GOOD LORD I'M ABOUT TO LOSE IT
GOOD LORD I'M ABOUT TO LOSE IT
luke or reggie, in verses where applicable, teaching their s.o sign language
Cedric Barlow believes they’re just a regular ol’ human being tryna live life after college/make ends meet with their minimum wage job. Until the day that their brother, Ruuska Barlow, is fatally injured by a creature from Cedric’s dreams. Cedric attempts and fails to save their brother’s life, and is horribly injured themself, but does not die. They are saved at seemingly the last possible moment by a strange wolf-like man, a girl with fangs, a person with wings, a woman with horns, and a man with a striking resemblance to a moth. Cedric finds that the leader of this bizarre group of superhumans is none other than the Mothman; and he received a hefty sum of money from an anonymous source, accompanied by a note with only three words: Protect Cedric Barlow.
My new W.I.P. synopsis!
discord talking about PresAux camping trip and I have to ramble
I used to go camping all the time, but we took 4-wheelers(ATVs) with us. Not the good kinds either. I’m talking the rusty busted death traps with engines from questionable manufacturers and wheels that weren’t the right size.
Then we would go out riding at like 1am on these unholy excuses for vehicles on advanced trails/courses. It was also tradition that every kid on their 16th birthday had to ride up a hill we called CareFlight Hill (cause so many people were airlifted to hospitals) at midnight.
Where I live everyone who has a farm has these types 4-wheelers/dirt bikes and does this kind of stuff. Mensah’s family lives on a farm so imagine the fucking machine-equivalent heart attack this would give MB lmao
I will find ways to feel creatively fulfilled and like I’m actually DOING something. I will! I will!
sometimes i think about deleting twitter but sometimes a publishing scandal happens and makes everything worth it
Another done. Copia and OC Belladonna
Some new ones. Copia and OC Belladonna and OC Damien and a hellhound
Como é estar morto?
There’s a ghost in my house, I talk to it a lot. We share jokes and stories, swap tales of times long past and what we think of the present, sometimes we even discuss the future. Despite having no reason to care for what goes on outside the walls of my house, the ghost continues to ask about my days, my interests, my family and friends; I leave the TV on for it when I leave, and when I come back its sockets shine with what must have been the vibrancy they carried in life, ready to tell me of everything it learned.
When I wake up and when I go to bed, when I come and go, we say good morning and night, and hello and goodbye. We share a routine, we have our rituals, we have each other. And somehow, a spirit has become the most important person in my life, the one I feel the least lonely around. It’s comfortable, and I ache with the domesticity of making dinner for two that one makes a great show of pretending to eat. I've never heard so many compliments about my cooking in my life, it says it’s never had such wonderful food in its death. The house is always cold, but I don’t mind, the company is more than worth it. Everything is so lovely, this world we’ve built for ourselves, the border of life and death we weave around day to day. Sometimes it’s hard, we ache to hold each other as we watch movies on the couch, to hold hands as we sit in the backyard watching the stars, but it's enough for us.
I thought I’d be the first to leave, I thought one day I’d be able to wrap my arms around its cold figure as my soul left my body behind. But of course, it would not come to pass. Some years in, I find myself waking up in the middle of the night. I’m not sure why, until my eyes slowly open, only to be greeted with the face of my love, floating just above the bed next to me, pretending to be laying down as it sometimes likes to do. The look in its eyes is so sad and patches of its face have disappeared entirely, and the chilling atmosphere feels startlingly like regret. I make an aborted motion to cup my love’s face, but the futility of it stops me. All the same it shakes its head, and reaches for my own face with half-formed hands, trying to wipe tears beginning to leak.
“You’re disappearing,” I whisper, trying not to raise my voice in panic for fear of making the burning edges of my love’s visage crumble quicker, “Why?”
If it could cry, I think it might have now, but all it does is lean in closer to me, still desperately trying to find purchase on my skin, “You’re all I’ve ever needed.”
A sob is punched out of me, and I mirror its comfort seeking movements before I can think about it, trying to hold onto the one person in my life I’d never dreamed would leave. Eventually we both give up, and instead it hovers its hand just above mine on top of our pillow. My love, still fraying, asks me if I had any dreams, and in a wet voice I tell it about them. Then I tell it about the dream I had for us, and I don’t stop talking about how much I love it until our house warms.
There’s footsteps in the hallway. One soft shuffle after the other, padding across the carpet and down the stairs again. They aren’t very loud and only last for a few minutes, but I can hear the floorboards creaking and the whisper of weight on each step.
Someone is pacing. Someone is moving in the dark.
I don’t know who lived here before me. I used to try and call up the last owners or find an emailing address or information online, but every phone call ended in a disconnected mailbox. No one ever tried to contact me back.
Before that I would wake my boyfriend up with a sharp shake and a hiss in his ear to call the police. We’d both go inspect every inch of the house with a baseball bat at the ready and the cops on hold. We wouldn’t find anything though.
It would only be more empty rooms and silent halls and my boyfriend eyeing me warily when he didn’t think I was looking.
Once I placed a string with a bell on it across the hall, and waited to hear it go off in the night. It never did ring. All I heard were those steady steps going down, down the hall and down the stairs again. Pacing.
Brody is gone now. We never could make it work out. I’m selling the house in less than a week. I don’t mention the footsteps or the creaks or the fact the faucet will sometimes turn on without me touching it.
I have one last week left to endure it.
Creak, something moves in the hallway, creak, creak
I squint my eyes open and I glance toward the clock. It was 1am.
Creak, creak, creak
“Enough!” I spit between clenched teeth and shove my quilt down. It didn’t matter that Brody wasn’t there. I hadn’t slept well in weeks. I picked up our baseball bat and stomped toward the door. “I’m not afraid of you!”
I huff, red-faced, but when I swing the bedroom door open the hallway is all but empty. And the sound of footsteps is gone.
“Ugh.” I groan and lean my head back. And then I hear it: the steps are almost down the stairs and to the front door. “Oh no you don’t!”
My bare feet prickle as I launch myself at the stairs and take them two at a time with a study thud, thud, thud as I hurry to reach it.
When I make it downstairs the front door is open.
I growl and with a battle cry launch myself out onto the lawn. I turn left and right and spin around in circles, but the grass and sidewalk and driveway are nothing but stiff backdrops bathed in moonlight. Nothing is there. I pull at my hair. “I can’t believe I’m going crazy! Like this!” I’m about to start swinging my bat wildly into the empty air when I hear it again: a creak. From the top of the stairs inside.
I turn around swiftly and stare at the house. And for a moment I think my eyes are playing tricks on me.
The two front windows on the second story are dark as velvet. Dark except for a moment, just a moment, a single prick of white light is in each one. Two lights, both focused on me.
You know, there’s this belief about ghosts that they are human-shaped. Like memories. Faded photographs of the people they were before. And maybe some of them are. Maybe some of them remember the body they died in.
But why should the soul restrict itself to humanity? I look at the house. And it looks back at me. It’s eyes dark with pupils white as stars in the center.
I blink and the eyes are gone but the curtains are fluttering inward. The door is hanging slightly more open. The shadows are gently and ever so slightly waving me to come back in.
I turn swiftly and walk down the street without looking back. I don’t stay in that house another night before I move out the next week.
I leave a note for the next family: don’t follow the footsteps.
But I’m not sure they ever get it. After all, I disconnect my phone after the first call with nothing but soft creaks on the other end.
ko-fi 🌸 new book 🌸 newsletter
It was 10:30 pm October 31st and there was a party at the Trask House.
Halloween was something of a week long event in Creek Falls. While more mature adults would opine wistfully about the joys of the annual Christmas Parade of Lights or the hotly anticipated Easter Festival, all the youngsters knew that Halloween was where it was at and they made it known with seven days of some of the wildest parties in the midwest.
Invariably the week would reach a crescendo on Halloween night. Every year some poor college kid would talk their parents into letting them have a party that got out of control and resulted in property damage and a visit from the police, and this year? It seemed like the Trask House was the lucky winner of that sweepstakes.
For the first time in decades all of the lights were on. The house was teeming with life, packed to the brim with people who had come from miles and miles around to partake in what would surely be the party of the century. There were no decorations but the naturally spooky air of the house made for the perfect Halloween backdrop, and thanks to small town etiquette pretty much everyone had brought with them some kind of food or drink so treats and alcohol were flowing freely throughout the night. Barney Prescott (an aspiring local DJ) had driven out with some of his equipment and he was pumping out tunes that kept the party jumping and would have surely had the neighbors calling the police, if the house had had any.
No one questioned how the house still had power, or where the cobwebs and dust had gone, or why the chain link fence around the building had been turned into mangled mess of metal that lay discarded on the road outside. They were too busy having fun to notice the way that the shadows in the house seemed to dance on their own to something other to the music. Writhing bodies donning strange apparel, flashing lights pulsing in the muggy air, screaming hordes and pounding bass... it was a hell of a shindig, to put it lightly. The people inside probably wouldn’t notice if the world ended around them...
Jacob Mendes was the king of the party, commanding the attention of everyone in the room while dressed in a sexy devil costume. A pair of cheap plastic horns sat on his head and he wore a cape with no shirt, a pentagram lazily scrawled across his bare chest in red paint that highlighted the curves and contours of his sculpted torso. The red latex pants he wore left very little to the imagination, and his ass popped out so far that it could be seen even through the thin cape that was loosely tied around his neck. A generous word for his costume would be “minimalist,” but hey, no one was complaining about the view.
None of the partygoers suspected that Jacob’s adonis-like body itself was the real costume, his handsome face disguising the twisted soul of one Pablo Trask who was having a wonderful time playing dress up. The real Jacob had been planning on dressing up as Captain America for Halloween, but Trask had felt that that hadn’t really fit the vibe he was going for this night. He was feeling devilish, and he was planning on raising hell tonight (literally).
This was the first party he’d attended since he was a literal child, and he was having a fantastic time. He wasn’t crazy about the music (call him old fashioned but he preferred stuff with lyrics and a melody) but he had to admit that the dirty beats served to heighten the atmosphere and bring a certain sense of fun to the proceedings. And apparently they’d invented new drugs at some point? He’d declined, having enough presence of mind to understand that he should be clear headed for the night to come, but that didn’t stop him from chugging a copious amount of alcohol that sloshed around his guts happily as he swaggered through the party with an ease that he’d never had in life.
This was a far cry from the kind of parties that had taken place back in his day, everyone here was so free and uninhibited, and his new body empowered him to enjoy it in a whole new way. Now that he was tall and strong he had no reason to feel uncomfortable in a crowd because the crowd moved to suit him rather than the other way around. When he caught someone staring at him it wasn’t because they were judging him, it was because they wanted him.
Dressed in as little as possible Trask felt sexy and powerful, and while he delighted in showing off Jacob’s unreal abs and flexing his huge arms for anyone who would watch, his favorite part was getting to share these gifts with others. In this new era people were freer in all ways, including sexually, and it turned out that on a night like Halloween a beautiful stud like Jacob could do anything he wanted with anyone. Forget trick or treating, someone had handed Trask the keys to the whole damn candy store and he was gorging himself on anything he could get his mouth on.
The party had been raging for a few hours now and Trask had already sucked and fucked his way through half of the male attendees. Jacob’s body had impressive stamina and only the straightest of men would be able to resist the offer of a hookup with such a gorgeous specimen, but Trask applied a little bit of black magic to ensure that he didn’t run dry on both fronts. He had to make up for fifty years of sexual frustration after all, and the party had turned into a crash course in homosexual relations as he tried out positions and sex acts from his darkest fantasies.
Getting his juicy ass plowed by the thick fellow dressed as a firefighter, shoving his big dick down the throat of the svelte man dressed as a ninja, the threesome with the two guys dressed as the Mario brothers, Trask was beginning to lose count of the number of encounters he’d had but he hadn’t stopped enjoying them yet. The young men would surely be disgusted if they knew that it was actually a lecherous old man’s hands upon them, but if anything that secret knowledge just made his actions all the sweeter.
He was so lost in ecstasy (literally, since he’d given up on the whole “no drugs” thing after a twink in a flower crown and toga had talked him into taking something that would make him “feel good” before he’d railed him in the coat closet) that he almost forgot his mission for the night until he was grinding on a boy whose costume was some kind of bathrobe and a wig (a reference that Trask didn’t get and didn’t particularly need to when the boy’s ass felt that good against his dick) and he felt something in the air shift. Whispers in his ear sobered him up instantly, and the smile slid from his face.
“Party crashers,” He spat under his breath. With a mighty huff of exasperation he placed one sloppy, possessive kiss onto his partner’s face for the road, and then flipped his cape dramatically as he stalked off. Party time was over.
The spell to break them out of the house had been relatively simple actually, all Wally had done was create another simple salt circle inside of the house (representative of the circle Trask had created with his powers) and then broke it; it honestly unnerved him how simple it was for him to figure out and execute the spell. Perhaps Trask had been sloppy because he was in a rush or Wally had been emboldened by the encouragement of his friends, but the boy was sure that he himself could have thought up something better.
The spell to get the ghost out of Jacob’s body wasn’t as straightforwards because it turned out it wasn’t a spell, it was a potion, which meant ingredients and brewing and they didn’t really have time for that. All of the stores were closed because it was so late at night and they couldn’t gather the ingredients anyways, so reluctantly (and a little gratefully) they’d all gone to bed. After that it was a mad dash to get everything, and a few hours later they had a pot of what Danny had lovingly termed “exorcism juice.”
Their bounty was split between five jars, one for each of them, and they each donned their railroad spike necklaces and bags of salt as well. Aubrey insisted on wearing his Ghostbusters uniform as well and nobody made fun of him for it this time, because now there was no denying that they were well and truly going to be doing some ghost busting.
So they were probably feeling as confident as they had any right to be when they stumbled into Trask’s party on Halloween night. They were a bit nervous about cutting it so close to the midnight deadline, but they a plan, and few things were as reassuring to the Gangy as a plan was. Pouring the exorcism juice over Jacob’s body would expel the ghost and prevent it from reentering into him, so all they had to do was splash some on him and Trask would be powerless. Their railroad spike necklaces would protect them, and everyone also had a bag of salt on their person they could use to contain the ghost while it was still weakened. Then it was just a matter of keeping him there until midnight, when he would finally be gone for good.
It was a flimsy plan and a million things could go wrong with it, and in fact one did the moment they entered the party: Trask was nowhere to be found. Needles in haystacks shuddered at the thought of having to find someone in a packed costume party, and the Gangy were struck with further hopelessness as they gazed at the masses that filled the mansion.
“Alright, there’s too many people here,” Danny decided, quickly speaking up before the daunting task could overwhelm them. “I say we split up to increase our odds of finding him.”
“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Casey asked apprehensively.
“Good idea,” Aubrey said at the same time.
“Wally and Casey, you two go that way–“ Danny pointed to the left. “And Tammie and I will take Aubrey and go this way.” He pointed to the right. “If you find him, don’t engage with him! Just call the others and tell them where you are. Even though we’re splitting up we’re all still in this together, okay?”
Casey opened his mouth like he wanted to say something, but then he thought better of it and shut it. Shaking his head, he patted Aubrey on the shoulder and then nodded his head at Wally; Wally seemed to have some words on his lips as well, but instead he just gave his friends a strangely sorrowful look before parting from them with Casey in tow. Aubrey waved a weak goodbye and kept his eyes trained on them as long as he could before he felt Tammie’s hand on his shoulder.
“Are you sure they’re gonna be okay?” Aubrey asked nervously. His knees shaking and he leaned into Tammie’s support as he watched his friends disappear into the crowd. Danny nodded at him.
“They’ll be fine,” He said reassuringly, already directing his attention to the far side of the room as his eyes roamed the crowd for their target. “Those two are tough and they’ll watch each others’ backs, if anything it’s Trask I’m worried about if they find him first.”
“Yeah, okay...” Aubrey still didn’t sound sure, and worry was still written plainly across his face. He stared after the two departing boys for a moment, then spoke again. “Are we gonna be okay?”
“Of course we are!” Danny said with a scoff, completely cutting off Tammie from whatever she was about to say. “When have I ever let anything bad happen to any of you?”
Aubrey’s brow furrowed. “Um–”
“Anything you say will just encourage him,” Tammie said sharply, and with a roll of her eyes she snatched Aubrey by the hand and dragged the still confused boy away. Danny shook his head and jogged after them.
“Hey Wally, are you doing okay?” Wally and Casey were fumbling their way through the crowds of drunken partygoers, dodging elbows as they searched for Trask. Someone offered Casey a beer and he shook his head. Not tonight. While he was no stranger to a party, too much was at stake tonight for him to be anything other than clear headed.
“I’m fine,” Wally said, but he sounded too high strung for it to ring true. “Why do you ask?” He asked in what seemed to be an attempt at nonchalance, which Casey was absolutely not buying.
Casey and Wally made for something of an odd pairing, they seldom hung out solo so without the buffer of their other friends to keep things flowing they searched in relative silence. Neither could quite figure out where he stood with the other, so while they considered each other friends they never developed the same rapport they had with the others. Still, Casey was far more observant than most people gave him credit for and even in the brief time they’d spent alone together he’d noticed the tension that was radiating from Wally, and he knew he had to say something about it.
“It just seems like this whole ‘magic’ thing is really getting to you,” Casey said, doing air quotes around the word “magic” as if it were theoretical rather than something that had turned their lives upside down over the past week. “I don’t wanna sound rude but it can’t be that serious, right?”
“This stuff ruined Pablo Trask’s life,” Wally said brusquely. Even as he said this he was cradling the spell book to his chest self-consciously, and he clutched it even tighter when he noticed Casey’s eyes on it. He angled his body away from his friend, forcing Casey to speak to his back.
“No, Pablo Trask’s life was ruined because he was a gay foreigner growing up before the internet,” Casey said plainly. Wally picked up his tempo and began weaving through the crowd with surprising grace, and Casey had to speed up to keep pace with him. “I’m pretty sure the magic thing was just a really fucked up coping mechanism. As long as you’re careful with it you’ll be fine, right?”
Wally didn’t respond and just kept powering ahead through the party, his lips pursed and his eyes searching the crowds blankly. This was very much not his usual scene and he felt very small in the face of the throngs of people, shy and claustrophobic. When an intoxicated girl with pupils too wide for her to be just drunk tripped and fell on top of him, he just didn’t know what to do. She was dressed up as a sexy nurse (were Wally calmer he would have rolled his eyes at the lack of originality) and she leaned on his shoulder, muttering something incomprehensible with a strung out smile on her face. Wally froze awkwardly, keeping a death grip onto the book, until Casey appeared behind him and shoved the girl off of him and onto some other unsuspecting rube in the crowd.
“You okay man?” Casey asked his friend, placing his hands on his shoulders protectively. The boy took a deep, shuddering breath, and tried his best to forget the crowds around him. He closed his eyes, focusing on just the feeling of his friend’s grip, and nodded weakly. When he opened his eyes Casey was staring down at him with a strange expression on his face. He spoke. “Okay I’m tired of running around it so I’m just gonna say it: you’re absolutely nothing like Pablo Trask and you don’t have to worry about being like him.”
Wally stopped cold as the words cut straight to his core. The throngs of people were forgotten for a moment, and when he snapped back to reality he felt the urge to get as far away from Casey as possible.
“I don’t wanna talk about this,” He said evasively before storming off into the safety of the crowd once more, social awkwardness be damned.
Casey huffed and followed his friend, not wanting to get separated in the madness of the party. His eyes searched the crowd, both for Trask and for an excuse to change the subject, and he ended up finding the latter.
“Wait, isn’t that Skylar Pinkerton?” Casey pointed off to the other side of the room they were in towards a young man dressed up in some kind of corny gladiator outfit sipping something from a red solo cup. Wally squinted through is glasses and confirmed that it was, indeed, their classmate.
“The guy who picks on Aubrey all the time?” Wally asked, raising his eyebrows and glaring a dagger across the room towards the boy. “Why are there high schoolers at this party?”
“I mean, we’re here,” Casey pointed out, and Wally suppressed the urge to roll his eyes at him.
“We’re here to stop a ghost from destroying the town,” Wally responded flatly, giving his friend a look before he rolled his neck and he returned his ire to Skylar. “Unless he’s moonlighting as a ghost hunter I doubt his intentions are as noble.”
“He’s here to get turnt, that’s as noble a reason as any.” Casey said, only half-sarcastically.
“He’s been held back two grades, he can probably legally drink at this point. The last thing he needs is to be out partying,” Wally’s voice had a biting edge to it as he glared at their classmate living it up. “Of course he’s out here having the time of his life while we’re busting our assess trying to do something good.”
“Yeah…” An idea popped into Casey’s head, and a sly grin crossed his face. “Hey, just real quickly, are there any curses in that book of yours? You wanna throw one on him real fast?”
“What?!” Wally blurted out, visibly stumbling. He spun to stare at Casey with a look of utter incredulity on his face. “After we just had a conversation about how serious magic is?”
“I’m just saying,” Casey held his hands up in a gesture of innocence. “It might be healthy for you to desensitize yourself to the negative associations you’ve assigned to magic. You know, confront your fears and demonstrate to yourself that you’re bigger than them.
“That’s...” Wally paused as his brain processed what Casey had said. “weirdly astute of you to say.”
“Yeah, I talk to school counselor a lot,” Casey said dismissively, catching Wally’s eyes and silently begging him not to ask why. Wally seemed to take the hint but he didn’t offer anything else, so Casey pressed onwards. “Anyways if you won’t do it for yourself, do it for Aubrey. Skylar is a total jackass to him but look at the dude,” Casey gestured towards Skylar, who was currently crushing a beer can against his forehead. “If I said anything to about it he could beat the shit out of me too. Your voodoo mojo could fix that, even the playing field a bit.
“But– you don’t even like Aubrey?” Wally said accusingly, sputtering as he tried to deflect again. “If anything you’re just as mean to him as Skylar.”
“What?” Casey exclaimed, somewhat taken aback by the accusation. He crossed his arms and glared at Wally. “I am not! I just don’t baby Aubrey like the rest of you. I think he’s tougher than you guys give him credit for.”
“Aubrey?” Wally shook his head incredulously. “Aubrey is the human equivalent of a photo of a bunny eating a strawberry.”
“True,” Casey conceded. “But also that’s why we have to keep it real with him. If we let him get too slow he’ll fall behind the rest of us and then what’ll happen to him?” He shook his head and stared off into the middle distance as he thought of his friend, unconsciously smiling a little bit. “He drives me up the wall but every time I feel like I’m about to finally snap and knock his lights out he looks up at me with those big eyes of his and it’s just like… I wanna protect him, you know what I mean?”
“But don’t you feel that way about everybody?” Wally asked curiously. Casey started out of his thoughts and glanced over at Wally, and tilting his head.
“No,” Casey said, and he gave his friend a quizzical look. Wally suddenly felt very small. “Do you?”
There was a beat in the conversation and two boys stared at each other, both of their faces flushed at least two shades darker. Each of them felt as if he’d revealed a card he was supposed to keep in his hands, and now there was no choice but to keep playing. The party thumped and rumbled around them, raucous, uncaring, and a thousand miles away.
“Alright so Skylar,” Wally blurted out. He gripped the book in one hand and began thumbing through the pages with the other. “What do you want me to do to him?”
“You pick,” Casey silently breathed a sigh of relief, glad for any kind of distraction. He flashed his teeth at Wally with a wicked look in his eyes as he glared across the room at Skylar. “Just don’t mess him up too badly.”
The book shook slightly in Wally’s hand as the pages began flipping by themselves, turned by a wind that wasn’t there until they settled on a page in the middle of the volume; it seemed the book had picked for them. In the faded party lighting Wally could barely make out the words, but when he blinked and looked again it was as if the words were glowing into his eyes. Casey craned his neck to see as well, only to quickly give up once he realized that the text was still in an unfamiliar language. Only the title of the page was in English.
“Idle Hands?” Casey read aloud, his voice instantly lost to the roar of the crowd. He looked over at his friend for some kind of explanation.
“The devil’s playthings...” Wally muttered to himself. He found he could read the words as clearly as if they were in English, their power transcending language and sinking straight into his mind where they popped and fizzed like bubbles in soda. He flicked his eyes towards Casey, who was eyeing him somewhat strangely. “Sorry that was probably really creepy, it’s just an old saying.”
The spell was another simple one that required no ingredients, only the right words and a strong will. Probably why the book had selected it for him, Wally thought to himself, and he would be a fool not to take the advice.
As he read the instructions Wally gestured for Casey to take a step back and Casey took the opportunity to position himself between Wally and the crowd, shielding him from the rabble somewhat, and then he turned around politely to give Wally some semblance of privacy. Wally stood in the small bubble of space and closed his eyes, pushing the party from his mind as he reached for that place deep inside of himself he’d learned to tap into over the past few days.
He was muttering the incantation under his breath, but he knew that that was only half of the ritual. From what he could tell the rest of the spell required him to have sufficient want for it to work, and he didn’t have to look far for it. Just like Casey had said, the thought of poor Aubrey being wailed on was enough to fill him with rage that he was all too eager to unleash onto Skylar, but as he dug deeper he realized his want went deeper than just anger and lust for revenge.
Wally cared deeply for the people around him; he came across as cold and clinical at times but that was because he worried that if he let out everything that was inside of him it would be too much and it would scare them away. But hearing Casey speak that way about Aubrey, seeing the obvious concern he held for his friend, it almost relieved Wally. Emboldened him. Wally was the type of guy who would do anything for his friends, and as he felt the magic flow through him he realized that now he could.
His eyes were closed but he felt like he could see more clearly than ever and he fixed his mind’s eye on Skylar, feeling tingles throughout his body as he pushed the magic he’d been shaping onto the unsuspecting young man. He watched Skylar shiver for a moment then opened his real eyes, snapping back into reality to the sight of Casey silhouetted in the party lights.
“So what did you do?” Casey stared over at Skylar, who was still partying it up blithely. “Is he gonna start turning into a frog or something in a second?”
Wally shushed his friend and trained his eyes on Skylar. Sure enough he could feel the chords of magic running between the two of them; the spell had worked. He bit his lip in concentration then he jerked his hands to the left, and across the room Skylar’s hands followed the motion. Skylar looked down at them with confusion for a moment, then shrugged and took another swig from his drink. Wally raised his left hand and waved it in the air, and Skylar mimicked him. Casey glanced between the two of them, and his eyes widened in recognition.
“Holy shit,” He laughed in surprise as he watched a confused Skylar vainly attempt to lower his arm. “Are you doing that?”
“Yup,” Wally said, glancing over at his friend and savoring the look of awe that was on his face. Turning his attention back to Skylar, he lifted the boy’s hand and forced him to pour his drink over the top of his head. Skylar shouted in confusion and attempted to wipe away the beer that was streaming down his face only to find his left hand shoving itself into his nostril.
He almost cried out again but one of his hands slapped across his mouth, smothering his screams. His eyes darted around frantically as he watched one of his hands reach up and wag his finger at him, as if to say “naughty boy.” Then it balled itself up into a fist and swung down at his crotch, landing a hearty blow to his balls that sent him crumpling onto the floor in pain. The party goers around him gave him strange looks, but across the room Casey was cackling.
“What do you think I should do with him?” Wally asked, his own hands hanging strangely in the air. Casey’s eyes glinted as he leaned in and whispered something into Wally’s ear, and Wally smiled approvingly.
Skylar stood back up on wobbly legs, freaking out as he tried and failed to regain control over his own hands. The lacrosse player was at the mercy of his now alien appendages, and he watched with horror as one of them reached behind his back and he suddenly felt something warm and fleshy beneath his hands. He didn’t want to, but he knew he had to turn around, and when he did he was forced to confront the fact that his hand was currently connected to the ass of a very big, very burly man dressed up as a character from Game of Thrones. Skylar winced as he felt his hand squeeze the man’s buttocks and give it a cheeky little pinch.
“Can I help you with something?” The man growled, wheeling around to investigate who the hell was currently sexually assaulting him. Skylar was a big guy, but this guy was older, towered over him, and was covered in all manner of tattoos that suggested he was not someone to be screwed with. As if in response, Skylar found he could control his hand again and he hastily removed it from the man’s posterior. He made a show of brushing it off on his pants, frantically trying to think of what to say to avoid facing a beating.
Skylar’s traitorous hand shot out and grabbed the man in the crotch.
“What the fuck you little shithead!” The man bellowed. He reached down to try and extract the hand from his crotch but Wally’s grip was resolute, and thus so was Skylar’s. Skylar struggled with the hand over his mouth to no avail, screaming for his hand to stop as he felt it toy with the bigger man’s privates. The man sputtered with shock, which was quickly replaced by white hot anger.
The two stood there for a few moments in silence, each waiting for the other to do something. Embarrassingly it took Skylar a few moments to realize that his hands were his own again, and he snatched it away and held it in the air defensively as if that would somehow undo the damage he had just done.
“Listen, buddy...” Skylar stammered out weakly, but before he could say anything of substance he was already being shoved in the direction of the door.
“Feeling better?” Casey asked Wally. The two watched with glee as Skylar was steered through the party by the bigger man, who manhandled him en route to a presumable beating. Wally snapped with both hands and severed the connection between the two of them, and his hands shook thanks to something other than the magic.
“A little,” Wally admitted. He looked down at his hands and flexed them nervously, then let out a deep breath. He could handle this. He looked over at Casey again and gave him a small smile, which made Casey visibly relax. “We should keep looking though.”
Casey let him lead the way.
Wally and Casey were still wandering through the party looking for Trask when Casey’s phone buzzed in his pocket. Holding up one hand Casey motioned for Wally to stop, but by the time he got his phone out the line had already gone dead. A call from Tammie. He called it back and the phone rang once, twice, three times, four times, and then–
“Tammie?” He asked hopefully.
“Unfortunately she can’t come to the phone right now,” Trask’s voice rang out from the phone sinister as ever. Casey’s face went pale, and the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. “She’s a little… tied up right now, with her friends.”
“You fucking asshole!” Casey yelled into the phone, startling poor Wally who was watching with concern. “Where are they?”
“It’s a secret,” Trask said gleefully, cackling after he spoke. “Let’s see if you can find them before I’m done with them.”
The line went dead and Casey cursed, a string of expletives that would make a sailor blush. Partygoers eyed him with suspicion and gave him a small berth as he kicked at the wall in frustration, only snapping back to reality when he felt Wally’s hand on his shoulder. He turned to face his friend with wide eyes.
“He’s got them,” Casey whispered, unable to speak the words any louder, but from the look in the other boy’s eyes he likely had already pieced it together. “He says he’s got them tied up somewhere in the house but he won’t say where.”
Wally nodded gravely, and he set his jaw nervously. “The basement, he probably took them to the basement.” Wally guessed. “It’s his inner sanctum and besides, there’s too many people everywhere else.”
“You mean the secret basement nobody’s found in decades even with the floor plans?” Casey asked, pacing frantically. He was unable to mask his growing panic and he kicked the wall in frustration once more, as if he could bully the house itself into revealing its secrets. “Great idea, but how do we fucking find it?”
“Shh,” Wally shushed with such sudden ferocity that Casey, surprised, snapped his mouth shut instantly. Sensing something in Wally’s eyes, Casey shifted his body to create a pocket of space between the wall and the rest of the party where his friend could do whatever he was about to do.
Wally closed his eyes and placed both hands on the black book, drawing it close to his face and whispering something to it in a strange gesture that made it look like he was praying. Casey’s eyes widened as the air sparked and hissed, shimmers of something otherworldly tracing patterns through the air around his friend. Wally heard a low rumbling in his ears, audible only to him, and an intense pressure pushed down on his head. Just as the pressure seemed to be too much he tossed the book into the air and it stayed there, flapping open and shut as if it were a bird. Casey gawked as it began flying over the crowd towards one of the hallways.
“Well, what are we waiting for?” Wally shoved his friend towards where the book had flown and Casey stumbled before his feet found their way beneath him. “Follow the book, the book knows where it is!”
“Don’t worry guys, we’re coming to get you.”
To be continued…
tag dump part one million and one :)
personals, if you reblog this post like you did my other ones, so help me god I will have you hunted for sport
So who’s going to write me a Ghosts/Rivers of London crossover fic where Peter finds out that Robin’s stone circle was built on the site of Button House due to the area having an unusual boundary with fairyland, thereby feeding enough magic into the general vicinity to keep the resident ghosts unusually lucid despite their age and lack of corporeal tether, and at some point he feeds them all a werelight so that they become visible to everyone else and Mike actually gets to have a proper conversation with them?