A deafening crack of thunder breaks the sky right above the tree, shaking the earth around you. You let out a loud gasp. “Holy crap!” Yondu holds you tight against him, laughing lightly in your ear. "Sorry," you say, feeling heat flood your cheeks. He – he almost kissed me. Damn thunder. The thought takes you mildly by surprise and makes you blush deeper. 
As Yondu holds you, he swallows, then grits his teeth. Dammit. I was so close, girl. I should just kiss you anyway. He strongly considers it; he can picture it in his mind, pulling you away from his chest to crash his lips to yours, only to leave you breathless and wanting more. But he doesn't move; he just holds you until you decide it's time to let go. "Thank you," he hears you say.
He runs light fingers along your hair. "Any time, baby."
You catch his eyes in surprise. Any time? What are you implying, Yondu? Keeping me warm? Holding me? Kissing me? All of it? You tuck your hair behind your ear and turn away from him. To your slight relief and slight disappointment, the rain begins to let up and the sun breaks through the clouds. 
You gather up the picnic supplies and both head back to the cabin.
Tagged: @thewildomega @pitrymcbride @shinva @overwatchemporium
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