@linkslipssinkships prompted me to write about Rhett’s passion for haunted houses. So here goes.
Summary: There’s a haunted house that locals say no one has made it a night in. Rhett bets Link fifty bucks that he can stay there, and not only that, he’ll bring him back something from the house to prove it. Link agrees to the terms of the bet, leaving Rhett to face the consequences of his hubris. I’ll go ahead and tell you now this one is probably kinda long.
Also, shoutout to @mythosethan for helping me find a way to channel some negative energy.
I want to begin this by telling everyone I’m not crazy. Honestly. I’m not. Or I didn’t think I was until what happened last night. I’m not so sure anymore. Whatever happened… it’s a lot to explain.
I don’t think Link is going to believe me when I tell him this. Okay, let me back up. Link is my best friend. We’re college students at North Carolina University. Halloween is coming up, so I started looking into some scary things we could do. Link isn’t a fan of it though. He says that he’s got better things to do than make himself feel scared. I love it. I live for this kind of thing - or I used to. I don’t really think I’m going to be going out of my way to do anything scary or even watch a scary movie for a long time after this.
“How did i end up here?” she wondered, she had been sucked into the warp on a planet somewhere in Segmentum Pacificus and was now on board a giant ship within the borders of Segmentum Obscurus. “How…?” she wondered again. “….Although i can at Least feel the warps touch more clearly now…”
The air vents were wondrous hiding spots, perfect little places to keep out of sight from the crewmen and the stormtroopers that guarded the ship. Even though she was blind she knew where people were and where they moved, all thanks to the psychic abilities that the gods had been so kind as to gift her.
Whilst the uniforms of the crew were unknown to her the place didn’t smell imperial and that was for sure. “Maybe a rogue traders or some sort of inquisitor…” she pondered.
Suddenly there was a sound of something approaching. “Wait… not something…” she mumbled… “someone!” she had thought herself free from the hurries of the crew on this part of the ship where only the lobotomised servitors were, busying themselves with pre-programmed tasks of maintenance but apparently not.
She moved herself over to sit just above one of the air vents grill to try an sense how far away the newcomer was to her.
He walked through the narrow hallway, his coat buttoned firmly to his wiry yet muscular frame, his left leg hissed and moaned as the pistons within took the strain of his weight with each fall of the peg that acted as a replacement for his foot. Whilst walking with a limp he was surprisingly spry for his age. “At Least the leg was less painful than his old one” he thought
“Urgh…” he groaned as he stopped to adjust the brim of his tall black top hat that sat upon his old and withered head. Thin white hair drooped down from under the hat in strands resembling the legs of spiders, occasionally it would get caught inside the deep wrinkles of his lipless face or be pushed into his cold eyes by a gust of wind which was now why he wore circular lensed glasses he had made by Vance, both to improve his withering eyesight and stop the annoyance that was his thinning hair.
The young lady paid attention to the man, noting his height along with the large saw bladed tool that hung from the belt that held his overcoat to his waist. “Well he doesn’t look imperial…” she mumbled slightly but quickly placed a hand over her mouth realising that he may have heard her.
The man looked up slightly then shrugged, as he began to walk once more, grumbling to himself. “Why wasn’t i allowed to kill that swine…i’m beginning to wish i never agreed to join that white haired prick!” the man’s voice was metallic and cold, just as he had requested when his voice box was replaced with it’s augmetic. “To be more unnerving.” he had told the medic, and understandable statement from a man who was indentured into service as a serial killer to be used for tasks by and inquisitor.
Seemingly finding the old man’s comment amusing the young woman chuckled to herself, louder than she had expected.
The man turned sharply and pointed his cane up towards the vent above him and pulled the hidden trigger within its arched grip. Letting loose a short blast of red lasfire, the shot hit the vents left upper rivet and forced it to open.
Suddenly her body was on the floor of the hallway, she had struck her head when she landed, making her rather dizzy. “Ow…” she groaned as she rubbed her shaven head with her scarred hand that was missing two of her fingers.
The old man stepped forward, his peg-leg hissing as he hurried over. “Now what were you doing in that air vent?” he questioned. Either not noticing the runes of chaos written upon her skin or just not caring. He poked her with his cane. “Are you alright there little one?” his voice was soft and calm, almost too calm considering his grotesque appearance.
The young woman looked up at the man, a strange gesture considering she was blindfolded. “I’m okay…” she mumbled as she stopped rubbing the small lump that had formed on her head.
The old lipless man looked her over, his cold eyes taking note of her runes and revealing clothing. “You’re obviously not one of the crew of this vessel…. And most certainly not a Rook…. So who are you?”
“Wait….wait…. A Rook?” she questioned in response. “…Whats a rook?”
“One of the soldiers who guard this ship, stormtroopers in service to Lord Vance, my commander….. For lack of a better word…. So i repeat, who are you?”
“Scum!.” she said sharply, “my name is scum! Who are you?”
The old man was taken aback by the young woman’s openness… “i'm….. My name is Whitechapel…. Well that’s what i go by at least…” He replied, a confused look upon his gnarled face. “I’m surprised you needed to ask that….. Most know who i am at a glance…”
“But who is your commander and what is he?…” asked the clearly heretical young lady. Thinking it was her turn to ask a question
“an inquisitor….not that i like that fact but still….” replied Whitechapel, as he stood straight, towering above the young lady. “You shouldn’t be on this ship little one…”
“I don’t even know how i got here!” Scum protested. Shaking her head as she did so. “I was on a planet when i went to sleep and now i’m on board this weird ship!”
The old man grinned. “Well you’re lucky i found you and not one of the Rooks then aren’t you little heretic…” the old man reached down his gloved hand and wrapped his slender fingers around the young womans arm
“Get off me!” she protested as the old man firmly tugged her.
“Oh shut up you fool, i’m helping you up!” he laughed through his lipless mouth, a grotesque image as his teeth were a shade far from white.
“Oh……” scum mumbled suddenly realising she had embarrassed herself. “….thankyou”
The old man snorted as he saw Scum’s cheeks redden. “What to do with you?” he questioned himself. “What to do….”
Scum stepped back from the man and held up her hands in compliance. “Don’t hurt me! Please!…. I just want to go home!”
“Why would i hurt you?…” i’m a serial killer not a monster, he laughed. “And besides, i’m not permitted to kill anyone aboard the whaler”
“Ah so that’s this ship’s name…” Scum mumbled. Turning her face back to the old man. “So you’re not going to hurt me?” she questioned.
“No.” Whitechapel replied. He looked her over once again. “Why would i want to hurt someone as cute as you?” he held out his free hand to the young lady. “I would rather take you somewhere where we can talk in private though, it’s not everyday i get to meet a heretic that isn’t on my kill list.”
Before Scum could protest, the old man was already in process of taking off his overcoat to reveal his white shirt that hugged tightly against his toned muscles. “Wear this.” he barked. “It will keep your runes free from sight.
“…thankyou…” mumbled the little heretic just as her arm was tugged by the surprisingly strong old man then dragged down the hallway.
*two hours later*
The room smelled of cigarette smoke and old leather. With a hint of chemical preservative, it was rather offensive to the senses but the decor made up for the smell, with wooden walls decorated with small picture frames and a fireplace with two armchairs sat a few feet in front of a patterned rug six feet away from the fireplace.
“So this is your room on this ship?” asked scum.
“It’s more of an apartment really, has a bedroom and a bathroom attached as well. Makes space travel easier when one has comforts.” replied Whitechapel as he removed his coat from the young ladies body. “Please take a seat…” he said as he beckoned to the far armchair.
The young lady did as she was told and walked over to the armchair, admiring the decor as she did so. Taking in the old wooden aesthetic along with the smell of cigarette smoke, a familiar smell to her as Whitechapel’s breath never freed itself of the odour. “It’s really nice here…” she said, turning to sit on the armchair. “…did you buy all of this stuff?”
The old man walked over to a cabinet near the doorway into the bedroom and pulled out a cloudy bottle of liquid. “Once upon a time yes…. All of this was taken from my house on the planet i was born, part of the deal i made with the inquisitor.”
“Oh!… so what did you do to attract and inquisitor?” asked the young lady as she folded her legs underneath herself.
Whitechapel barked out a laugh. A sickening yet humour filled cackle. “Because i am a serial killer, little heretic….. Vance heard of my exploits and came in search of me.”
“Oh……” Scum was silent for a long while. “…. that doesn’t surprise me in all honesty.” she said finally. “…so how many people did you kill before you were found?”
The old man walked over to the free armchair, picking up two tumblers from the side table as he walked past. “You’re just full of questions aren’t you Scum?..” he asked rhetorically. “…when i was found i had just disposed of my seven hundred and sixty eighth victim…”
“Wow! Really?” asked the young lady, excited all of a sudden.
“That’s not the normal reply i receive from hearing about my exploits….” chuckled the old man as he handed one of the tumblers over to Scum. he pulled the cork from the cloudy bottle and began to pour the dark liquid it contained into the glass.
The liquid sparkled and shone with what resembled stars, it was viscous and had the smell of wild berries.
“Have you ever tried Liquid Gellar before?” whitechapel asked as he stopped pouring the glass with the dark drink and began to fill his own.
“No sir… i haven’t, i’m not much of a drinker..” replied scum as she brought the glass up to her nose, smelling at the liquid inside. “It smells expensive.”
“Well…” said the old man as he jammed the cork back into place and lowered the bottle to sit at the foot of his chair. “… i would suggest that you drink it slowly, it has a rather strong kick to it.”
The young heretic took a sip of the liquid that resembled a star filled galaxy and the taste immediately overwhelmed her senses. Raspberries, rhubarb and the taste of silver played around her mouth in a glorious dance of flavour, she quickly swallowed the sip and felt the light burn of alcohol play about her throat. “…wow….” she coughed as she shook her head, trying to lessen the feeling of immediate alcohol exposure.
“I said to take it slow…” whitechapel laughed as he took a large gulp from his tumbler, taking the glass to half it’s original capacity. “… unless you’re used to it like me…”
Scum laughed quietly to herself, already feeling the affects of the alcohol taking over. “How do you even keep liquid in your mouth without having lips?” she asked
“.. how are you so observant when you’re blind?” whitechapel answered in retort.
“It’s a gift from the dark gods, they allow me to see with my powers.” scums face turned sour in a fake gesture of aggression.
“Interesting…. I just tip my head back so the drink doesn’t pass through my teeth.” whitechapel took another gulp to emphasise his point, tipping his head back as he had described when he took the drink into his mouth.
Scum took another sip from the glass, this one larger than the last. Shaking her head slightly again. “I’m really not used to alcohol!” she laughed.
“So… Scum…. What powers do you have then?… i can tell you’re psychic from that aura that plays about your head but i can’t tell what you are…” asked the old man as he poured himself another glass of Liquid gellar, topping up Scums glass whilst he did so.
“I’m a biomancer with some telekinetic abilities…” she replied, taking a large swig from her glass, seemingly already intoxicated. She giggled. “Wanna see?”
“Sure.” answered the old man as he sat up straight in his seat. Adjusting his circular lensed glasses as he did so. “Go ahead.”
Scum took a drink from her glass, emptying it finally an placed it down onto the arm of the chair. “Here we go!” she said as she raised one of her arms.
In a strange array of sickly noises her skin began to from lines across, then cuts and finally gashes as her forearm separated into three equal components, her hand being the first, then her wrist and then her forearm, all separated fully, no blood, no pain, the pieces just floated in the air.
Whitechapel leaned forward in his chair, studying the arm from behind his glasses. “…interesting…” he said. “Can you still move it around like that?”
“Of course i can!” replied the heretic as she moved the floating hand as if it were fully attached to her arm, bunching it into a fist then pushing it out to nudge the old man’s shoulder.
The old man quickly reached for the hand and held it in front of him. “An you can still feel everything i touch?”
“Yes, those gloves are really soft by the way.” said scum as she began to blush.
“Interesting…” whitechapel let go of the hand allowing it to join back with the wrist and forearm it had separated from, once again forming a full arm completely free of all sign it had ever been separated.
Scum rose from her chair and stepped over to the old man. “Thank You for not just killing me back there.” she said with a smile. Slurring her words slightly, a clear sign that she was drunk.
“Don’t worry about it.” he replied, turning up the edges of his cheeks into what would have been a smile if he had lips.
Scum leaned in closer to the old man, steadying herself against the arm of his chair. “I need to thank you properly though…” she said as she leaned in even closer.
“Oh!..” whitechapel turned his body to face the young woman. “You don’t have to!” he said as he rose up one of his hands in protest.
“No! I do…” she replied as she pulled the old man’s arm around her waist. “I really have to…” she leaned in and softly kissed the side of the old man’s neck, wrapping her free arm around his head to gently scratch the back of the old man’s thinning head.
Whitechapel gasped as he felt the kiss and immediately tightened his grip on the young lady in response. “… i guess you do…” he moaned as the young lady carried on kissing his neck.
“Shhhh…..” responded the young heretic. “Just enjoy it…” she moved her leg around the chair and sat on the old man’s lap, one leg on either side of his waist.
The old man raised up his free hand and ran his gloved fingers across her smooth soft thigh. “I intend to…” he groaned as he let his long tongue fall from his now open mouth, gently caressing the young ladies neck with the wet organ eliciting small moans of pleasure from Scum.
Scum replied in kind, grinding her hips into the old man as she increased the intensity of the kissing on his neck. “How about we take this into the bedroom?” she asked in between kisses.
Without reply the old man wrapped his hands around the heretic and lifted her into his arms, she wrapped her legs around his waist as he did an didn’t stop kissing his neck.
Opening the door with his peg leg, the old man stepped into the bedroom and quickly lowered the young lady onto his bed…..
((end… what happens next is up to you readers))
((i hope you all like this, i was incredibly tired and its now 06:07 thankyou for reading))
Movie Night: ft. an angry teenage son who is done with his sappy gay dads (but still cares)
Sorry for not posting anything for some time! (it’s been weeks), but I’ve been pretty busy with a big move coming up (>_>)… Meanwhile my fanart blog has reached over 3,000 followers and I just want to thank you all for sticking around and sending all the encouraging comments! (It means so much to me ;_;)
I hope you all enjoy some sloppy drawings of our loveable podium family and their floofy poodle.
(edit: had to make some changes for tumblr quality)
- This is my HP fancast aesthetic. Yes I know, I messed up Ginny’s name, I’m sorry. In my country her name is spelled like that. I realized that the English one is different too late, just when I posted it. -