#the residents of the town are used to all of this strangeness so it's described in the same tone as the results of the schoolboard election
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The One That Got Away
pairing: Dark! Book Aemond Targaryen x Modern! Reader
summary: After she escapes Aemond Targaryen, back home to the modern world her family decides to throw her an eventful baby shower where she is constantly being reminded of the father of her unborn child.
warnings: mentions of dark! book Aemond, mentions of forced marriage, and future spoilers to my main story.
wc: 4,864
main story masterlist
my masterlist
notes: this was supposed to be a small drabble lol but I got carried away lol. btw maybe this can be read as a stand alone but I do suggest to read the first two parts. this is a spoiler drabble so read if you must or come back to it when the story is finished!
gif by @gameofthronesdaily
As of late, she had begun to feel strange.
It was not the same ill feeling she felt when she first found out that Aemond Targaryen had knocked her up. No, this was different. Odd.
The closest she could describe it was multiple sets of eyes watching her every single move. From crossing the street, to walking to the mercado and perhaps even sitting on the toilet as she peed.
It was an unsettling feeling that blossomed into slight paranoia. Alys was the first to have warned her about this after she escaped. Saying she too felt something lingering by days after she fled Aemond and settled into the modern world but it was gone once Alys met her.
However, that strange feeling was always creeping around, never disappearing. And even though Alys had promised that Aemond would never find her with the many spells and seals she encircled around to protect her, she still didn’t feel quite so easily convinced.
Late at night, she would pray for that strange yet uncomfortable feeling to be gone and to never come back. But most importantly she prayed to the Gods for the very memory of him to vanish completely from her mind.
The Gods, nevertheless, didn’t seem to want to grant her daily prayers as cruelly as they were.
She was near the third trimester in her pregnancy when her primas Gabriela and Mariana decided to throw her a baby shower. While she was in no social or partying mood, considering her six month belly weighed her down every time she walked, she reluctantly gave in to their pleadings. (female cousins)
Mostly because she desperately needed the distraction.
So she let both Gabriela and Mariana organize the shower. Her only request was to keep the party small, with only her, her abuela, them and the rest of her primas and tias. Seeing as her extended family that resided deeper inside the pueblo, did not know about her pregnancy. And she wanted to keep it that way. (aunts, town)
But did Gabriela and Mariana ever listen? No.
The pair had practically invited half the town over with people she had never met before. It came as a huge surprise after she got done from her shift at Doña Maribel’s shop, just how many people showed up.
The whole street was filled with baby blue, pink, and white balloons with a huge banner with her name on it. Her neighbors, mostly the women, approached her with congratulations and a small gift. She, of course, thanked them for their kindness.
Meanwhile her tios happened to be making carne asada in the middle of the street and placing bets on the gender of her baby. If she wasn’t so paranoid about Aemond searching for her, she too would’ve also joined in on their bets. (uncles, roasted meat or barbecue lol)
Her primas were the first to greet her while eagerly showing the decorations they had made, the party games they had planned, and the many gifts she had been gifted.
“We made these little pins for the gender of the baby, and all of us are wearing what we think the little frijolito is going to be. Now it’s your turn to pick!” Gabriela says holding two pins, each adorned with a baby bottle with either pink or blue. (little bean)
She looked at both very hesitantly, unable to just pick one. She had heard stories from multiple customers that came from the shop, how they just knew the gender of their baby by the feel of their bump or mood symptoms.
After weeks of trying to feel something or to establish some type of connection for it, she sadly could not get a good feel of what it was.
Though, the only thing that did matter was for the little frijolito to be happy and healthy. When reading Fire and Blood, she remembered reading how Rhaenyra Targaryen had birthed a daughter with dragon-like birth defects and a scaled tail.
She prayed that she wouldn’t hatch an actual dragon as well. Birth sounded painful and unpleasant enough as it was.
She pinned both decorative pins to her shirt earning several dissatisfied ‘aw’s’ from her surrounding family.
“I’m pretty sure it’ll be a boy,” Her abuela added in, sitting adjacent to her on the small couch. “I carried five boys and my belly was as low as yours. When I carried your mama, my belly was higher and rounder from the sides.”
Some of her tias nodded in agreement. But it was her tia abuela, Dora, who examined her from head to toe, doing what she did best; stirring the pot. “Yes and her belly is very big which means it’ll be a tall baby. Tell me, hija, is the father a tall man?” (great aunt, daughter)
The room went impossibly quiet so much that she could hear a hair pin drop. She saw her abuela shift uncomfortably against the couch as so did the rest of her tias and primas. Although she had not mentioned who or what exactly happened to her family, they all had an inclination of what stemmed between the father of her unborn child and her.
“Yes. Yes he is.” She answered with a fake smile.
Dora raised an eyebrow, more than intrigued to know more. “¿Cuánto mide?” (what’s his height?)
In the corner of her eye, she saw her abuela give her sister a harsh look, the same one she’d give her when she was little whenever she did something wrong.
“I don’t know his exact height, tia. I just know he is a lot taller than me.” She informed, trying not to let her voice waver at the small flashback she had of Aemond, standing in front of her where he’d forced her to marry him against a Weirwood tree at Harrenhal. It was the first time she really took in his massive height. And it was also the first time she felt truly smaller and inferior than him.
You’re safe. You escaped. He’s gone. He’ll never find us.
Dora did not let her sister’s harsh stare get to her, and instead fixated her eyes on the way she kept rubbing her heavy bump. “Will we ever get a chance to meet him?-”
“Hermana,” Her abuela warned with a stricter and more stern tone to her voice. (sister)
“Que? I just want to know more about the father so I can figure out if the clothes I bought would be a right fit or not.” Dora shrugs, feigning an innocent look on her face. Though, it was transparent enough to know she was lying. (what?)
Truth to be told, she never really quite liked her tia abuela. No one ever did. Not even her mama or abuela or quite shockingly her own daughter. Dora was known to be a pretentious chismosa, sticking her nose into other people’s business and going as far as to twist people’s words for the sole purpose of her own enjoyment. (gossiper)
Multiple times her family called Dora out for her bad mouthing. But the older woman stuck around like a moth to a flame, awaiting for new chisme to spread. (gossip)
“Well, if the clothes don’t fit we can always buy new ones. So stop being a metida, hermana.” She watched amazed as her tia abuela only huffed, crossing her arms on her chest and for once kept quiet for the remainder of the party. (someone who is other’s business)
To dissipate away the eminent tension, Mariana had brought out custom baby shower tablas of loteria she and Gabriela had ordered from Etsy. She laughed at the ‘La Botella’ being replaced with a biberón and ‘La Sirena’ being replaced with a pair of lactating breasts that tia Diana joked it’ll soon look like hers whenever she’d give birth. (cards of the game loteria. The bottle. Baby bottle. The siren)
As per usual, they played with money involved. She had won seven rounds out of ten against her family and earned around five hundred pesos until her tios decided to join in and tried to defeat her. Keyword, tried. But they never did and pinned four hundred more pesos to her dress. All five of her tios had playfully cursed her out as they kept drinking their Coronas.
“Alyssandra, bienvenida!” Her abuela welcomed a bashful looking Alys holding a gift. The green eyed woman wore an all black outfit, jeans that Alys had once confessed to her were her favorite stylish invention of the modern world (besides non toxic makeup). (welcome)
“I hope I’m not too late for the celebration,” Alys pointed out, taking a seat in front of her. “You kept my nieta safe those many months ago, you’re always welcomed here at any time, Alyssandra.” (granddaughter)
Safe.
She let out a humorous laugh. Safe was the opposite of what Alys had done to her. Kidnapped and held hostage was a better fit for words. She had been magically transported to a world she only knew existed in a book, and met one of her favorite book characters, Aemond Targaryen. A man who she thought to be a kindhearted friend by promising to return her back to her universe.
Instead Aemond Targaryen had betrayed her trust and loyalty by destroying what she needed to get back home. Thus forcing her to marry him. It was then when she realized who he truly was hidden behind empty promises; a man who was crazy and obsessed with her.
And everything had happened for a stupid sapphire that held a high sentimental value to Alys.
Alys narrowed her eyes from where she sat but suddenly softened when she saw the permanent bruises on her wrists where Aemond had tied her down for their intense wedding night.
Multiple times did Alys apologize for sending her to the arms of a delusional man. From what Alys remembered, Aemond didn’t go as far as bounding her whenever they slept together. Alys had let Aemond take his pleasure with a feign smile ultimately to play her game of survival.
She didn’t quite so easily forgive Alys and she doesn’t think she’d ever will.
“I still am sorry for what I did.” Alys’ voice softly wandered on her head.
“I know,” She replied back through her mind.
As the day turned into night, it was finally time to open gifts. However, not without having cake, her abuela brought out a delicious looking chocoflan. A cake she previously loved but thanks to Aemond, she no longer was fond of it.
Her abuela cut the biggest slide for her and the little frijolito and called out the rest of the family to come have a slice. In an instant the chocoflan was gone but her abuela secretly whispered to her that she had more in the fridge saved just only for her.
It took her over an hour to unwrap the stack of gifts she received and she was grateful for the many boxes of diapers as they would come utterly in handy. She’d been gifted a dark green crochet hat with matching mittens from her abuela, a pair of red mal de ojo bracelets for spiritual protection from tia Imelda, a mini thick cobija Mexicana from tio Eduardo, and several gender neutral clothes. (evil eye, mexican blanket)
It was Alys’ gift that made everyone’s head turn in confusion.
“They are scrolls. I found them as I was cleaning my bookshelf and I thought they might be useful to your babe,” Alys explained as she fully opened one of them, revealing hieroglyphics and scriptures in a language she didn’t understand.
“What’s… High Valyrian?” Mariana asked ever so curious, over her shoulder.
Alys interrupted her before she had a chance to speak. “It is a language originating from the land of Old Valyria.”
Her youngest prima Sofia’s eyes lit up in interest, “Oh cool! Is it like the Sith language from Star Wars?”
It was Alys’ turn to look at the young Star Wars fan in befuddlement. “What’s Star Wars?”
Sofia scoffed in shock and explained in full detail what the fictional universe that was Star Wars. Well at least she hoped it was fictional. At this point, if Luke Skywalker was real in another universe or in a galaxy far, far away she wouldn’t be astonished. Though, if the opportunity presented itself, she wouldn’t mind traveling to that world to meet Anakin Skywalker. If the real Anakin Skywalker looked anything like Hayden Christensen, within a heartbeat she’d run to Alys to do one of her spells.
“Who are the Targaryens?” Gabriela questioned reading one of the scrolls that had a list of Valyrian houses.
“Nobody.” She sharply replied, starting to feel somewhat vexed.
“They are the people who descended from Old Valyria and speak High Valyrian. They are the only ones who can read these scrolls-”
One flesh. One heart. One soul.
“Alys.”
“They sound magical,” Sofia replied, full of awestruck. Only if she knew that they were more than just that.
“Why did you say that these scrolls would be useful to the baby? Is the baby part Targaryen or something?” Mariana jokes, making her family more intrigued by the edge of their seats.
“Can’t have my seed go to waste, my love. You shall swell with my child soon enough. A perfect babe born from our love.”
Stop. No more. You are safe. He’ll never come. This is your baby more than it is his.
“You are mine. You’ll never leave me…”
“Hija?” She heard her abuela call out her name as she broke out in a run.
She wanted to get out, every second that she was there, being reminded of the man who impregnated her made her feel nauseous. Maybe it was because of the frijolito or just pure fear. She didn’t know, but either way it was a feeling she didn’t want to have.
She did not spare anyone a glance, not wishing for anyone to see the panic and wretchedness.
“I love you.”
In an instant, she grabbed the nearest thing she could find and emptied out her stomach until Aemond’s voice stopped circulating in her head.
“Are you okay?” A soft voice spoke behind her.
She turned around seeing a man around her age, tall with black hair and dark brown eyes. His hand extended a red solo cup that he softly murmured was water.
She nodded, easing the worry on his face. “Yea just a little sick is all.” The worrisome never faltered on his face, if anything he looked more concerned. “There’s some gelatina inside, I could grab you a plate? When my sisters were pregnant all they ate was gelatina to ease the nausea.” (gelatin aka jell-o)
“No it’s fine, I’ll-” He waved her off, sprinting inside before she could even finish. He brought a small plate of gelatina de limon to an empty table, motioning for her to sit. (lime flavored gelatin)
He watched intently as she took a few bites into the gelatina, humming when the color came back to her face. She sure did feel better, small little kicks to her belly confirmed that the frijolito felt the same.
“Better?” The dark haired man asked.
“Yes, thank you.” She nodded, giving him a soft smile.
“I’m not sure if you remember me. I’m Armando,” He bashfully confessed with a tint of pink on his cheeks.
Of course she most definitely remembered him. The boy next door she had a huge crush on when she was little. Only that he was not so little now.
“I do remember you. It still feels like just yesterday when we were sitting here on these tables eating the paletas de hielo after school.” She smiled fondly at the memory. Unbeknownst to her Armando would use the money his parents would give him for school lunch, to buy their paletas de hielo just so he could spend more time with her. It was his favorite part of the day. (popsicles)
Armando laughed as he too looked back at the memory. “I would’ve come a lot sooner to catch up. But I had some business to do in Oaxaca and Merida. I wasn’t sure if you’d remember me since it's been more than thirteen years but I needed to see you just once more before I left.”
A part of her felt touched that he had come all this way, and the drive she knew wasn’t easy. “I’m surprised you remembered me,” She quipped back.
“Who would ever forget you?”
It was her turn to bright pink. She couldn’t find any right words, but what could anyone say? Armando’s confession had been honest. Since she had left al otro lado, there hadn’t been a day where he wouldn’t stop thinking about her. (to the other side/ the states)
She decided to briefly change the subject instead. “I see that you didn’t change your mind about going to Oaxaca after all these years.” For as long as she could remember, Armando more than often would say that he wanted to live in Oaxaca, especially near the coast. What she also didn’t know was that it was her who he wanted to live there with.
“No I didn’t. I’m building a house there since my papa left me some terreno there after he passed away. You should come visit after it’s finished, soon.” Armando sincerely hoped she would. (land)
Aquí vas a terminar de enamorarte conmigo. He thought to himself. (here you are going to end up falling in love with me)
The idea of going to Oaxaca sounded not so bad. But traveling with a big and heavy belly sounded tiring and draining. Perhaps after she’d given birth when the baby was past its infancy.
“I leave in four days and I’d like to see you again. Or perhaps you wanna come with me?” The dark haired man asked, quirking a brow.
“So what do you think of Armando?” Her abuela slyly probed, after she’d just given her goodbye to Armando. She should have known her abuela would be closely watching their interaction. “He’s gotten taller,” She jokes with a playful look on her face. Her abuela rolled her eyes, “You know that’s not what I mean.”
She knows what she means but the talk of men was not something she wished to continue further. If she had met Armando first rather than Aemond, she definitely wouldn’t mind the conversation. But yet, Aemond had been thrown into her path unwelcomed.
“When you left for the states with your mama, Armando would ask everyday when you were coming back or any news of you. We thought he’d eventually get the hint that you were gone for good but that boy still asked about you. It wasn’t until your abuelo finally broke the news to him that he stopped coming here.”
She remembered that day when she left, her mama barely gave her time to say her goodbyes.
“He seems to be doing alright.” She pointed out, picking up dirty plates to place them inside the sink. “Oh, he’s doing better than alright. He got offered a position to work at a law firm in Oaxaca and his mama told me he’s also building a house over there. I heard it’s beautiful and spacious.” At the last sentence her abuela wiggles her brows, teasing.
She hummed in acknowledgement, knowing where the conversation was going towards. “Good for him.” Although Armando gave her a sense of kindness and genuinity, she was in no way ready to be involved with someone romantically. Aemond, too, seemed kind at first until he had betrayed her trust and went completely haywire and delusional. He had shown her a different side to him once she figured out their well thought out plan to transport her back home, was all a lie to get her to marry him and never leave.
Aemond and Alys both shattered that illusion of the fairytale love she wished to have.
What’s not to say Armando had an evil and dark side to him as well?
“El es un buen hombre con un muy buen corazón, tiene trabajo estable. Te lo digo para que lo pienses,” Her abuela advised, gently squeezing her forearm, “A house like the one he’s building, deserves a family to live in.” (he is a good man with a good heart, he has a stable job. I say this so you can think about it)
Her abuela’s eyes then trailed to her swollen pregnant belly. “One must make sacrifices that we don’t always want or agree with for our children.”
The party began to slowly falter close to ten, she never was one for sleeping early but after such a long day she and the frijolito needed much necessary beauty sleep.
Although her abuela said she’d clean, she ended up doing it herself as cleaning gave her a sense of control and some therapy clear of anxiety. She went ahead and took all the gifts up to her bedroom where it was much more quiet and alone amidst others.
She plopped herself down on the bed, opening a small bottle of lavender oil to rub to her belly that Doña Maribel suggested was good for calming stretch marks. She did not mind them, she knew it was natural for her body to expand to fit the babe, but what did bother her was the itchiness to it.
Not only did the oil soothe itch, but the frijolito loved it when she would firmly massage the spot where it rested. She once massaged the side of her belly only to find out the dragonling was ticklish there.
She nearly screamed when she heard two loud knocks at her door, revealing a certain black haired witch.
“Mind if I come in?” Alys asked, her head popping inside the little crevice of the door. As much as she wanted to be alone, she muttered a simple yes. Alys made herself comfortable by plopping down to the left of her on the bed.
“I wanted to apologize for what happened earlier, I was out of line to give you those scrolls in the presence of your family.” Alys admitted, her enchanting face etched with sincerity.
She sighed, “You were. I have a feeling my family will ask me more questions about it.”
Alys made a face that suggested she was thinking about something, “I could always make them forget it. Just say the words and I’ll do it.” Alys promised.
“No, no more magic or anything of what I used to think was fictional. I mean it Alys, I don't want to ever think of Aemond Targaryen.”
Alys understood what she meant, after her version of Aemond died at the Battle Above the Gods Eye, she too didn’t want to think of him. The only thing that mattered was her son, her beautiful little boy that was taken too soon. She regretted not saving him sooner and transporting him to this new world she found. Alys had a feeling that he’d love it here, this country full of colors and great food.
Even if Alys could bring him back from the dead, her son’s body resided in the Riverlands.
“What if…” Alys thought before continuing, “What if I could take the memories away? Just the ones of him and-”
“Forgetting doesn’t change what happened,” She bickered a little too loudly causing the babe to stir and kick all around.
“I know, I’m sorry.”
Alys began to admire the many gifts she’d been given, never in her life had she seen so many boxes that read to be diapers. She had only used scraps of linen she’d find lying around and cleaned it when her son did his business. Disposable diapers sounded less work but the thought of the amount of waste in this world seemed unappealing and would much rather keep the scraps of linen.
“This isn’t really your thing, is it?” Alys motioned her head to the side where her window was, her family still celebrating outside with the whole neighborhood.
“Not really. This whole thing was organized by my primas and tios. But now that I look back on it I think this was an excuse for my family to throw a party and drink,” She chuckles, even more when she sees her tios, Mario and Pedro dancing together (most likely drunk) to an uncoordinated cumbia.
Alys also lets out a chuckle of agreement, “Your tio Chema kept giving me Coronas after Coronas. I’m amazed that I’m not drunk.”
She smiles, knowing damn well tio Chema loves to get anyone drunk. He’d even pour an ounce to the dog’s kibble too if he could.
“But you are quite lucky you know,” Alys turns to her with a solemn look in her forest green eyes. “To have a family who loves you so much enough to throw you a grand celebration for the babe that you carry.” All that Alys got in return was being called a whore when she was far enough to show. Of course, Aemond hadn’t been one of those people. He rejoiced when she first told him months after he took her as his bedmate.
“I didn’t.” Alys shrugged. Even though she despised touch, she placed her hand on top of Alys’ and gave it a squeeze. Alys’ eyes began to incite with tears at the gesture, but she quickly shrugged the feeling off.
“This isn’t about me, this is about you. I know you said no more Westeros talk but I’ve been meaning to give you this for a while now and I wish not to keep it anymore.” Alys placed a medium sized box on her lap. Whatever was inside had some weight into it.
“You already gave me a gift, Alys-” She declines but the older witch shakes her head and gestures for her to open it.
She unwraps the green ribbon and opens the top of the box, revealing some kind of oval shaped rock. The color was a mixture of teal and violet, its edges were rough and scaled to the touch.
It was not just some rock. It was an egg.
“Please tell me this isn’t what I think it is, Alys.” She murmured anxiously, distancing herself from the object. Alys proudly smiled, “If you assume this is a dragon egg, then yes you’re correct.”
She immediately places the dragon egg back in the box, afraid of the little thing hatching in a world that it isn’t supposed to be hatched. “You can’t just give me a dragon egg! What if this thing hatches? Dragons aren’t-” She babbled before she was rudely interrupted.
“Relax, I have enchanted it into a stone. It will not hatch here, I made sure of it.” Alys reassured, placing the egg back onto her hands.
Still startled, she shook her head. “Nope, I can’t accept this Alys.” She gave the egg back. If anyone were to walk in it’d look like they were playing a game of hot potato.
“Yes you can and you will. Besides, it’s not like it’s for you; it’s for the babe.”
She narrowed her eyes, it was still a dragon egg. “How did you even get a dragon’s egg anyways?”
Alys sighs, sitting back down on the bed taking a trip down memory lane. “My version of Aemond gave it to me. After I told him I was with child he made sure to give me one of Dreamfyre’s eggs. Though, Aemond died shortly after and it did not hatch. My son however, was sad about it but I knew if it hatched Aegon the Younger would send his men to either kill it or to take it for himself since his own dragon died. So I kept the egg for myself.”
She still had many more questions to ask but for now it would suffice. She walked to the crib that she purchased not too long ago and placed the teal-violet egg next to some dragon plushies she knew the frijolito would like.
“Thank you Alys,” She told Alys with a smile before releasing a long tired yawn.
Alys nodded, grabbing her purse, another fashionable invention she loved from this world, deciding to give the young girl some rest. She suddenly came to a stop at her bedroom door.
“You know, you deserve happiness. I believe that young boy with the curls will give you and your babe just that. Give him a chance, take that risk and follow him.”
With that Alys left.
Four days later, she knocked at Armando’s door with her belongings in her hands and left with him to Oaxaca. A month later, they both married in a small Catholic church next to their families. True to Alys’ and her abuela’s words, she was happy with Armando.
Unbeknownst to her, her true husband had been watching through the flames.
“Oh, my love it seems like you have forgotten who you belong to. Fret not, you will learn soon enough.”
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#prince aemond#aemond fanfic#aemond targaryen x reader#hotd fanfic#aemond one eye#aemond x reader#aemond targaryen x you#dark aemond x reader
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October this year has felt kind of vague and adrift for me, no real festive spirit to speak of--or at least nowhere near how last year felt, when it was Year of the Vampire and all.
BUT I am remedying that now with a combined pincer attack of 1) relistening to Night Vale from the beginning on my commute to work and 2) rereading Warm Bodies on my breaks/in my spare time. Things are getting increasingly spooky up in here
#consider this a heartfelt rec for both of the series mentioned#for anyone who might not know: Welcome to Night Vale is a fiction podcast in the form of a community radio show#the host of the show gives news and commentary on the happenings in a small desert town#... a small town that's regularly besieged by cosmic horrors and shadowy government agencies and various other monsters and phenomena#it's extremely chill and relaxing! which is funny to say because it sounds like a joke but it's actually true.#the residents of the town are used to all of this strangeness so it's described in the same tone as the results of the schoolboard election#seriously even ten years later this podcast has me giggling like a maniac every few minutes#it's very funny and heartfelt despite ostensibly being horror themed#and as for the other series--Warm Bodies by Isaac Marion is SUUUUCH an underrated book series#the tl;dr is it's a zombie-human love story#there was a movie based on the first book several years back and it was pretty good imo#it plays up the romcom aspect a lot. which is fair but not EXACTLY accurate to the book. as you might imagine lol#the actual book though??? god I'm only two chapters in on my re-read and I had underestimated how much I love the way this protag thinks#it is HEAVY on philosophical discussion and even digs into some societal/political issues later on#and the supernatural/sci-fi worldbuilding is so incredible that tbh I can barely take any other type of zombies seriously after reading thi#it's just. it's good. check it out if you're not afraid of a little gore in your star-crossed romance#(I'd say more but I don't want to spoil the end of the first book! it's a fairly predictable twist but it still feels so good)
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Can you write Alastor x a Reader who works in radio? I don't think Alastor would let them on air since he doesn't seem the type to have a co host to me but maybe he'd have a intern who gets him coffee or a script writer.
Good To Be Back On the Air || Alastor x reader
tags: gn!sinner!reader (described to have horns but is an otherwise ambiguous demon!!), fluff, pre-established relationship, mentions of death, true crime, vox being vox lmao, jealous alastor, blood/bloody play (sorta??), Valentino is his own warning (threats of SA but nothing happens), mentions of injuries and being kidnapped (use of chloroform), implied VoxVal
a/n: I hope you enjoy!! This got a bit long!
Much like Alastor's life before he died, you were also quite the popular radio host for your time. Engaging, funny, and respectable. Your audience loved tuning in the early hours of the morning to you recanting the strange occurrences of the multiple killings of men from the late 1920s until that stream suddenly stopped during the year 1933 within New Orleans, Louisiana.
True crime has always been your passion, in life and in death. You certainly didn't think you'd end up in Hell for taking the life of someone trying to mug you on the street. A tall, masked man who saw to it that you'd never see the light of day again. A couple gunshot wounds to your abdomen proved effective as you rest against the wall, bleeding out onto the concrete with your soon-to-be killer lying facedown and dead mere feet from you. Killed by the very thing you sought to bring awareness towards. Quite poetic in a way.
As your gaze clouds and vision becomes unfocused, you look up at the stars. The ares around you was beautiful. It was one of your favorite parts of town, even your death wouldn't taint the beauty of the stretching oak and maple trees reaching tall towards the skies. The faint sound of smooth jazz playing from the record shop only a few paces away mixing with the swirling scent of coffee. At least you were dying in a place that you loved.
Now, here you are. In Hell. Doomed to total damnation for all fucking eternity. You'd been down here for a couple months, taking up residence near Cannibal Town, yet still unsure of what to make of all the carnage, debauchery, and depravity. You didn't think you belonged in Hell, even if you took the life that simultaneously extinguished your own.
"What's wrong, dearie? I've known you to be quiet but today you are exceptionally so." Mused Rosie, her gentle tone pulling you out of your reverie. You glanced down at your tea, sighing.
Leaning your cheek against your palm, you meet her charcoal-black eyes. Genuine concern etched onto her politely beautiful face. "I'm just feeling lost is all, I guess. I told you how I ended up in Hell, right?" Solemnly, Rosie nods.
Placing down her tea cup, Rosie wiggles towards you a bit. "Maybe you just need to find that old spark again! Something that roused you when you were alive! I have a friend who was a radio host, same as you. He may be able to have a job for you! Alastor is as charming as they come!" She grins, her mouth full of pointed teeth on full display.
Your brow quirks. "Alastor? The Radio Demon?" Rosie nods, excitedly. Alastor had been the prolific serial killer that haunted New Orleans back in the 1920s. It felt weird that the main man-- subject, you studied in life would soon be your acquaintance and potential boss in death. You'd heard many hushed tales about the aforementioned Radio Demon dealing in bartered souls and how he wreaked havoc against his fellow Overlords overnight. He definitely seemed like the kind of demon you didn't want to make light of, or worse, be on his bad side.
"He's a quirky one, for sure, but don't listen to all those rumors and gossip!" Rosie waves her hand with a laugh. "Alastor is still a gentleman and I'm sure he'd be delighted to offer you a job! Maybe you can intern for him? Besides! If he's ever rude to you, ol' Rosie will kick him in the shins! I'll wear my extra-pointy boots!" She giggles, holding your hands in hers. "You'll be in good hands, my dear! I'll let Alastor know you're coming right away!"
Staring down at the neatly folded paper in your hand, you double and triple check the address scrawled in neat calligraphy.
Hazbin Hotel.
Was it normal for a former serial killer slash radio host to become a hotelier that's trying to rehabilitate sinners?
With a shrug, you made your way up the incline taking note of the rather ominous looking radio tower jutting out from the far-right side of the hotel. A sign displaying the words on-air was currently unlit and it looked quite dark inside from what you could see from the ground. Perhaps the great Alastor wasn't at home.
Knocking on the front door, you're greeted by a tall, deer-like demon with two-toned hair and sharp yellow teeth dressed in a dapper red-pinstripe suit complete with a microphone-like cane. Scarlet eyes stare down at you like a lion watching a gazelle. You feel utterly and completely exposed, like he's peeling back your every layer, surveying you, before he even said a single word.
"Welcome to the Hazbin Hotel, my dear! Quite a pleasure! You must be the little darling that dear Rosie sent, yes?" Alastor places his hand on your lower back, guiding you past the hotel's front doors and into the welcoming comfort of the establishment's front lobby and reception area. "This is a place where wayward sinners such as yourself can find peace and be led on the path of redemption to ascend to Heaven by Hell's very own princess, Charlie Morningstar!"
On queue, a blonde-haired girl sprints up to you squealing and flailing her arms a bit. She takes her hands in yours and offers you a big, delighted smile. You like her immediately. "Oh, my gosh! Welcome, welcome to Hazbin Hotel! I see you've met our gracious host Alastor! He's mentioned that you're going to be interning for him-- how exciting! We are so thankful to have you!"
To think, all those months ago had been the start of your journey with your friends. You had felt so out of place in Hell, in your new skin, uncomfortable with the weight of sharp horns protruding your skin and the strength of your clawed hands. You were quite pleasantly surprised at what you could withstand now as a demon.
With the attention directed back at him, Alastor grins with a whine of radio static. It was the equivalent of a lazy smirk with his half-lidded scarlet eyes taking you in one more, searching for any potential risks you may pose though you didn't intend any of that sort. You felt your skin begin to heat the longer his gaze remained on you, and hesitantly break the eye contact with the demon in favor of Charlie, who has been excitedly talking about all of the hotel's features.
"I brought your coffee, sir." Alastor hums out a soft 'thank you' yet continues to fiddle with the buttons and tracks on his console, not raising his head to look at you. "Rosie gave me some venison for you. She said aid it's your favorite when it's fresh and raw." Placing Alastor's simple black coffee on a small side table, you revere your boss with a fond expression. Rosie had been truthful she said he was the charming sort. There certainly was an air of respectability about him that men lacked from your time.
"Our dear Rosie is certainly a clever one, and she is quite correct. There is no better way to enjoy meat than having it served fresh. Preferably off the bone but this will do." Alastor tilts his head, turning to the side to regale you from the corner of his eyes. Those damn beautiful scarlet gems. "Something the matter, my dear?" Alastor's voice is a soft crackle.
Stumbling in surprise, you wrack your brain for a plausible answer. When you find none, you shake your head from side to side cursing the heat that sets your cheeks ablaze.
Alastor smirks, standing from his stool and approaches you. He grasps your chin between his thumb and forefinger; his claw lightly dragging across your lower lip. Blood beads up following the path his claw created. He swipes it up, licking it in front of you.
"Tasty," Alastor grins, leaning down and bumping his nose into yours. "As I said, meat is best when fresh." He squeezes your cheek lightly, chuckling at the exudes into his palm. "If I wasn't certain, I'd say you have a little crush on me, hmm?" He turns his back to you, those damned scarlet eyes that see straight through your soul strike you where you stand. "That'll be all now, dearest. Thank you for your time and your blood."
You couldn't get out of there fast enough. You weren't afraid of him, no, you were more scared of kissing him now more than ever. A fantasy of both of you pressed tight to one another with mouths soaked in blood would be all you can think of for hours.
Whatever was going on between you and Alastor continued on much like a game of cat and mouse only he seemed to be going out of his way more and more to fluster you, saying things that would catch you off guard.
"I don't think of myself as much of a man who desires a relationship beyond friends and family, but cohabitating with you as lifelong partners does sound desirable."
"Hmm, tell me. Are your horns sensitive?" His breath ghosts then one day, causing you to shriek and cover them. You pout, turning your head to glare at him. Alastor's grin only seemed to stretch further. "Only teasing, darling, no need to get so uppity."
It was a slow evening, Alastor had sent you off on another errand. There was a sense of apprehension worrying his brow, glancing at the analog clock. The hour hand strikes the 3am mark. He'd sent you off almost an hour and a half ago, so where were you?
Interference crackles onto his radio, Alastor hissing as the feedback screeches. With ears pinned back, his eyes narrowed further when a familiar voice crosses.
"Ugh, I will never understand why thr fuck you use this shit, Alastor." Groaned Vox. "Anyway, I got your cute assistant here. You should see them, shaking like a leaf." The radio glitches in tune with Vox's laughter. "Valentino here has been itching for a new plaything, doesn't that sound good, sweetheart? Maybe we can broadcast that for all of Hell to see, right Al--"
Smash. Alastor's fist smashes through the radio cutting off Vox's boastful rant.
On the other side of the city, Vox blinks in confusion. "I lost the radio signal? Oh, fuck, God this shit is so old." He sighs, leaning back in his chair. Spinning around, he gives you a wry smirk. "Guess we'll see if the Great Alastor comes to rescue his lost pup, hmm?"
Glowering at him, left bound and gagged, sitting on the cold, hard floor. Valentino gives a harsh tug on your hair, your teeth sinking into the cotton gag shoved in your mouth, a muffled grunt leaving you.
An electric feeling in the air has your hair rising. Vox and Valentino share a confused look. A large fist blasts inside of the V Tower, claws sharp as they did through the metal like it was butter.
"Oh, fuck, it's Alastor!" Vox shrieks, scrambling to get away from the broken window. A second fist smashes through sending Vox into the opposing wall with a deep thud. Valentino runs to his friend's aid, helping him up.
"Well, this is what you wanted, honey."
Vox groans in protest. "I know."
Green electricity crackles, a dark shadow pooling into the room and with a shriek, manifests into Alastor.
Paying the two no mind, Alastor crosses the threshold and kneels down before you. His clawed fingers are gentle as he removes the gag around your bruised mouth. "Sorry it took me so long, mon cour." A tentacle bursts through his back, spiraling directly into Vox and Valentino, sending the two into the neighboring room with a loud crash.
Scooping you into his arms, Alastor calmly walks through to the next room, his hand cupping the back of your head. "Rest." He regards the other two males with a snarling crackle.
"If I didn't have more important matters to attend to, I would eviscerate you two gents. Touch what is mine again and I'll broadcast your fucking screams all over Hell." Alastor hums, exiting V Tower.
"Holy shit! Did you see?? He finally sees me as his rival!" Vox cheers, tossing both arms into the air in celebration.
"This may sting, but I trust that you can handle it." Alastor says, rubbing off the blood from your brow with a cotton ball doused in isopropyl alcohol. Wincing softly, you take the moment to look at him closely. You'd never seen Alastor so disheveled. Even with dealing with enemies, he was always composed. But, tonight, he had been anything but the picture of composure. He looked positively feral.
Valentino sighs, "Honey, you need psychiatric help."
"Is there something about my face you find interesting, dearest?"
Squeaking, your face flushes, shaking your arms frantically. Gasping you quickly place a hand to your ribs. Guess they really did fracture something when they knocked you out.
Alastor stills your hands with his own. "Easy now, pet. You're in no state to be moving around like an interpretive mime. I was only teasing you, my dearest. You had me worried tonight."
Hanging your head low, you turn your gaze away. "I'm sorry, Alastor. I don't know how they got the drop on me. I was walking home and smelled something odd--," you gasped in realization. "Chloroform. It had to be."
Alastor growled tensely at that. He tied the bandage around your arm and with a snap of his fingers the medical kit disappeared and a serving tray appeared carrying a kettle full of hot chocolate and a staple 1920s dessert: pound cake. This one was drizzled with a bitter chocolate and filled with strawberries.
Alastor takes your hand and gently kisses your knuckles. "Care to join me for a treat?" His tone was a touch more gentle than it had been a heartbeat ago. You smile, nodding eagerly. He grins and begins to cut the cake, serving you first. "One more thing."
|| I DON'T GIVE PERMISSION FOR MY WORKS TO BE REPOSTED, RESHARED, OR EDITED. TUMBLR IS MY ONLY ACCOUNT AND THE ONLY PLACE WHERE I POST MY WRITING. ALL CHARACTERS BELONG TO THEIR RIGHTFUL OWNERS, THE STORY BELONGS TO ME. || CHERUBFAE © 2024
Softly, Alastor kisses your cheek. It was the lightest of touches and over as soon as it happened. He busies himself by pouring two mugs of steaming hot chocolate, the apples of his cheeks were a rosy hue.
#hazbin hotel x you#hazbin hotel imagines#hazbin hotel x reader#hazbin imagines#hazbin alastor x reader#alastor x reader#alastor imagine#alastor x you#cherubfae 2024#tw: kidnapping
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Rosie's Favorite (currently finished/caught up) Podcasts:
The Amelia Project - silly, quirky, morbid but almost always more jaunty and eccentric than completely dark. Great for anyone who loves 'narrator' or interview type podcasts. If I'm not mistaken, I've posted some of my thoughts on here using the pod's hashtag.
The Mistholme Museum of Mystery, Morbitity, and Mortality - another narrator type podcast, and probably my favorite of all time. The main voice you hear is perfect imo and keeps you engaged in all the right ways, bringing tension where it's needed, and levity where it's funny or odd. Absolutely consumed this podcast with a voraciousness I haven't felt for a bit. Keeps you guessing and always wanting more from every exhibit.
Victoriocity - excellent voice acting, interesting and unique premise and setting, and great plot. One of the podcasts I'm most looking forward to returning :) think steam punk but also it's the 1800s still in weird ways. If you love an old timey British accent, you'll love this haha.
The White Vault - probably my favorite specifically horror podcast, that makes you wait for answers in a craving sort of way, a longing to know what's going on, and not slogging through a bunch of filler to then get answers. It's great, gorey, geographically diverse fun. Interesting mashups of various cultures re: mythology, history, religion(?). Another on my list to watch out for the return of.
Midnight Burger: the quick pitch is - a time traveling diner that always services people in need, no matter what time, space, or dimension they may reside in. Excellent cast of characters, great development, wonderful implementation of a new character(s), and in general a very comfortable vibe to return to (speaking of, once I run out of recommendations I may relisten to this one). Highly recommend if you like sitcoms with time travel splashed with a bit of horror.
Edit: just finished up another one, so time to add it to the list!!
Monstrous Agonies: A radio show advice segment, about, by, and for the Creature Community. If you like WTNV, but find it a bit intense sometimes, or a bit too plot heavy/etc, you'll absolutely love this. Instead of the whole show, you just get the advice segment, but oh ho ho, is it so much more than that. If you're queer, BIMPOC, from a blended/mixed/broken/anything but 'typical' home... I think you'll like it. Very much what I would call 'easy listening', meaning you can just ease into an episode without having to remember a huge cast of characters, a plots b plots C plots meta plots... And it just feels *real*, in that strange and beautiful way WTNV does, but instead of a fictional town, the setting is the real world, with real problems, and real solutions. Sometimes you really do just need to howl or cry or chew on some slippers and that's OK. Highly recommend for ADHD havers or anyone with a short attention span who loves a soothing voice.
Edit: Another absolute banger to add to the list
Wooden Overcoats - how do I even properly describe the experience of this podcast. Let's start with the basics: It's the story of twins who run a funeral parlor on a small island, in a small village. Their family has been running said parlor for hundreds of years, as the only funeral directors on the island. Until one day... They aren't. A man arrives and sets up his own funeral parlor directly across the square, and boy, do things change for those twins. If you've listened to (and loved) Victoriocity, or The Amelia Project, I guarantee you'll enjoy this one. Strange, silly, and interesting things are always happening, except this one doesn't have quite as much drama (well...... Perhaps a different kind of drama. I'd call this an interpersonal dramedy, with emphasis on the comedy). An incredible listen, through and through. I thoroughly enjoyed every single episode, and the ending was quite safisfying :)
Another EXCELLENT addition to this ever increasing list of content!!! I'm not even finished with this one, I just love it so much that I can't help but add it to the list:
Mission Rejected - you know in those spy movies, where the spy gets a secret message from HQ and they say 'your mission, if you choose to accept it...' ok great. Now imagine if 007 said 'no'. This is the story about the backups, the team that takes the missions rejected by the Top Spy Guy. It's got diverse voice acting (in many senses of the word - you can tell the voices apart, it's not exclusively straight cis white dudes, etc etc), wonderful worldbuilding, great pacing, an excellent plot, I really could go on and on. I highly recommend this specific podcast to anyone who wants something light to get deeply invested in, that has a lot of comedy but also develops the characters outside of just their bits. 100/10 no notes
Edit: not sure which podcast/podcast enthusiast rb'ed this yesterday but I'm so glad more folks get to see this list!!! It makes me so happy that lots of folks enjoy this list, a d share their fave ones, and!!!! Aaaggghhhhhhhhh!!! I love podcasts and podcast enthusiasts!!!!!
Also I have another one for yall :3 if you're looking for another improv comedy to add to your list!!!
Hey Riddle Riddle - exactly what you think it is, but also so much more. Three friends/coworkers who also happen to be sensational improv comedians solve riddles and puzzles together, while also introducing bits and skits and reoccurring segments, so it never feels like 'just a Riddle podcast' (whatever that means). I have laughed every single episode, which is a big deal for me (some comedy podcasts only make me laugh every few episodes, and I require at LEAST one laugh per episode). I can genuinely say this is one of the funniest podcasts I've ever listened to, and the absolute best improv I've ever heard. I'm all for committing to the bit, and this one absolutely delivers on both the commitment part and the bit part haha. Seriously can't recommend this one enough if you maybe listen to a lot of drama/horror and need something easy to listen to (easy meaning there's not a plot you have to be intensely listening for, you can just enjoy it casually). 1000/10, please listen and also tell me YOUR favorite riddles :)
#podcasts#podcast recommendation#Midnight Burger#victoriocity#the amelia project#the mistholme museum of mystery morbidity and mortality#the white vault#I spent a lot of time in Midnight burgers first episode wondering if Zebulon was Paul F Thompsons lmao#Anyways I love these podcasts please someone ask me about them#I desperately want to interact with more podcast people#Yell at me about podcasts#Ask me about my favorite characters or episodes#monstrous agonies#wooden overcoats#mission rejected podcast#Skip Grainger has made me realize what a blorbo truly is. I love this man. I love him so fucking much. With his little filing systems.#I want to scrunch him down and put him in my pocket forever I wanna just rotate him around in my brain he's the perfect lil guy#Finally a man i could truly feel safe around like... This man understands platonic love like no other man I've ever seen#hey riddle riddle
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Aftermath of The Homo-Bomb (Jack)
(Make sure to read the ➡️ Prologue ⬅️ first!)
Having just left the apartment of one of the men affected by the homo bomb, Wavell closed his eyes and sensed the area. He was sensing specifically for human life signatures that’d been doused in his magic as those were the people that’d been affected in some way by his spell. The closest one seemed to be just a couple doors down from where he was. He walked along the corridor until he reached the apartment where the signature was coming from. Room 204. According to the information he’d pulled out of the Landlord’s memories, the resident that lived here was an older man in his mid 40’s, Jack Rivers.
The warlock gave a swift knock to the door, waiting a couple seconds before hearing the shuffling movement coming from behind. There was a small ‘kerchunk’ sound as the lock came undone before the door opened a crack. “Who are you? What do you want?” A voice asked from behind the door.
“My name is Christopher Wavell sir. I’m here gathering intel on the strange event that’s taken place in this town by interviewing those affected so we may be able to figure what exactly caused all this.” Of course Wavell was bending the truth a little but it was more fun that way. “I was wondering if I could come in and have a chat with you if that’s alright...” He looked down at a notepad he was holding before looking back up to seem more authentic. “Jack is it?”
The door opened a little wider, revealing a middle aged and very handsome man. He had a very rugged and raw masculine energy about him. He adorned a very thick and full beard but in exchange he seemed to be completely bald underneath that cap he was wearing. He wore a tight t-shirt which showed off his strong arms, both covered by a full sleeve of tattoos. He definitely had an ex-jock dad type of build. Very strong and firm muscle being consistent across his body which showed dedication to either the gym or hard labour while also deciding not to take his dieting as seriously as he used to resulting in a thick belly hidden beneath his shirt. Long story short, he was a total dream from anyone who liked hot hairy daddies.
“Yeah that’s my name…” Even his voice was deep and husky. “But that only happened last night. How do you already know about it?” Jack questioned, just as most other people Wavell had visited had.
The warlock gave Jack a warm smile as his eyes glowed purple. His smile seemed so reassuring. So inviting. So trustworthy. Making Jack feel as though he could trust this stranger with his life! “Don’t worry about that. All that matters is that you tell me your story so we can figure this all out.”
Jack didn’t hesitate after that. He opened the door wide and offered Wavell inside without a second thought. He asked Wavell if he could grab him a drink, offering beer, coffee, juice and whatever else he had. Wavell took a coffee which didn’t take Jack long to whip up before the burly man grabbed a couple beers for himself. Wavell couldn’t help but find it amusing to see this man who’d been so hesitant about him mere moments ago suddenly acting so friendly.
Once they were both settled in Jack’s living room, Wavell got right down to business. “Okay so I want to start by asking you to give me your name, age and occupation.”
Jack took a quick swig of his beer. “Well my full name is Jack Ivory Rivers, I’m 43 years old and I’m a carpenter. I work at the little shop down the street. You might’ve seen it”
“I actually did. Nice workplace you’ve got.” Wavell replied as he wrote down a few notes before looking up again and continuing his questions. “Now tell me, how would you describe yourself as a person?”
The burly man thought for a moment. “Well… I suppose some would say I’m stoic and a little headstrong but I take a lot of care and pride in the work I do. I like to make sure everything I make at my shop is to the highest standard it can be and that’s exactly what I promise everyone who wants to buy from me.”
“Yup, that’s perfect.” Wavell muttered, scribbling down a few more things before glancing up again with a small smirk. “Now the formalities are out of the way, time for the real questions.” His eyes glows that same deep purple as before, causing Jack's eyes to briefly glow as well as he fell deeper into the arms of Mr Wavell's alluring aura. “First I want you to tell me what’s changed about you. I can tell you’ve been affected by the recent events somehow just by the way you carry yourself. As if your very identity has been shaken. What did that purple mist do to you Jack?”
Jack shuffled lightly in his seat, seeming a little uncomfortable with the idea of unveiling what's happened to a total stranger… but he could trust Mr Wavell right? He just wants to help. He would never judge. “Well… okay I guess I’ll start from the beginning.” Jack took a deep breath and another swig of his beer before casting his mind back to the previous night.
“I was working late at my shop. Being a carpenter is my life you know. It’s what I love and always have loved. So much so that I frequently stay overnight to continue my projects. I’ve been told before that my love for the craft is obsessive, perhaps even unhealthy. Hell they’re probably right, it’s half the reason my marriage fell apart years ago. My now ex-wife thought I cared more about my work than I did her. But they just didn’t understand…” Jack took a large gulp of his beer, now halfway through the first bottle. “Mike though. He understood. So much so he spent almost as much time in the shop as I do.”
Wavell thought for a moment, scanning back through some of his notes from previous people he’d spoken to. “Mike huh? I don’t believe I’ve spoken to a ‘Mike’ who works in carpentry yet. Is he a work partner of yours? Your son perhaps?”
Jack chuckled a little. “No, he's my apprentice. I’ve been teaching him for a couple years now. He isn’t my son but at times I wished he was with the amount of passion he has. Always eager to learn more from me.”
“Can you describe Mike for me?” Wavell asked curiously before tasting his coffee, nodding a little in satisfaction after.
It was subtle but the warlock couldn’t help noticing the slight blush that crossed Jack’s face when he heard that question. He tried to hide it by downing the rest of his first beer before letting out a small belch. “S’cuse me.” He pardoned. “Well uhhh… sure I guess I could.” Jack gulped slightly while leaning back a little in his chair. “I suppose he’s a fine looking young man. 25 years old so he’s still very much in his prime. Quite short brown hair and usually has some stubble. He has these deep green eyes that I couldn’t stop staring at after…” He stopped himself before having to slightly readjust how he was sitting again. “He has a ummm… very nice body. Clearly works out a lot outside of work and it looks like it pays off. He has pretty large biceps like me and some great shoulders. He usually wears these tight t-shirts or tank tops that show off his pecs really well and…” as Jack continued to describe his youthful apprentice a tent began to pitch itself in his tan cargo shorts, growing larger by the second. Jack tried to hide it by discreetly placing a hand on his crotch but it was still so obvious. “…He usually wears shorts like me that show off his very well built lower body you know.”
“This Mike sounds like quite the stud doesn’t he?” Wavell couldn’t help teasing a little.
Jack doesn’t reply to the comment but the telling look on his face was all the agreement Wavell needed. Instead he popped open his second beer and continued his story. “Anyway. As I said, I stayed late last night. I told Mike he could head home but he said he’d rather keep working. I don’t usually fight him on it when he wants to work late with me. I’d be a hypocrite if I did. Plus the amount of dedication he has reminds me so much of myself.” He drinks again as he prepares for the next part. “But then as the two of us were working, there was some kind of silent explosion outside. We looked out of the windows to see a massive cloud of purple smoke quickly making its way over the town.”
Wavell another took a sip of coffee. He’d already heard so many variations of this part from people that’d been awake when he threw the Homo-Bomb. “And what happened after that?”
The burly man hesitated for a second but once again the calming aura of the handsome silver haired man before him gave him the encouragement he needed. “Before we knew it the mist was seeping its way into the shop. Coming in from any entrance it could find. Under the doors, through any open windows. And once it was inside it felt as though it followed me and Mike wherever we went until we had nowhere left to go…” Jack took a large sip of his second beer. “I remember we were back to back when it surrounded us. It was like it was forcing itself into our lungs. Invading our bodies almost. And it didn’t just enter through our mouths either. It felt as though it entered through every entrance it could find on our bodies. Even my asshole! Part of me thought I was gonna die for a moment but… I didn’t. I just felt frozen in place for a good few minutes as I breathed in the mist until finally it dispersed.” Jack stopped. He knew what came after that but could he really share that…
“And what did it do to you Jack?” Wavell pried. “You can tell me anything. You can tell me everything. In detail. I want to hear it Jack and I know you’re just dying to tell me as well.” Wavell’s words ironed themselves onto Jack’s subconscious, pressing so deep until they became his truth. He wanted to tell Wavell what happened next. He wanted to so badly!
“The first thing I did was turn around to see if Mike was okay but the moment I did I felt something I’d never felt before. Mike was… gorgeous. Everything about him was hot. The way his muscles pressed against his clothes. How young and handsome his face was. How he just had this masculine air about him despite being so youthful at the same time. God just looking at him made me feel so hot and horny. Hornier than I’ve felt in years!” By this point Jack wasn’t even using his spare hand to cover his crotch anymore but rather to rub his ever growing erection through his shorts. “It didn’t make any sense to me. I’d been completely straight my whole life. I’d never even so much as looked at a guy sexually before last night. Hell, back in college they used to call me the pussy destroyer! Not just because of how many chicks I pulled but also for how most of them couldn’t handle how big my cock is… But now I can’t even get hard for women!” He shouted, spilling some beer down his shirt.
By this point Wavell was having to hide his own growing erection just hearing about all this. “So, if I may pry a little further, what happened between you and Mike after this event took place. Did you simply go home?”
Jack’s eyes darted away for a moment, hardly being able to look at the man sitting before him. “N-no. Not exactly.” Ordinary he wouldn’t have dreamed of divulging any further to anyone else. And yet… “The more I looked at him, the harder my dick got. I just couldn’t bring myself to look away either. And I could tell by the way he looked back at me and by the growing bulge in his shorts as well that he must’ve been feeling the same thing. It was like there was an invisible force pulling us together in so many ways. Before I knew it my face was inches away from his as we stared into each other's eyes. I don’t think I’ve ever felt anything more intimate. And then… we kissed.” Jack’s mind rushed back to that very memory, recounting it in great detail. Remembering how it felt to press his own bearded lips against Mike’s. Remembering just how good and right it felt in that moment. “I placed a hand on the back of his neck to pull him closer and as he did I remember feeling his hands run across my body. One rubbing along my back while the other grabbed at my chest…” The erection in his shorts was painfully hard as he imagined himself back in that very moment.
“I don’t mind if you want to get your cock out and jerk a little Jack. If you’ll be more comfortable that way of course.” Wavell suggested devilishly.
Jack didn’t think twice about it. The moment Wavell made the suggestion he whipped his cock out and started jerking it as he continued his story. It was huge and thick. Probably one of the biggest Wavell had seen on a natural man. Hell it rivaled his own cock! “I have no idea how long we made out. I was just so drawn in by Mike and everything about him. Soon I started groping his body just like he was groping mine. Grabbing at his muscles, his ass and even his crotch. I never would’ve done something like that in a million years before now. Don’t get me wrong Mr Wavell, I have nothing against the gays. I have tons of friends that are gay!… but I ain’t a homo! And Mike isn’t either! He was always telling me about the different girls he’d slept with… Neither of us are gay… or at least we weren’t.” He glanced down, watching himself jerk off to his apprentice before taking another large gulp of beer followed by another belch.
There was a slight pause as Jack gathered his thoughts, allowing Wavell a moment to drink some more coffee before picking his notepad back up. “Keep going Jack. This is good.”
“Well… next thing I knew we were taking off each other’s clothes until we were completely naked. Cocks touching and everything. I told him how much I loved his young, muscular body and he told me how much of a hot daddy I was with how hairy and strong I was.” He blushed a little, more obviously this time, as he remembered to compliment. “We kept saying things like that back and forth between kissing and feeling each other up. And eventually I realised something. I wanted him. I wanted Mike so badly. And so I took his hand and guided him to the back room where I sometimes slept after pulling all nighters.” He was jerking off furiously now, his thick giant daddy cock just barely contained by his hand..
“And what did the two of you do in the back room Jack”
The hairy man bit his lip slightly before continuing. “We uhh… we… we fucked!” He admitted, much to the warlock's delight. “M-my first instinct was to fuck him. To throw him on the couch-bed and slam my cock inside him. But before I even had a chance Mike turned me around, knelt down, and shoved his face into my ass! He dug his tongue deep into and around my hole while telling me that he loved how hairy and juicy my ass was. Mmmhh god! Why did it feel so gooood!” Jack grunted a little as he squirted a little precum at the memory. “After that he was the one tossing me on the couch-bed, face down so he could keep worshipping my ass. My hole just felt so needy and he was the only thing that could satisfy it…” He kept going, taking yet another swig of beer. “After that he began slowly kissing his way up my back until his lips reached my neck. As they did I felt his dick slide between my cheeks, practically rubbing against my hole. His dick isn’t as big as mine but it was big enough. Around 6 inches maybe?”
“Wow. You must’ve really enjoyed yourself last night to remember all these details.”
Once again Jack was too embarrassed to reply. Instead finishing off the rest of his second beer before tossing the bottle to the side so he could focus on his dick and the story. “At first I was a little worried. I’d never even considered putting anything up my ass before so the idea of having a dick shoved up there was daunting. But at the same time so damn hot! And so despite my worries it didn’t take long for me to start begging Mike to fuck me. To shove that young cock of his inside my hairy dad ass… fuck.”
“And did he?”
“Oh fuck yeah he did. He lubed himself up with some spit and the next thing I know I feel the tip of dick pressing inside me. I expected it to be extremely painful, or least rather sore, but I felt nothing but pure pleasure. It was like my asshole just opened up to him, as if it’d been waiting for a dick to fill it all my life.” Jack hardly paid any mind to the stream of precum flowing from the tip of his cock, coating his hand. “You know all my life I’d been the one dominating women in bed. But now, I was the one having my face pressed into the cushion below as another man slammed his cock inside me. A man I’d been teaching for years. A man who’s 18 years my junior dominating me in every sense. And I loved it. The feeling of his dick sliding in and out of my ass like it belonged. The feeling of his balls smacking against me. Even the way he told me how sexy I was as he destroyed my hole.”
By this point Wavell wasn’t even bothering to hide his own arousal anymore, having unzipped his pants and slowing his own fat cock to spring out. He gave it a light stroke between writing notes. “You know I wouldn’t have taken such a manly guy like yourself to be a submissive bottom Jack. Guess it just goes to show we shouldn’t judge by appearance.” Wavell added with a smirk. “Anyway, please continue”
“There isn’t whole lot left to say… he fucked my brains out and I loved every second of it. He kept saying I was his hot hairy daddy now and all I could do was moan. I think he meant in a way like he owned me or something. He just kept fucking me and fucking me. Then at some point he got me to turn over and put my legs over his shoulders so we could look at each other. After that it wasn’t long before he let out a deep guttural moan, the kind I’d never heard from him. Then I felt it. His load filling me up and breeding my ass for the first time. In that moment it was like a switch flipped in my mind and suddenly I blew a load all over myself. Some of it even shot up onto my face and in my beard.” Jack seemed as though he was trying his best not to blow another load right here and now as he described it. “After that we were both so exhausted that we ended up cuddling together and falling asleep at the shop. I only got home a couple hours before you arrived…”
Wavell scribbled down a few more notes before looking back up at Jack again. “Wow. That's quite the story you’ve got there Jack. I think it’s fair for me to assume that your sexuality seems to have been altered by the mist but I wanted to ask if you’ve noticed anything else. Like any other mental or physical changes about yourself since last night?”
The husky man stopped jerking for a moment to think. “Uhhh… I don’t think so. I still feel like myself… except I just can’t stop thinking about dick now.” His eyes then settled on Wavell’s exposed cock. Never having seen another cock anywhere near the same size as his own.
“Well then I suppose it’s safe to say that you’re a common case Mr Rivers. The majority of formerly straight men like yourself have reported no longer feeling anything towards women and instead feeling elevated levels of sexual attraction for other men.” Wavell confirmed… except Jack didn’t seem to hear a word he said. Instead the hairy daddy could only focus on the giant cock between Wavell’s legs. “Jack, if I may ask, are you attracted to me as well.”
Not being capable of lying to the warlock, Jack answered truthfully. “Y-yes!” He admitted, jerking himself again to Wavell. “I’ve been trying to ignore it but since the moment I opened the door I’ve wanted to kiss you. And your cock it’s just so… fuuuck.”
Wavell’s expression turned playful. Without a word he beckoned Jack to come closer. The bear of a man did so without a second thought, practically leaping out of his chair. Once he stood before Wavell, the warlock once again beckoned him to lean down, to get even closer. Jack complied until their faces were almost touching. Then, with a gentle smile, Wavell leant forwards a little and kissed the newly gay daddy. Wavell’s short, groomed beard colliding with Jack’s thick and slightly bushy one. This kiss must’ve lasted a good 10 seconds or so before Wavell pulled them apart. “There. Wish granted.” He chuckled. “Now I do have one little thing I want to give you which might help… but it’ll cost ya.” Seemingly out of thin air Wavell summoned a small pill. “This pill will help make some adjustments to fit your new situation. Buuut if you want it then you’ll have to suck me off.” Wavell might’ve been a bit more classy when he was in this form but that didn’t stop him from being a perv from time to time.
Some might’ve taken a moment to think about it but not Jack. He was on his knees in seconds before trying to swallow every inch of Wavell’s giant cock, wrapping his bearded lips around as much of it as possible. As Jack had already found out, the magic had actually done slightly more than just make him gay. It’d also loosened his asshole and reduced his gag reflex. Despite that Jack still found himself sputtering a little as he tried to take all of Wavell. As he did Wavell couldn’t help holding the other man’s head down, enjoying every second. Jack sucked him off vigorously, using his tongue, lips and hands perfectly to give as much pleasure as possible. It was almost hard to believe he used to be a straight man before all this. Now all he wanted was to suck dick have his hairy ass bred with as much cum as could be stuffed up there. Wavell couldn’t help but notice how Jack arched his back slightly, showing off said hairy ass a little in hopes Wavell would fuck him no doubt. He considered it but decided to focus on his ‘interviews’ for now. Maybe he’d come back for a visit sometime though…
After a while Jack seemed to adjust to Wavell’s cock and had no problem taking the entire length down his throat. He sucked it happily as if it were something he was always born to do. Being a slutty cock sucking daddy. The more he thought about it, the more passion he put into the blowjob. Servicing the dick before like nothing else mattered. He’d tuned out from the world around him so much that he didn’t even register Wavell’s groans until Jack felt a flood of thick cum pouring down his throat. The taste was nothing short of divine. He made sure to suck out every last drop before pulling off and falling onto his back. He used both hands to jack his cock furiously while savouring the taste of Wavell’s load until he busted his nut all over himself once again.
As Jack was blowing his load, Wavell had already tucked his dick away and zipped up his pants. “Welp, I suppose I owe you this.” He placed the pill on the small coffee table next to his empty cup. He waited a few moments for Jack to refocus before explaining. “It’s a magic pill I designed. It’s capable of swapping the cocks of two men. All you have to do is break it half, you take one half and the other guy you’re swapping with takes the other. I suggest you bring it up to Mike the next time you see him. After all I’m sure you’re curious what it might feel like to have that monster dick of yours inside you.”
Jack couldn’t believe what he was hearing and yet he couldn’t help believing it. A pill that would allow him to swap dicks with Mike? He glanced down at the softening cock between his legs. It’d always been a huge source of pride for him knowing how giant it was… but just the thought of Mike swinging it between his legs instead sounded so hot. Maybe it was the right thing to do. After all he couldn’t see himself ever being a top again now he’d gotten a taste for bottoming so maybe he didn’t deserve a cock this big if he wasn’t gonna use it properly…
“I’ll leave you to think about it. For now I’ve got some more people to interview for my research. I hope things between you and Mike go well though. Perhaps I’ll come back some time to see how you’re getting.” With that though Wavell said his goodbyes to which Jack was only just able to reciprocate in the cum-covered state he was in.
The warlock stepped outside of the apartment and took a deep breath with a satisfied smile knowing he took plenty of notes and had fun doing it. “Alright. Who’s next.”
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#homo bomb#mr wavell#straight to gay#mental change#sexuality change#hairy#dad#daddy#beard#jock#magic#permanent
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Hello and happy new year! I had another question for you, an aspect of marriages in Westeros that I feel unsure about: do you think that in the North, marrying someone from one of the mountain clans would be considered less “prestigious” than someone from a more traditional (for lack of a better word) house? And as far as I can tell, it seems that different branches of House Flint aren’t necessarily described as all being mountain clans, although Arya Flint was from the mountain clan branch?
Do I think there could potentially be some level of snobbery from one or more of the noble families of the North toward the northern mountain clans, and specifically marriage with them? Possibly. While the severe disappointment and alienation experienced by Lynesse Hightower after returning with Jorah to Bear Island was certainly exacerbated by her culture shock after leaving the heart of southron, specifically Reacher, urban society, even some of the mountain clans’ fellow northern nobles might find life in the northwestern hills quite a bit different from their daily experiences. The lack of aristocratic finery characteristic of the mountain clans - no major cities or towns, no lordly titles, no chivalric tourneys, only “small and rude” castles - combined with the hardscrabble existence in these areas may strike northern families like, say, the southron and city-minded Manderlys or even the quasi-chivalric Dustins of prominent Barrowton as crude and strange, which in turn could extend to the families living in the hills. The Norreys, Wulls, Harclays, and their neighbors are as much vassals of Winterfell as any of the other families in the North, but their relative isolation and absence of aristocratic splendor may influence those other families to see such clans as somewhat strange, especially as potential marriage partners. Needless to say as well, daughters of the northern mountain clans would likely bring little in the way of liquid wealth, and perhaps not valuable land either, to serve as a tempting dowry for a non-clan House.
However, do I think that such an attitude is probably hugely prevalent across the North as a land and (sometime) kingdom? Probably not. No one, so far as we know, lambasted Cregan Stark for marrying Arra Norrey, nor Rodrik Stark for marrying Arya Flint. The historical closeness, both physical and politico-dynastic, between the Starks and the northern mountain clans likely, I think, limits the extent to which other northern families sneer at the mountain clans as fellow, equal aristocrats, including for the purposes of marriage. Likewise, while some families in the North might style themselves along the lines of southron noble Houses, and so distinguish themselves to some extent from the mountain clans, other families would probably find the lives of, say, the Wulls or Burleys much like their own; indeed, I speculated before that Mormont sons and daughters, used to the hardened and rustic existence of Bear Island, may regularly intermarry with daughters and sons of the mountain clans. Plus, the question of intermarriage between hill clan families and other northern families may simply not come up very often, given the relative separation of the northwestern hills and their residents from the rest of the North: both Bran and Jon allude to the fact that the mountain clan families tend to keep to themselves (apart from their trips to pay homage to Lord Stark, or when they have important business elsewhere). So a family like, say, the Hornwoods or the Karstarks or Lockes may simply not find the clan families as obvious a choice for dynastic marriage alliances as some closer neighbors.
As far as the mountain Flints go, Jon provides the answer on that family tree in ADWD:
It was a tale that any northmen knew well. "My father's grandmother was a Flint of the mountains, on his mother's side," Jon told her. "The First Flints, they call themselves. They say the other Flints are the blood of younger sons, who had to leave the mountains to find food and land and wives.["]
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...deserved to experience.
pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader
warnings: tlou 1 and 2 possible spoilers, angst, tlou standard gore (wounds not overly described), talk of child neglect, sexual themes (p in v), fluff, pain and some more pain
summary: Joel, YN and Ellie settle down in Jackson. It's hard to get used to but they manage - Ellie has new friends, YN works at school. Over the years they grow even closer, there is a small addition to their family and it all is perfect. Past is acknowledged and appreciated- Joel has never been happier. Or is it just a movie?
world count: ~4,3k
a/n: it was written as a part 2 to this > Fade To Black < but can be read as a stand alone. hope you'll enjoy reading it! xx
masterlist
“Joel... Y’all act like you’ve heard of us or somethin’.”
shot
—
Jackson was a blessing. YN still couldn’t believe that they - Joel, Ellie and her - managed to travel all across the country and found Tommy. It felt like a fever dream. They’d only lived there for a few months but the feeling of security let her guard down (at least for the town’s kids. She loved them).
When they first arrived - when Maria had found them in a cabin just mere three miles away from Jackson - it all felt strange and out of place. How in that fucked up world people were able to create a society? How were they able to trust so many people at once? She lived in a small town for years, sure, but then she trusted only two people - her dads, Bill and Frank, no one else. In Jackson they had a city council run by the locals, the functioning court with people that knew the law that once had been in the statute book. It was a commune, sure. It did connote with rather unfortunate times in history, but who was she to judge something that was working for a small town?
But people were wary of them - mostly of Joel - in the beginning. They kept their distance, didn’t talk to them if not necessary, didn’t cross paths on the streets. They were terrified, even though they did not know them. Apparently (Tommy said so later on) Joel’s hard look and possessive eyes were enough to keep people at bay.
Ellie, surprisingly, accommodated quickly. She managed to have friends - Dina and Jesse who were a rather unusual couple (in the past three weeks they’d managed to break up four times). She didn’t tell them everything, she didn’t show them everything. But she did trust them in some aspects. YN loved that for her, telling Joel how needed those interactions were for Ellie. ‘She’s a teenager, Joel. She needs to be around her peers. That’s the best way for her to grow up,’ she was explaining to him, one cold evening, observing Ellie playing football with her new-found friends.
YN found needed space in Jackson after two months of getting used to the hot water, running showers and hot food, but, most importantly, all the people surrounding her. Maria assigned YN to help teachers in school. She learnt from Tommy that YN had been a teacher in the QZ, so it was the most suited role for her in their community. Besides that the town’s hospital needed a nurse ready to teach new people the first AID but also the basics of health care that could be ready to provide for their residents. She felt needed. It was the best feeling.
Joel. Joel had the least pleasant time to settle into living normally. For years, he’d been like a nomad. Showering only when he’d find clear water - not so often. Eating 20-year-old Chef Boyardee or sleeping on a dirt floor. Now? He had a house, a bedroom with a big bed, comfy blankets and the mattress that made his back hurt less. He had a kitchen where he could prepare dinner for his whole family. He had running water. But there also were people around him that he didn’t know. No background information, no things to threaten them with if needed, nothing. And it made his skin crawl.
“You cannot follow a person just because you think they looked “wrongly” at me, Joel. This is a civilised town, we need to get used to it. People are curious, because we’re new. We’re something different and it excites but also terrifies them,” YN said to Joel, scolding him really for his behaviour.
“It wasn't that he looked wrongly at ya. It was a dirty look. He wanted something.” Joel defended himself.
“So that’s why you followed him. What were you going to do if I didn’t show up?”
Joel sat in silence.
“You’d beat him up, wouldn’t ya?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t but your clenched fists and scrunched eyebrows said everything,” she scoffed, massaging her temples. “Look -” she crouched in front of him, placing her hands on his knees. “I know you’re scared but we are safe here. Tommy promised you, promised me. He and Maria were kind enough to let us be here without actually benefiting the town for a month. I think we should show our gratitude in ways other than beating people's asses for looking badly at us. Hmm?”
Joel smiled, “how are you so good at making me cave in immediately?”
Joel’s palm rested on YN’s cheek, her head instantly leaned towards it. She closed her eyes, mimicking Joel’s smile.
“You love me.”
“That I do.”
—
“You stupid old man. You don’t get to rush this.”
crack
—
“You’re asking me out?”
“If you ask one more time, I’m taking it back.”
“No, no, no!” She quickly protested. “I’m going. I’m sure as hell going.”
“Thank God, I really didn’t want to take it back, ya know?”
Joel and YN were sitting on the couch, reading their separate books when Joel prompted a question of “what would you say of going out to the pub tonight?” which absolutely took her aback. A date? Joel Miller going on a date? The same day he killed five infected and - once again - saved her life, he was shyly asking her out. The man that Joel Miller was could be studied in psychology classes, a truly interesting case. Ideal to fail your students on characteristics of a duality.
“What made you ask?” She wasn’t interested in a book anymore. She needed answers.
“When we were heading back from patrol, I realised I’ve never taken you out. Wanted to change that.” Joel simply shrugged, coming back to his novel.
“Don’t read now, please,” she whispered, closing his book. Now, she was sitting on her heels just centimetres away from Joel. “Look at me, please?”
He obeyed without batting an eye, locking his brown eyes with hers.
“Thank you.”
“There is nothin’ to thank me for, darling. Not just yet, at least.” He chuckled, stroking her cheek. “After the date you can thank me.”
“I want now, please?”
Another thing that was different in Jackson was privacy. As much as they were watched by people on the streets, in the house that Tommy assigned them to, they were alone. Ellie chose the bedroom far away from theirs, saying ‘I don’t need to hear this old man grunting while turning in bed’ but her look said something very different. Something that Joel and YN were finally able to enjoy. Each other.
Sex was something that became very important to them along their relationship. Over the years they both had shied away from their feelings, they had become distant, shielding their emotions. Words stopped holding much importance, considering how they’d betrayed them in the past. They felt overrated, because how could you know if the person in front of you was actually telling the truth?
Joel lied once, jeopardised his feelings, hurting YN in the process. YN once suffered from lack of emotions, understanding and communication. So, in the beginning of their renewed relationship they both didn’t believe one another. Rightfully so. And somehow in their most vulnerable state, while being so close to each other, becoming one, the truth spilled over them, covering their sweaty bodies, shielding them from lies. Lies that were in the back of their heads ready to fly around from one’s mouth to another's ear.
“I love you,” Joel grunted in YN’s ear, his climax creeping on him for minutes. “I love you, baby. I - fuck - I love you so much.”
“I know,” she moaned back in understatement, clasping his face in her hands. “I lo - ugh.”
“Shh, it’s okay.” He kissed her temple, keeping a steady rhythm of his hips. “I know, baby. I know.”
They kept at that unvarying pace, chasing their absolute pleasure. Joel’s back had been slightly scratched, YN’s thighs visibly bruised from Joel’s fingers digging in her flesh for hours. They finally felt at peace. No thoughts other than mutual appreciation and yearning for each other overtaking them. Nothing but love and passion.
“I love you. I’m so sorry,” Joel was repeating over and over, nearing his orgasm, avoiding YN’s eyes. Always apologising when most emotionally defenceless for what he had done in the past.
“It’s okay. I forgave you, baby. It’s okay.” She tried to look into his eyes. “Look at me, please. Joel, please,” she moaned the last word.
How could he not complain after hearing her begging so sweetly?
“I love you.”
“Fuck, I love you, baby. I lo -”
The pleasure overwhelmed them, tipping them over the edge of it. Sudden warmth cuddled them up. Joel fell on top of YN, groaning softly, panting. She hugged him as hard as the remaining strength let her.
“It’s okay,” she groaned. “We’re okay, Joel.”
“I know.”
—
“You’re gonna fucking die!”
—
Teaching was her calling. She understood that in Jackson. Not nursing or shooting on patrols. Teaching. Seeing the marvel on those little faces whenever they learnt something new, exciting was one of the best views YN could’ve ever imagined. Especially when that wonder covered her favourite student’s face (yes, she had a favourite) - Mia.
“So, you’re saying that that - that many, many years ago those big lizards were walking here?”
“Dinosaurs, yes. But what is even crazier,” YN exaggerated the last word, earning immediate attention from Mia. Her big eyes, getting even larger, lightning up like stars in the night sky. “Birds are their closest descendants.”
“No way!” She screamed in shock. “So - so Bunny is like a dinosaur?”
Bunny was Mia’s favourite chicken from the farm.
“Well, from what I’ve read about it, there is something called a phylogenetic tree. And birds are actually directly connected to dinosaurs based on the archeological reports, isn’t it exciting?”
“Yeah, but - but what is ar- archeo- that a word? What is it?” Mia stumbled over her words.
“Archeology is the study of what was in the past. Archeologists are people that study it. They’re finding different things from years ago - from books to skeletons of animals and humans from thousands of years before us - and investigate. Do you understand?”
Mia with eyes ready to pop off her head from amazement replied, “yes. It’s super fun!” She laughed.
“Yes, it is! Do you want me to try and find you some books about archeology?”
“Yes, please. But -” she stopped, saddening abruptly. “I still learn how to read. Miss Woodens says I am falling behind my class.”
“It’s okay. I will help with it, yeah? We’ll read it after Wednesday’s and Friday’s classes, alright?” YN smiled at her.
Mia nodded her head happily, throwing her small arms around the older woman, hugging her tightly.
“Oh! Is it a huggin’ day?”
“Yes.”
Mia didn’t like hugging people. So after one incident when YN stupidly went in for a hug, earning a slap to her arm, they both established boundaries. Mia was the boss. In the beginning of each day she would say if it was a “huggin’ day” or not. Today was supposed to be a “high-five day” but somehow dinosaurs made Mia feel the need to hug her favourite teacher.
“I’ll see you on Monday, okay? Try to practise your reading and spelling with Miss Brown back at home. I’ll tell her what stories you like.” YN brushed Mia’s hair away from her face.
“She is not pat- patient with me. She says she has better things to do.”
The innocence and not full understatement of the situation on the little girl’s face, made YN’s skin burn with anger. How could a grown-up woman say something like this to a child that was struggling?
“Okay. Well, I’ll talk to Miss Brown and Mr Kowalski and ask them if you could spend a weekend with me and Joel. Would you like that?”
“Yes! Yes, please. I - I drawed a picture for Joel today. Can I give it to him?”
Before YN could respond, the all too familiar voice from behind her spoken, “Joel would love to see that picture.”
“Joel!” Mia screamed and got up from the floor, running towards the older man, hugging him immediately.
“A huggin’ day, huh?” Joel asked YN to which she nodded her head with a smile.
Later that day, after YN had a rather unpleasant talk with Miss Brown - the orphanage director - complaining about her attitude towards little Mia, she was reading to Mia about dinosaurs. During the talk Miss Brown disowned any claims, calling the child a liar. YN knew she was going to have a talk with Maria about doing Miss Brown out of directing the orphanage. She wasn’t suited for the role of working with children.
Mia was staying in the guest bedroom that Joel transferred to a kid’s room. Absent-mindedly, he and YN both knew the other's feelings towards little Mia. They loved her like their own. And it was a problem and a blessing all at once.
“Goodnight, sweetheart. Dream of all the dinos you want,” YN whispered to almost asleep Mia, caressing her shoulder. “See you in the morning.”
She closed the door behind her and moved downstairs to help Joel tidy up after their game night.
“Ellie went to sleep already?”
“What? No. She’s out with Dina. Apparently, her and Jesse broke up for good this time,” Joel chuckled at the end.
“You think so?”
“No. But let the kids figure it all out. Part of growing up, ain’t it?”
She just smiled at him, starting to help pick up all the counters sprawled on the floor.
“When did you trade so much for games?” Joel asked, after putting the last thing in the trunk for toys.
“Ehh, over the last few weeks. I crocheted a few pieces for kids around town and parents brought games to trade. Tried to say no but no one listened really. Didn’t know we would enjoy them so much.”
They both sat down on the couch, cuddling.
“Ellie loved Boggle.”
“I think she loved beating you up in it.”
“Yeah,” he laughed softly. “That’s it. Ain’t no love for an old man.”
“She loves you. I know she hasn’t said that but she does. You’re like a father to her.”
“I’d love to be,” Joel said shyly after a few minutes of silence.
The last three years they’d spent in Jackson he had time to think about it. He accepted the fact that he was capable of love and embraced it. He used that word regularly towards YN - letting her know he did love her with his full heart. And in the last few weeks he started accepting another thing - parenthood. He’d never forgotten Sarah, he never could. At the same time, he knew he needed to allow other people inside. Especially that girl that was gettin on his nerves for years, saved his life numerous times and kept him alive when the best way out was a bullet to the head. She was like a daughter to him.
And that little girl, Mia. The walking sunshine that she was, breaking down all the walls that Joel had built for strangers. She did that in a matter of minutes. “I like Joel. He likes YN so he is a good man.” That was enough for his lips to go down in a pout.
“I was thinking,” Joel started. “The orphanage isn’t as well kept as Maria claimed.”
“I’ll talk to her tomorrow. My heart broke when Mia said what Brown had been telling her. How insensitive of her. I thought I was going to smack her when she said ‘that’s how you bring up kids in a broken world’. My blood boiled. I don’t know why she was chosen to direct it if she’s such a horrible person.” YN shook her head in disappointment.
“What would you say about adopting Mia?”
She must have misheard.
“Come again?”
“Adoption. What do you think about it? About us adopting Mia?”
YN sat up straight, looking directly at Joel. At once, she pressed her lips to his, kissing him hard. He didn’t get a moment to respond, because YN was running to the foyer, putting on her boots in a hurry.
“What- what are you doing?” Joel got up slowly, cursing his knees.
“I need to see Maria. See what paperwork, if any, is needed to fill. If we even require to do such a thing. Maybe, maybe she has some guidance for it. Maybe I need to bribe Brown. I don’t know. I need to see Maria,” YN was spilling the words frantically, almost falling over.
“Hey, stop. Breathe, baby. It’s 11 pm. Maria is probably asleep by now,” Joel reasoned with his sister-in-law.
“I don’t care. I’ll bake her something or do something else. I need to know.”
“YN,” Joel pressed, catching her gently by the wrist. “We’ll go there first thing tomorrow, okay?”
She sighed, “do you really want to adopt Mia?”
“Yes.”
She kissed him hard, making him stumble backwards. Joel embraced her tightly, returning the kiss with passion.
“Then go to sleep. I’ll be right back.”
And just like that she was out of the door, running up the street and leaving Joel hot, bothered and speechless.
—
“Get off me! Get the fuck off me!”
—
“Can you help Ellie prepare all the things, Mia? I think she’d appreciate your help,” Joel encouraged the young girl.
“Yeah, sure. Ellie!” She screamed, already running up the stairs. “Do you want help?”
“She’s screaming all the time, I’m gonna lose hearing in my good ear, I swear to God.” He chuckled, shaking his head.
“It won’t be that bad,” YN answered her husband, chopping up the tomatoes for the salad.
It was 26th of September - Joel’s 60th birthday. Together with YN, Joel decided to host a little gathering, just for family. Tommy, Maria and their little baby boy - Mauricio - were supposed to be there any minute. It was refreshing, being able to host a party for your birthday. Joel had thought he’d never be able to do that ever again. After all it was just a day before Sarah’s death anniversary - she had died mere hours into 27th of September 2003. For years, he didn’t celebrate. A taboo day. But with time - with time spent with YN - he learnt to love the day of 26th. And then on 27th he would talk reminiscently of Sarah - never daring the possibility of losing memories of her.
So that's how he was holding a barbeque for his family. His full family.
“Did you start the grill?” YN asked.
“Yeah, it’s running for about twenty minutes. I should start soon with all the food you prepared, sweetheart.”
“Probably. Well, I didn’t do it alone.”
“Mhm.” Joel left whatever he was doing and walked closer to YN, embracing her from behind. “Mostly alone. I’m more of a disturbance than a help.” He kissed her exposed shoulder.
“That’s true. But I wasn’t thinking of you. Girls helped. Should thank them.”
“I will, but later.”
Joel was leaving small kisses all over the naked skin of YN’s shoulders and neck. YN tried to shrug him off, “Jesus, Joel. Can you keep it in your pants for a moment?”
“It’s my birthday!” He defended, pinching her waist.
“Ah!” She screeched, swatting his hands away. Unsuccessfully. “You’ve already gotten what you wanted in the morning.”
“Not enough. I could go one more round,” he whispered, being aware of the possibility of two girls eavesdropping (learning that the hard way).
“Oh, could you?” YN asked, putting down the knife and turning in Joel’s embrace, now facing him.
“Absolutely.” He pecked her lips sweetly.
“Well, keep it up for the evening.” She winked at him and moved away towards the back patio, where the party was supposed to be.
Joel shook his head in disbelief, hanging it low. He chuckled, loving the way YN knew him and still was able to shock him in some moments. That’s why he married her just two years after settling down in Jackson. He would have done that way quicker but respected her boundaries and communicated with her. He decided to do everything just right, just perfect so she would stay with him for the rest of their lives. He believed it was going to happen, and it was far in the future to end.
Their wedding was small. Mia was already theirs, Ellie had just turned 16 and YN the big 50. Their whole family started to become whole again and the cherry on top was him and YN getting married. Tommy decided to officiate the wedding, simultaneously being Joel’s best man. Ellie was YN’s maid of honour, even decided to wear a dashing suit to be ‘more elegant and fuccking put togehter’ as she said. It was beautiful. YN wore a yellow dress she made by herself and Joel traded some of his self-made wooden figurines for a three-piece brown suit. Mia was a flower girl, laughing like crazy when all the petals ended up in her hair.
Joel cried that day.
“I can’t believe you’ve agreed to marry me,” he sobbed into YN’s shoulder during their first dance.
“I can. You’re my guardian angel, my love. There’s no future without you,” she answered, rubbing comfortingly on his back.
Now it was two years later and he loved his life. Of course his demons didn’t leave him, he still had nightmares. He still had moments of over the top possessiveness and jealousy. He still couldn’t trust people easily. But it was getting better. He had a wife to discuss it with, to cry to, to love. He had family.
“YN! Did you see Joel?” He heard Ellie asking.
“He’s still in the kitchen.”
And a minute later he was greeted with awfully quiet and disturbingly shy looking Ellie and Mia.
“What’s up girls?” He asked, raising an eyebrow.
“We -” Ellie started slowly, “- we wanted to give you something. Right, Mia?”
The younger girl just nodded her head, looking down.
“Okay. Whenever you’re both ready.”
Mia took a deep breath and loudly exhaled, arched her arms before her, handling Joel white piece of paper that was folded in half.
“Happy birthday.”
“Thank you, you two.” Joel smiled. “Can I hug you?”
“After you see it?” Mia prompted. “If you still want to then, it is.”
“Why wouldn’t I want to hug two of my three favourite girls?” Joel asked rhetorically, opening the paper. “Thank you for this.”
Mia and Ellie holded their hands together, squeezing them hard. After all the both of them went through, that situation was the most stressful. Whatever was going to happen could possibly destroy everything they’d built over the last few years.
“Dear you,
You’ve successfully been alive for more than most people. Congratulations! Thank you, that for the last four (two! ~Mia) years you’ve protected us. Thank you for looking after us and making us feel safe. Thank you for being for us even though lots of times you didn’t know what to do with us. Thank you for understanding. Thank you for existing. Thank you for saving our lives. Thank you for giving us a family.
Thank you for loving us.
We love you, dad.
Your daughters, Ellie and Mia”
The smile that was on Joel’s face slowly started to disappear over the lines of the card, making the girls even more on edge. We love you. Tears gathered in his eyes, blurring his view. Dad. The lonely, salty droplet fell down his cheek and landed on the paper. Your daughters. He took a shaky breath in, sniffing. Ellie and Mia.
“I’m sorry,” Ellie spoke up. “If we overstep, we are sorry.”
“No, no, no. Please don’t. Don’t apologise.” Joel quickly silenced her, folding the paper, carefully placing it on the counter. “Can I - can I hug you both, please?”
After looking at themselves, Ellie and Mia fell into Joel’s tight embrace. With each girl on a shoulder, he held them like there was no tomorrow. The world stopped for a moment.
“I love you both, so much. My daughters.”
—
“You’re gonna fucking die!”
Everything was blurry. Everything smelled like blood and dirt. Everything was spinning. Everything hurted. Everything was dark.
“Let him go!”
Was that her? It couldn’t be. His crooked skull was playing one on him. She couldn’t have been here. There could be no way. She couldn’t have been that stupid. Please, don’t let it be her. But opening the eyes was too hard, it was too painful.
“Let him go!”
It must have been her. He would’ve recognised her voice everywhere. He heard it happy and joyful. He heard it in pain and sad. He also heard it angry and disappointed. It must have been her.
“Joel, get up.”
It was her. Why was she here? Was she hurt? He needed to help her. He needed to set things right. He needed to - he needed to show her he cared. There was nothing else he cared more for. He needed to help her.
Why was opening the eyes so hard? Why was there so much resistance to do so? You need to see her. Help her. He needed to try harder. Just a little more. The room was dark, but a strange blue light was covering her face. The cold floor was embracing his whole body, but he couldn’t feel much of it. The throbbing headache put things in his mind.
“Jole, fucking get up.”
She was desperate. And scared. Why was she scared? He couldn’t remember hearing her like that once. Not when he told her the truth about the fireflies, not when she told him about Riley. Not even when she learnt how much terror Joel went through to keep her alive. She’d never let him know when she was this scared.
Breath in.
“Please stop!”
She was crying.
She never cried in front of him.
“Please don’t do this -” she sobbed. “Joel, please get up! Nooo!”
Breath out.
Relief.
Everything stopped hurting.
It was over.
And he was glad that his mind played him the movie of everything he’d deeply dreamed of. The movie of a happy family that he’d never deserved to experience.
#joel miller x reader#joel miller x you#joel miller x y/n#joel miller tlou#joel miller fic#joel miller angst#joel miller fluff#joel miller smut#joel miller x female reader#joel miller#tlou hbo
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Festival
A/N: Inspired by the other author on Tumblr (sorry, I can't remember the name). Also, English is not my first language, so if you see any mistakes, please let me know.
summary: How new abilities and a night out can be life-changers
word count: 6k+
warnings: swearing
Their relationship had never been good, to say the least. It seemed that this silly rivalry began as soon as she set foot on Nevermore's doorstep.
Within the first fifteen minutes, she had managed to bump into Xavier while looking down the large hallway. Unfortunately, the guy was carrying paints and brushes to work on a mural in the courtyard.
"Hey, watch it, you idiot!" he snorted angrily.
"Oh God, I'm so sorry," y/n muttered as she helped pick up the scattered art supplies. One of the paint cans had a loose handle, and as y/n tried to lift it, it broke, spilling the acrylic all over the floor and the young man's trousers.
"Shit! Don't touch anything in here and get out!" he shouted, eyes wide with rage.
She looked down at her feet and hurriedly left the place. Another fifteen minutes later, y/n stood in the doorway of her own dormitory. Her roommate was a vampire named Yoko Tanaka. The dark-haired girl greeted her new student warmly and helped her unpack while telling y/n a little about the school and its inhabitants. From their conversation, y/n realised that Yoko could be described as the local gossip girl. The vampire was well aware of all the latest news at the school.
"So, are we done with your stuff? Come on, I'll introduce you to the best members of Nevermore," she said with a grin.
"Principal Weems said I should pick up my books and timetable after I get settled in," Y/N replied quietly.
"Don't worry, it's on its way. Oh look! It's just about the end of extra lessons, so everyone will be in the courtyard," Yoko said as she took y/n under her arm and led her down the corridors.
After crossing several floors and corners, the girls found themselves back in a hall with an archway leading directly to the courtyard. As they passed the janitor, Yoko's face twisted in disgust.
"God, what happened here? Did someone throw up or something?" she said, looking at the puddle of yellow paint. Y/N decided not to talk about what happened in her first hour there.
As they approached, Yoko let go of her new companion and ran towards the blonde girl. The two of them had a squeal that would have been audible all the way back in the town. Y/N stood on the sidelines, not sure where to place herself.
"Hey guys, let me introduce you to my new roommate, Y/N. Y/N, this is our little group. We usually meet here after class. You're always welcome to join us! This is Enid," she said pointing to the girl she had hugged a few minutes ago, "and this is her roommate, Wednesday."
"It's nice to see the gloom and fear on your face," the strange goth girl said coldly. The words sent shivers down y/n's arms.
"You'll get used to it," Yoko said and turned her attention back to the other students.
Y/N tried hard to remember that the guys with the bright blue eyes were sirens. Bianca, Divina and Kent. The young man with the beanie was Ajax, Enid's boyfriend. And the guy with the big eyes and the cute curls was Tyler.
"Xavier, could you please stop painting the bloody wall for a moment? I am introducing everyone to our new student!" Yoko called to the other side of the courtyard.
As soon as y/n looked in the direction the vampire had shouted, she was horrified. "God, this is so embarrassing," y/n thought. Looking straight at her shoes, she seemed ready to dig herself into the ground.
"Y/N, this is Xavier Thorpe, our resident tortured artist. Xavier, this is my new roommate y/n."
"What a lovely coincidence! We've already met. Haven't we, y/n?" he said with a grin.
Embarrassment and shame consumed y/n more and more, so she had no choice but to abruptly run off towards the faculty wing, hoping to find a teacher to help her with the principal's task.
"It's not nice to leave without a proper goodbye!" She overheard his voice.
Later, y/n thought about the fact that she was definitely not going to be friends with this guy.
Over the next couple of months, y/n had become more open to other people. The adjustment period was over and she had a sense of self-confidence. Along with y/n's progress in communication, her abilities also developed. The girl was psychic. With the power of thought she could control various small things. In the past her power had been rather chaotic, but now she could control it well.
Y/N found a common ground with Yoko's company quite quickly. It turned out that Enid and Bianca were big fashion fans. Because of this common interest, the girls began to have sleepovers where they would put on little runway shows, play with make-up or just gossip about the other students. Every trip to Jericho was a great fun for the company. The girls would go shopping for hours, while the boys would sit in the computer club. At the end of the day everyone would gather at the Weathervane for a hot drink. It was always fun and joy, right up to the point where y/n and Xavier had a forehead bump. Each of their encounters always ended in a verbal altercation. One day their argument went so far that she lost control of her powers and threw a sugar bowl at him with her mind. As luck would have it, it hit him in the arm, but he spent the next week with a bandage on his wrist anyway.
She didn't understand why his mere presence was enough to irritate her. It was enough just to be in the same room as him. The worst part was that it all contradicted the fact that he was quite attractive on the outside. Only a blind man wouldn't have noticed the features, the hair, the height. The thought that he was really handsome was even more annoying. Every time she caught herself thinking about it, she cringed and got irritated.
This morning brought something new to her besides the daily frustration. It was anger. Yes, y/n was angry because she had a dream about him that night. The dream was so vivid and alive that it seemed to be happening in real life. He looked at her with a look that was completely different from the ones that sizzled her essence every day. It was something soft and gentle. His arms held her little body tightly, giving her warmth. She, on the other hand, pressed harder against him, wrapping her arms around his neck. Her cheek was pressed against his chest. He also spoke of how beautiful she was. "Damn bastard is now chasing me in my own sleep," y/n thought to herself as she climbed out from under the covers of her bed. Without a word she grabbed a towel from the chair and headed for the shower, hoping the cold water would help her forget this nightmare.
"Good morning to you too, sweetie," she heard Yoko's voice from the room.
After a quick shower, y/n began to apply her make-up. This Friday was a shortened day, and right after class the students had to go to Jericho for the local harvest festival. Divina and Enid had been talking about the festival all week. Putting the finishing touches on her make-up, y/n pulled her hair back into a careless braid, with strands falling over her face and shoulders, and changed from her nightgown to her uniform.
"What was that earlier in the dorm?" Yoko asked on her way to class.
"Nothing, just another nightmare," Y/N replied. It was clear from her intonation that this was the end of the conversation. That's why y/n loved Yoko so much. The vampire never asked more than she had to. And when y/n said that everything was fine and nothing had happened, it meant "I don't want to talk about it now". Yoko accepted and respected her roommate's personal boundaries.
As they approached the conservatory, the girls met Wednesday and Enid. The young werewolf gave y/n a worried look, but said nothing for fear of upsetting her friend or making her angry even more. As they entered the classroom, the girls stood at Yoko and Enid's desk, discussing plans for their evening trip into town.
"I'd rather poke my eyes out with needles than go to that stupid fair," Addams said.
"Are you really trying to convince us that you don't like cotton candy and stuffed animals?" y/n said sarcastically, which made the other girls laugh.
"Well then, I'll take a portable guillotine," she replied with a short pause, "to be more effective at decapitating teddy bear heads." With that, the girl sat down at her desk and took out notebooks.
The others followed her lead and took their seats. Y/N took her usual place next to another psychic, Rowan. Rowan wasn't the kind of person who enjoyed socializing, but he was always willing to help out. They exchanged a few words during class. But they never found anything in common to talk about. Y/N's desk was located almost directly next to Mrs Thornhill's, allowing her to look out over a conservatory. Just seconds before the bell rang, Ajax and Xavier flew in. The young men were not known for their punctuality, which was always a source of frustration to the teachers. As they settled into their seats, Xavier glanced in y/n's direction. "Nice braid," popped into her head.
"Did you say something?" she turned to Rowan.
"No," he replied with a furrowed brow, "is everything all right?"
"Sorry, I must have misheard."
She'd had a bad headache the whole time she'd been in class. It had happened before when her psychic abilities had developed, but why now? Y/N was in complete control of her power, and the pain hadn't bothered her for months. Forty minutes later, the ringing in her ears was so bad that she could barely hear Ms Thornhill. There was no more strength to bear it.
"Miss Thornhill, I'm sorry," she said, raising her hand. The attention of the whole class was now focused on the girl, "Can I go to the infirmary? I don't feel well."
"Of course! Who's finished the summary and ready to hand it in?" only one student raised his hand. "Shit! You've got to be kidding me." "Amazing, Xavier. Would you be so kind as to escort miss y/l/n to the infirmary?"
With those words, Thornhill continued with the lesson. Enid and Yoko had a nervous glance at each other. They were well aware of the nature of their relationship and that leaving them alone was as dangerous as releasing piranhas into a pool full of injured people. Y/N gathered her things and headed straight for the Infirmary, not bothering to wait for her companion to arrive.
"Was the lecture so boring that you had to pretend to feel bad? I have to admit that was a clever move," he told her, "or did Rowan get to you? It's really hard to communicate with him. I share a dorm with that weirdo," he continued, "I swear he scares me sometimes."
"Would you just keep your mouth shut for a minute?" She shouted as she stopped and turned to face him. The pain in her head was so unbearable that every little noise made her whimper slightly.
"Can you not be such a pain in my butt? On a side note, I wasn't exactly an eager volunteer to come along with you. So please don't be a bitch," he said, stepping around her. "Why did you say that, you fucking moron?" his voice echoed in her head.
As y/n continued her walk to the infirmary, she felt her eyes glaze over and her body lose its balance. She tried to call out to the boy, but all that came out of her lips was a low whisper.
"Hey, have you turned into some kind of statue or what?" he said as he turned. She fell to the ground in front of him, unconscious, "What the fuck?! Y/N, do you hear me?"
Without wasting a second, Xavier took the girl in his arms in a bridal style and ran to the infirmary. Several times on the way he thought she opened her eyes and called his name, but as soon as he looked at her he saw the same pale face.
"It's OK, can you hear me? We're here now," the boy looked from her to the nurse, "Hurry, we need help, she's fainted.
Slowly, the fog in front of her eyes lifted and the headache subsided. Panting, she tried to sit down on the bed, but someone's warm hands gently stopped her, placing an extra pillow under her head and back.
"Hush, don't hurry," a soft voice said. Blinking several times, she saw Xavier sitting next to her bed.
"What happened? How long have I been here? Am I anaemic?" the guy just smiled and shook his head.
"You have talent, you know! It's not even a minute since you got up and you're already getting on my nerves," he said without any anger in his voice, "To answer your questions: you fainted and I brought you here," he bent a digit, "about 30 or 40 minutes at the most," the boy bent another digit, "and no, it's not anaemia. The nurse's opinion is that you're probably just overtired from your studies. Unless it has something to do with your abilities."
"Who else knows?" Y/N asked, ignoring his last words.
“Yoko and Bianca are here, getting recommendations for your care. I think someone's going to miss the festival tonight.”
"I'm fine," y/n said briefly. She stood up abruptly from the bed, which made her feel a bit dizzy. Xavier carefully put an arm around her waist.
"I told you not to hurry. What's wrong with you?" Y/N could see concern in his eyes.
"Since when do you give a fuck about my condition?" She replied sarcastically, shaking his hand from her back. A part of Y/N's mind made him want to grab her even harder, but Xavier obediently let go of his hand.
"These tricks of yours may work on the others, but not on me. What's going on?" There she was, another reason why Xavier Thorpe pissed her off so much: the guy didn't care what she said when it was obvious to him that something was wrong. After they had stared at each other for a few minutes, she let out a breath.
"I'm just really tired. Are you happy now?"
"No, but you're in no shape for any more mockery on my part."
"That's nice of you," the nurse entered the room and handed out the pills and the prescription.
Yoko and Bianca were in fact sitting in the waiting room at the time. When they saw their friend, they jumped up and gave her a big hug.
"Damn it, you scared the hell out of us!" they said in unison.
"It's all right, just a bit dizzy, that's all," y/n tried to convince them with a smile.
"See you at the festival," the boy said with a nod to Yoko and Bianca. He was about to leave the infirmary when he heard her speak.
"Xavier, thank you," the taste of his name on her tongue was odd. He only smiled slightly, but for some reason that damned smile sent a pleasant shiver through her body. And that feeling made Y/N angry again.
"Sinclair, I swear to God, one more outfit change and I'll pass out again," y/n said jokingly. They'd been sitting in Enid and Wednesday's room for two hours now, waiting for the blonde to pick out an outfit for the festival.
"I promise this is the last one. I just want to look good. After all, Ajax and I have a date."
"It's a waste of time either way," Addams said as she looked at her watch, "and the bus to Jericho leaves in twenty minutes. Unless you want to jog through the woods, you'd better hurry."
The carnival at the festival looked impressive. Lots of rides and food stalls. The place looked like a small amusement park with bright lights and loud music. The weather was fine, even though it was late afternoon. The company immediately split into small groups based on their interests. Enid and Ajax went on the Ferris wheel. Divina, Tyler, Kent and Yoko queued up for the hot dogs. Bianca and Wednesday went to the shooting range to see who could get the most points. Y/N felt another stab of pain in her temples, which made her head for the gazebo by the pond. Not for long did the pleasure of the silence last.
"Not looking forward to the festival?" the tall boy said, leaning against the railing of the gazebo where she was standing.
"And you're stalking me now?" she replied, still looking at the surface of the water.
"I thought about getting on your nerves on the bus, but I felt sorry for the people around us."
"Were you afraid they would see you in misery?"
"I didn't want your righteous anger to blow up the bus and hurt the others," he grinned lazily. Sometimes y/n wondered if he'd been born with that stupid grin on his face.
"What do you want, Thorpe?" she asked, rolling her eyes. As soon as she turned to face him, the girl realised how close he was standing to her.
"I think I've answered that question before," he said with a thoughtful expression.
"What do you want from me now?" she asked, moving a little closer to him.
"Oh, you don't want to know, dove," he said, leaning slightly towards her. There were literally a few inches between them. Any passerby would have thought they were a couple, about to kiss. In fact, they were burning each other with glances, testing each other's patience.
Y/N was ready to swear on the Holy Bible that 'Come on, Y/N' ran through her head with his voice. The girl rose slightly on her toes, practically sliding her nose down his cheek. The young man felt her warm breath against his ear.
"Two can play at this game, Thorpe. So back off," y/n whispered, but she didn't move. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the boy exhale heavily at her action. The sight of it sent a wave through her body. No, not anger, it was a wave of excitement and adrenaline. They'd never been this close before. The feeling that it was so wrong and yet so alluring sent her body into a dance.
"I'm afraid you're right, we can both play," Xavier whispered back to her. Then he placed his hand on her waist. Almost as he'd done earlier at the nurses' station, when he'd prevented another fall.
She didn't notice as he took another step towards her so that their bodies were now touching. Even though they were still separated by layers of clothing, the contact burned. The grip on y/n's waist tightened a little, causing her to exhale sharply. The inner voice of her mind screamed at her that this had to stop, that she should just take a step back and put an end to the stupid show. But the demons in her chest cheered sickly. The thoughts and dreams she had chased away for so long, the ones she was angry at, now filled her entire mind. The way he smelled was something she had never noticed before. The woody scent of cologne mixed with the scent of acrylic paint. Barely perceptible notes of coffee created their own symphony with the faintly detectable scent of weed. Surely he and Ajax must have smoked a joint in his dormitory before they left. Complementing this melody of scents was the fragrance of fresh shampoo. Y/N lifted her head slightly and stared at his hair. It looked so silky she wanted to run her fingers through it. To feel the softness between her digits.
Xavier, on the other hand, couldn't take his eyes off her face. Everything about y/n's features screamed tenderness, vulnerability. When he looked at her, he always remembered their first meeting, how quiet and modest she had been. But then he remembered what she was like now and realised that he had made her into that crazy beast with the glowing eyes and pouting lips. The way she always hid her smile at the sight of him, wrinkling her neat nose and squinting her eyes. He loved the way she could turn on a moment's notice. Even when she threw the damn sugar bowl at him with the force of her mind, he was amazed. It couldn't have been healthy to admire the results of his taunts at her, but he couldn't stop. And now, looking into those bottomless y/e/c eyes, he was deliberately testing the waters. "How long can you keep this up?" his mind raced.
"I could go on like this for the rest of the evening, Thorpe. The question is, do you want to continue this fun little game?" y/n said as if in response to his thoughts. There was a challenge in her eyes. And then she did something that set fire to his chest.
With one swift movement, she pulled him to her by the collar of his coat. Her lips touched the thin skin above his Adam's apple. Xavier Thorpe had never known the existence of that weak spot, as if it had been waiting to be discovered. With a hot, open-mouthed kiss, she nuzzled a spot. And following that touch, he felt a small tongue trace circles on his skin. He could have sworn he saw sparks in front of his eyes. But the pleasure didn't last long. A few moments later, y/n retreated from him with an innocent look and slowly walked back towards the festival.
As she approached the picnic table where all her friends were eating hot dogs, she couldn't help but admit that what was happening in that gazebo was making her very emotional. It was as if an electric shock had been sent through her body. But then a wave of awareness and terror washed over her. She loved it and wanted to go on. For the moment she kissed him, she could hear his every thought. He was thinking about a million things and nothing at the same time. With her little act she turned his mind upside down and she loved the fact that she had a power over him. Y/N could literally feel his demons on her tongue, the way he trembled treacherously.
"Y/N, are you all right? Your face is flushed, like you have a fever," Tyler asked, turning his attention back to the girl.
"Yeah, I guess I'm not dressed for the weather," the company didn't hear the rest of her explanation as Xavier reappeared.
"Bro, what's that on your neck?" Ajax poked at a small hickey with his finger.
"Some kind of mosquito bite or something," Xavier shrugged and blinked at y/n. He waited for her reaction.
"Careful, Thorpe, you do not get rabies. Mosquitoes are disease carriers, in case you didn't know. You have to be more precise," she replied with a grin. The girls at the table laughed. Even Wednesday couldn't resist a laugh,
"OK, where's my hot dog?!"
A week had passed since the day of the festival. And in that whole week they had never crossed paths. Even in the group, if y/n saw him with her friends, she would stealthily avoid them. In class, she never took her eyes off her textbooks. And any trips to Jericho were carefully discouraged. The reason y/n avoided Xavier was because of his thoughts. She could hear him at night. The sound of her name on his lips. She saw what he saw in his dreams. His imagination pictured the two of them in that gazebo. How he held her against him, kissing her roughly, how she moaned against his lips and he couldn't hold back a growl in response. How the sweet kiss broke, both of them breathing hard. How her fingers ruffled the hair at the back of his neck.
As for Xavier, he was obsessed with the thought of her. The girl who used to cause irritation in his chest just by looking at him now made his heart beat wildly. He sought her gaze in the crowd, tried to meet her in their group and in classes, but she stubbornly avoided him. And that pissed him off twice as much. How could she do such a thing and then disappear? What an evil, heartless bitch she had to be to get someone hooked on a needle. Only instead of the drug, it was her. Her smell, her eyes, her slightly clumsy and hurried pace. How could someone become addicted overnight? The obsessive thoughts of the girl never left him, even at night. This made Xavier spend more hours in his shed. It was only when he poured his visions and thoughts onto canvas that he felt better. Looking at the number of her portraits, it was safe to say that he was obsessed. And it infuriated him with renewed vigour.
"So today I am going to hand out the promised group assignments that you have to complete by the end of this weekend! And I recommend that you do your work with the utmost responsibility, because your final grade for the semester will depend on it. You can find your partner and the topic of the assignment in the lists at the exit of the conservatory! Thank you all, our lesson is over," Thornhill concluded as she dismissed the students for a well-earned rest.
As she approached the lists, y/n spotted Divina and Kent cheering. Brother and sister were remarkably well-bonded. Divina was the brain behind their duo, Kent the performer. Just ahead of them, Ajax and Tyler were discussing their task. Enid was paired with Rowan.
"Shit," the girl said in a frustrated voice. She'd hoped her desk mate would be her partner on this project. As she scanned the list below, y/n finally found her name. Next to her last name was Xavier's. "Hell, no. No! No! No!" she thought.
"Who did you get?" asked Yoko.
"Thorpe... Fucking bloody Thorpe!"
"I would ask you not to use language, we still have a project to work on together," the young man seemed to appear out of nowhere just behind the girls. After he had appeared, the vampire whispered something to her friend and turned back to her partner.
Completely ignoring his joke, y/n shoved a sheet of paper with the topic of the assignment into his chest and hurriedly tried to leave the classroom. She was about to disappear into the crowd when he grabbed her wrist.
"Not so fast, dove. There's something I'd like to discuss." That's the nasty grin on his face. "Go ahead, y/n, get angry. Spit venom at him. All week you've been hiding from him so well, and now fate is challenging you. Pull yourself together, you wimp," she thought, looking at him.
"Let's divide the subject into two parts. I'll do the theory, you do the practice," she muttered, her eyes fixed on the buttons of his shirt. She'd never realised how tall Xavier really was. She could barely reach the notch in his collarbone with her nose.
"Great, let's exchange the first notes tomorrow. I'll meet you near the fountain after lunch," he said casually. It was just another little way for him to make her nervous. And he took undisguised pleasure in it.
As agreed, y/n sat down on the grass by the fountain in the courtyard after lunch on Saturday. Around her were various encyclopaedias and notebooks. As well as taking notes, she made small sketches and occasionally cut and pasted something into her workbook. Xavier watched from the sidelines for about 30 minutes. He was fascinated by the enthusiasm with which she threw herself into the process. Especially when it came to projects like this. As he approached the girl, he pulled his sketchbook out of his bag.
"You're half an hour late," she said sternly, without a greeting, "I'm not going to do all the work for you."
"I'm sorry, I didn't hear a proper greeting," he said as he sat down on the grass.
"Look, Thorpe," she looked at him with a piercing stare, "I'm not here to continue these stupid games. I need an A in this class. And if you're not interested in good grades, get the hell out of here. I can do this on my own. But if you decide to get down to business, please stop playing around.
After this angry tirade from the girl, they never exchanged another word, except about the project. Xavier decided to get creative with his presentation.
"What if, during the story, I put our sketches to life by visually describing the plant's processes?"
"Not a bad idea, we should definitely try it," y/n replied with a slight smile, without taking her eyes off her notes.
After a few hours of painstaking work, the pair had completed the main part of the assignment. There were still a few sketches to be made. Xavier took over. Picking up her things from the grass, the girl looked at her watch and realised they had missed dinner.
"Crap, we missed dinner."
"I had some apple pie leftovers from Ajax's mother in my shed. There was supposed to be some soda too."
"You don't think I'd agree to spend an evening in your company after a peaceful day?" she asked with a raised eyebrow. Her notebooks were falling out of her hands and her bag was overloading one shoulder.
"I think you can shove your pride up your ass when you're offered help with something as simple as dinner," he replied, parodying her. Without waiting for an answer, he took her heavy bag and some of her notebooks and headed for the woods. She had no choice but to follow.
During the time they'd spent together, she hadn't heard a single thought from him, but as soon as she crossed the threshold of his shed, his voice echoed in her head, "And why am I doing this?"
"You know you don't have to do this, right?" she said quietly, shifting from foot to foot.
"Can I answer a question with a question?" something in his gaze made her tense. She nodded, "How long have you been able to look into someone's mind and read their thoughts?"
"I don't... How did you..." y/n paused, "What makes you think I can?"
"I got my first inkling in the gazebo when you answered the question I had in my mind. And then I felt your presence in my head. It was as if my skull had been opened and my brain looked at".
"I don't... I can't control it. This power only awakened in me a few days ago. When I get into someone's mind, believe me, it's completely by accident."
"Well, I hope you get over it quickly," he said with a shrug, getting the rest of the pie and soda from the mini-fridge.
After they had eaten and satisfied their hunger, there was an uncomfortable silence in the room. It was strange and unfamiliar. Just sitting in the same room without exchanging barbs.
"May I ask now?" y/n asked quietly, looking up at the young man who was now making small sketches on the canvas. He was probably working on their project.
"Go ahead," he said, without taking his eyes off the canvas.
"Why did you start that provocation at the festival?" her voice trembled at the question, making the boy look at her.
She was curled up on a small old couch, hugging her own knees. Her eyes were fixed on the void. Xavier seemed to see the real her at that moment. So vulnerable and desperate. He quietly put the brush aside, rose from his seat and quietly walked over to her, crouching down in front of the girl. She was still staring off into space somewhere, nervously waiting for his answer. Xavier gently took her hands in his, stroking the backs of her palms with his thumbs.
"Y/N, look at me," she just closed her eyes and shook her head, "It wasn't a provocation. I felt your presence that day, and not just when you were physically there. I felt your thoughts, your mood. And when it left me seconds later, I couldn't resist the temptation to repeat the sensation. Besides, it seemed the only way to get your attention."
"Attention? It sometimes frightens me to realise that all my attention is on you, Thorpe," the boy just shook his head and smiled slightly.
"To tell you the truth, I've liked you from day one. When you bumped into me in the hallway, I didn't swear because you were what I called you. The whole day was going lousy and you just came under the hot hand. So I owe you an apology for my bad behaviour.
"I forgive you."
"Well, it was hard to stop after that. I decided that the only right way to talk to you was to fight and torment you all the time," she looked at him carefully now, "I'm just saying, if I had the chance to change the course of events, I would."
"What would you do?" she asked hopefully. Only now did he notice her intense gaze. He slowly stood and held out his hand to her." I would apologise for my rudeness, as a gentleman should," he took a small step towards her, "then I would introduce myself," another small step, "and ask your name. After a while we would become more acquainted and I would ask you on a date where we would feel comfortable and hold hands. "
"Like now?" she intertwined their fingers in a lock.
"Yes. At the end of the night, I'd walk you to the door of your dorm, thank you for a wonderful time, and..." he let go of her hands, placing one palm on her waist and the other in her hair. Y/N's palms moved slowly to his neck. They could feel each other breathing and their hearts beating in a frantic rhythm. Xavier could only hear his own blood pounding in his ears.
"Xavier?" both of them froze, undecided about taking a step. The last step that would be a chasm from the feelings that had been buried so long and so cruelly. She looked at him, hesitant to burn the damn bridge, looking for support in his thoughts, but it was silent, "What are you thinking about?"
"I just don't want to ruin it," he admitted, closing his eyes. And at that moment, the walls of his impregnable fortress collapsed. She saw the real Xavier Thorpe. The exhausted artist with so much darkness in his head and heart. She felt sharply all his wounds, all the pain his father had caused him, his unshared feelings. His fear ran through her.
"Kiss me," she whispered.
"What?" he asked, blinking several times. He was dreaming. Like he was about to wake up.
"Now, Thorpe."
The sweetness of his lips washed over her in a wave of relief. The puzzle fell into place as she responded to his kiss and pulled the young man closer to her. All this time it hadn't been hate and anger. All these months she'd been falling in love with him, more and more every day. And she simply didn't understand what that feeling was. Only now, in this man's arms, did she feel light and calm. And the constant ringing in her head was gone. After a while they had to stop kissing because they ran out of air. But they didn't break contact for a second, touching their foreheads. The pleasant silence was broken when a gorgon suddenly entered.
"Is there any more of Mother's pie?" he asked, scratching his neck.
"Ajax! I told you not to interfere!" hissed Enid.
Looking out of the window, the couple noticed their friends who had been so shamelessly spying on them. Their momentary attempt to hide outside the window just made the young couple inside the studio laugh. Without further ado, he pulled the girl back to him and said the same three words in his head, just so she could hear them.
#xavier thorpe#xavier thorpe x reader#xavier x you#xavier thorpe x y/n#xavier thorpe smut#percy#percy hynes white#percy hynes white x reader#percy hynes white x y/n#wednesday#wednesday addams#wednesday smut
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Original Short Story: The Prophet P.1
This is a project that I have started with my partner, @redmonarch217. It's the first short story of many, many more to come. This is only the first half of a surprisingly long short story, the rest of it will be posted on my Patreon when it is finished!
Word Count: 9,482
Warnings: Body Horror, Drama, Suspense, Post Apocalyptic
Children shouldn't concern themselves with adult affairs. They might find themselves in the midst of things they do not understand and growing up far, far too fast...
● I ●
Five children strained their ears and their eyes as they tried to catch glimpses of the group of strangers that had gathered in the old, worn-down barn that resided on the edge of the Stillwater’s property. Trevor had eagerly told his friends earlier that day that the men would be meeting for the next several days after dark, something that was typical of them and something they did for the two weeks out of every month that they visited the children’s small hometown up in the mountains. The men provided the town with needed services that only they could provide, though they usually did so quietly. Not in secrecy but in silence, which was the typical motto of the alchemists.
“Psst! Move over! I can’t see what’s happening!” Amber was elbowed in the ribs by another girl, Ember. It was a coincidence that their names were so similar and one of the reasons why they ended up bonding, though the similarities between the girls mostly ended there. In spite of their differences, they were still friends, though Amber didn’t know why Ember thought that her view was any better.
“Shh! They’re gonna hear us!” Trevor shushed them both as he stood on the tips of his toes. Amber didn’t know why he was struggling so much to see the men, given that the moldy pile of hay that was obscuring most of your vision was almost completely to Trevor’s right. The only time she could see the alchemists were when one of them stepped to her left, and the men seemed to be walking around rather aimlessly as they spoke to one another.
“-seen the- the mountain? Why aren’t they traveling up? What’s stopping them?”
“-it as though they fear it. Perhaps it is as the anomaly has postured: these things aren’t of our world. How else could what Bourgh had describe possibly exist?”
The alchemists’ words were difficult to make out and even more difficult to understand. What was at the bottom of the mountains? It was as exciting as it was terrifying. These men were strange but they were well intentioned, even the children knew this to be true. Every alchemist that ever came to their small town has only helped, even when the other adults didn’t have much to offer as payment. ‘A dry place to sleep and some food is more than enough payment’ is what they would usually say. The children found it uncomfortable whenever an alchemist stayed in their home but truth be told: they rarely notice any of their presences, even when they are made known.
“We don’t know if what he saw was even real. For all we know it could be some new flora or fauna that merely distorts the senses and that-”
“I am standing right here! Stop speaking as though I’m some unaware mimic!” An angry alchemist walks to the left of Amber’s vision. His long jacket swishes and slightly tips the pile of molded hay over, giving all the children a much, much better view of the seven men that either stood around motionless or leaned against nearby walls or structural supports.
“But… you can’t disagree with the fact that what you described was-”
“I know what I saw! It was-!” Several of the men started to talk over one another. What were they referring to? It made the children anxious. Amber began to worry her lower lip, one of her many bad habits. She picked at one of the rotted boards, barely noticing how a large splinter was broken off by her fingers clumsily picking at the slivers of wet wood next to her face.
Amber leaned in more, straining her ears and her eyes against the small opening she could peer through. Ember and Trevor were crowding her body, pushing her flush against the side of the barn to the point that the boards creaked and groaned underneath their combined weight.
“S-Stop! Seriously!” Amber’s voice came out far louder than she intended. It was an audible squeak that had the alchemists shushing each other and one sternly calling out in their direction.
“Hey! Do you have any idea of the time?! We wouldn’t want to get the Stillwaters involved, would we, Trevor?!”
The children scattered upon hearing that booming voice. There was anger but unbeknownst to them, the alchemist was more annoyed than angered. This wouldn’t be the first time that they had uninvited guests listening in on their conversations, though children aren’t as bad as other things in the world. The men scoff as one child lingers, far longer than he had any right to. As he was about to turn away from the barn, something in the shadows caught his eye. For a moment, it looked as though there was a single piercing, glowing eye staring at him, the dim light from within the building reflecting off of it intensely. The boy blinked but the light in the darkness was gone, and he was running after his friends as one of the alchemists loudly cleared his throat.
● II ●
Amber was relieved that the alchemist that stayed in her home didn’t reveal her late night adventures to her parents. She was on her best behavior in the days following that night. All of her friends were, too. It still didn’t dissuade their interests in the enigmatic strangers and it only led them to plot yet another eavesdropping session for the next night the men met with one another on Trevor’s property once again.
“What do you think they were talking about?”
“Who?”
“The alchemists! They say there was something… where was it? At the-?”
“Foot of the mountains?”
“Yeah! There! What do you think it is?”
Jamie shrugged at Nicolas’s questioning. It could be anything… or nothing at all. His father didn’t put much trust in the alchemists and that distrust rubbed off on him. Nick was always one that wondered what was happening outside of their small town while the other children, and even most adults, didn’t pay it much mind. Or they tried to, at least.
“That guy sounded freaked out…” Nicolas continued. Amber listened to him, taking a peek at him from behind her bangs but rolled her eyes and looked away when she thought he caught her eye.
“Who cares what it was. It’s not coming up here, right?” There was a brief pause and a moment of disquiet spread amongst them.
“W-Wha-? C’mon! It’s not coming up here! Whatever it is, that one guy said it can’t come up the mountain!” Trevor made a face.
“Yeah…? I guess so… It freaked the alchemists out so it’s kind of scary…” Ember snorted at Trevor.
“What? You scared?” Amber and Jamie snickered as Trevor bristled.
“H-Huh?! No! As if! I bet those alchemist guys would get all worked up over krill!” The children giggle as they imagine those stuffy, matter-of-fact alchemists examining a krill’s nest from afar, poking at it with a stick and running away when the annoyed crustacean-like oddities come flying in every which direction. Something similar has happened already, at least to a degree when an alchemist warned them away from a ground-dwelling krill that they had never seen before. He was so on edge that the children all thought he would begin to yell at them. They couldn’t understand why, though, as krill weren’t ever known to be dangerous, at least none that they all knew of.
“Yeah, I guess you have a point there. But still…” Trevor was still unconvinced.
He nervously picked at his fingernails and fidgeted in place, much like the girls did as they began to genuinely wonder about what could scare an adult so badly. Ember was nervous, too, as she began to chew at her lower lip while deep in thought. Nicolas’s brows were furrowed and he frowned deeply. Amber noticed this shift almost instantly, finding herself wondering aloud what was wrong before she could stop herself.
“Nick? You okay?” He looked over to her, brows still furrowed as he shrugged.
“Y-Yeah? Yeah, I guess… It’s just-” He tapped his foot on the ground, disturbing some of the fine dirt that covered the concrete floor underneath. The sound of crunching and scraping reverberated off the bare walls of his parents’ garage. Nicolas was struggling to find the courage to continue, repeatedly opening and shutting his mouth until Jamie shoved his shoulder and scoffed.
“Out with it! What?!” Nicolas made a face but swallowed thickly and swatted him away as he began to explain himself.
“Alright-! Jeez-! So… you know how I was the last one to leave the other night?” The others nod and mutter affirmatives.
“Yeah?” Amber put her book down and was eagerly attentive, more so than the others were.
“Well… I think that… there was something else in the barn with the alchemists.”
The children looked at Nicolas with a mix of confusion and amusement. Ember and Jamie both snickered a little, while Trevor looked a little nervous, given that the barn was visible from his room, and Amber was more confused than anything else.
“Um… what do you mean ‘there was something else’ there? Like… another person? Or… an animal?” Amber tried to offer some reasonable explanations. It wouldn’t be impossible for either to be the case… Though why would there be a non-alchemist there or even an animal, as none resided in the barn as far as she was aware, would be present. She hasn’t ever seen alchemists with animals… not that they have never been around or even brought some to their town, that is. It’s happened at least a few times… or at least that’s what Amber thought. Nicolas slowly shook his head and his frown deepened slightly.
“I… maybe it was an animal? It just… It didn’t seem like one. I-I don’t know…” He rubbed the back of his neck with his hand and Trevor swallowed thickly.
“W-What-? Like- Did it growl at you or something?!” Trevor was sweating a little. Jamie was too, even though he did live nearly as close to that barn as Trevor did.
“I-I don’t know if I like the idea of some kind of alchemist experiment being in town! What if it’s crazy?! Or if it’s some kind of monster that’s gonna eat us all?!” Trevor looked horrified at the prospect. Ember laughed nervously and so did Amber, even though she didn’t think it was funny in the slightest.
“What?! No! C’mon, why would the alchemists bring something dangerous into town? Right, Nick? It’s… It was just a normal animal, right? …Nick?” His jaw was set and a strange look was on his face. None of the other children could accurately place what emotion he was feeling, as it was completely foreign to them all. His eyes were wide and his lips were drawn into a thin line. His face was a little pale, almost green as a noticeable sheen of sweat began to collect on his browline.
“It… was looking at me.” For a moment, it was as though Nicolas was in another world. He didn’t look at any of them, he wasn’t looking anywhere in particular, either, with his eye unfocused and his foot tapping in a nervous beat.
“...It was kind of big. Really big. I couldn’t see it, it was in the back most part of the barn and it was really dark, but…” Trevor cut Nicolas off.
“Wait, wait w-wait-! How big was it?! What was it!? Nick?!” He could only shrug, looking as sick as Trevor did.
“I-I don’t know! It was dark! I-I just saw the light being reflected off its eye!” Ember made a face.
“‘Eye’? Like… one? How big are we talking?” Amber looked between her and Nicolas, who seemed momentarily lost in thought, raising his hands as he tried to guess the size as he gestured.
“Like… this.” Nicolas brought his hands together, cupping them together in a size that was far too large for the biggest of creatures that any of the children had either seen or even heard of, nearly double that of a normal human eye, maybe even larger. It was difficult to tell, as Nicolas wasn’t very confident in relaying that size to his friends and seemed to second guess himself.
“Wha-? No- What? Are you being serious? Are you messing with us, Nick?” Ember is incredulous, scoffing again as she turns to her other friends. Her confidence waned as she saw how uncomfortable they all looked, Trevor and Jamie especially. Nicolas slowly shook his head, still not quite catching her gaze as she addressed him.
“Nick?” He scratched the back of his head and looked over at Amber. He gave her a halfhearted smile.
“Yeah? I- uh- I don’t know what I saw… Maybe it wasn’t even an animal… I don’t really get those alchemist guys…” He chuckled but it was sort of empty, like he was trying to convince himself of what he was saying. A few of the others laughed too, everyone except for Trevor.
“I… Are you sure? Because… I don’t want some freaky monster living in our barn!” He was on edge and began to chew at his fingernails. Amber reached over and placed her hand on his shoulder.
“Hey- It’s probably okay, Trevor-”
“Y-Yeah?! Well… what if it’s not?! What if those alchemists brought something dangerous into town without telling anyone?!” Trevor was nearly hyperventilating. His voice was trembling and his entire body was shaking with enough intensity to make his teeth rattle. Nick’s frown went from distant to much more present and deep. He walked over to Trevor and put his hand on his other shoulder.
“I-I really could have been mistaken! It was dark! I was spooked by that board breaking! And they yelled at me after you guys ran off, so- so maybe that made my mind play tricks on me.” Nicolas laughed nervously. His write off of his entire story didn’t help put Trevor at ease.
“I-I… think I’m going to tell my parents.” Everyone bristled upon hearing this.
“Uh- We’re all going to get into trouble for being out so late!”
“And for eavesdropping!”
“Trevor-! Just chill out, dude! It’s probably fine!” Trevor shook his head, looking genuinely spooked. Everyone was looking at Nicolas, including Amber, who pleaded at him with her large eyes.
“I-I- Oh! H-How’s about we go check it out later tonight?! You’ll see there’s no monster and-”
“What?! No! I-I’m not going out there! W-What if-?!” Trevor was stuttering and unable to speak properly. Jamie and Ember shared a glance, both making the same face. Nicolas was looking in between them all, his shoulders sagging as he realized that he’s likely the only one that will be offering himself up for this late night mission of his. Well… it was his idea… He thought that was fair, but he didn’t notice that Amber was fidgeting in place before she blurted out-
“I’ll go, then!” Amber raised her hand before the question really had a chance to drop. Her heart skipped a beat as she looked around, realizing that no one else was willing to come along. Nicolas looked surprised that she offered to come with him, eyebrows raised and mouth slightly agape. He quickly closed it and tried to shrug it off but Amber had already noticed it and he nodded to her.
“I mean… only if you want to…” He mumbled it under his breath. It wasn’t like the two of them hadn’t done things like this in the past, but it still made his palms sweat a little at the thought of being alone with her…
“Y-Yeah! I mean- Yeah… if no one else is man enough to go!” Amber glared at Trevor and Jamie, who both made a face at her and crossed their arms.
“I’d rather not get eaten by a creepy barn monster, thank you.”
“Y-Yeah! If you guys die, I’ll always remember your brave sacrifice!” Ember pushed Trevor by his shoulder.
“Dude! There is no monster in your barn!”
“Yeah? So why are you going with them, too?!” Ember bristled.
“I-I have chores to do when I get home tonight! Y-You know-! Screw you, Jamie!” Ember huffed and stomped out of Nicolas’s garage with a huff. Amber looked at Jamie and frowned, while Nicolas just looked a little bewildered and Trevor looked vindicated.
“I’m with Ember and Jamie. You guys are nuts for going out there at night after what Nick saw.” Nicolas sighed and Amber shrugged, trying to look indifferent even though she was becoming anxious at the mere thought of being out there in the middle of the night. Alone… with Nick…
Jamie and Trevor both left for their homes, not far behind Ember. Amber and Nicolas were left alone together, a slightly awkward silence falling in between the two of them.
“When… are we going to do it?”
“Huh?” Amber blinked and turned to face Nicolas. He was rubbing the back of his neck again and shifting one of his feet around the gritty floor.
“Uh- Just so you know, you don’t have to come with me. I-I don’t-”
“What? No! No, no, really, I don’t mind doing this! I wouldn't have offered if I wasn’t curious about what you saw.” Nicolas’s shoulders relaxed a little but he still seemed a little sheepish. He couldn’t quite meet Amber’s eyes but she didn’t bring any attention to it.
“Oh-? Okay, okay! …so, maybe around nine or ten or something?” Amber nodded.
“Yeah! Yeah that sounds good. Um, I’ll have to go give my dad his dinner at the library at nine, though.” Nicolas perked up a little.
“I can come with you! Y-You know, I could-”
“-sneak out?” Amber was smiling a little in spite of her best effort not to. Nicolas’s eagerness to spend time with her wasn’t overlooked but she still couldn’t stop herself from feeling butterflies in her stomach. She tried to drop her smile but now she had an awkward, tight lipped expression on her face that Nicolas mimicked.
“I’d… like that. I don’t think we have to worry about my dad much. You know how he is at night.” Nicolas nodded. Amber’s father was a little weird but not in a bad way, at least not in his opinion.
“Yeah, we’ll play it cool.” Amber rolled her eyes.
“Yeah. ‘Cool’. That’s exactly what cool people say.”
“Shut up! Sheesh-!”
They both agreed to meet up in between their houses, which were only a block away from each other. The library was on the other side of town, and Trevor’s house on the outskirts opposite of where Amber’s father was working. Nicolas’s curfew was at around nine, so he pretended to go to bed early and snuck out of his home and met his friend down the road in between where they both lived.
“Have any trouble?” Nicolas shook his head.
“No, dad’s been out of town for a while and mom always goes to bed early lately.” It’s possible that he could get into trouble if anyone saw him out with Amber but most of the time he and his friends get a stern look and a head shake when they are out past their curfews. Anyway, if he just says he wanted to walk Amber into town, it would likely be forgiven, even by his mother who would be very displeased to learn that he was still sneaking out late at night.
“Alright. If anyone busts you, though, I told you it was a bad idea.” Nicolas waved her off.
“Yeah, yeah. Don’t worry! Who’s gonna get mad at a boy walking a girl into town late at night?” Amber shrugged.
“Dunno. Adults are weird.” That was something they both could agree on.
It was always dark and humid outside, cool even during the current summer. It was dark enough that they both walked with flashlights, in the center of the cracked, roughly paved road without a care of being hit by a car, as none drove around in the mountains anymore, or anywhere else for that matter. The sky was permanently overcasted to the point it was nearly impossible to discern the time without a watch of some kind, and Amber always wondered if they even had the time right anymore.
The trees appeared to be waterlogged, always dripping with water even when it hasn’t rained for some time. The leaves of the trees, even the pines that were supposed to keep their needles year round, were all brown-grey and sagging as though dead. A thick blanket of leaves covered the ground nearly ankle deep to the children, even on parts of the road. It made the need for long pants and thick shoes a necessity for anyone that walked around in the mountains. Otherwise their shoes and shins would be soaked in water and would likely ruin the footwear entirely. Amber and Nicolas made a game of carving a path through the thicker parts of the ground by dragging their feet, seeing who could make the most impressive lines that would last the longest.
Entering the town they lived in, the streets were illuminated, though dully. There was more than enough light so the streets could be walked safely, though it flickered, waxed and waned as though the light was emulating a heart beat. It was, in a way. It brought Amber a little bit of comfort, a little bit of pride, too, as it was all thanks to her father this time at night. There weren't many people out at this time nor were there many places with the lights on. There never was, even in the typical daylight hours. A few places, like an old pizza shop that had been turned into a bar, still had some faint candle light reflecting in the windows but Amber and Nicolas didn’t bother to peek and see who was in there. They could guess Jamie’s dad was, along with some of the alchemists and older men that always seemed a little drunk no matter the time of day.
“Do you think your dad is okay? The lights are flickering a lot tonight…” Amber shrugged and tried to shake off a leaf that had been stuck to her shoe since she began walking.
“Yeah? I mean I guess so. He’s probably distracted again. You know how he is, especially when he’s working at the library.”
“It seems like a lot of work… How can he take care of everything?”
“Well… it’s not like he has to make a conscious effort to keep the lights on. …not that it’s not hard or anything.” Amber didn’t think that her father didn’t put in a lot of work and she didn’t like it when others thought that of him. Nicolas never did, though Trevor and Jamie sometimes tried to insinuate that, much to Amber’s annoyance.
“Yeah, I get it. I just wonder how it feels…”
“Like, to do it?”
“Yeah.”
“Honestly I have no idea. He doesn’t talk about it much for whatever reason. I don’t think he even knows.”
Amber and Nicolas both had pulled their hoods up as they continued to walk. The breeze was wet and chilly, as it always was. They could hear the clicking and chittering of krill somewhere in an empty building on main street. The noises the crustaceans made were loud and echoed inside of the vacant building. Most of the buildings were empty in their town. There weren't many people that lived there and there weren't enough resources to do anything with them other than gut them for anything of value and feed it into places that were in constant use, like homes and the library and bar and the old clinic that Amber and Nicolas were just passing by.
“By the way… What are you even bringing him?” Nicolas nodded towards the stain-soaked newspaper that Amber was holding under one of her arms. She slips it into one of her hands, making a face as she raises her arm into the air and grimaces at the greasy spot that was left behind that was dangerously close to her armpit.
“Ugh-! It’s just some krill my mom bought off of Mr. Anders the other day… It keeps leaking all over the place and it kind of smells, though… I don’t know why she insists we eat this crap.” Amber made a face of disgust as she offered the meat to her friend. He returned the face and held his hands up in a ‘no, thank you’ gesture. He could smell it ever since he met up with her just outside of town and it only seemed to smell worse the longer they walked together. Nicolas could imagine a shrimpy looking krill that’s all bent out of shape with its feathers falling out and leaking all kinds of gross liquids crushed into the folded newspaper that his friend carried. He shuddered slightly and shook his head.
“Well… We’re almost at the library, so hopefully your dad will just toss it like he always does.” Amber laughs a little at this.
“Yeah… He really hates krill…”
“He likes books, though.” She makes a face.
“Ugh, he likes the paper, Nick. He at least doesn’t try to eat the covers…”
“That you know of-” Amber rolls her eyes.
“Yeah, that I know of.”
Both children felt a wave of anxiety wash over them as they finally began to approach the library. The building was one of the most nicely lit in the entire town, so much so that it nearly looked out of place. The outside of the two story building was by far the most modified of any, including the clinic. A lot of large, metal objects and an uncountable number of wires seemed to stick out every which way from every floor, including the roof. Neither Amber nor Nicolas really understand exactly how this helps the town produce power but they mostly just shrug it off, since there wasn’t much of a point wondering about it at their age.
“Do… you think that he won’t ask any questions?” Nicolas shuffled to a halt behind Amber, who stopped only a few steps ahead of him. She turned to face him, sucking on her teeth.
“Well… why would he? I bring him food all the time and he usually doesn’t acknowledge me much because of how busy he is.” There was a hit of bitter hurt in her voice as she spoke. Nicolas felt a little guilty for asking, but it wasn’t like he was trying to hurt her feelings.
“Y-Yeah… I- Uh-” Amber shook her head.
“Let's just drop it off and go. The less we hang around the better.”
Amber and Nicolas entered the library, fully intending to briefly call out to Amber’s father and drop the food off when he inevitably gave them some basic, distracted response as he always did. They expected to see the main floor of the library empty or to simply see her father hunched over one of the old, metal folding tables with either a stack of newspapers beside him or a few books he didn’t like that had most of the pages missing out of them. Amber and Nicolas did not expect to see her short, lanky father leaning against one of the bookshelves that was nearly two feet taller than he was with his arms crossed and an uncharacteristically stern, attentive look on his face as though he had been waiting for them to arrive this entire time.
“U-Uh… D-Dad-?”
“What did you think you’re doing?” Amber’s father’s face was stiff, a deep frown tugging at the corners of his wrinkled mouth and his bushy brows bunched up nearly to his thinning hairline. His daughter made a face, taken aback and confused. Her and Nicolas’s minds were running wild as they began to wonder if- or how- he could possibly know what they had planned for that night.
“I- W-What? D-Dad, I’m just bringing you dinner! Nick came along because it was dark a-and he was already going into town anyway-” It was a bold lie on her part, and it only deepened her father’s frown. The children were genuinely stunned that the usually absentminded man seemed to instantly acknowledge the fact that they were up to no good. He unfolded one of his arms from his chest, the light blue glow from just underneath his partially unbuttoned shirt casting his face in an unattractive blue light. He beckoned his daughter over, and she couldn’t resist the urge to look at her friend, speechless as she took a few hesitant steps forward towards her father.
“Amber. Don’t. I already know what you and your friends have done the other night. You’re going to stay here with me and Nicolas is going home.” Amber laughed nervously, turning to face Nicolas as she silently begged him to say something, do something, anything to prove him wrong.
“I-I don’t-! D-Dad! We didn’t do anything-!”
“Y-Yeah,look-! I promise you, we didn’t-!”
Amber’s father sighed heavily and allowed his other arm to drop to his sides. It was slightly awkward for him to move, thanks to the wires that ran from his chest and to the town’s power supply that was connected to the ceiling. The metal cables squeaked as he walked towards his daughter, offering a hand out so she could hand him the small wad of newspapers she was carrying in one of her hands.
“Kids, please. I already know. I was already told all about your little adventure the other night.” He walked over to a partially opened window and briefly peered outside before he shoved his hand out, giving him the opportunity to shake the newspaper free of its contents. Amber’s father made a noise of disgust as he looked at the bloody stain left on the paper as he pulled it back inside of the window. He crumpled it up into his fist and pocketed the paper into his jeans. Amber felt defensive at the notion that one of her friends would tell on each other. They would get in trouble too! Did they think they would get less in trouble if they were honest? Nicolas was nervously clicking his flashlight on and off repeatedly.
“W-Wha-? Dad! Hey, that was your dinner! What are you-?!”
“I already have dinner, Amber. And so do you. You, Nicolas, need to head on home before your mother realizes you're gone.” Amber and Nicolas both watch her father walk over to one of the nearby folding tables, blinking in confusion as he places his hand on top of a slightly opaque jug that was filled with a reddish-black liquid.
“Uh, what is that?” Amber’s father sat down with a grunt, right next to the jug. He wiped the sweat off his brow and beckoned his daughter over once again with a wave of his hand.
“A gift from the men you and your friends were so damn rude to the other night by eavesdropping on things that aren’t your concern. Now come here and you go home, Nicolas. Straight home, and I mean that.” He shifted the container so that its contents sloshed around noisily. The liquid was thick, clinging to the jug’s inside and running down it in long, wide stripes that eventually became opaque, leaving behind a red stain in its wake. Amber and Nicolas wince at his tone, knowing full well that they had done something wrong but the sting of acknowledgement from an adult, especially one so close to them, made the children’s stomach twist up with shame.
“D-Dad, I-I’m… We’re-” Amber’s voice trembled slightly but to her and Nicolas’s surprise, her father’s face softened and he reached out and offered to take her hand, which she accepted without hesitation.
“I know, baby. I know… But you did do something wrong and you shouldn’t forget that. You shouldn’t either, Nicolas. You and all of your friends meddled in affairs that aren’t your own. Not yet, anyway.” Amber nearly released her father’s hand in surprise. Nicolas was in shock, too. He opened his mouth to question but his eyes flicked over to his, and Nicolas lost his voice before he could even speak.
“Oh, and while you’re walking home, Nicolas, make sure to keep it down. The last thing we need is even more disruption now, of all times.”
Nicolas looked between Amber and her father, furrowing his brows at the final thing that he said. What did he mean ‘now, of all times’? Why did the alchemists tell on them?! They even said they wouldn’t as long as they left! His ears burned as he ducked his head and turned around to leave his friend. Amber didn’t really look at him, either, still feeling the burn from her father’s scolding. Nicolas was feeling it too, though he was also feeling a nagging in the back of his mind as he walked back through town.
Why didn’t Amber’s father want them to go back to Trevor’s house?
Of course he was annoyed that they snuck out and eavesdropped on the alchemists, but why did they tell him this, of all people? Why didn’t they tell the rest of their parents, like his mom, so they wouldn’t be able to sneak out again in the first place? Why would they let them sneak out again, only to stop them at their last stop before going back to the barn? Were they hiding something in there after all…?
What did he see in the barn that night?
Leaving the safe glow of the town set Nicolas on edge. He was hesitant to step out on the road, wondering if there really was some kind of monster stalking around the woods where he lived. Wouldn’t the alchemists warn them of this? They didn’t seem to tell the other adults about the thing that scared them at the foot of the mountain… Perhaps they wouldn’t say anything after all… Maybe Jamie’s dad was right to be wary of them, that they weren’t as truthful as Nicolas’s mother seemed to think they were. Then again, Amber’s father seemed to believe there was something going on, or that it at least wasn’t as safe as it once was. Why else would he keep Amber at the library? That made sense, in a way, but it left other things unclear in Nicolas’s mind.
Would Amber’s father allow him to get hurt if he knew something was wrong?
It made Nicolas sweat as he walked back home. He was approaching the long, winding road that led to the Stillwaters ranch, where Trevor lived with his family. Would they be okay? Did they know that there was something going on or did the alchemists leave them in the dark too? Nicolas remembered the promise he made to Trevor, that he would check and see if there was anything weird inside of the barn beside his house. It would be dangerous to go up there at all…
But Nicolas sucked in a deep breath and realized that he was already walking up that old gravel road towards his friend’s house. His feet were moving on their own, as though guided by some unknown force. The only thing that Nicolas could hear was the pounding of his heart in his ears and the crunching of his feet underneath the nearly overgrown road. His eyes flicked back and forth as he looked into the dark between the trees, wondering if there was anything- or anyone- watching him. He pointed his flashlight to the right, frowning as he struggled to keep the light steady in his hand. Nicolas grabbed it with his other hand, blinking as he moved it side-to-side.
It’s quiet. It’s always quiet this time of night but-
Where were all the krill?
The sound of shuffling causes Nicolas’s heart to skip a beat. He whips his flashlight around wildly in an attempt to identify the source but he couldn’t see anything whatsoever. It was as though the air around him was still. The humidity was almost unbearable and it was stifling, making it difficult for the child to breathe. Nicolas took several steps back, now realizing that he likely made a huge mistake not heading straight home like he should have. He wasn’t far from home… If he runs, he can make it there in less than ten minutes! Nicolas turns around and gasps in horror as he stumbles to a halt.
In the darkness beside the road, the light of his flashlight is reflected off a single, large eye, just like the one he saw several nights ago in the barn. Whatever was looking at him, it was obscured by the gnarled bushes and low hanging tree branches in such a way that Nicolas couldn’t make out its shape. He took three involuntary steps backwards, eyes wide and straining to make sense of what he was seeing. The foliage shifts and strains, breaking apart as the eye rises to a terrible height. Nicolas’s flashlight shakes so violently that he cannot get a clear visual on the creature, even though it was shrugging off branches and leaves that had tangled into its massive form. His eyes are so wide that he can no longer make out his surroundings. Which direction was he facing? Which way was the road and which way was his friend’s house? Nicolas’s breaths come out in short, panicked bursts, puffing up like smoke in the cold nighttime air and further clouding his vision. He wanted to turn and run but his body refused to respond to his demands.
Run.
R-Run…
Run!
Run, damn it-!
RUN!!!
M-Mom….!
“D-Dad?”
“Uh huh?”
Amber sat beside her father, a little numb as she watched him set down two glasses in between her and himself. He strained to open the jug of reddish-black liquid but succeeded as he broke the seal of dried blood that had nearly glued it shut. She swallowed and thought about what she wanted to ask him first. There was a lot on her mind and she didn’t know where to start. Her father sensed this and poured a glass until it was nearly overflowing before he pushed it in his daughter’s direction.
“Have you eaten anything today?” Amber frowned at the liquid in front of her. It had a strong smell and it made her stomach growl, but she still didn’t know what it was.
“Um… Yeah… Earlier. …what is this, anyway? The alchemists gave it to you?” She peered into the glass, knowing full well that it was blood of some sort, but it had dark flecks that either settled to the bottom of the glass or continued to float in the mixture almost indefinitely, as if it couldn’t decided if it was heavier or lighter than the liquid it was drifting in.
“Yeah. As a sort of apology for getting me involved in their affairs.” Amber sank lower in her chair.
“I’m… sorry, dad…”
“Do you even know what you’re apologizing for, Amber?”
“I… Huh?” She watched as her father pushed her glass towards her. She only stared at it, chewing on the inside of her cheek as she watched him pull out the newspaper he wadded into his pocket earlier and tossed it onto the table.
“Dad- Ew, seriously?” He dragged a thin book towards him and opened it so that many of the sloppily torn pages stuck out every which way.
“What? Don’t ‘ew’ me when I saved you from that shit your mother keeps buying. I know you sneak most of your portions out and toss them when she’s not looking.” Amber ducked her head again as her face burned with shame.
“I-Is there anything you don’t know…? I’m- I-I’m-” Her father put his arm around her shoulder and pulled her into a lopsided embrace.
“Honey, it’s okay. I was slipping the food I didn’t like to the pet dog I had when I was your age. It’s not that big of a deal. It’s different when it’s about important things, things that kids have no business getting themselves involved in.” He poured his own glass as he spoke, putting the jug down and immediately picking up the newspaper and unfolding it so he could tear it into uneven strips.
“You should drink some, though. It’s good for you.”
“...you still haven’t told me what it is.”
Almost as if it sensed the boy’s intention to run, the creature suddenly sprung into action, covering a distance of nearly a dozen yards in one long, even stride. Nicolas’s eyes widen and he can feel a few stray tears fall from his face as a blur of black-grey comes careening towards his face. Was… Was he about to die…? He can’t do anything other than stand there, mouth agape and his entire body trembling with terror. His flashlight reflected off the being’s claws, bringing attention to how polished they were, as though someone had taken great care in maintaining them. A sharp breath squeezed past his tightened throat and Nicolas found it impossible to cry out as his chest was snatched by the monstrous being’s clawed-hand and his entire body was swept off the ground as he was pushed deeper into the dark woods.
If it wasn’t for his freeze response, Nicolas was sure that he would be dead already. He could feel branches breaking against his back, twigs and sharp thorns snagging into his clothing and nicking his skin in spite of all his thick layers. There was nothing he could do other than curl himself into a tight ball and pray that when he was inevitably eaten, that his death would be quick and relatively painless. He screwed his eyes shut and held his breath, waiting for the creature to toss him into the air, to tear him to shreds, to do… something other than run through the forest with him in hand. Was it taking him to its den? Would he be eaten alive by a group of them?! His center of gravity suddenly shifted downwards and Nicolas released a startled yelp as his back collided against a hard and smooth surface. He should have been surprised that he experienced little to no pain from the sudden impact, but Nicolas was so overcome with shock that he could do nothing else other than stare at the beam of his flashlight, which only capture a very small portion of the being’s form and was smothered by a large, ragged cloth that seemed to drape off of one of its shoulders.
“GHRAA- N-Nauuughty chil-ldrennn- CKH- CKH- CKH- get e-eate-en in tale-es of oooold.”
A puff of steam enveloped Nicolas’s body as a weathered voice spoke around him. His eyes were focused on an imaginary point just to the side of the being, unable to drag his eyes towards any one point on its body. Out of the corners of his tunneled vision, he could make out shining, glittering metal, long, stained teeth, the curve of a set of horns that framed both the creature’s and his face as it leaned down to meet his eyes. He hadn’t realized that his feet were now touching the ground, that the beast was scarcely pinning him in place. It craned its neck, as though examining him, a deep, unsettling rasp filling the air and vibrating his eyeballs as it prepared to speak again.
“It’s something the alchemists gave me. Their own concoction. They won’t share the recipe with me, no matter how many times I ask them.” Amber’s father sighed as he patted the handle of the jug. Amber only nodded as she breathed through her nose.
“Did… they bribe you or something…?” Her father hummed as he dipped one of the slivers of paper into his glass.
“‘Bribe’, ‘apologize’, does it really matter, Amber?” The paper is wet and heavy as he flips it onto itself. Her father picks up the cup and holds it underneath his hand as he stuffs the blood-soaked paper into his mouth. Amber makes a face but it falls as her father’s words settle over her.
“I… guess it doesn’t. Dad-?”
“Mmpfh-?” He slurped up the liquid that soaked into the paper before he began to chew on it.
“I… um-”
“I genuinely- Mmpfh- don’t know what’s in it. The alchemists keep little things like this- close to their chest. Something about having things they can- Mmm- can barter with, I think.” Amber blinked and shook her head.
“Huh-? No, dad, it’s okay, I’m just…” Amber stared at her glass as her father slammed back half of his. She pulled it closer to her and chewed on her inner cheek.
“You said that…”
“Hmm?” As he wiped the back of his hand, Amber picked up her glass.
“...that we- me and my friends- that we got in… ‘things that don’t involve us’? What did you mean by that, dad?” He breathed in sharply through his nose and hummed to himself as she put the drink up to her lips and took a sip.
“It’s… not really a simple thing, Amber. I get why you did what you did, I would have done the same at your age. It’s why I’m not angry at you or your friends. But it doesn’t change the fact that you meddled in affairs that are way bigger than you are.” Amber’s eyes widen as the taste of the alchemists’ concoction hits her tongue.
“HHHRRR- SHU- SHU- SHU- Children should take-e toooo- HHHRRR- fae-rrrytales…”
Shuddering, gasping breaths escaped from the being’s split rib cage. A soured yet delicate smell hit Nicolas’s nose and he couldn’t decide whether or not he was already dead and this was hell or if this was real and he was still alive, if only until the beast decides to devour him whole. His entire body was engulfed in a humid heat that persisted in the area around him, clouding his vision and causing the light of his flashlight to become suffocated in the haze.
“Lessonssss… wov-en in hor-ror- HHHRRR- SHU- SHU- SHU- and n-never just o-ooone…”
Nicolas’s eyes widen as the creature leans in closer to him. As it shifts in place, its enormous snout nearly taps him on the crown of his head. A thin, knobby knee buckles under the weight of the body its supports and the gleam of metal that had caught his eyes earlier slides against the front of his shins. The boy’s breath caught in his chest and he wheezed as he gasped for air, utterly petrified as the limb- inorganic and artificial- pressed into his right elbow and subtly shifted the light directly into its face. The tears that welled in Nicolas’s eyes now freely fell as his vision narrowed and his sight jumped from sharp point to sharp point, lingering on nothing other than the one large, gleaming eye that burned itself into his core.
“But this is a ne-ew… world, with ne-ew talessss…”
Unbeknownst to him, the creature had released its hold on his shirt and instead hooked one of its great claws around his left arm, just above his wrists where he held his fist clenched tightly. For such a large beast, its dexterity was impressive, as it effortlessly maneuvered his arm into its grasp and unfurled his clenched fingers from his palm. It shifted its arm so the light jumped and twitched away from its face and towards its and Nicolas’s hands. Short, suffocated wheezes squeeze out from his tightening throat as the creature’s eye flicked away from his face, down to his outstretched palm that faced skywards.
“Wha-aaat- HHHRRR- SHA- SHA- SHA- will ec-chooo within pup…? Traaa-gety ooorrr ser-pen-dipity…?”
Nicolas watched with wide eyes as the creature curled this massive claw-tipped thumb across his palm. The obsidian-black talon dug into the roughened texture of his skin, slicing through it with such ease that the boy felt nothing, even as he watched thick and dark blood bead up from the wound and eventually pool into his slightly cupped palm. Nicolas blinked, his heart and guts dropping to his feet as his flashlight reflected dully off the reflection of his blood. It was thick, almost sticky as it threatened to run over the sides of his hand, much like used oil that has been used past its usefulness until nothing but filth and wear and tear remained. The entity chortled, a sound that was paradoxically mirthless yet carried a tune that would suggest amusement.
“Sss-See- Ehhh? Pu-up…- GRHAA- SHU- SHU- SHU- Wh-Wha-at boyy blee-eeds bla-aaack…?”
To his horror, Nicolas listened and watched as the creature’s rib cage began to expand, a bone crunching SNAP and CRACK hitting his ears as the beast shrugged and shuddered. His breath caught in his throat as several rows of teeth and its lower jaw rattled in the creature’s vacant skull, loosening themselves from where it was stuffed into place. A long, thick tongue was attached to the bone that plugged the beast’s mouth, yard upon yard of raw muscle unfurling from the depths of the creature’s body.
The hairs on Nicolas’s body stood on end as he felt the power behind its tongue as it slapped against his bleeding palm and lap up the black blood that poured from the wound. A low rumble echoed from within the beast’s body, a sound that was almost deafening around Nicolas’s head. Feet of tongue slithers against his palm before it was suddenly retracted back within its body, coiling against itself in waves not unlike a rope before the bone-like protrusions at its tip snap back into place around the underside of the creature’s front most teeth with a startling CLACK! The one, great eye that had been trained on Nicolas had vanished, seemingly having rolled up into the anomalous being’s head. A wave of hot nausea spread throughout his body and a cold sweat erupted across his skin. Nicolas felt as though he was about to be sick as the creature seemed to savour the flavour of his blood. When its eye eventually opened, the abject horror that Nicolas had felt throughout this encounter felt like a distant memory in comparison to the terror that he was now faced with as the entity took slow, deep breaths in preparation to speak.
“Things aren’t like they used to be, when I was your age… Just about everything is different, yet it’s all the same still.” Amber’s father sighed as he pushed his empty glass around with the tip of one of his fingers. The lighting pulsed with his heartbeat, slightly irregular but quickly returning to the same rhythm that it always was within moments.
“There’s things that kids concern themselves with and things for adults. Kids always want to stick their noses where they don’t belong, even when it’s for the best that they don’t.” He trailed off as he watched his daughter chug the last remnants of her dinner. Her lips were a blackish-red and a few stray drops ran down from the corner of her mouth. She licked her lips and struggled between expressions of thoughtfulness and surprised delight. Her father smiled at her, though there was a hint of sadness underneath it in the way his brows furrowed and his head tilted downwards. He grabbed the long sleeve of his stained shirt and scrubbed it against Amber’s mouth, in spite of her halfhearted protest for him to stop.
“You’re… trying to grow up too fast, Amber. You don’t want to involve yourself in the affairs of adults. Trust me… you don’t.” He sighed as he let his daughter push his hand away from her. Amber was quiet and kept her hand on her father’s wrist.
“Dad…?”
“Yeah?”
“What is going on…? I mean- Should I- Should we be scared?” He placed his other hand on top of her’s and gave it a gentle squeeze.
“I… I don’t know, baby. I honestly don’t know… But-” Her father gently pulled in close and allowed her to rest her head on his shoulder. Amber felt anxious but being so close to her father, even if his core was quite literally burning hot, brought her comfort.
“-but I won’t let anything happen to you. Not if I can help it… Just… “ He trailed off a little as he sighed. He released her hand and instead placed it on top of her head, gently smoothing her hair down a little as he struggled to find the right words.
“...just let me help you, okay? Don’t go getting yourself into shit you won’t be able to get yourself out of.” His words left Amber silent. She could only nod silently as she closed her eyes. There was a dull throb behind her eyes that made her throat squeeze tightly, but she managed to swallow it down and stifle it before she burst into tears.
“I’m sorry, dad…” Her father squeezed her tightly.
“Don’t be sorry, baby… Just be careful. I love you and I don’t know what I would do if something happened to you-”
His voice quivered a little and his shoulders began to tremble and heave slightly, as though he were about to break out into a sob. Amber felt her tears briefly dry out of shock, but then they came cascading down her face as her father failed to fully hold back a shaky breath from escaping his lips. She didn’t know what to say or think, so she just held onto him tightly and mumbled out an ‘I love you too, dad’ underneath her breath as she briefly thought about Nicolas and whether or not he went straight home, like her father asked him to, or if he went to Trevor’s instead…
“HHHRRRUUU- S-Ssssuch an unfor-tunate pup… SHU- SHU- SHU- Your purpose is to-”
The creature’s breath caught in its throat, releasing a harsh wheezing nicker from its open ribs. Its teeth clicked together as its mangled arm readjusted Nicolas’s flashlight back towards its face.
“-to ssssave us al-ll.”
The thick tip of a claw was pressed into Nicolas’s forehead. The weight behind it was staggering, forcing the back of his head to touch the wall behind him. All Nicolas could do was look up at the Anomaly, his entire body going slack as the terror he felt morphed into something unrecognizable.
“Sssuch a sad litt-le pup… You a-lone… HHHRRR- mussst break the sk-y….”
The Anomaly straightens herself up and pulls away from Nicolas’s collapsing body. His eyes were pinpricks, quivering in their sockets as thick tears streamed down his pale cheeks. She lets the boy’s flashlight fall to his side where it ultimately drops from his loose grasp and clatters onto the ground underneath him. The light instantly dies, leaving them both in a darkness that was nearly complete. She could easily make the child out and how his shoulders heaved slightly as he hiccuped on his sobs. With a loud POP, she cracks her neck and releases a breathy groan as she prepares to haul her massive body onto her feet.
Nicolas was scarcely able to breathe, wheezing every time he took a half breath in. His flashlight lay forgotten at his side, even as he blindly clambered around in the dark. He couldn’t find his footing, no matter how hard he tried. Nicolas’s hands found the leaf-covered ground, shuddering at the wet, slimy texture that sank up to his elbows that did nothing to cool the fever that had his body in a vice grip. He panted as he mustered up the strength to rise to his feet, arms outstretched and flailing weakly as he struggled to maintain his ever-changing sense of balance that seemed to pull him every which way other than the direction that he wanted to go.
Where… Where did he want to go?
The trees stretched overhead, twisting in on themselves and blotting out the leadened skies overhead. Their presence was overbearing. Suffocating. Nicolas was drowning, desperately trying to claw his way to the surface of an impossibly deep forest and had no respite in sight. Again and again, he fought, he ran, he climbed and struggled and writhed and all he could do was settle to the black abyss below, too heavy to move, too weak to do much else other than curl in on himself and whisper that final, fleeting machination that has been imparted unto him and a legion of others.
An unnatural strength surged from his core, a final rush before the depths crushed his being. Nicolas scrambled and clawed his way to the topmost branch of the tallest tree, frantically smashing his fists against the canopy and bracing his forearms against it, pushing with all his might as a single phrase echoed in between his ears and coursed through his entire body.
Break
the
sky.
|
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@prettycutebunny, @infinitewhore, @kennbb, @cherrysodalite, @thanksatt, @pink-soft-shadow, @sinlessdesire, @hoemine, @memoryofheather @horny-3
#original#original story#original characters#drama#suspense#body horror#coming of age#childhood#family#no strong warnings apply#redmonarch217 helped in the creation of this world and story
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Writing and Rewriting Bracknell Horror
So here's a terrible secret: in 2019, hot on the heels of the original Moonlight on Roseville Beach zine, I put some notes for a little adventure called "The Bracknell Horror." I had no illusions that it was a great investigation scenario. Still, it showed off a few things about Roseville Beach, including places and people in the town as well as the queer people who lived/visited there. It went to a location inside the setting without requiring deep lore, added some jokey Easter Egg references to Lovecraft's The Whisperer in Darkness, and included some comically easy to use alien tech.
The problem was, I didn't really like it.
People at con sessions had fun, but there was nothing particularly special or interesting about the scenario itself, and any scenario would have been great in its place. Also, while I like to say Roseville Beach is a game of "horror comedy," there wasn't much actual horror here other than some Lovecraft references. That's also true of my other Roseville Beach scenario "The Haunting of Flora Bly," though the book has four more scenarios that are richer in horror potential.
But this summer, just before running it at A Weekend with Good Friends, I rewrote it. I talked about some of those rewrites on my blog just after the first run-through, but more have come up as I've continued to playtest this.
First, while the initial scenario centered around a wealthy occultist-adventurer named Simon Mathers, the revision has greatly warped him from that initial vision. In the early drafts, he was an occultist willing to give Dreamlands entities the bodies of Roseville Beach residents in return for access to the Dreamlands. In the new one, he's returning to our reality after 20+ years in the Dreamlands, hoping to find a body for himself (the temporary one he constructed is collapsing) and his two Dreamlands familiars.
In the original, the cult-like group of followers worked for Mathers and planned to keep doing so. In the new, none of them like each other, and each of them have their own reasons for working with him (and one might even try to kill him).
Third, I let some of my OSR influences show. Beyond making each of the named NPCs a faction of one, I've also added some NPC rivals (all of whom might end up becoming collaborators) who also all have their own motivations and agendas for finding out what Mathers' cult is up to.
Finally, while the original notes told GMs to pull from the PCs troubles and connections to determine who Mathers' cultists have captured, the new one includes a chance to target the PCs themselves, giving at least some of them a chance to sneak in and explore the Bracknell while the cult is setting up the ritual, adds some specific NPCs the cult targets, asking instead how the PCs and their contacts/troubles connect them with those people, giving their troubles and connections a motivation to insist on coming along whether they'll be helpful or not.
Dai Shugars, Roseville Beach's art director and visual designer, has put together some incredible maps that allowed me to spend less wordcount describing the space and more giving info on NPCs, creating news stories and book snippets that can serve as physical clues, and creating a better sense of how the Doom Clock progresses.
The text will come to Itch for slowfunding next Tuesday, and the final zine will include the adventure, pregens, new strange events that tie to this mystery, and the basic rules of play, so you can try it out even if you don't already own Moonlight on Roseville Beach. Think of it like a horror-comedy investigation version of a Fighting Fantasy Game Book, but maybe gayer.
This is my chance to draft and preview some of what's coming. You can pick up Moonlight on Roseville Beach (Itch | DriveThru | Spear Witch | IPR) and the current two-issue zine bundle (Itch | DriveThru), or just follow-along with the zine project that will get bundled up in Dim All the Lights. Or you can back our upcoming reprint and hardbacks Kickstarter!
#moonlight on roseville beach#roseville beach zine series#tabletop gaymes#ttrpgs#tabletop rpgs#tabletop game design
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J K Rowling will come for you. Like you don't even need to be trans, or from another country or disabled. You can just be an ordinary white English person and she'll hate you because you're from The North, or your town's a bit poor.
This is what she thinks my accent sounds like:
Yes, oh boy! In Career of Evil, Cormoran Strike goes to Barrow-in-Furness, a town in Rowling's own country just a couple of hours direct train from Manchester airport and has the residents all talk like strange Fantasy peasants. This isn't even a good rendition of a South Cumbrian accent. "Teeking?" (yeah, try "Tekkin'" Joanne), "Noo"? (WTF are you just making shit up as you go along? I don't think this is even Scottish never mind Northern English) "Tha" (Holy shit, Joanne this is like... something a farmer from right in the middle of the Lakes from a hundred years ago would say, not a lady in probably her seventies from Barrow). She doesn't even get actual characteristics of South Cumbrian speech right, like how "book" and "look" might sometimes be pronounced with an "ooh" (this is very specifically Barrow and not widespread in Cumbria) or "in the" or "to the" might become "in't'" or "'t't'", or ending sentences with "Eh" or "Iike" a lot, or the standard greeting being "Arreet, mate?" or a common saying being "Ah, be reet!" (It'll be fine!).
Side note: The Crow's Nest is not some dive bar. It's a pretty nice, friendly local pub. Seen above. Then again, this does line up with the whole section of the book and how Rowling describes South Cumbria.
Hilarious things Cormoran Strike, brilliant detective, doesn't notice that he definitely would have driven past here include that Ulverston has a big white lighthouse overlooking the town, but clearly not close enough to the sea to function (It is the birthplace of Stan Laurel, but that's a thing you'd notice if you searched it on google, not a thing you'd notice driving through, which is definitely either the Lighthouse, or in early summer that the town is full of big colourful silk banners - By the way, Ulverston is a lovely place to visit if you're in the Lakes but it's too rainy for a walk. It has lovely independent shops and cafes).
Then there's also a zoo next to the main road from Ulverston to Barrow with...er...pink rhinos. You see, the local soil around Dalton there is very rich in iron ore and is a distinctive pink colour, and so the giraffes and rhinos usually seen in the fields visible from the road tend to look pink. That road also features a rather lovely view of the sea and some beautiful old woodland and passes an excellent seaside nature reserve. You don't leave the Lakes and suddenly it stops being sheep and drystone walls and you're in an industrial hellhole!
The general depiction of Barrow in this book really emphasises the ugliness and industry of the town. How it has a lot of pubs (it does, but they're mostly pretty nice pubs) and how the shops often have gloomy jokes for names (there was a hairdresser called "Curl Up & Dye" for a while), but it never mentions that Barrow is actually a rather beautiful town with a sense of faded grandeur. The town centre is built on a huge scale by people who thought it was going to be the next Liverpool back in the Victorian period, so it has some very large and beautiful buildings and bronze statues. By the way, "Vickerstown" looks like this:
Oh noooo...what a horrible place to live! How do we even cope living in such an unlovely industrial town!?
Oh no, save us, Joanne, save us from this horrible town dominated by the enormous ship building sheds (you can *just about see them* right over there in the distance. This is the town centre, and while the ship building sheds do have some of the largest interior spaces in Europe, Barrow is a well spread out town).
tl;dr: Rowling is just a mean-spirited person, barely capable of seeking common humanity or really seeing the best in anyone different from herself. She's transphobic, she's racist and ignorant, she's classist, she's judgemental about appearances, and she treats even a nice town in the north of her own country like it's some horrible gloomy place just because we talk a little funny and aren't so well off.
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My minibang fic is mutichap so here we go for Invisobang 2022! For the minibang I was partnered with the fabulous and talented @astravis whose art will be posted along with the sixth and final chapter on Friday, so stay tuned!
(Chap two) (Ch 3) (ch. four) (five) (and 6)
BREAKING: NASA Lands Earths First Manned Spacecraft on Mars!
The creepy Fenton kid and the town's resident ghost hero go missing on the same day, and for weeks Amity Park is all abuzz about it. If the timing is suspicious, the doctors Fenton don't think anything of it. But Sam and Tucker think they can find Danny and bring him back. In fact, they're certain of it.
On a cold, steel table, in a certain lab, in a sprawling, labyrinthine, top secret facility, there is a boy named Danny.
[A tragedy following the wake of Danny's disappearance and the strange set of circumstances revealed between five points of view. But how did he get caught in the first place? And where did he go?]
Chapter 1: Space Case (Read it on AO3)
[Warning: dissection/vivisection, dissociation]
On a cold, steel table, in a certain lab, in a sprawling, labyrinthine, top secret facility, there is a boy named Danny. He is strapped down tightly with electrified restraints, his chest and abdomen cut wide open to make his insides easily accessible to the scientists examining him, a large needle lanced through his temple into his brain. Any other boy would be dead in Danny's condition. However, Danny is only half dead, and more importantly, he is half alive.
The situation he is in has lost all of its novelty to him. Though he has no idea how long he's been there, maybe days, maybe months, maybe longer or less—the horrific has become mundane. Where once he felt indescribable pain, he now feels nothing. Where once he screamed, he now is silent. Desensitized to the agony, absent from his senses, his mind wanders—as it often did before being ripped from his ordinary life, and brought here—to space. None of this would be happening to him if he was in space, he thinks.
Space is unfathomably enormous. So big, he's heard it said, that in the time it would take for one to finish describing its vastness, it would already have fucktoupled in size. The thought would once have quirked his lips up in a smile, but now his lips are stone. Space is home to trillions of planets, and trillions of stars, and trillions of other celestial bodies, and based on those numbers, it's statistically impossible that humans are the only intelligent life in the universe.
However due to the gargantuan nature of the universe, it is equally unlikely that humans will ever meet other intelligent life forms from across the many galaxies, light-years upon light-years away. Danny has always taken that as a challenge. He is going to go to space one day. No matter how much the odds are against it, he wants to discover alien life-forms. Even if he doesn't, he thinks, he'll fail among the stars, and that's a whole lot more interesting than failing in the dirt.
Before all this, Danny always kept up with the latest advancements in space travel and astronomy, and he wonders how much he's missed while trapped here. He used to try to escape, but now he's just tired. At least he has plenty of time to think now. Since he was four years old, he's been studying to be an astronaut. If research and development go smoothly, according to his timeline, he thought he'd be an astronaut in time to join the first manned mission to Mars.
That doesn't look as likely now.
No Mars Rover engineer ever cut open a fourteen-year-old. At least, he's pretty sure. And in space there are no ghosts, and no suffering, and no grossly unethical science. He could still do it, he thinks, as though he is not on a table, in a lab, in a top secret facility.
It's hard to be present in his own body now, to feel, to see, to taste, and hear, and smell. It's easier to forget where he is, who he is. He can't tell if he's Fenton or Phantom anymore. He can check, open his eyes, force his blurry vision to focus long enough to see if the hair falling into his face is black or white but... which belongs to which? He looks down and sees a slimy pink organ being roughly jerked upwards, out of his open torso.
Fenton then. Phantom doesn't have any of those, he thinks as he feels himself floating upwards, looking down on himself, and the scientists, watching everything, but at the same time not really paying attention. He hasn't moved, but he's not there anymore, not as far as he can tell.
He can remember some of the discoveries in the first day or two, the feeling of foreign fingers sifting through the ectoplasmic goo in Phantom's chest cavity where Fenton has a heart and lungs, the dreadful, icy feeling when a gloved fingernail brushed against his core, and he froze the whole lab and everyone there in an instant, defending his ghost half's only vital organ. They have the technology to clear the ice quickly, though they decided to put off experimenting with his core to a later date.
As Fenton, however, there is no soft bubbling and fizzing of ectoplasm, instead the sloshing and squishing of flesh and fluids fills the air, along with the smell of antiseptic and raw meat. The sensation of someone else's hand, reaching inside him and pulling out foot after foot of intestine where in his ghost form there is only green fog and ghostly swamp sludge.
"Subject continues to regenerate lost organs," says a male voice which Danny has grown familiar with, though he still has not been able to put a name to it. The man is referred to as Dr. H, and nothing else. "Thus far there does not appear to be an upper limit to the subject's healing factor, even when deprived of oxygen. According to our sensors, the subject has not taken in oxygen in the last six days and nine hours, approximately."
Has he really not breathed in over six days? Danny wonders. He hasn't even thought about it, but in retrospect, that seems right. Breathing hurts—everything hurts—so he stopped doing it. He doesn't try to breathe. He doesn't hurt anymore, doesn't feel anything.
A door opens. The door. There's only one door in the room as far as Danny is aware, and no windows. He remembers checking when he first got there, but it takes him a few seconds to remember why. It was probably the getting nabbed and strong armed into ghost proof bonds that put him off to the idea at first, but the clinical laboratory, suspicious vials of colored goo, and medical equipment that looks like torture devices, didn't ease his worries.
"Ah, Miss Fenton," Dr. H greets. "I was hoping to get a quick evaluation of the subject's psychological state. It hasn't screamed in over a week, and hasn't been breathing lately. It doesn't appear to be in danger of destabilizing or dissolving, which would put a halt to our research, but I am worried that it may be in danger of turning into a full ghost and losing its human attributes if it cannot maintain its humanoid psyche."
"Danny?" It's Jazz. Jazz is here! She's here! Why... why does that matter? "Are you there?"
"Somewhere," he responds, voice floating out of his mouth with no force behind it. To speak without breath always felt strange to him in the past, but he's not thinking about that now. He's excited to see his sister, though he can't remember why. He's angry, or maybe he's afraid. Maybe he feels nothing at all. Should he?
She smiles at him, a sad, pitying smile, but there is horror behind her eyes, and he vaguely wonders why. "Are you in pain? How are you feeling?"
"Dunno... should I be?" he asks. "How can I be?"
"Well?" Dr. H cuts in. "Can I continue or not?"
"I believe his body is fine." She sounds relieved. Her voice is wracked with guilt when she speaks again. "In my opinion, he seems to have entered a severe dissociative state. He is aware of his situation, but his brain has disconnected itself from everything to protect him, so he may feel as though he does not exist, or as though he is watching what's happening like a movie, rather than experiencing it."
"Excellent," says Dr. H, as though that's the best possible answer she could have given. "That means the subject is complacent, and in an excellent state to be moved for the next stage of experiments." A radio crackled with static. "Agent Q, ready the ecto-repulsive vacuum chamber, over."
"Affirmative, Dr. H, over and out," a voice hissed back through the radio.
"I do not believe that's the best—" Jazz tries to say, but she doesn't get to the end of her sentence before Dr. H cuts her off dismissively.
"Thank you Miss Fenton, that will be all. I have to stitch it back up before we can begin experimenting in the vacuum chamber." After a moment, the door opens and closes again. "Activating subject's spectral transformation to increase the speed of its healing factor and thus the likelihood that it will be able to withstand vacuum chamber experiments." Dr. H tweaks the needle in Danny's brain and as the white rings wash over his body, he is hypnotized by them.
They are like the rings of Saturn, thin and white and cold, made of ice and rock and space dust, a hundred and seventy thousand miles across, and only thirty feet thick, circling the gaseous planet like fan blades. He knows it's unlikely, but Danny hopes to see them in person one day, too. Maybe as mankind encroaches further outward into space, they'll send a manned mission to Titan, or Enceladus. Maybe he can be on it.
By the time Dr. H and Agent Q transfer Danny into the vacuum chamber, his mind is long gone again, in a vacuum of its own, marveling at the beauty of Saturn's rings as he looks down from one of its moons. Outer space never ceases to amaze, and Danny is struck dumb by its radiance.
#dissection tw#dissociation tw#human experimentation tw#danny phantom#danny fenton#guys in white#angst#dp#space science#space imagery#fic#invisobang 2022#breaking: NASA lands earth’s first manned spacecraft on mars#why oh why did I give it such a long title T-T#chapter one#things i wrote
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finished playing silent hill 2 and loved it so much i wrote a whole review about it. here it is:
I guess I’m doing this now? Whenever there’s a game I beat I really want to talk about, I’ll do these kinds of game reviews on here. Silent Hill 2 was on my bucket list of games for quite a while, and I finally got around to playing it (though on an emulator, I don’t even have a PS2).
Bit of backstory, earlier this year (I’d say September), me and my friends wanted to play through the whole Silent Hill franchise, kind of strange for me considering I really wasn’t the biggest fan of horror games.
But I’m so glad I did. Silent Hill has almost instantly become one of my favorite video game franchises, and a very refreshing take on the horror genre from what we have today. Survival horror outside the Resident Evil series by Capcom are largely unsupported today. I really miss this style of game, and the Silent Hill franchise really reinforces that.
Starting with the plot, Silent Hill is a quite vague franchise. Even when you know who is creating and unleashing monsters upon the town, you never really know why. Silent Hill 2 does this much more than the original, however, as by the end of the game, I still didn’t understand why the monsters were here. While this would be a criticism to most other games, I think this fits the mysterious nature of Silent Hill well.
James Sunderland, the protagonist, feels largely similar to Harry Mason, the protagonist of the first game, although his motivations are different. In the first game, Harry is searching for his missing daughter Cheryl, while here, James has received a letter from his late wife Mary saying that she was in Silent Hill. I won’t go into the ending of the game for those that still wish to play it, but the ending of the game is very impactful, and I did not see many of the twists coming at the end. (The hotel, if you know you know…)
To be honest, I didn’t really find the game that scary in a jumpscare-sense, but that’s not really what Silent Hill 2 is going for anyways. Silent Hill is a psychological horror series, and it rarely has jumpscares. Rather the locations and the music are doing the heavy lifting in the horror department.
The OST of Silent Hill 2, composed by Akira Yamaoka, is one of my favorite video game soundtracks of all time. Specifically, The Day of Night, A World of Madness, and Heaven’s Night are in the running for some of my favorite songs in video games. The music is what I’d describe as “hauntingly beautiful”, which fits the foggy atmosphere of Silent Hill perfectly. Despite its haunting nature, I actually find the songs to be good walking music, due to their mellow tone. Special mention goes to Black Fairy. It’s played at such a perfect time in the story, and it left me sitting there in shock at what happened with one of the most unnerving songs in gaming playing in the background, as the roof starts leaking.
Silent Hill as a franchise loves abandoned buildings, and so do I. Something about the locations in Silent Hill 2, from the deserted hospital that has an all-knowing elevator, to a luxury hotel that starts flooding with water, and even an underground labyrinth that had me saying “How deep into the Earth is James right now?!”. The locations in this game were some of my favorite parts, and they were very memorable to me.
The gameplay is unfortunately my least favorite part of the whole experience, but that in no way means that the gameplay is bad. The shooting of weapons could definitely be a bit faster, as especially during boss fights, it was hard to move quickly. I wasn’t really used to tank controls before getting into the franchise, but now that I’ve played two games in it, I’m pretty used to them.
Overall, this is an incredible game. It is now my favorite horror game (stealing the spot from FAITH, another fantastic horror game), and also my favorite game for the PS2. Silent Hill 2 is a great visualization of grief and is a good contender for the best horror game of all time. The game has recently been announced to get a remake for modern systems, and I cannot wait for this to come out. If you want a more deep and unnerving horror experience, I highly recommend Silent Hill 2.
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tell me please, why on earth this game supposed to be so impressive ?? ..
yeah im sitting here guessing wut am i doing to my life so i feel like share w my sorta theory
in nowhere section, alessa's hospital room after one cutscene you can hear a strange sound resonating in your ears
kinda scratching inside braincase
as it turned out, this eerie soundrack (BLESS AKIRA AND HIS MUSIC—) accompanied us for the rest of location
it's almost funne how such small detail could trigger neuron activation and lead me to conclusions LIKE THIS lol
the first link of the chain was immediate thought that harry might have a mild headache or dizziness near this place
idk how to explain this properly maybe it's just a vibe ..
but air w h i s t l e s around that hospital bed with blood-stained sheets even though it's empty
as if it keeps remains of some energy trace so far
what kind of ? good question
if you recall dahlia's monologue, it's the place where God had been nurtured for long 7 years, endless pain threshold test and immense suffering for one little girl
A Very Heart of the Nightmare
don't feel like taking it like a bunch of empty, meaningless words so let me be clear – presence of God in alessa's womb could have real, physical effects on environment or even more, living creatures. i imagine it like some kind of radiation emerging out of her body, that badly affects a human condition and reduces lifetime in general
yeah just trying to find the reason why dahlia had turned into an old hag to the moment of the first game in precisely short time and kauffman looks kind of pasty and pale w his yellowish skin like he has a serious problem w liver. other member of the order who were attending the ritual could at least develop chronic diseases
i'd like to remind here the order was a sect of private religion and had really dangerous people in it. their influence grew into various areas of town's life, we already know abt kauffman being the director of alchemilla hospital
lisa mentioned the series of strange assassinations of officials who were intending to bring some economical changes into structuring of silent hill's life, also later we discover abt murders of the drug traffic case investigators – and it can be said they're responsible for all of that
the order operated discreetly to keep existing power structure as it was
one day, lisa garland – the member of alchemilla hospital's staff was appointed to take care of new special patient
should i describe amount of shock she probably experienced? it was tremendously cruel that someone who had suffered burns covering their entire body that far beyond the fatal level – and still struggles to breathe. but since the girl was impregnated she couldn't die, the malevolent deity simply wouldn't let her. so nurse's new duties included making sure that holy mother's body – one big solid open wound – wasn't eaten by larvae
lisa was terrified so much in the face of that new circumstances, even expressed her plea to be out of that business which is totally understandable
even though she begged superior suspend her from that case, lisa was just an innocent resident and good soul. she couldn't offer them more but a honest promise
no girlie, work it
lisa had to handle it on her own without anyone's help, because the less people know about what really happened that day is better. and just one drug-addicted nurse from uninitiated is pretty convenient number to control the situation. moreover judging from the newspaper article, it was believed alessa died in the fire caused by blaze of antiquated boiler in gillespie house's basement
ok can't say why in the game initially exclusively medical staff were among possessed human enemies known us puppet nurses and puppet doctors. but we know during its events cybil becomes the same species as them and red liquid aglaophotis makes it possible for harry to rid her of the parasite's influence and save her life
now i'd like to remark that aglaophotis and ptv are both produced by white claudia – a plant indigenous to the region where silent hill is located
in other hand, this recreational drug is meant to help member of the order to communicate with the spirit guides and spiritual realm
lisa in her diary states she suffered from severe hallucinations that suspiciously clear remind of some otherworld features: insects, blood and pus coming from bathroom faucet. even though the otherworld itself firstly appeared only at the period of game? amount of ptv her organism received only grew over time, maybe it gave her some immune against spiritual realm's invasion and helped visualize true picture of suffering beyond human comprehension in this room
im inclined to think lisa eventually wasn't allowed to leave her work space at hospital's basement at all. guess, it wasn't too difficult for order to manipulate another fact in the face of public to cover lisa's sudden disappear
the thing is, she spent really dangerous amount of time in close proximity with alessa. she felt bad at the first time with constant need to throw up, but i believe her state became only worse because of God's poisonous influence. it caused breakdown of internal organs and gradually, lisa's hair and nails fell off, her skin sloughed off and finally melting flesh dripped off her face and body
and for some reason i was sure the case of lisa's death was drug overdose: by accident or on purpose. but things got more complicated when m. ito confirmed she was actually killed by valtiel. idk what to think abt it maybe an act of mercy ??
so lisa's bloody scene probably was an allusion to her body decaying and falling apart, that is to say, very light version of what could happen to her through the years of nursing her secret patient
and as long as alessa was bedridden for life she was forced to watch how the only sincerely good person in her life turns into a literal piece of meat in due of her mere p r e s e n c e
just by being there, with alessa's body
the order went too far playing with fire, no wonder why alessa acts like this. the only option left for her to prevent the birth of God is destroying the whole town and probably killing every single person in there
because she firmly believed there's a fate worse than death
#silent hill#text#alessa gillespie#lisa garland#harry mason#as long as they were mentioned too#dahlia gillespie#michael kaufmann#you know i tend to leave half of my thoughts in the tags while commenting someone's art but this case is way too difficult#deserves a post
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People stanning fanatical and misogynist religious militants like the Shepherd and the High Sparrow because they somehow are great and real examples of leftist populism and cares about the smallfolk reminds me of pundits saying that for a lot of blue-collar workers and people living in rural areas, Trump/Le Pen/the far-right are the only candidates in a long time that has told them they will help the poverty situation in the country and bring down the corrupt elites and the establishment.
For people who claim to want the victory of the smallfolk, the end of the monarchy (So you agree ? No more King or Queen in the North ?), etc, they strangely fail to recognize the same repressive, exploitative, and manipulative structures present in the way the Faith operates.
I'd like people to go look at Trump's/some conservative politicians/the Association of American Railroads' (AAR) actions for years before and right after the East Palestine, Ohio train derailment back in Feb: LINK. Excerpt:
Leading the charge, as is so often the case with such white-America nativist fearmongering, is the Fox News star Tucker Carlson. “East Palestine is overwhelmingly white, and it’s politically conservative,” he said recently. “That shouldn’t be relevant, but it very much is.”
Carlson went on to describe East Palestine as a “poor benighted town whose people are forgotten, and in the view of the people who lead this country, forgettable”. He highlighted the indisputable suffering of local residents who were forced to evacuate a two-mile area and since they have returned home remain fearful about the quality of the air and water.
Then Carlson contrasted such hardship with what he called the “favoured poor” who live in “favoured cities” such as Detroit and Philadelphia – a clear euphemism for urban centers, often led by Democratic mayors, with large Black populations.
In these “favoured” places, he said, “everyone feels for them and everyone wants them to be safe”.
The idea that the rail disaster should be viewed through a racial lens has spread like a toxin from Fox News, through right-wing news sites and social media, into the political realm. JD Vance, the first-term Republican US senator from Ohio, picked up the clarion call of the “forgotten” Americans, calling the residents of East Palestine, pointedly, “our voters”.
AND, most damnedly:
Those challenges are all too visible in East Palestine. Trump’s much-vaunted visit to the derailment this week may have been intended to highlight his “forgotten Americans” meme, but it succeeded in drawing attention to his own environmental record. When he was in the White House, Trump overturned new safety rules introduced under Barack Obama requiring more sophisticated brakes on trains carrying flammable materials.
Trump’s presidency proudly presided over a bonfire of regulations, including health and safety controls, and eviscerated almost 100 environmental protections. The changes included weakening routine rail safety audits following accidents and throwing out minimum staffing levels on freight trains. And they were made under the intense pressure of the rail industry which devotes millions of dollars to lobbying Washington each year. The latest figures for 2022, under the Biden administration, show that the industry devoted $25m to lobbying last year according to Open Secrets, including $1.8m from Norfolk Southern which owned the derailed train.
Other sources: ONE, TWO.
I write about the Shepherd HERE.
#asoiaf asks to me#asoiaf fandom#fandom critical#fandom commentary#alicent stans#green stans#fandom nonsense#the high sparrow#asoiaf religion#faith of the seven#the shepherd#the shepherd fire and blood#fantasy vs reality#us politics#us history
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Recording Ends
The following transcript is composed from the first audio file recovered from a personal device of Olivia K. Sutton, resident of Bennett City. As of the writing of this transcript, she is reported missing.
[ “New Recording” starts. ]
My name is Olivia K. Sutton. I am switching to audio recordings because writing this all out will take too long to document my search, and my camera stopped working after being exposed to water in the Longhorn Hills Memorial Cemetery. I need to know that I am leaving clues behind in case I disappear like the rest of them.
Ever since the entire school bus of children went missing in Longhorn Hills, I have been looking for my son, Nathan. I have yet to find any evidence that would… make any sense. At least any sense in the conventional understanding of sense.
It seems impossible that a bus could go missing in a place it could not very well drive into. A place it was never meant to be in the first place. Not that anybody would believe me without proof.
And I am feeling increasingly paranoid that this entire disaster is being covered up. The video I uploaded was taken down, and I can’t get any answer on why exactly that was.
I don’t know who to turn to or trust anymore.
All I know is that there is a strange history of people disappearing in Longhorn Hills. I learned of this in my visit to the Longhorn Hills Historical Society, and I am now fully convinced that the circumstances surrounding everything can only be described as…
Unnatural.
Following the last known location of the missing bus to the Longhorn Hills Memorial Cemetery, I encountered strange glowing writing that was only visible on video recordings, and I heard the singing of a children’s choir in the distance. This lured me to a mausoleum in the center of the cemetery, where I was visited by… ghouls, I guess. I do not know what else to call them, so I will be calling them ghouls from here on out.
They spoke to me, and I was too terrified to follow what must have been empty and false promises. They claimed that Nathan was with them, which I refuse to believe. I managed to escape the creatures by crossing water from the flooding, which the ghouls did or could not follow me across.
Ever since, I have been plagued by awful hallucinations. I know others in the region have been suffering the same. The authorities attribute it to a chemical leak from a local plant, but I am not convinced. Just like the haunted looks on the face of any police officers I’ve talked to in person, everything they say to placate us rings hollow.
I think it’s all part of a larger cover-up. Contrary to what you might be thinking now, I don’t hope to find proof of that. If there is a conspiracy covering up all these strange events, I don’t want anything to do with that. I don’t want to put myself or anybody else in danger.
I just want to find Nathan.
All I know for sure is that there must be a connection between the unnatural phenomena and the children’s disappearing. This is what guided me back into Longhorn Hills, and to the Historical Society, which is something like a combination between a museum and a library, a repository of all the local community’s collective art and history. Like a few other places in town, it had been spared from the flood because of its location on one of the wooded hills in the area.
The rain has finally stopped, and it has been days since the flood in Longhorn Hills. I was going a little bit stir crazy at home but also dreaded going out again. I was staying away from alcohol and any medication, hoping to keep my head clear. Wherever I looked, I expected to see those slimy, black figures with their white-glowing dots for eyes. Instead, I only saw empty spaces where my son should have been. His chair at the table, his room, his favorite spot on the carpet in front of the TV…
My hallucinations turned those shadows of him into those creatures, whispering to me from the dark, and only vanishing whenever I turned on the lights.
His dad has been calling me, but I have not been picking up. He probably still has no clue about the incident and was just going to beg for money, anyway. Even if he knew, what on Earth was I going to tell him, anyway?
The drive into Longhorn Hills was… eerie. Desolate. Debris littered all roads, and several homes and businesses looked abandoned, even after the flood had cleared. Watermarks staining all structures showed me just how high the flood had reached, and I now consider myself lucky in having gotten out of town that day when I did. There were no fatalities, but plenty of people had been trapped in the top levels of those buildings overnight.
If I had been isolated on some building in the middle of a flood, after the ghouls, and the leeches, I would have lost my mind.
It was like there… it was like there was something else, darker, in the flood’s muddy waters. The stains themselves were like afterimages, ghosts of something buried. I have had recurring nightmares of water since that day. Fleeting in the details, but I always remembered murky waters right after waking up. Not drowning in them—followed by them. Seeing the water stains dredged up the same uneasy feeling those nightmares had been leaving me with.
According to the news, the flood had flushed out and displaced some of the cemetery’s bodies, washing them into town. I have purposely avoided looking into this for now. I have given up on listening to any public statements anyway, for reasons I already mentioned.
The curator at the Historical Society, Mister Holt, is a kindly elderly man dressed in a brown tweed suit. Exactly what you would expect from such a place, in such a town. He was surprisingly spry and helpful, patiently answering all my questions and helping me conduct my research.
Though I didn’t reveal to him what I had been through all week, I could read the doubts on his face, and I knew that my trauma from encountering the unnatural events in the cemetery had taken a heavy toll on me. I suspect that he knew I was one of the mothers of the missing children. Maybe that’s why he was so nice.
That toll… whatever he saw… maybe it is PTSD, coupled with the hallucinations, that make my demeanor so haunted. I can see it in the mirror every morning. I look like I haven’t been sleeping, and I sure as hell feel that way. Looking for ways to quickly escape any place I visit, and feeling watched by shadows, always flitting out of sight whenever I turn. He must have seen it.
The Historical Society’s archives were far more extensive than I had expected, and my research began to paint an unsettling picture.
Longhorn Hills was built upon the riches of Alden Spice. I know, I know. Funny name. But the town’s history was anything but funny.
Spice was a prospector who first discovered gold in the local rivers. As with many gold rush boomtowns, an entire population cropped up out of nowhere as other prospectors flocked there on his heels. They named the place after the abundance of longhorns in the region.
Alden Spice got rich off the gold he found, but nobody else in Longhorn Hills would ever strike out as lucky as he had. Nobody ever discovered any concrete source. Likely, the gold came from elsewhere, washed downstream or something. There are only loose theories.
Spice helped fund many local businesses in the early days of the town, owing another part of his explosive growth in wealth to these investments. Longhorn Hills flourished in its early days, drawing droves of new prospectors and farmers and other folk whose hearts were filled with hope for the future.
All they found was misery instead. That explosive growth in Spice’s wealth continued unabated while the town’s growth floundered.
Beyond his investments in and around town, prospectors found something else instead of gold: they chanced upon coal. Spice, who then had already become the mayor of Longhorn Hills, got in early on coal mining while his rivals were all still burning through their funds to find gold. Spice would end up making a killing on the coal mining business, watching while all his rivals bankrupted themselves into oblivion.
Together with several cattle ranches, Mayor Spice was quickly found sitting on a sizable number of properties and an abundance of wealth. That earned him the nickname of “Lucky Spice”. Meanwhile, articles from the time suggest that the rest of Longhorn Hills was impoverished and miserable. Numerous people were working themselves to the bone in those coal mines and on those ranches, and the wealth pretty much only wound up in the mayor’s coffers and the manor of Lucky Spice.
Things changed after the arrival of Enoch Bell; a Baptist missionary whose fellowship grew as quickly in the squalor of Longhorn Hills as Spice’s riches had grown off the fat of the land. Neither Bell nor the other parishioners ever said it publicly, but I find it likely that some of them had been slandering Spice as a devil-worshiper, feeding into the fact that the magnate never attended church. Some accounts say that townsfolk of Longhorn Hills were arrested for libeling Spice as a witch or warlock, having traded his soul for wealth.
There’s even an unflattering painting in the Historical Society that someone made of Spice that suggests as much. In this rendition, he looks like evil incarnate. The brim of his pitch-black hat looks as sharp as a steel blade, the red on his shirt is drenched in blood dripping from the hat’s edges, and there is a sinister fire in his eyes, almost distracting from a small pentagram on the amulet around his neck.
While I was studying that painting, my hallucinations caught up to me again. Lights started flickering and inexplicably going out throughout the archives. A thin sheen of water covered the cement floors, and I was worried that the rains and flood had returned, when I saw Nathan, standing in the shadows. His eyes glowed bright white, like tiny dots, staring back at me.
He asked me why it was taking so long to come home after work. He said he was hungry and frightened because the power and lights had gone out. Every word came out as a whisper, though it also looked and sounded like hundreds of moths flapping their wings.
His presence felt… so real. I knew it couldn’t be, and fear held far greater sway over me than any motherly instincts. Still, I feel bad that I ran away from this… this thing, rather than towards it. Even if it wasn’t Nathan, shouldn’t I have been there for him?
I bumped into the curator in my panic. That broke the hallucinations somehow. He had brought me more material from other parts of the archives to help complete my picture of the town’s history.
The water, the ghost, none of it was really there. Just in my head.
Anyway, I digress. The history of Longhorn Hills.
One night in 1858, an angry mob of fanatics became responsible for the biggest crime in the town’s history. In the “Night of Fire”, as it was reported in Bennett City papers, these people lynched several dozen innocent souls, accusing them of consorting with Alden Spice and the Devil himself. Countless lives were ended by hanging, drowning, or being burnt alive. With the intent of inflicting upon Spice that same fate, the lynch mob marched upon his manor that night.
A riot of rumors say that they found him alone and dead in his home, bled out in his office after having slit his own throat with a knife. His desk and walls were supposedly all painted in occult symbols, using his own blood. The mob burnt down Spice’s entire estate that night, leaving no trace of the event, and erasing anything that might have backed up those rumors. It is also possible that they murdered him.
Many more innocent people died tragically in the spread of uncontrolled fires, burning down several buildings in town. Other lives and homes were spared by a sudden rainstorm, causing a flood in Longhorn Hills which also claimed more lives. A once-in-a-millennium kind of event, they had believed back then.
Though it would take considerable time to mitigate all damage from deaths, fire, and flood combined, the community of Longhorn Hills in the 1860s recovered, owed in part to the coal mine reopening mere days after the calamity.
Many people had disappeared from Longhorn Hills after that frightful night, either having moved away, or vanished inexplicably. Speculations point to several having evaded lawmen, dodging responsibility for the actions of the lynch mob. No records exist to name anybody responsible in the killings, nobody claimed to know the people responsible by name, nor was any justice ever meted for the incident.
To make penance for the horrors of that dark night, Enoch Bell washed his hands clean by claiming that the church had neither instigated nor condoned such actions. Under his leadership, the town instead established the Memorial Cemetery out in the woods, where the church spent weeks consecrating the grounds. Many graves set up there were empty, serving as reminders to the people lost in the Night of Fire.
In the center of the cemetery now stands the Longhorn Hills Baptists Mausoleum, in which Bell was eventually interred, alongside many other parishioners.
That had to be the same place. Where the ghouls had chased me from.
I do not know or understand how all these things are connected, but I know deep down that they are somehow. Everything—all the events—they feel like symbols, rhyming and repeating across time. Rain and floods, disappearances. Occult symbols, either painted in blood, or glowing in ways that human eyes cannot see.
Are these angry, hungry ghosts? Bound here by tragedy and inhuman crimes? I cannot say for sure. Why would they abduct an entire school bus of innocent children? It made so little sense, and yet… it felt like I had assembled the edges of a jigsaw puzzle. The picture in the center was still missing, but the rest fit together.
I had already started looking into more recent accounts, from the twentieth century, regarding any people going missing in Longhorn Hills, when my research was interrupted.
The sheen of water on the floors had returned, albeit deeper this time. Probably an inch of it at this point, as if it was gradually rising. I only noticed because of the freezing cold of my feet, tearing me out of my concentration, and how I felt how my socks and shoes were soaking wet.
The water was brackish in color and appearance. Brown and muddy, like the flood water I had crossed to escape the cemetery. In this water, too, worms were wriggling beneath the murky surface. And a choir of whispers sounded like children had invaded the library, punctuated by eerie giggles.
I expected to see the ghoulish apparition of Nathan somewhere, but instead stumbled into the curator.
But it wasn’t really the curator at all. It was… something that wore his tweed suit, only the suit was sagging, and littered with holes where the fabric was coming apart. And rather than skin, this thing masquerading as Holt was made of crumbling clay. A gaping black hole was all I could see in place of what should have been his face, with moths crawling out from its impossible depths, fluttering away, and crowding around the lights of the Historical Society.
I fled. I’m not proud of it, but I fled. I could not tell if the hallucinations were clashing with reality. I could not tell if I had hurt the kindly Mister Holt by pushing him in my escape. I pushed very hard to get past that figure.
(Olivia Sutton audibly sighs here.)
On the ride back to Bennett City, images flashed before my eyes, suggesting that I had seen blood. My gun, on the passenger seat, still contained all of its bullets. Had I hurt Mister Holt? I am too terrified to find out, and I will call the Historical Society right now to find out, and then the police if I get no answer.
I cannot keep doing this alone. I need help. I need someone who can help me tell reality and these hallucinations apart. I am not entirely convinced about them being hallucinations, or the result of some chemical leak. I feel like I know the truth is hiding in the shadows between reality and… this. All of this. This… other world.
But who can I turn to now?
[ “New Recording” ends. ]
#spoospasu#spookyspaghettisundae#horror#short story#writing#literature#spooky#fiction#found footage#audio#recording#epistolary#missing#despair#isolation#helplessness#mystery#cemetery#rain#downpour#flood#Longhorn Hills#archives#history#Historical Society#phenomena#unnatural#unexplained#strange#occult
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