thanks to @xerxia31 for her awesome betaing skills ;) My friend, I would have
stopped writing long ago if it wasn’t for you.
dandelion-sunset, you know I was frightened by this story - thank you for
pushing me out of my comfort zone :)
- have you seen how gorgeous they are ? this is the incredible, awesome work of @akai-echo who has so much talent, class and skills i’m left speechless every
time she does something for me :)
“It’s going to be a big, big, big day!!” the woman in
front of Peeta giggled, in a bright blue suit and oversized jacket. She
apparently was in charge of communication, but the only things she was communicating
at the moment were headaches and too much perfume. Walking on high heels, her
steps as big as her skirt would allow, she commented on everything they saw.
Even the signs at each one of the crossroads. Or why the trash bins were green.
Peeta followed his co-workers through the maze that
was the Zoo, passing by the big monkeys and some strange birds, until the whole
crew from Capitol TV reached a brick building that stood out in the sea of
green and bamboos, in front of which people wearing zoo uniforms were waiting.
They formed small groups, a mass of brown cargo pants and gray tee-shirts, with
radios clipped to their belts or the big pockets, buzzing periodically.
Well, once again, you guys have blown me away with your staggering amount of responses to my stories! There’s no way I can respond to each of you individually, so I’m just going to address some common things again, and then move on to the stories. I’m going to write as many as I can think of, in addition to my friend’s stories, and I will probably not update again until I get a chance to answer some questions that I myself have for my superiors.
Prompt: Even in war, Newt and reader tries to stretch their bond, with a forever promise. (Based on the song Perfect by Ed Sheeran)
Disclaimer: Lots of fluff, mentions war.
In the middle of a war, two hearts trying to survive.
I found a love for me
He never understood humans beings, been more fond to creatures, but you were just… Different, unique, he could understand you, and you could understand him.
You two had something especial, a feeling that was stronger than a bullet, as soft as a petal, and passionate like an adventure.
You were in love.
Darling, just dive right in and follow my lead
Running out into the rain, mud getting under his shoes, but it didn’t matter as long as he was with you, holding his breath, you keep running, trying to keep envolved in the sensation of your hands holding, trying to hide from the catastrophic outside. Because war was cruel and dark, and he needed time to remember how peace was.
Soon you were in a little, slightly comfortable cabin, in the outskirts of the battlefield.
Well, I found a girl, beautiful and sweet
He saw you smile as you hugged him, and he couldn’t help but laugh cupping your cheeks with his hands, happiness running through his veins, you were amazing because even in the sad and destructive setting of the conflict, you were strong enough to keep your light, to see him the same lovely way, to warm him up with your hugs, to kiss him like it was meant forever, and to smile with the innocence of a child.
Newt’s proud to call you, his.
Oh, I never knew you were the someone waiting for me
He was seeing you directly at your eyes, and you knew how much that meant.
Caressing your hair as he kissed your forehead, Newt start to think about your past. Being kids since childhood, he never thought one day you would end up together, a good part of his life he believed that Leta was the one, guess he wasn’t seeing what he really had in front of his eyes.
‘Cause we were just kids when we fell in love
Not knowing what it was
Truth was, it wasn’t that he didn’t loved you, he did, since the first day he saw you watching from afar at the Hippogriff in his yard. But he was too young, he always thought about you as his best friend, the one who would be always with him, it took him a time to realized how did he love you.
I will not give you up this time
Maybe in the past, he hurt you without intention, with his doubts and insecurities, but no more, today he was sure, today he was promising you a forever.
“We’re crazy” Newt whispered with a lopsided grin as he take out the rings from his pocket.
“No, we’re just in love” you laughed winking at him.
“(Y/N)… We’re getting married” his smile was the most big and beautiful you have seen.
“We’re getting married” you reassured kissing his knuckles.
He hold you closer “Oh, love, I want to make you a lot of promises… I will care of you like a Demiguise, and treasure your shiny beautiful heart like a Niffler” Newt flushed slightly, avoiding your sight for a second “I’ll be passionate as an E-Erumpent” you giggled caressing his arms “I want to protect you as mine, like a Bowtruckle, and I’ll trust you as a Thunderbird. But most important, I’ll love you with all my soul, my heart, my everything, forever.”
“Newt…” just a single tear roll on your cheek, his words really had melted your heart.
“M-Maybe those weren’t the most romantic words or the most appropriated, but-”
You cut him off “Those words were the most amazing and beautiful vows I’ve ever heard, and I know how much they meant, I truly loved them Newt, I truly love you, every single detail of you.”
But darling, just kiss me slow, your heart is all I own
And in your eyes you’re holding mine
You leaned forward to kiss him as you exchanged rings, formalizing your promise with the moonlight as a witness.
Soft sweet kisses you shared, like delicate flowing bubbles flying in the air, so natural, so innocent, so pure.
Baby, I’m dancing in the dark with you between my arms
Barefoot on the grass, listening to our favorite song
You two were humming the same song, the one you danced for the first time together at the Yule Ball, as your feet move slightly from one side to another, your skin heating at the touch of his, with your fingers brushing his hair, and Newt’s hands stroking your low back upside down.
The rest of the world disappeared, the fights, the screams, the memories, everything, it was just him and you, inside the bubble of love.
When you said you looked a mess, I whispered underneath my breath
But you heard it, darling, you look perfect tonight
It didn’t matter to Newt if you didn’t wear makeup, or the fact that your hair was wet and messy. You were happy, smiling, looking at his eyes with love, and for him that was the most beautiful look.
Well I found a woman, stronger than anyone I know
She shares my dreams, I hope that someday I’ll share her home
Newt blushed at the memory of Theseus’ teasing.
“So, when is (Y/N) moving into our house Newtie? Momma loves her!” He said smiling “Oh, but if she moves in, you wouldn’t snog her in peace!” Theseus bursted into laughs.
“What are you thinking about, Mr. Scamander?” You said playfully.
“In how much I want to snog you right know” he merely answered without thinking.
“Newt!” You giggled trying to hide a flushed smile.
Newt’s face was red “N-No I didn’t, I mean I wasn’t, erm, I…” he stutter ashamed but his mood relaxed when you put your lips on his.
Newt smiled in between kisses, strengthening his grip on your hips. You never make fun of him, always kind with him and his quirky characteristics, so patient and lovely with his love for creatures, so perfect.
I found a love, to carry more than just my secrets
To carry love, to carry children of our own
You weren’t just the woman he loved, his best friend, but the woman he wanted a home with, to watch your child running through the garden, teaching them about creatures and seeing them grow up, until you had grandsons to tell stories of his adventures while sitting in a rocking chair holding hands in the porch.“
When the war ends, Newt dreams about taking you to adventures, to live, to save creatures, him and you, loving each other in every part of the world.
We are still kids, but we’re so in love
Fighting against all odds
I know we’ll be alright this time
Darling, just hold my hand
Be my girl, I’ll be your man
I see my future in your eyes
You’ve choose him, even if you could have had every man you wanted, you chose him. Even if he wasn’t the most rich or powerful, he could be clumsy and cause a lot of trouble sometimes and he wasn’t the best at social interaction, but you loved him anyways.
And Newt was convinced to be the best for you, to cherish you as a queen and work hard, so one day he could give you the lived he thought you deserved, although the only lived you wanted was a one where he was with you, kissing and loving each other, being man and wife.
When I saw you in that dress, looking so beautiful
I don’t deserve this, darling, you look perfect tonight
Maybe she wasn’t in a glamorous fancy wedding dress.
Or he didn’t wear tuxedo sweet.
You wear your last clean nurse uniform, Newt was in his dirty battle clothes, but you were immersed in each other, he was admiring you as the most beautiful creature he would ever seen, with the moonlight in your face, your messy hair, the way your face flushed as you see him, simply astonishing.
He felt so lucky, having you between his arms, dancing, your lips on his, what on earth did he do to deserve you? To deserve your love?
"I’m so blessed to have you, Mrs. Scamander”
“It’s my pleasure to be with you, Mr. Scamander”
I have faith in what I see
Now I know I have met an angel in person
And she looks perfect, I don’t deserve this
You look perfect tonight
In the middle of a war, two hearts trying to survive.
Loving in each other, in their own world.
They found the peace, in the middle of a storm.
A/N: It’s short I’m sorry </3 it’s more like a drabble (a li'l bit longer that a drabble actually) but it was more about feelings than an actually plot, although the backstory is kinda interesting, I may write an imagine about it (tell me what you think ;))
Also I’m considering about opening requests (I already got one actually (? JAJAJA) but I don’t know ('cause of collage) I’ll see. Also, I’m sorry for the grammatical mistakes
Hope you enjoyed it!
Be a limited edition in this world full of cheap copies!
Scott dropped his duffle bag beside the couch in the center of the apartment Stiles shared with Derek in New York. It was looked a bit more lived in than last time with odds and ends cluttered about, Stiles clothes were strewn over everything, and last night’s dishes sat on the coffee table in front of the TV.
The plates smelled faintly of tomato and cabbage, which meant Stiles had made his infamous cabbage rolls, which Scott missed like crazy. Maybe there would be leftovers in the fridge he could nab before Stiles noticed he had broken in.
Still, the place looked good; homier. But to be fair, he’d only been there for a week after Stiles had been in an accident last summer, and he’d had to stay in a cheap hotel because there hadn’t been enough room in the apartment with the Sheriff already staying with them, and Derek couldn’t handle having his home invaded by two alpha’s at the same time.
At first, Scott hadn’t got it until Stiles had taken the time to explain while Derek and the Sheriff had gone for groceries, leaving Scott on babysitting duty, which really meant keeping Stiles from walking on his caste. The Sheriff was an alpha in his own right, as Stiles had explained it to Scott. It didn’t matter that he was human. Scott respected it.
But this time, Scott was staying with them for Spring Break and the Sheriff was still back home in Beacon Hills. Sort of his and Stiles’ last hurrah before finals in their last semester of college. He couldn’t wait for Stiles to move back home. He didn’t visit enough, and the distance was hard on the pack, most of whom were still in California, minus Lydia up at MIT, and Derek, who had picked up Stiles after graduation almost four years ago.
Scott had accepted Stiles’ decision. He wished Stiles had discussed it with him, or his dad, or had told anyone, instead of dropping the bomb only minutes after accepting his diploma.
“Dude!” Stiles burst out from behind the curtain that hid his bedroom and tackled Scott in a hug, pounding him on the back excitedly before he could sneak into the kitchen for leftovers. “You’re here! What are you doing here? I thought you flew in tomorrow. Oh my god!”
“Hey, man,” Scott said, returning the hug with just as much enthusiasm. “Wanted to surprise you.”
“And surprised I am, Scotty boy, but I’m totally choked you deprived me of picking you up at the airport. There was going to be signs and glitter,” Stiles said with an expressive wave of his arms. “But hey, this is perfect. You can come with me to the show.”
Stiles unzipped Scott’s bag and began to pull clothes out without asking, scattering them on the floor and over the couch until he made a sound of triumph and held out a tight tank top and a pair of nice black jeans.
“Here. Put these on.”
Scott took the clothes thrust against his chest and blinked. “Show?” he asked before he realized that Stiles was dressed up. Or, as dressed up as Stiles ever got. Red skinny jeans, clean converse, and… “Is that Derek’s shirt?”
“Yeah, man. Eau de Derek. Keeps unwanted attention from others of the supernatural persuasion away,” Stiles said, tugging on the front of the white t-shirt that was slightly too big on him. “Trust me. There are a lot bummin’ around the city. But seriously, dude. Get changed. Derek’s set starts at nine.”
“Oh. Oh!” Scott grinned. He’d heard random tracks Stiles sent him, but he’d never seen Derek actually DJ live. “He’s spinnin’ tonight?”
“Hells yeah, man. I mean, distinct lack of actually spinnin’, sorta. I’m not really clear on the technical aspects of what it is he does up there, but hey, it’s still gonna be awesome.” Stiles thumped Scott on the back and shoved him in the direction of the bathroom. “Go make yourself pretty. Gonna be plenty of girls for you to…”
Scott was almost to the bathroom door when Stiles went quiet, and he paused. “What?”
Summary: Once upon a time, @uncledisney suggested that pre-curse trash baby Prince Adam would be the human embodiment of snark and wear Heelys so that he could be a grade-A asshole. (Read more on that here and here.) This is what would happen if he found those wheely suckers after the curse was broken.
Word Count: 1187
Adam hadn’t dared to go into the deep corners of the West Wing since before he met Belle.
When the Stars Come Out- Remadora? For the made up fic, if you're still doing them:)
@ginniewheezie i will always be doing these. i could drabble write all day; just the prompts vary. also love your blog and have def stalked it :) i consider you a silent mutual (unless you want to be true muties)
Title: When the Stars Come Out Pairing: Remus Lupin & Nymphadora Tonks Summary: Young and whole men do not always remain so.
c. 1996 - warning, angst ahead
“Thanks, Dora,” Remus said it absently, staring at the sheafs of notes in his hand at the grimy basement kitchen table of Grimmauld Place. There was thunderous silence in the kitchen, and he looked up, open-mouthed. “I’m sorry,” he said at once. “Tonks, I’m sorry. An old habit because it’s-”
“What Sirius used to call me,” said Tonks, with a ghost of a smile. “I know. I remember.”
“Yes, well,” and Remus was uncomfortable, not looking at her. He knew Tonks liked him, but her affection was misplaced.
“No, you don’t understand,” said Tonks again, forcing him to look up at her. “I remember.” And it wasn’t Tonks standing there. It was Sirius. But not as Sirius as Remus had so recently lost him, gaunt with half a beard and dark sunken eyes. He was Sirius, the way Remus loved him best. The way he remembered him best. He was wearing his leather jacket, his combat boots, his face only shadowed with the hint of stubble he might be able to grow. He was sixteen years old. Remus knew it without asking, and his own eyes filled with the memories and the longing as he looked at him. He looked, and looked, and filled his memories and heart and eyes and still it wasn’t enough.
“I remember him like this,” said Tonks-Sirius, but her voice was her own, and he snapped out of it, jerking back from the image of Sirius. Some of her features melded into his, and for the first time Remus saw their similarities in their noses, their sparkling dark brown eyes. The heavy smile lines. Her face kept shifting, and Remus was taken aback. It looked like Sirius, but it wasn’t Sirius. The hair was heavier. Lanker. The nose more crooked. Heavy lips. Darker eyes. Slighter. Shorter.
“I remember him too,” said Tonks in her own voice.
“I didn’t know you knew Reggie,” said Remus quietly, but kicking himself. Of course she did. She knew them both.
“He was my favorite cousin,” said Tonks, her hair bleaching out brown and mousy, her eyes lightening to their own shade of brown shot with amber. “I liked Reggie even better than Sirius.”
Tonks gave this the due thought it was accorded. “I don’t know,” she said finally. “He was younger. I was born…what was it, your first year?”
Remus nodded, feeling old and guilty. “Sirius showed me your baby pictures at breakfast,” he recalled.
Tonks only laughed. “When they came to visit…Sirius seemed…like an adult. And he loved Mum so much. He wanted to spend all his time with her, especially when she was sick.”
“And Reg…well I called him Blackie,” unconsciously her own hair darkened, ink spilling across the roots and down her back. “Because I wanted to look like him. And he was younger. He didn’t…Sirius was old. But Reggie was mine. He was like me. He would play with me and eat my imaginary cakes and clean me up and…” Tonks trailed off.
“You remember,” echoed Remus.
Tonks nodded. She swallowed. “You loved him.” She said it as a fact. She didn’t need any evidence to contradict it. She had seen Remus reach for the image of him. The image of their relationship at its start.
Remus closed his eyes, his hands under the table. He glanced down at his pale fingernails in the shadows before he nodded. He felt the first hot tear at seeing Sirius drip down onto a thumb.
“I loved him too,” said Tonks, sitting down beside him at the table. A silent spell locked the kitchen from any Order intruders, despite it being past midnight. “I wish I had gotten to know him before…I think we would have been great friends. He was in the unique position of being friends with Mum and with me…right between us in ages.”
“Dora,” and Remus said it again, unconsciously again, not even catching the slip. “Don’t.”
“You don’t even know what I’m going to say!” she fired up at once.
“I do,” said Remus wearily, shuffling the papers and avoiding her gaze. “And it’s not real. It’s infatuation. You have your pick of-”
Remus closed his eyes again. “You really don’t,” he said quietly. He opened his eyes and looked at her, his eyes blazing with something inside him. “You want to be with someone who can’t get work? Who’s registered, like an animal, with the local government? That registration that keeps him from finding steady employment? Who will always be working odd jobs and always poor and always tired?”
“That doesn’t matter-”
“Doesn’t matter now,” said Remus harshly. “You’re what? Twenty-four?”
“Twenty-five,” said Tonks stubbornly.
“I’m thirty-seven,” said Remus flatly. “I’m too old for you. You are in the prime of your - “
“Shut UP!” Tonks exploded. “God, just shut up! Do you hear yourself? Do you even see what I see? A man who is kind and smart and -”
“You don’t know what I am,” said Remus darkly. “Life hasn’t been kind to me Dora,” and this time he said it purposefully, with edge. “I’ve lost all that I’ve ever had, and that kind of darkness never leaves. I used to think-” and he ran his fingers through his greying brown hair with a hand, half-hysterically, “I used to think that being the monster was the worst part of me!”
“But it’s not!” he continued loudly. “It’s not! The worst part of me is the man! Is the man who is bitter and lonely and broken. The scars? The scars you can see? If you could see what I really looked like - you wouldn’t even want to come near me-”
“YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND. YOU CAN NEVER UNDERSTAND!” bellowed Remus, surprising even himself. He took several calming breaths. Only one other person in his life could provoke him to this rage, and that had been incessant, teasing James.
“Tonks,” he said it quietly, returning to her familiar surname. “My father abstained from a Beast versus Being debate when I was five years old. I was playing outside when I was bitten by Fenrir Greyback. I was almost mauled to death.”
Tonks didn’t speak, only stared at him, promising mutely to stay quiet.
“My mother miscarried my sister my fourth year. Sirius… Sirius and I…” but Remus couldn’t continue. He plowed forward. “Sirius called me the year after Hogwarts to here. To this kitchen fireplace,” and he gestured behind him. “Completely frantic. Out of his head. Kept telling me he didn’t know how to clean up a mess.”
Tonks swallowed. She had heard stories.
“His father was hanging from the balcony. Reggie had gone missing three days before. His mother was upstairs; she knew of the body for all three days. It was bloated and rancid by the time Sirius found it, only approached by Kreacher.”
“I was just a kid,” and Remus’ grey eyes were swimming as he looked at her bitterly. “I didn’t know what to do. We called my dad. James’ father….he had passed…passed in sixth year. Or we would have called him.”
Remus swallowed, but forced himself to continue. “The year Harry was born, I was visiting my parent’s cottage in Wales. I was going to dinner. I couldn’t find work, but I was going to lie to them. I arrived with a bottle of Mum’s favorite wine…and the Dark Mark was set above the house.”
Tonks closed her hand over Remus’ but he didn’t feel it, his eyes unblinking into space.
“I apparated for James. He was closest. He and Lily and Sirius came right away. Lily held my hand outside while James and Sirius went in. They…they wouldn’t let me in. James told me….told me Greyback had come back and…” his voice was a whisper. “There was too much blood for me to…to see my parents like that,” he finished.
Tonks could feel him trembling, and she scooted her chair closer, moving her arm around his shoulders, leaning her face into his shoulder, trying to be as close as she could get without interrupting.
“And then…” Remus’ voice was a high, thready whine. “Dumbledore asked me to spy in the werewolf community for him. To try to get some to our side. Those days…the seventies and eighties for werewolves were not kind. Most were homeless. Living rough. Often strung out on drugs they could find, roving in packs. I had to be accepted among them…I had to…I did…”
But Remus didn’t finish, only closed his eyes and shivered. Tonks’ other hand came to his free one in his lap, gripping it, anchoring him.
“When…when I was lucid…it was November. It was…all over. No one had been able to find me…to tell me…I woke to find…James and Lily,” his voice broke at last, and the tears fell, as he shook his head hard.
“And…Sirius?” his voice was high and questioning. “Sirius had? But…how could he have? I couldn’t…” he cleared his throat. “I was trying to find him. To ask him…and he…he killed Peter, Dora. He killed him.” His face was far away, small, scared.
“He didn’t,” Tonks told him quietly. “You know he didn’t.”
“But I thought…” Remus shook his head. “There was no trial…he was allowed no visitors. Dumbledore said…” he stopped, swallowing hard. “There was…nothing left for me but Harry. I went to see his Aunt. I asked her to let me take him. I wasn’t his godfather but Sirius and I…we…”
He began to cry weakly, shivering so hard he was rattling Tonks’ jaw against his shoulder. She felt helpless. Confused. She only gripped him more tightly until her knuckles ached.
“After…after I helped her with the funeral…dual part, you know. Muggle and wizard…Dumbledore put up the statue for them. Over their graves. They were buried next to James’ parents…because his mum…thank god his mum died before…”
“I know,” murmured Tonks, but she didn’t. Not really. Both of her parents loved her. Both were alive.
“I went abroad,” said Remus wildly. “I was trying to escape the registry. I had to smuggle across borders to keep from pinging border patrol of my status. I lived for a while in Eastern Europe. Estonia. Latvia. Belarus.”
“I didn’t know you spoke other languages,” Tonks said quietly, trying to direct him away from the spiraling manic heart-murder of his life.
“I took Languages as an elective,” he said absently. “Discontinued after O.W.L.s because I didn’t think I’d need Magical Languages. I wanted to be a healer…and I didn’t need Mermish or Gobbledegook for that.”
“You’re so smart,” sighed Tonks. “I took muggle studies to keep up with my television shows from home to write to Dad about.”
Remus actually laughed, a strained, painful sound. He glanced up at her, his eyes wet, and gratified to find hers as well.
“You don’t want me,” he whispered. “You shouldn’t. I’m not coming out of this life happy, Dora. I’m not…I’m not good for anyone.”
“I didn’t have any siblings,” said Tonks matter-of-factly. “After Mum got sick…the potions they gave her made sure she couldn’t have any more. So I was it.”
Remus nodded. He didn’t have siblings either.
“So to me…Sirius and Reggie were…were like my brothers. My cool older brothers that came at Christmas and Easter. Who came during summers to drink lemonade and help Mum redo her chairs. Who lived on a transfigured sofa overnight and ate Indian takeaway from down the street. I…” she paused. “I know it’s not what you had with him. But I lost him too. A little. In a little way. And maybe that’s all I have-” she said defensively. “And this is the only loss I know. And I’m sorry it’s not like yours, and it’s not big and dramatic, and broken but it…it hurts,” she said quietly. “And I don’t know how to live like I did. I can’t even keep my hair a color for half an hour. Everything drains out of me, like having a cracked cup.”
Remus realized they were still twined together, and he gently extricated himself from her, but still held the hand in his lap. “It will get better,” he said, without hope for himself.
“Please,” said Tonks, her own amber eyes sparking with unexpected tears. She rarely cried. “Please Remus…help me.” She stared straight at him. “I’m not trying to help you, or to save you, or to love you,” she said brokenly. “Help me. Save me. I can’t do this by myself. And I don’t have anyone else.”
Remus stared at her quietly, before he leaned in quietly, and ever so gently, kissed her forehead with cold lips. As if it was permission, Tonks broke, and he pulled her from her own kitchen chair into his, across his lap like a child and gathered her up.
She twined her arms around his neck and sobbed into his collarbone. After a long while, she felt his own tears against her shoulder. They held each other together, while outside everything fell apart and the stars came out.
Send me a made up AO3 title and i’ll write you a drabble based off of it!
Mor and Cassian went to Rita’s to let off some steam after a
particularly difficult trip to the Hewn City, which was something they
were so used to that they hadn’t even discussed their plans beforehand.
They saw one another from down the street and silently took their usual
table, waiting until they each had a drink in hand before speaking. What
they weren’t used to, however, was drinking quite this much, quite this
Cassian wasn’t sure how it had happened. One minute it seemed that they
were sipping their drinks at a reasonable, responsible pace, and the
next moment he noticed a slurring to Mor’s words, that when he shifted
on the plush seat, he had a difficult time regaining his equilibrium.
Given the day they had just spent with Keir, he figured they probably
both deserved a few extra drinks. Not that this would be the first time
they had drunk and then made bad decisions together. He made a mental
note to make sure that Amren never found out about whatever adventures
they might have that night, and ordered another round.
Their conversation needed to revolve around anything other than politics
or business or the Hewn City if Cassian was going to help his friend
forget how hard she worked to merely survive down there, somewhat
intact. So he jumped straight into the thing that he knew would distract
her without fail - fluffy, cute animals. Their conversation began with
kittens and meandered to red pandas, the way that baby elephants would
roll around in mud, when Mor took over in her enthusiasm.
“Do you know who has cute animals? The Winter Court.” Mor swirled her
wine around her glass, finishing it off before resting her head on the
back of her chair. She squeezed her eyes shut. Cassian wasn’t sure what
kind of tears would come out next, and breathed a sigh of relief when he
realized that she was going to have a “this thing is so cute” cry, and
not a “I’m being a sad drunk” cry.
“They have these little foxes, Cassian, have you seen them? They wear
vests and carry things. They are so helpful.” Mor burst into tears at
Cassian placed a gently hand on her knee. “I know, Mor. I know.” He said
this with solemnity, wanting to laugh at her sensitivity while trying
to forget that not five minutes ago he had nearly cried at the thought
of soft, warm puppies.
“You know what else are cute? Lions. Baby ones. The Winter Court doesn’t
have lions.” She sighed. “I want a lion,” Mor whined. Her shoulders
heaved with the following sigh, the burden of her lack nearly too much
to bear when she was two bottles deep.
Cassian nodded sagely in understanding, trying to convey his support
without crying himself. He hadn’t realized how far they had gone, how
seriously she was taking this conversation, until she suddenly pitched
forward and threw her face in her hands, her shoulders shaking with
“Mor, I have an idea!” he exclaimed in a half panic. He was supposed to
take her here to forget the day, and while he had succeeded, he had also
given her something else to be upset about.
She looked up at him, wiping away at her tears and streaking her makeup.
Even drunk Mor would have taken better care with the deadly combination
of tears and mascara, and so he knew it was time for them to stop
drinking. But for now, he had to act fast to make her stop crying and
somehow turning the cuteness of animals into a dire matter.
“What’s your idea?”
“Ok, tomorrow, we go and we get lions. We will love them and hug them
and train them. I can get one and you can get one, and they will be our
friends. And they can be friends. We will find the bravest and kindest
of all lions to be our friends.” Words half-formed and slurred poured
out of him before he knew what he was doing. He could have suggested a
trip to the Winter Court. He could have suggested that she get a pet
fox, or perhaps another animal native to the Night Court. But no, he
grasped for the first straw he found, and found it to be the promise of a
large, predatory animal living with them.
“And they will become our fiercest companions, warriors by our sides,”
Cassian added, lifting his glass in salute to the future valor of their
“Wait!” Mor exclaimed, and she threw herself across the table their feet
had been resting on. Grasping for a pen and a piece of paper, she wrote
“To-Do” at the top. “We can’t forget this. I am very, very drunk right
now,” she said, “And so we must write this down.” With flourish, she
wrote their one-item list which read:
Item 1 (one): Find lions for me and my friend Cassy
At the bottom of the paper, Mor signed her name. She slid the paper over
to Cassian, whose eyes widened, impressed by the foresight of his
trashed friend. But sign the paper he did, and when Mor sat back with a
contented hum, he considered his job complete for the evening.
When Cassian woke the next morning, he was startled to find himself in
bed. The last thing he remembered was signing the to-do list with all
the formality of a legal document. Turning his head, he saw another leaf
of paper sitting on his nightstand. Fairly certain he hadn’t left it
there, he picked it up, groaning as he read.
I ran into you and Mor at Rita’s last night; you don’t need to thank me
for getting you home, though you did smell like the wrong end of a dog
by the time I got you there. Mor shared your wishes with me, and I am
pleased to be able to provide what seems to have been a great wish of
yours. You will find your new companions in the gardens, but I expect
you to name, feed, train, and take basic care of them between the two of
you. I will have no part in the care of these beasts, as I am merely
the instrument of their procuration. Mor will receive a similar note,
and so she will be aware of the gift and her new responsibilities. As
before, I expect no thanks - the amusement I will gain in watching you
try to deal with this, the latest in a chain of brilliant ideas you’ve
had while drinking with the Morrigan, will be payment enough.
“You’re leaving me alone with him?” Raven growled at Robin. “How am I supposed to get peace and
quiet if –”
Robin’s voice was imploring. “I was planning this date with Star for weeks! It’s not my fault that Cy had to
go see Sarah!”
The violet-haired sorceress glared at him, fists on her
hips. She spared a scowling glance towards the green changeling who was
absorbed in a game and totally oblivious to their conversation.
Her glare turned back to Robin. “For the record, I’m doing
this for Star!” she grumbled. “You’ve been neglecting her lately, and she
deserves to have some fun.”
The leader of the Titans blushed and rubbed the back of his
neck, shifting from leg to leg. “I know. You’re right. That’s another reason I
need this so badly. I know Beast Boy isn’t the best company for you –”
“I just need him to leave
me alone, but he doesn’t seem to understand the concept behind those three
Robin sighed. “Just… just try not to kill him, all right?”
“Humph!” she snorted. “No promises!”
Turning on her heel, she headed to the couch and curled up
in its corner, opening her book. “Enjoy yourselves!” she shot at him
dismissively and dove into the novel’s contents.
Shaking his head, Robin headed for the garage where Starfire
was already waiting for him.
And with this one I complete my Drabbletober writings. I hope you enjoyed it!
Halloween. For most of the No-Majs and Wizardkind it was the most
fantastical time of the year: dressing up in extravagant or shocking
costumes, walking up to stranger’s houses and begging for candy, playing
tricks and spooking each other for fun…
For Aurors it was
unarguably the worst holiday of the year. Numerous wizards and witches
trying to get away with a bit of magic in the open, poorly disguising it
as mere magic tricks and slights of hand. People under the influence
having their “fake” wands stolen by equally drunk No-Maj teens. And then
some individuals thought to make a quick Dragot by selling potions and
artifacts to No-Majs… conceived fakes that were anything but and often
caused serious harm or damage. The number of illicit activities always
spiked towards the end of October, and found its peak on Halloween
This year it was Tina and a small group of Aurors who
patrolled the streets of Manhattan. MACUSA knew their usual culprits and
had eyes on them, but feet on the ground were necessary, too. They knew
what to look out for to stop any newcomers from spreading magical items
among the No-Majs this night. So far, it had been pretty quiet, though.
Description:You had always seen yourself as the broken one, the flightless bird who needed someone to mend their wings. So meeting him was perfect because he was just like you, he was also broken, he also needed someone to mend his wings, the only difference the only thing you didn’t know was that he had dark hidden secrets and sooner or later you’d come to realize that he isn’t like you at all.
Word Count: 4k
a/n: I don’t know what this is or where I am going with this so don’t expect a lot.. I felt angsty and I wanted to post it but I’ll see what happens and if any of you like it. It’s not Deranged but.. It’s something I had a distant idea for..
“Would you like to talk about him now?” The elderly man asked you, with caution laced in his voice, his heavy eyes examining your face to see how you would react. He asked you this question every time you cam to see him, always saving it for last and always the same way, it bothered you.
Did he think you’d cry and break down finally letting out all the feelings you’ve been suppressing in front of him? You were no psychology major but you knew how these things worked, and he was a cliche representation of what you did know, but you respected the man. He was only trying to help right? This old man with a tired smile and glasses glued to the end of his nose. Maybe he was being a bit nosy but that was his job. Your eyes wander to the empty fish tank in the corner of the room as you contemplated on his words, did you really want to ‘talk about him now’ ?
You had grown fond of that tank, it was big and beautiful with a rainbow bed of pebbles, the water a lovely clear deep blue. No fishes were in there, not one at all but the filter still ran and in the middle a giant abandoned castle. Why he kept it like that you didn’t know but that was the thing that got you to speak to him and come back regularly. That empty yet alluring fish tank.
But now you had a decision to make. You had denied all of his attempts so far and you don’t think you could bare to hear him ask you again. Yes the way he pestered you on the subject disturbed you, but it was more than that. Each time he asked you it felt as if he was was putting the blame on him, as if he was the one that had caused you to become this way, as if he was the reason for your sadness and suffering. But the elderly man, who’s name you didn’t bother to learn, was wrong.
Having Kim Taehyung in your life, even if it was only for a painfully short while, was anything but sadness and suffering.
This is for @spnfanficpond the Pond Writing Challenge Apologies for the title … I had NO CLUE what to call it.
Word Count: 4288 Quote: Why do the cops never find things as funny as we do? Characters: Dean, Sam, August, (OFC what’s the F stand for?), Jody and Donna Warnings: Death, Family dying, supernatural violence, guilt… i think that’s all. Summary: Dean and Sam check out a possible case. Will they find a monster? Or will they find something more?
Shout out, love and so much respect for my wonderful BETA: @whispersandwhiskerburn I appreciate every second you put into my work.
Tags below the line - no idea if you guys are forever’s, if you want off let me know, either way please get in touch. Hope you enjoy…
Breaking News as we come on the air tonight. In the small town of Bird City, Kansas, every neighborhood pet has disappeared. Police reports indicate a wild animal snatching them from their own backyards. But without pets, will this beast move on to larger prey? Stay tuned as we– Dean muted the TV and looked over at Sammy, raising an eyebrow. Sam shrugged and closed the lid of his laptop, “Yeah. Sounds like it could be our thing. At least it’s close.”
Written by Vincent VenaCava Narrated by MrCreepyPasta
The deals we make upon a situation most dire can lead to a downward spiral. Sadly, the case here is all too true. A young man who saw his dying father, desperate for any sense of fixing, took the risk of bargaining with something with a grin as diabolical as the demon of darkness…
Consider this a warning. In the event it ever comes to you during a moment of weakness, as it did me all those years ago, say no to the Pastel Man. It doesn’t matter how much you love the person that it promises to help, nothing is worth what it wants in return. I tell you this in hopes that you don’t make the same mistake I did that cold winter night, kneeling beside my father’s writhing body on the living room floor.
It was 1997 when I first encountered the creature and ever since not a day has gone by where its awful face hasn’t haunted my thoughts. I was a teenager then, but I look at that evening as the night my childhood died – corrupted and violated by a callous hell beast with pale blue skin.
Even though it happened years ago, I still remember the events of that fateful first encounter vividly. I could tell you what my father and I were wearing, the toppings on the pizza we were eating, even the score of the football game playing on the TV. It was around half time when my father’s speech started to become slurred, which I found odd since he had been nursing the same bottle of beer since kickoff. Stranger even, I had seen him drink a six-pack to himself in the past without even appearing tipsy so I was having trouble understanding how a single drink could have such an effect on him. I realized it wasn’t the alcohol when half his body went limp and he slid off the couch. I asked him if he was all right, but his words had now become incomprehensible. I grabbed the phone off the coffee table and dialed 911.
“911 what’s your emergency?”
“I think my Dad’s having a stroke.” The thought had only crossed my mind a second before the operator answered the phone.
“Ok, we have your address. An ambulance is on its way. It should be there soon. Is he conscious?”
“Yes. He is, but I can’t understand him.” Nonsensical jumbled sounds were rambling out my father’s mouth. I was afraid. He was all I had. My mother passed away when I was a baby so I never got the chance to know her, but my dad was always there for me – doing the job of two parents. If I lost him then I would be alone.
“That’s normal with strokes. It’s good that he’s awake – “ And I didn’t hear the rest because that’s when I dropped the phone.
I was having one of those moments where everything faded into the background while my world fell silent. The football game playing on the television, the operator giving me instructions over the phone, even the sound of my father’s voice as he wailed in agony on the carpet became white noise – dissolving into the air as I lost all awareness of my surroundings. All of my attention and focus was now on one thing. The horrible abomination that was standing in my kitchen watching my father and I with a twisted smile across its disgusting face.
Its head narrowly missed scraping against our kitchen’s 9ft. ceiling as it shifted from side to side, fidgeting with anticipation like a giddy child in class on the last day of school waiting for that final bell to signal summer vacation. The pastel blue skin that covered its entire body, from the creature’s head all the way down to its feet horrible grimy feet, looked weathered and wrinkled like leather that had been left out in the sun for days. Hanging off its long, lanky frame was a plain brown satchel with black stitching. It lightly caressed the strap of its pouch with a long finger while it looked on with an eager expression on its face.
At first I thought I had gone mad from the sight of seeing my father have a stroke, but the closer the monstrosity slinked towards us, the more I realized it was no hallucination. It ducked its head under the light fixture in the living room and stepped a spindly leg over the couch. Though the monstrous freak of nature was clearly bipedal, it had moved down to all fours and appeared to be stalking us like some wild animal hunting its prey. I should have been terrified, but the horrible smile on its god-awful face made me feel more anger towards the thing than fear. It was as if it was taking pleasure in my father’s misery. Closer still it crept and I grabbed my father’s hand out of desperation in some veiled attempt to protect him. The creature stopped its face mere inches from mine before shifting its attention down to my father.
“I can save him, if you’d like?” I was taken back. I had prepared for the terrible thing to take a chunk of flesh out of my neck with its teeth or slash me across the face with its black crusty nails, but speaking to me was the last thing I expected. “He’s dying, but I can save him. If you’d like?”
I sat there, mouth agape, cradling my father’s head in my arm and staring into the two pink bulbous eyes that took up more than a third of the foul thing’s face. I remember thinking that they reminded me of Easter Eggs – a bizarre connection for my mind to make given the situation. It stood back up on two feet and once again I was reminded just how imposing the creature really was. It told me its name, which I dare not repeat because it also explained that speaking it is the best way to summon the beast. For the remainder of my story I will refer to this entity as the Pastel Man – just a name I came up with due to the pigment of its skin and the light shade of pink that was the color of its eyes. That and for some reason giving the creature a silly name always helped to make me feel less afraid of it. Not much less though.
Finally, my mind had recovered enough from shock to allow me to stutter out a few words, “What do you mean you could save him?”
“What I do is make deals, young man.” Its voice was surprisingly angelic – like a thousand choirs all singing in unison. If one were to close their eyes while the creature spoke to them, they might imagine they were listening to a seraph, not the hideous monster that was sporting a depraved grin in my living room. However, its extraordinary voice only managed to make me feel more uneasy. It wasn’t right that something so beautiful would belong to such a repulsive creature. The Pastel Man gestured to its satchel. “I have the ability to save your father’s life, but you have to agree to a deal with me.”
“What kind of a deal?”
“Everything happens for a reason, even death.” Its mischievous smile widened just a bit as if the creature was getting to the punch line of a joke. “It’s true that I can save your father’s life, but someone must die in his place. One shall die, so another may live. That’s the deal.” I clutched my chest. “Not you, what would be the point? No, I’m giving you the option to choose the person who will be replacing your father this evening.”
I was stunned by what I was hearing. “Are you death?”
The Pastel Man threw its head back and let out terrible howl. It was only later that I would come to realize that was how the wretched thing laughed. “No, I’m certainly not The Grim Reaper, although you aren’t the first person to ask me that. I’m not the devil either, nor do I work for him. Let’s just say I’m an independent contractor, shall we?” Two tiny holes that lied on the center of its face in the absence of a nose flared in satisfaction of its explanation.
“I can choose anyone?”
“Well, not anyone. That wouldn’t be very fun would it?” I could see a row of shark like teeth hiding in its mouth as it separated its lips to speak. “Your father’s replacement must be someone else in your life.”
“I’m not a murderer.” My voice was tiny. It barely escaped my mouth. I looked back down to my father. He had lost consciousness and his skin was becoming pale. “And I don’t think I could kill anyone I know.”
“You don’t have to murder anyone, young man.” The sly creature was moving into its final pitch. “All you have to do is tell me who it is you want dead and I will do the rest. Surely there must be someone you wouldn’t mind out of your life? A teacher, an ex girlfriend, a rival at school perhaps?”
There was. I had fantasized about it many times, but never in my wildest dreams would I have ever acted on it. Everyone has that person in their life who is toxic. Someone who makes getting up in the morning more difficult and I was certainly no exception. “Walter Flannigan,” I muttered under my breath.
“Walter Flannigan. He’s the guy at school who gave me this.” I lifted my shirt and showed it the handprint shaped bruise on my chest that Walter had given me during one of his infamous “hazing sessions” in the locker room earlier that week. “He’s been shoving me into lockers, and beating me up since I was a freshman. The faculty doesn’t do anything since he’s the best football player in the history of our school. He’s a five star recruit going to a huge college next year. ESPN even did a piece on him.”
“Ahhh,” The Pastel Man began to snicker to itself. It somehow widened its already enormous pink eyes even more then crouched back down to get face to face with me again. “What fun is being a king, without serfs to torment, eh?”
“Well I’m tired of being tormented so just go and kill him before I change my mind!”
The Pastel Man shot a massive hand out and wrapped its long fingers around my face. The grin that it was wearing since I first laid eyes on it had now been replaced by a scowl. “YOU DO NOT TELL ME WHAT TO DO! ARE WE CLEAR!?” I nodded sheepishly. The grip it had on my face was so tight. I understood then and there that if it wanted to, the creature could easily snap my neck or crush my skull like an egg. “Good, because it’s not so simple, young man. There are steps that must be taken.”
“Yes,” A playful smirk once again returned to the Pastel Man’s face. “You will have to be present when this Walter Flannigan dies. In fact, I need you to summon me or else I can’t complete my end of the bargain. Get the boy alone and speak my name. You must watch him die by sunrise or else you will be violating the terms of our agreement. So do we have a deal?” I nodded again and the monster released its hold of my face before snatching my hand. Its giant paws swallowed my palm as we shook to cement the deal. “Excellent. With this handshake our deal is binding, young man.”
I watched curiously as the Pastel Man reached into its satchel and fumbled around until it found what it was looking for. In between its repugnant fingers it held a strange looking insect about the size of a quarter. The bug buzzed its wings in attempt to flutter away, but could not escape the Pastel Man’s grasp. With its other hand, it pushed down on my father’s jaw in order to open his mouth.
“What are you doing?” I asked, but the Pastel Man didn’t answer. It then violently stuffed the insect in my father’s mouth jamming it down his esophagus with its filthy fingers.
The Pastel Man rose once more to its feet. “There, the deed is done. Your father will recover in full. Now it’s your turn. Remember, the boy dies by sunrise or the deal is off.”
It turned its back to me and began to slither away.
“What if I change my mind?” I asked.
The creature stopped almost mid stride and twisted around. Again its smile had been supplanted by an awful sneer. I felt even less safe then when it was holding my face in a vice grip earlier. “Your father’s health has already been restored so someone must replace him. One must die so another shall live. That was the deal. If you fail to complete your end of the bargain then that someone will be you. Believe me when I say this young man, I don’t need to be summoned once our deal has been broken. I will come for you. That is a promise. And when I do you’re going to wish you never crossed me.” With that it continued out the kitchen and through the backdoor. I chased after it, but by the time I got outside into the back yard, the thing had disappeared. It was then that I spotted the lights of the ambulance as it pulled up across the street from my house. I flagged down the EMT’s and led them to my father.
It wasn’t difficult to find Walter. I knew exactly where he was going to be, but I had completely lost track of time while waiting to hear from my father’s doctors in the ICU. I had to hurry to Eddie Gillen’s house. Eddie’s parents were out of town and he had been talking all week at school about the “Rager” he planned on throwing. There were two things I knew about Walter:
1) Eddie was his best friend
2) He never missed a party.
It was somewhere around 3:30 AM when I pulled my car up to Eddie’s. I parked a little ways down the street so I wouldn’t be spotted. Because I had gotten held up at the hospital, I feared that I had missed my chance to catch Walter. My concerns were alleviated when I saw his raised pick-up truck still parked in the driveway. Another thought crossed my mind. What if Walter had gotten too drunk and passed out. I tried to think of away to get into Eddie’s and get Walter alone long enough for the Pastel Man to do whatever it was it had planned. Luckily for me, it wasn’t too long before Walter stumbled out of Eddie’s front door and climbed into his truck. I let out a sigh, having just escaped a potentially challenging problem.
He pulled out and I followed behind, staying far enough away so that I wouldn’t tip him off. He was drunk. Even from the distance I was tailing him, I could see his truck swerving in and out of its lane. The Pastel man’s otherworldly voice played itself over and over like a heavenly broken record in my mind.
“You must watch him die by sunrise…”
I wondered if I even had the courage to summon the creature again. Seeing it once that night was traumatic enough. Could I really handle looking into its horrible face for a second time? And what about Walter? Even though he was a huge ass, he didn’t deserve to die and certainly not at the hands of that thing.
It will kill you if you don’t let it kill him. Just remember, you’re doing this for Dad.
I’m not sure if it was the little angel on my shoulder or the little devil that was whispering in my ear. I looked out my driver side window. A pink ribbon lined the horizon – the very first signs of sunlight making its presence known in the dark evening sky. In a couple hours morning would arrive, and I would be too late to complete my end of the bargain. I would see the Pastel Man again one way or another.
Walter lived up in the foothills outside of town where some of the wealthier people owned homes. I had been there once for a school project – one where I did all the work and he ended up taking the credit. We had come to a part of the road leading towards his house that cut through a wooded area. I knew there would be no houses for a stretch so I decided that was where I would make my move. I sped up until I was tailgating the truck then started flashing my brights and honking my horn. I was prepared to rear end him in order to get him to stop driving, but it didn’t even take that to get the job done. He must have been panicking. His truck started to swerve violently across the street before running off road, sideswiping a tree, and coming to a complete stop.
I pulled up behind him then hesitated for a moment. A glimpse of the creatures grin flashed through my mind causing me to shutter. I got out of my car, but left the engine running and my headlights on. “Hey Walter!” I shouted.
Walter’s door jerked open and he jumped out the truck to the ground below. “Sean The Shithead?” he was confused, but clearly annoyed. Sean The Shithead was the nickname he had affectionately given me on my second week of school. Within a month he had my entire class calling me it. “You think that was funny? I am gonna fuck you up you little bitch!”
He stormed towards me with both fists clenched. Again doubts crossed my mind about whether or not I could pull the trigger. Guilt began to pump through my veins. Walter’s life was about to end and it was going to be because of me. Memories darted through my consciousness: All the afterschool beatings I took at the hands of Walter, the Pastel Man’s wicked smile, the look on my father’s face as he kicked and screamed on the living room floor. Finally those words, spoken through that unnervingly angelic voice of that terrible monster.
One must die so another shall live
Walter was moving closer. It was now or never. I had to choose whether or not I would summon the beast before the decision was out of my hands. I shouted the Pastel Man’s real name out in a burst of emotion aimed directly at the star football player. Walter paused for a moment, looking at me in confusion then recollected himself and proceeded towards me again – The Pastel Man was nowhere to be seen. For the second time that evening I wondered if I had gone insane. Could everything that had happened to me that night been in my head? What was real? Was my father even sick? Again I repeated the thing’s name in an effort to summon it, but this time it did nothing to hinder Walter’s pursuit of me.
He violently shoved me against the hood of my car, grabbed hold of my shirt collar and spun me around. Walter raised his fist to hit me. I winced and put my hands up in order to prepare for impact, but he never struck me. It only when I opened my eyes that I realized I wasn’t crazy. Walter’s face was white. His mouth hung open just as mine had when I first caught sight of the Pastel Man earlier that evening. I turned my head to see that unmistakable, long, lanky body slink out of the shadows and in front of my car’s headlights. Its face still wore that warped smile and I knew just beyond those thin lips was a mouth full of tiny daggers capable of tearing muscle from bone. Neither Walter nor I said a word. I think I might have been almost as terrified as him. My stomach began to feel sick as the Pastel Man stalked ever closer. I didn’t look at Walter’s face. How could I? The boy was about to die at the hands of this horrible monster and it was my fault. I didn’t have to summon it. I didn’t have to shake its hand.
“I’m sorry.” I truly was and I still am.
I hadn’t taken my eyes off the Pastel Man, but I think it had more to do with not being able to look Walter in the face than fear for my life. Walter said nothing. My car’s headlights fell on the creature’s face and now we could both see it clearly. The Pastel Man’s large pink eyes seemed to glow bright in the light of the headlamps.
Walter let go of me and made a break for his truck, but the hell beast pounced on him with a surprising amount of speed and agility that I had not yet seen it demonstrate. His screams were met with only apathy from the creature as it dug those filthy black fingernails into Walter’s abdomen. I tried to look away, but the Pastel Man made sure I remembered our agreement.
“YOU MUST WATCH, YOUNG MAN! DON’T FORGET WE HAD A DEAL!”
I forced myself to look back at the massacre. The creature’s smile had mutated from mischievous to depraved. It looked as if it was deriving some sort of sick sexual pleasure out of the torture it was putting Walter through. Deeper still, it burrowed its long bony fingers into Walter’s stomach. With a jerk the heinous thing yanked out a hand full of his intestines and dragged them across the ground as it approached me, flaring those holes on its face that filled in for a nose and clearly pleased with its handiwork.
“It’s over then?” I’m not sure if I was asking or begging the creature as the two of us faced each other in the empty street that night.
The Pastel Man threw his head back and once again let out that revolting howl. “Over? We’re just getting started.” It headed back over towards Walter, who at this point was crawling along the ground still trying to get to his truck while his innards trailed behind him. The Pastel Man cut him off and snatched him off the asphalt, easily lifting him by the head with one hand. It toyed with him for a bit, forcing Walter to look into its hideous face. With its free hand the creature reached into its satchel and pulled out a much bigger insect this time. It was different than the one my father had unknowingly ingested, both in size and in appearance. If the bug that the creature jammed down my father’s mouth was the size of a quarter then this one must have been as large as a golf ball. It was slimy – the mucous like membrane that encased its body glistened in my cars headlights. The Pastel Man dangled the nasty bug in front of Walter’s face for a few seconds.
“Now be a good boy and open your mouth.”
Walter screamed. That gave the blue beast the opening it needed. It thrust the slimy insect in his mouth and past his tonsils with its filthy fingers. I watched on as Walter gagged, presumably on the oversized maggot as it made its way down his throat. Soon he began to turn blue. I could tell he was choking to death and even though I wanted to save him, there was nothing I could do. A minute later and the Pastel Man dropped his lifeless body to the ground.
It examined the carnage for a moment, pondering over it as if it was a masterpiece in an art gallery. Then the demon turned away, retreating back towards the shadows and disappeared into the night without saying word. I stood there in the road, looking at the scene and still feeling sick to my stomach from what I just witnessed. I don’t know what I expected, to happen after the deed was done. There was no explosion, no brilliant light show where I would watch Walter’s soul either dragged down to hell or ascend upwards towards the heavens – just a dead boy in the road. A dead boy and his murderer. The Pastel Man was the gun, but I pulled the trigger. In a way there were two dead boys in the road that evening.
I knew that I didn’t have time to dawdle. At any moment a car could have come driving down the street and find me standing in the middle of that massacre. I sprinted back to my car and sped down the street towards town.
The coroner attributed Walter’s death to a drinking and driving accident, although there was understandably a lot of suspicion regarding the odd circumstances surrounding his demise. The autopsy revealed no evidence of the slimy bug that the Pastel Man had placed in Walter’s throat. The town was devastated. I remember a candle light vigil was held in his honor. A couple of big news outlets covered his death because of Walter’s status as an elite college football recruit. My father made a full recovery and just a couple of days after his stroke was released from the hospital. I would go on to graduate high school and meet the love of my life the very first semester at my university. Her name was Diana and she was the most beautiful girl I had ever seen. We married shortly after college, settled down and had a wonderful boy named Mathew. However, I never forgot the hand I played in Walter’s death. I have carried that guilt with me since the events of that night. No matter how much I wanted to, I couldn’t forget. The Pastel Man wouldn’t let me.
It must have seen me as an easy patsy because the creature has come to me again and again every time a loved one has been on the brink of death, offering me the same deal I accepted that first shameful night. Though the creature had been persistent in its pursuit of blood lust, the image of Walter’s gruesome death never left my mind and gave me the strength to say no to its propositions. Even years later, on the eve of my father’s passing, I was able to refuse it’s proposal when the Pastel Man visited me in his hospital room.
I’ve been cursed to have my soul tested till the day that I die by the Pastel Man. A test that for years I was able to persevere through, until one evening where my life began crumbling down and once more the creature took advantage of me in a moment of weakness.
Diana and Mathew were on their way back from the airport after visiting my in-laws. I was swamped at work and had to pull an all-nighter in order to finish a project by its deadline so my wife hailed a taxi rather than ask me to pick them up.
It was around midnight and I was alone in the office when I got a call from the police department. They told me a drunk driver had collided with their cab on the highway coming back from the airport. My wife and the cabbie were killed on impact and my son was in critical condition. I sat there at my desk, unable to move or formulate a coherent thought. It was then that I realized I wasn’t by myself in the office anymore. Perched atop my boss’ desk was The Pastel Man, that abhorrent smile still painted across its nasty wrinkled face. It didn’t need to make an offer. This I believe the creature already knew.
“Can you save them?” I asked.
“Yes and no.”
“What do you mean!? Just spit it out!”
The Pastel man’s smirk disappeared and I could tell that it was not pleased with my tone of voice. Memories of the vice grip it had on my face the last time I demanded something from the creature bled into my consciousness. Perhaps it realized I was past the point of threats because instead of lunging at me as the creature had done in the past, it decided to clarify its cryptic response. “I cannot pull someone back from death’s clutches, only save them before it gets its hold of them. Your wife is dead. Now make your peace with that. Your son’s life on the other hand can be salvaged. For a price of course.”
I racked my mind. I couldn’t think of a single person in my life who deserved to die at the hands of that pale blue monstrosity. Even someone as awful as Walter didn’t deserve the gruesome fate he received that night due to my poor decision. But my son was all I had now, and he didn’t deserve to die either. Not because someone else had made a poor decision that evening and got behind the wheel of a car they were too intoxicated to drive.
The Pastel Man’s glorious voice filled the room again. I seemed to be hearing it from all directions. “The drunk driver that crashed into your family’s cab is still alive and in the very same hospital as your son. Why not him?”
For the first time that evening I looked into the large pink eyes of the creature. “You said it has to be someone I know?”
“Semantics. It just needs to be someone who has directly impacted your life. The moment he drove his car into your wife and son’s taxi he became a candidate.” The Pastel Man flared the tiny holes on its face with glee the way it always did when it was content with itself.
“Fine. Let’s do it,” I said. I shook its giant hand to make the arrangement official. And with that the Pastel Man gave me the instructions to complete our deal.
When I met with the doctors at the hospital they updated me on the condition of my son. “We’ve done all that we can, but he’s a fighter,” The doctors feigned optimism, but I could see in their eyes that they didn’t expect him to make it through the night.
They led me to his room and gave me some time alone with him. The Pastel Man was already there when I entered, smiling down on his broken body. Quickly I shut the door behind me and nodded to the creature. It reached a gangly arm into its satchel and pulled out the same type of strange looking insect it had shoved down my father’s throat. I opened Mathew’s mouth and with two grubby fingers the creature crammed the bug deep into his oral cavity.
“He will make a full recovery. Now it’s your turn.” The Pastel Man waltzed behind the hospital curtain in my son’s room. I knew I didn’t have to check to see if it had disappeared. If it were to make another appearance at the hospital that evening, then it would be because I spoke its name.
When I agreed to the bargain at my office The Pastel Man had told me what room the driver was being kept in. His injuries were far less severe than Mathew’s so he was in a different wing of the facility. I could feel my heart pounding as I made my way towards his room. With each step the beating in my chest grew louder. Already that same feeling of guilt I had felt while I looked down at Walter’s corpse lying in the middle of the road washed over me. I was about to take another person’s life. Who was I to decide whether someone deserved to live or die? I felt just as ugly and horrible as the Pastel Man looked. Maybe I didn’t have pointed teeth or wrinkly blue skin, but if I knew that if I went through with our deal, then I was just as big of a monster as it was.
I stepped as stealthily as possible through the door, hoping no one would notice me sneak in. As I looked down at the face of the driver lying unconscious in his bed, I instantly felt that familiar sickness in my stomach. He was a boy, no older than Walter the night The Pastel Man and myself unfairly snuffed out his life before it truly had a chance to shine. Walter could have become someone different when he matured, someone capable of doing real good in this world, but he was never given the opportunity. This driver was just a stupid teenager who made a mistake, one that he’d never get the chance to atone for. I saw Walter in the boy’s face and my stomach began to churn more. I tried to call out the Pastel Man’s name, but couldn’t. Perhaps that little angel on my shoulder wouldn’t allow me. I would not be responsible for the death of another boy. Not this time. I refused to pull that trigger.
I walked out of his room and didn’t look back. I spent the rest of the evening sitting next to my son’s bed. The first few rays of morning sunlight snuck into Mathew’s hospital room and caught my attention. I peeked out through the blinds and watched the sun rise for the first time since the night Walter died. It was beautiful. The pink ribbon that lined the horizon had bled into the sky creating a dazzling purple hue. I had my light show, and it was spectacular.
I broke my deal with the Pastel Man and in doing so my fate now rests in its filthy hands. Hands that it likely plans on burying into my abdomen. On the plus side, my son will recover in full. It will be hard for him growing up without his parents, but he’s always been close with his Aunt. My wife’s sister is a wonderful woman with a caring family. She’s his legal godmother and promised us the day he was born that she would always be there for him. Her husband does well for himself and they’ve never had a problem with money. The life insurance policy Diana and I took out combined with the money we had been putting away for Mathew to go to college will insure that there should be no financial issues while he’s under their care.
It’s only a matter of time before the Pastel Man comes for me. I have accepted that my death is near, but I’m not scared. In a way I look forward to it. It’s almost as if the boy that died within me on that terrible night has been given another chance. When I die all the guilt and hate that I’ve had for myself dies with me – wiped away so that my soul can cross over to a new plain of existence pure and innocent. The way it was before I ever met that monster.
Author’s note: I’m back! This may not be the last chapter but the next one is for sure! So, are you ready for the feelings I’m about to give you? XP ~Mod Roy
It was getting late. Ganon already had a few rabbits, enough to feed the little ones and maybe some of the teenagers, but not the whole tribe. Usually he would have captured a 10-course meal by now, but his head wasn’t in the game. He was too worried about Link. The boy had been missing for three days now, and no matter how much they have searched, he was nowhere to be found.
That was when he heard a wolf’s howl. Ganon was snapped out of his thoughts, more focused on the animal. A wolf could feed a lot. They may still have to break in the emergency storage to give everyone a decent meal, but at least everyone could have some fresh meat tonight. Remembering his training, the man crouched down, hiding his loot with sticks and dead palms. He then tip-toed toward the sound.
Creepypasta #805: I'm A Search And Rescue Officer For The Us Forest Service, I Have Some Stories To Tell (Part 3)
Length: Super long
let’s move on to the stories:
first happened on a case that I went out on right after I got out of training,
and was still pretty new to everything. Before I took this job, I was a
volunteer, so I had a basic idea of what to expect, but on those calls you’re
mostly dealing with finding lost people after vets have found signs of them. As
an SAR officer, you go out for all kinds of cases, from animal bites to heart
This case got called in early in the morning, from a young couple who
were up on one of the trails that goes by the lake. The husband was completely
hysterical, and we couldn’t really figure out what was going on. We could hear
the woman screaming in the background, and he was begging us to come up there
right away. When we get there, we see him holding his wife, and she’s got
something in her arms. She’s screaming these awful, almost animal-like screams,
and he’s sobbing. He sees us and he screams at us to help them, to please get
an ambulance up there.
Now obviously we can’t just drive an ambulance up the
walking path, so we ask him if his wife needs help, or if she can walk on her
own. He’s still hysterical, but he manages to tell us that it’s not his wife
that needs help. I go over while one of the vets tries to calm him down, and I
ask the wife what’s going on. She’s rocking, holding something, and just
shrieking, over and over. I crouch down and see that whatever she’s holding,
it’s covering her with blood. That’s when I notice the sling on her front and
my heart sinks.
I ask her to tell me what’s going on, and I sort of pry her
arms gently open so I can see what she’s holding. It’s her baby, obviously
dead. His head is caved in on one side, and he’s covered in scratches. Now,
I’ve seen dead bodies before, but something about this whole situation hits me
hard. I have to take a second to compose myself, and I get up and go get one of
the other vets, who’s standing by. I tell him that it’s a dead kid, and he sort
of pats my shoulder and tells me he’ll deal with it.
It took us over an hour to
get this woman to let us see her kid. Every time we try to take him from her,
she flips out and tells us we can’t have him, that he’ll be okay if we just
leave her alone and let her help him. But eventually, one of the vets manages
to calm her down, and she gives us the body. We took it back to the med area,
but when the EMTs showed up, they told us that there was never any hope of
saving the kid. He’d died instantly from the trauma to his head. I was good
buddies with one of the nurses who met them at the hospital, and she told me
later what had happened.
Turns out the couple had been walking with the baby in
the sling, and they stopped because the kid was fussing. The dad takes the kid
and is holding him, looking out over this little gully by the path. The mom
comes to stand next to him, but she ends up stepping on a loose patch of soil,
and she trips. She falls into the dad, who drops the kid, who ends up falling
about twenty feet down this little gully onto the rocks at the bottom. The dad
climbed down and recovered the kid, but he’d fallen right on his head, and was
dead by the time he got there. The baby was only about fifteen months old. It
was a total freak accident, a series of events that coalesced into the worst
possible outcome. Probably one of the more awful calls I’ve been on.
haven’t seen a lot of animal bites in my time as an SAR officer, mostly because
there aren’t that many animals that come around the area. While there are bears
in the area, they tend to stay pretty far away from people, and sightings are
highly unusual. Most of the animals you’ll see are small ones, like coyotes,
raccoons, or skunks.
What we do see frequently, though, are moose. And let me
tell you, moose are nasty fuckers. They’ll chase after anything for any reason,
and god help you if you get in between a female and its baby. One of the more
amusing calls was of a guy who’d gotten chased down by an absolutely massive
male moose, and was stuck up a tree. Took us almost an hour to get him down,
and when he was finally on solid ground again, he looks at me and says: ‘God
damn. Them fuckers is big up close.’ I guess that’s not really a scary story,
but we still laugh about that one.
honestly don’t know how I’d forgotten this story, but it is, by far, the
scariest thing that’s happened to me. I guess maybe I’ve tried so long to
forget about it that it just didn’t come to mind right away. As someone who
spends literally all of their time in the woods, you don’t ever want to let
yourself get scared of being alone, or out in the middle of nowhere. That’s why
when you have experiences like this, you tend to just forget about them and
move on. This is, to date, the only thing that’s ever made me really seriously
consider if this job is the right one for me. I don’t really like talking about
it much, but I’ll do the best I can to remember it all.
As I recall, this took
place right at the end of spring. It was a typical lost-child call: a
four-year-old girl had wandered away from her family’s campsite, and had been
missing for about two hours. Her parents were completely despondent, and told
us what most parents do; my kid would never wander away, she’s so good about
staying close, she’s never done anything like this before. We assure the
parents that we’ll do everything we can to find her, and we spread out in a standard
I’ve decided to start posting random little one-shots here on tumblr of various ideas/headcanons/nonsense that floats around in my head regarding Team RWBY’s time together at Beacon.
This series is sort of a tumblr exclusive thing I’ve come up with called “After Hours”. There’s no posting schedule, no real consistent plot. Some things will certainly carry over and there may even be some shippy stuff as it goes along.
For the most part though, this is just about the girls and some of the things they get up to when they’re not saving the world.
Enough rambling from me - here’s part 1 :)
Ruby wished she could appreciate the comfortable silence
that came shortly after lights out. It was peaceful to sit in the dark and know
that she had no responsibilities for at least the next few hours. Yet, the
trouble was that she couldn’t shut out those responsibilities and worries no
matter how hard she tried. It wasn’t bad, just…restless. She would sleep
eventually – it simply took time.
Reaching under her pillow, Ruby pulled out her big, red
headphones and slipped them on. Making sure to keep one ear uncovered in case
someone woke up and needed something from her.
Beyond the soft sounds of Yang’s snores, she turned on her
favorite playlist of weapon’s maintenance videos. These were a bit different
simply because there was no one talking over them – just the sounds of the
work. It was comforting and familiar, the best medicine right before sleep.
Two videos came and went and Ruby felt her eyes becoming
heavier. She stretched her arms upward, still holding her scroll to keep
watching as another gun chamber was cleaned. Just as she was about to crack her
back, a gasp came from her left and Ruby immediately knew what it was.
She laid her scroll down, screen covered to hide the light,
and watched through the glow of the school lights outside her window as Blake
sat up and put her head in her hands. Blake’s chest was rising and falling
rapidly. Eventually, she sighed and ran a hand through her hair and those adorable
ears that she let free in the cover of their bedroom.
Hello Everyone! For everyone who keeps on loving Mo Chridhe/Modern Jamie and Claire here is yet another post. I know, I know I have several other stories to write (including A Second Chance) by multiple requests, but this current story I keep having multiple ideas so that’s what you’re getting! Please enjoy!
Also,I noticed when I was on my phone and iPad that the formatting I had been using was being lost in translation so from here on out I’m switching up the style the stories will be presented in (instead of tabbed paragraphs, we get paragraph breaks).
“Murtagh! Good to see you!” Jamie said as he opened the door and ushered his godfather inside.
“Aye, good to see ye too lad. How’s Claire and the bairn?” Murtagh placed a package on the ground as he shed his coat and unlaced his boots. “I brought a little something for them, I hope ye dinna mind?”
“Not at all! Claire and the bairn are doing well, adjusting. Fergus and Faith are having the harder time of it. Mam and Da have been here helping along with Claire’s Uncle Lamb, do ye remember him?” Murtagh nodded and Jamie continued, “Well ye ken Lamb’s an archeologist and couldna stay for long, he’s on his way to someplace Africa now.”
“Are Ellen and Brian here now? I dinna see their car in the drive.”
“Ach, no. Da had to drag Mam out though. They’ve been here for two weeks now helping and the poor lass has only been in the world for three days!”
Murtagh’s weather-beaten face crinkled into a smile, “That sounds like Ellen alright. Stubborn and never one to be far from her kin, especially grandbairns.”
“True. Mam does love her family and wilna be far from them. I think Da just wants to go home for a change.”
“Aye, that he most certainly does.”
Jamie led Murtagh to the nursery where Claire stood over a bassinet and stroked the cheek of the slumbering baby inside, while Frank lay at her feet as protector.
Claire turned at the sound of the men’s feet, a smile wide across her tired face. “Murtagh!”
“Hullo lass. How’s the wee one?”
“She’s finally asleep. This one is a bit different than Faith, she never wants to be left alone. I think Fergus is upset Frank has taken to laying by her wherever she is in the house.”
“Ah, weel that’s hard on the lad but I’m happy to see ye up and moving. I thought for sure ye’d be bedridden.”
“What decade are you living in, Murtagh?”
“I-uh-well-I just mean that—”
“Quit your fussing it’s all right. I’m fine and so is Brianna. Do you want to meet her?”
Murtagh stammered out a yes and clumsily made his way to where the bairn lay. “I brought her something.”
Claire smiled and motioned for him to give it to her. He produced a stuffed monkey from the brightly printed bag. “It’s no much but I thought the lass could use a friend.”
“Thank-you Murtagh.” Claire said as she laid a hand on his arm that held the monkey.
Frank chose that moment to look up at the interaction above him and began to growl. The dog’s hackles were raised and a snarl neither Jamie nor Claire had ever heard before bellowed from Frank.
“Seas! Frank! Calm down boy!” Jamie said in an attempt to get the dog to focus on him instead of whatever caused him to become angry.
Before Murtagh had taken a step backwards, Frank lunged grabbing the stuffed monkey by the head. Five violent jerks later the stuffed monkey lay on the floor, tufts of cotton protruding from the body. Frank calmed down and laid back by the bassinet. Murtagh bent to pick up the destroyed monkey when Frank growled again.
“I’m sorry, Murtagh. I dinna ken what has gotten into the beast.”
Murtagh tipped his head back and barked out a laugh. “Oh, it’s fine lad.” Murtagh said wiping away tears. “The pup saw the monkey as a threat and protected his lady. I shoulda guessed something was amiss when I found the damned thing on sale. Maybe it’s a good thing I remembered ye use to love a stuffed bear so I thought to bring one of those as well.” Murtagh grabbed the purple and tan bear from his bag, bent down and held it out to Frank. Frank sniffed the bear curiously then laid his head back on his paws.
“Seems he approves this one more than the last. Claire, if ye reach down in this bag I have a wee gift for ye as well.” Claire did as he said and pulled out a jewelry box. A handcrafted wooden box full of intricate carvings; a Scottish thistle, the Fraser Clan insignia, what she could assume was a depiction of the Highlands and several other little scenes beautifully carved.
“Thankyou. It’s magnificent.”
“Yer welcome lass. I ken I didna give ye a gift when wee Faith was born or when ye adopted Fergus when the lad was two, but I thought this would be something to make up for it. I started it the day ye announced ye were with bairn again. If anything goes amiss wi’ it let me know and I’ll fix it for ye.”
Claire wrapped a startled Murtagh up in a hug, wayward tears dotted the mans shirt as he hugged her back. “Aye, well yer welcome again, lass.”
Murtagh released Claire then turned back to where his newest family member slept. He delicately placed the bear off to the side of the girl’s slumbering head and watched in awe as she stretched brushing the animal with her small fist. Murtagh was in awe as he saw the slumbering bairn clutch the arm of the bear tight and he would have sworn a small smile curved in sleep like his godson’s did all those years ago.
Kai loved adventure, in fact he craved it. Every morning that the sun rose so did his curiosity. He would wander farther and farther each day, trying to push just how far he could go until one day he came to the edge of the dark forest.
HIs brothers had told him countless stories about the darkness that was held within, so it was understandable when he hesitated for a second…but only a second. He took a step closer before it was followed by another and another. Just as he reached out his hand to push back dead branches, a firm tug to his shoulder had him turning around, nearly screaming.
HIs oldest brother Suho stood before him, glaring down on the young boy.
“What did I tell you about coming over to this side?” he quipped.
Kai stumbled over his words, knowing he had been caught red handed.
Suho shook his head, holding up his hand to silence his younger brothers babbling.
“Go home, I’m going to the next town over.” Suho brought a horse to stand in front of Kai. “Somehow I knew you would be out here.” His older brother smiled.
Kai nodded in thankfulness of his older brothers kindness. As Kai saddled his horse he watched as his brother started to head towards the dark forest.
“Hyung!” Kai called. Suho stopped his horse as he turned to look back at his brother. “You aren’t going into the dark forest are you?”
Suho nodded. “Our town is low on supplies, what we need the next town has. I’ll be back in three sunsets.” He reassured. Kai wouldn’t have any of it as he kicked his horse into motion, pulling up next to Suho.
“I’m coming with you.” he stated firmly. Suho shook his head in annoyance and exasperation.
“No, you’re not.”
“Yes I am!” Kai insisted. “You’ve heard the tales about the beast.” This had Suho stopping and pondering. Kai smirked, he had won.