Yes, yes, I use to chase ghosts, well, investigate allegedly haunted sites. Yes, I believed in and still believe in ghosts.
Why did I stop?
Ever hear the phrase “Don't go looking for the Devil, you just might find him?”
Yes, the Pellagrini house. I had encountered ghosts prior to it, and debunked a few fair hauntings, well I remind you, but that house and what it holds... I consider myself fortunate that I managed to get my crew out alive and relatively unscathed.
I did say relatively, and I take full responsibility. I refuse to ever put people in harms way like that again.
Then that fool went in after me, trying to debunk our findings...tragic. Unnecessary. I knew, in passing at least, several people on his team. Good people.
They found the bodies? Where? Really?!? They're mostly intact? Oh thank God! At least that's something for their families.
What do I think should be done with the Pellagrini house? It should be left alone to rot. Put a ten foot tall concrete barrier around it with no entrance ways, and around the clock guards to keep stupidly curious people away. Maybe someday it will just die its own death.
You're joking.
You're not joking.
I suppose nothing I've said past or present will sway your employers, or the network.
I ask that you remember two things, two things that may save your life and the lives of those going with you.
One: Everything you see in there is real and can kill you.
Two: It's not the ghosts that are dangerous. It's the grief that kills.
Okay, I’m doing it! Posting a ficlet here. Why is the Ted Lasso fandom so great and also so very wild?
It’s found family, Sam and Jamie as best friends and brothers. Just under 1,000 words and neither extra edited or britpicked at all.
Sam had to have planned it, for all that it seemed like he sprung it on Jamie out of nowhere. Because of the extra training with Roy, Jamie was now almost always the first to arrive at the club. That used to be Isaac, saying he should as captain, but after he realized he’d never beat Jamie, he stopped worrying about keeping it up.
He hadn’t wanted anyone to arrive to the club and be alone. But Jamie wasn’t alone, not really, since Coach Kent was always with him.
And Sam, beautiful innocent baby angel Sam, took advantage of this fact. Like a beautiful devilish baby angel!
He didn’t even wait for Jamie to finish changing before breaking the silence.
“Before, one of the reasons you’d lash out at me…it was because you were jealous of my relationship with my father.” He didn’t even bother to make it sound like a question.
Still, Jamie nodded in answer. And then thought about accountability. He had to make the apology, not just agree with Sam’s assessment.
“That weren’t right of me, Sammy. I’m sorry, I knew it then but just…he seems like a really good da.”
Sam’s grin after that put him back to normal angel status for Jamie. And then his next response put him back into devil baby status. Was a real roller-coaster of a morning Number 24 was putting him through.
“Well, that is easy to resolve. We’ll just share him.” Jamie laughs even though Sam said it so earnestly. At the sound, Sam smiles again, but Jamie isn’t falling for that. He is proven right to have had those doubts because Sam gets out his phone to video call someone.
Of course it was Ola, Sam had directly told him that they were going to share his father.
“Hello my son.”
“Hello, Daddy. I want to introduce you to your other son.”
His dad repeats it, half a question in his voice, even as Jamie goes “Sam, what the fuck?”
“Daddy, you remember Jamie.” It wasn’t a question, so Ola didn’t answer it. He just looked at the startled face of Sam’s surprising best friend.
And he has heard Sam say so very much about Jamie Tartt:
—from the beginning of Jamie’s loan when Sam became increasingly upset but tried not to be bitter.
—from when he heard the rumor that Jamie was coming back but Coach Lasso said he wasn’t.
—from how betrayed he felt when Jamie did show up, and how he took that hurt out on Jamie. Even though it didn’t feel like that’s what he was doing at the time.
—to the begrudging respect when Jamie covered the logo and told the team that they should all wear the same kit.
—to Sam witnessing Jamie’s father, pretend punching towards his son in a way that made Jamie tense up, suggesting that he never knew when it was pretend and when it was real. That it ever had been real was unfathomably evil.
—to the pride Sam felt, that he thinks everyone felt, even Coach Lasso before he disappeared- that Jamie used what he’d learned in therapy. To set a boundary, to repeat it without needing to justify it, to be calm when his father was trying to rile him up.
—to the fear he felt, when that man laid hands on Jamie, pulling and shoving, and everyone knew, then, that he wouldn’t hesitate to turn violent against his son.
—except Jamie defended himself. Sam said it was a solid punch but that it wasn’t practiced. Because Jamie riled up other players, and he could shove with the best of them, but he didn’t ever take it farther than that.
—except “Jamie looked lost, daddy. Like he had no idea what to do after protecting himself, because he’d never done that before.”
—except Jamie’s dad got up, laughing cruelly, saying he’d let Jamie have that one for free even as he was preparing to exact a cost.
—and then Beard had removed him. Swooped in to protect Jamie from his father’s wrath.
—and then Roy swooped in to hug Jamie, to hold all his pieces close so that when he broke, it would be easier for Jamie to put himself back together.
“Daddy, you remember Jamie.”
“Of course I do, how could I ever forget my second son?” He kept the same warmth and love in his voice when addressing them.
“You’re both barmy!” Jamie shouted at the phone, at Sam, at his apparent new father. But with his head thrown back as he opened his mouth impossibly wide to laugh. For all that his biological father tried to make him feel small, Jamie refused to be so; filling up any room with his presence. Both Obisanyas loved that for him.
But for now, Sam just chided him, “Is that any way to talk to your father and brother?” After Ola’s chuckle, the three of them had a slightly more normal conversation about their past week. Still, Jamie became hyperaware as teammates trickled in and saw them.
Sam might move the phone in a circle, after checking the state of people’s dress, so they could all chime in a hello. But he never had someone right by him to converse with his dad. Well, their dad now. Sam had meant this sharing business, it turned out.
They ended the call when Roy entered the room, immediately calling the room to task when he spotted this unusual set-up.
“The fuck is going on with Tartt and Sam?”
“That’s our cue, gotta go, it was great talking to you…Da…?” Jamie offered tentatively. His unsure smile widened when Ola agreed it was nice to catch up.
He waited until Ola and Sam finished, but was surprised by the second send off.
“Goodbye my sons, I love you so very much.”
Sam hit end, and the room grew loud with hollering. Jamie was right there with the lads, but he was grinning like a loon when he called out “Goddamnit Samuel!“
“What!”
“It’s less than a week until Father’s Day. How fast is the mail from England to Nigeria?!?”
I ended up only drinking a little, because I was alone and bored, but I'm still working on the prompts everyone gave me!
Including this one. I SEE YOU AND YOUR ID, @saekhwa.
~*~
Thierry pressed against the stone, stealing a look around the corner to peg the vampire's location. It wasn't like they didn't have a time sensitive holy mission to complete, so of course it made total sense to derail all their plans and head back to Rodgau to remove a nest of vampires. If she survived this, she was going to have a serious talk with Dukalsia about how easily she bent to the wishes of the Second Nation.
But that was for later.
Thierry took a slow, deep breath, and then broke cover, every step cautious and careful. When she took her strike, it was silent and quick; she buried her short sword into the vampire's back, yanking it upward and carving through its undead flesh. She vanished back into the shadows and hid, taking the opportunity to trade her sight with Fínëa's. It was so much easier to strategize when she could see the entire battlefield from the air.
Four hours until sunrise, and she now had the nest's attention entirely on her.
She would take care of everything and be back before the other Moonbows woke up.
Thierry took a slow, deep breath, and then broke cover once more.
Well, first this gets an original drabble, because this immediately came to me. I’ll try to get a fanfic set up for something a little different soon...
*********
Others might have been embarrassed by the circumstances.
All Sarah Mae, apple of her farmer father’s eye, felt was pride at the number of faces in her audience. Almost the entire mountain was in attendance.
Cousin Joe turned the crank that ran the gramophone, the wobbly record scratching across the needle until something approximating an orchestra began to play.
Sarah Mae tool a deep breath and, with her entire heart, began singing.
Even over both, the nervous crowd could still sense Daddy Jim’s fingers tapping against his double barrel.
Prompt: Describe the sensation of jumping into a pool of cold water.
Word Count: 89
A/N: This wound up being in reference to something I experienced as a child, only this has a more optimistic ending. When I slid down a rock into a coldwater spring (on purpose alongside a slog of people, mind you), I blacked out when hitting the water and my dad panicked. He jumped in after me, and I woke up to him grabbing me and swimming to the surface. If you don’t want a creative representation of that sensation, skip this one.
The primordial chill bites at my skin, sending lightning through my body. Everything turns black. Is it a lifetime or a mere moment when I open my eyes again? A wildfire spreads in my lungs, the motivation to swim toward the sun. It burns through my numb limbs.
Breaking the water’s surface is something I never thought would feel so relieving and exhilarating, a breath of fresh air in its purest form. My mind is as clear as the spring. I can take on the rest of the day.
Prompt: Invent a new type of plant and describe its unique features.
Word Count: 76
A/N: I’ve decided to try my hand at some daily short writing prompts that I can do quickly to get the creative juices flowing again. Thought I would share them here. Any feedback is appreciated!
Round, mulberry-painted petals billow outwards, delicate doily edges catching the wind. The thin stalk supporting them miraculously stands proud. Below, indigo leaves sprout broadly and taper like a star into points curling up towards the moon and fickle clouds. Further still, the stalk’s moonlit color fades to rot as its necrotic roots clamor deep into a rich, freshly sown soil, searching for the remaining nutrients that promote its growth. The Tombstone Blossom has little time left.
The music festival had been a great choice -- on that, everyone agreed. Winter had been peaceful and uneventful for the Haventide residents, and with spring arriving, they were more than ready to stretch their legs in a new city and party until they dropped. Which they very well might accomplish.
Ingrid had decided to stay home and tend the house. Nana Winifred would go to the festival and keep an eye on the kids in her stead.
Marcus also was not attending. He happily declined, knowing that the celebration was no place for his young daughter. He also knew his boyfriend Jay had been showing self-control all month and needed some space to let loose. The incubus was likely starving for a good night. Before Jay left for the trip, Marcus had pulled him aside and whispered sweet nothings in his ear, encouraging him not to come home until he was a blissed-out wreck.
As the trip stretched on, it looked like Jay planned to do just that.
Over the weekend of music, drinking, and shopping, the group of friends had enjoyed themselves to the full. Jay had already made his way into several strangers’ pants. And now another evening had extended past midnight and the group had decided to try a local club.
Drinks were filled and refilled. The music pounded through the bones of all those who had bones. Ashley once again complimented Emalyn’s outfit, telling her she looked like a punk goddess. Even Winifred’s cheeks were turning pink, a testament that she now had more alcohol in her system than blood.
The room smelled of indulgence and want, and Jay was drinking it all in. He dominated the dance floor, pulling in one willing partner after another, melding their bodies as close to his as possible. All eyes were on him and he lived for it. Colors flashed chaotically and the music seemed close to knocking down the club’s walls as the hours ticked by.
Even in her giddy state, Winifred was hyper aware of her friends, looking for anything out of place that would tell her it was time to leave. She watched Jay careen about the dance floor, impressing the onlookers with his talent and sensuality. Winifred narrowed her eyes. Jay’s teeth were becoming more pointed, his eyes more piercing. He was grabbing his dance partners with a little more force.
They should probably leave soon.
But before she could wave over her friends, another dancer stepped onto the floor, instantly catching the eyes of the other clubgoers. A tall figure with cascading dark hair and an outfit that left very little to the imagination. With hooded eyes they approached Jay and licked their lips, instantly falling into sync with the man’s suggestive dancing.
Winifred couldn’t help herself. This was a rare opportunity that she wanted to watch. It wouldn’t do any harm to let the Haventide friends stay at the club a little longer.
Everyone was hypnotized. It was hard to tell who was leading the dance, the two seemed to feed off each other’s energy. Winifred couldn’t remember a time Lake and Jay had had their hands on each other this much.
Lake leaned back in a dramatic dip, hair flowing around them like a cape. Jay supported their weight with ease and pulled Lake up, pressing their bodies together. They swayed like that, and then on cue with the music, Lake swung around Jay’s body, hands interlocked, each pulling the other along. Then they were back-to-back, Lake’s free arm going over Jay’s head to wrap around his neck.
Jay used this as leverage to lift Lake up, body swinging through the air in the tight space. Lake landed expertly on their feet, and the two dancers were at it again, weaving in and out perfectly in time with the beat.
Winifred watched mesmerized, catching influences of dances from around the world, from time periods long gone by. The music pounded on, further encouraging the two dancers.
Neither relented to the other, but the challenge to keep up and the promise of exhaustion was all part of the fun. They were both breathing heavily, pupils dilated, grins showing off pointed teeth. The crowd was cheering. Hector and Ashley sang loudly along with the music. The smell of leather began to fill the room, mixing with the smells of alcohol and sweat.
When Jay noticed flowers growing on the ends of Lake’s fingers, he knew it was time to stop. Oh how he wanted to put his mouth on those fingers, to bite Lake’s neck, to push the other against a wall and have his way with them. There was pollen in the air, and Jay was proud of himself for having affected the other so much.
Jay took Lake’s hand and pulled them, stumbling, toward his group of friends. Some in the club whistled approval. Lake was biting their lip, eyes dark, skin tingling. Their outfit glistened iridescent like beetles’ wings.
Once all the friends made it outside, they sucked in the fresh air. Winifred led them to a taxi, wondering just how much alcohol it had taken for Jay and Lake to tolerate each other. She quietly pocketed her phone. The pictures she took tonight would remain her little secret.
SVK is my original story. I’ve been worldbuilding for it for about seven years under the working title “heroes story”, which longtime followers have probably seen mention of at some point. It’s gone through several iterations over the course of that time and has changed a significant amount from the initial attempts.
The current manuscript is partially incomplete and will need to go through thorough edits, but I’m hoping to release early chapters for beta readers later this fall or winter, with the goal of ensuring that the representation I’ve included is done as well as possible for a queer hick from the rural midwest.
All characters and content are my original creations and are open to improvement. Feedback is appreciated and will encourage further content release.
Wordcount: 1.2k
_______________________
The cat was nosing in Theo’s paint again, bothering him for a scratch. He loved the insufferable creature, but damn if it didn’t seek affection at the worst of times. Careful to balance it properly, he set aside his pallet and rubbed Carnie’s ears. The wind blew cold even in the summer season, and Theo pulled his coat tighter around him, trying to keep paint off of it and the cat as best he could.
He took a moment to warm his hands in its long orange fur and look over what he had completed so far. The rough textures of the worn brick and concrete buildings of the city east of the commune were a good challenge; the crumbling asphalt road with its faded remnants of yellow and white leading outwards tested his skill at displaying perspective.
Mx. Jordanes had assigned him to sketch the same scene last year. More of the shoulder of the road had deteriorated since then, doubling the size of the pothole, and one of the telephone poles had rotted through in the spring. It had taken fifteen able adults to move, clearing the way further to the fourth stoplight down, where things became 4th Street territory. The stop lights still cycled through their colors, directing the ghost of traffic. Once, they had been the pulse of the city. Theo thought he might catch them all at different colors. Some red and yellow would really brighten up the scene.
He was putting down a base of orange on the furthest one when he noticed the change. A cluster of dots in the distance had come around a corner and were making their way down the road: two of them black and two of them gray. Two travellers, he assumed, being escorted to Slateset by 4th Life Strays, who claimed the 4th Street territory. The Strays were usually good about sending survivors their way, but as they came closer Theo could see the strange make of their clothes. The gray figures were bundled in swathes of cloth over every inch of their body, hoods pulled low over their faces, while the dark coated pair were marked at the shoulders, the taller one by red and the shorter by violet. They were packed too lightly for real wandering, but they didn’t look like Kings either. Certainly they wouldn’t have come through 4th Street if they were.
Theo painted his stoplights as he waited for them to come in calling distance of the barrier wall he was perched on, and began packing away his brushes for deeper cleaning.
If they were Darksiders he was as good as dead already. They didn’t look the type, no guns or bows as far as he could see, but Theo adjusted the hatchet hanging from his belt so the steel caught the light just in case.
“Hail!” cried the violet-marked woman, her dark face turned up to look at him against the sun. A long scar ran vertical on the right side of her face from jawline to cheekbone.
“Hello,” he replied. The wind picked up bitterly, and he had to raise his voice significantly to be heard. It was possible someone else from the commune would hear him and come to investigate. Carnie the cat didn’t care for his yelling or for the sudden cold and trotted off down the wall without him. “Did the Bosses give you passage through 4th Street?”
The woman’s reply was stolen by a cold gust. “We met no one on the road here,” she said, louder this time. “We are glad to see someone left alive. Are there more of you?”
“We’re all glad to be alive these days,” he replied, to avoid answering her directly. “Do you need food or medical attention?”
The woman shared a look with one of the hooded figures and discussed something between them. “Your company is all we would request. We have come from far away, and we have many questions as to how this place came to be in such a state. If you would come down and speak to us, we would be grateful.”
Theo weighed the risk. She didn’t talk like a local, she wasn’t lying about that. Their clothes, especially the gray cloaks, were exceedingly clean for someone who had been on the road for any stretch of time, and both she and her redmarked companion would freeze to death if they spent the night outside. They didn’t even have gloves. Still, they didn’t seem like Darksiders, and they had made no threat to him. If they had news from any distance the council would want to speak to them immediately. It had been more than a year since they’d had news from as far as the next state over, and there would be a hundred questions to ask anyone from further.
No, they hadn’t threatened him yet. It would be safer and smarter to test that before bringing them back to his home. “No, I’m staying up here,” he shouted. “Ask whatever you want, but do it from down there.”
They showed no sign of aggression at his refusal, though the women turned and conferred with her companions again. “What is the name of this place?” she asked.
Theo frowned. He leaned over, holding onto the ledge, just to check that his memory was correct. Below his feet in letters five feet tall, Slateset: The First Solar Supermall was proudly printed in bold emerald script. They’d taken down the plastic decals to clean and repaint only two weeks before. Mx. Jordanes had organized the effort, and Theo was still finding green paint behind his ears.
Maybe they were illiterate. Or, more likely, there was some obvious reason for the confusion that Theo was overlooking somehow. Either way, he said, “This is the Slateset Commune.” He pointed back the way they had come, then westward towards the mountains. “That’s all Fourth Street until you hit the residentials, and past us you’re in the King’s Republic.”
“Theo!” Still in his work clothes, Jack Kindley jogged over from the farmyard. “We heard yelling, you alright?” The barrier wall was set against a hill, leaving Jack only a few feet below him as opposed to the height he spoke with the strangers from.
“I’m fine Mr. Kindley, only there are some people here that say they’re from out of town.”
Jack’s face brightened with surprise. “Out of town? How far out of town?” He began to scale the wall next to Theo, heaving himself up by wrapping his arms around the edge, and looked down at the four travellers. “You come from out Kansas way? 73 still a bandit nest?”
The man with red on his coat answered them in a deep tone that cut through the wind like a knife. “We only came west recently,” was all he said.
Jack glanced to Theo, adjusting his grip on the wall. “They look like trouble to you?”
“Nah, I think they’re just odd. They came from 4th Street, though, and they said they weren’t stopped by any Strays. That sounds like trouble to me.”
The older man frowned and nodded, peering over the ledge again. “You guys got any weapons?”
The woman with the scar and her tall friend pulled out a large sword and an axe with a long, black blade. She presented it oddly, as if she were offering it up to be taken or showing it off, and the man did much the same with his blade. The hooded figures were supposedly defenseless. Jack seemed to think it as strange as Theo did, but he nodded all the same. “Alright then, guess you can’t shoot the place up. Let’s get you in where it’s warm.”
_______________________
I’ll likely post more teasers from throughout the book as parts become more polished. If anyone actually reads this far, thank you! Literally all feedback is good, my asks are open and anyone can dm me. The response I’ve gotten so far has me looking forward to putting out more original content in the SVK vein but please like/reblog/usual e-shilling etc if you enjoy it.
