#(he wants to be ominous and also seems to have a weird sort of disconnect between himself as Viking and himself as Rex)

[amberstormblade]

Yes it's 3:30am but we can ignore that because I just finished writing a fanfic about a fanfic. Is that weird? Maybe? No clue! Anyways! This is inspired by @fluffy-papaya and @betweenlands 's Black Sheep, Come Home and everyone should go read that because it's amazing and makes me feral!

I might put this on AO3 too but for now it's just here!

i'm so sleepy, g'night folks! happy reading!

(Sorry for tagging you guys, I can undo that if you want)

The world seemed to shake as the dragon’s dying cries echoed through dimensions. A bolt of adrenaline shot through Rex as he realized what was about to happen. They had been inside the starter base as a sort of preparation as they hadn’t known when they would be visible again and didn’t want to risk instantly burning if previous experience was anything to go by. They’re a little nervous, it took a bit to adjust to everyone actually seeing them last time and even if they’ve been able to correct Legundo on where to look, it’s still something to get used to. 

Rex walked towards the center of the room. They took a deep breath and started looking at where their hands should be to try and see if anything had happened yet. Something had changed just, not how they had expected. It was like there was a crack in reality. A small, bright, jagged thing that was just floating there. They went to touch it but it moved with their hand, as if it was attached. Before they could even begin to comprehend what was going on, more cracks began to appear, spider-webbing their way up their arm.

“Okay… this- this is weird, yeah. It’s uh, it’s gonna be okay though. Because once it’s done, I’ll be visible again! So I guess I just… trust the process?” Rex was glad Legundo was in a separate dimension, that way he couldn’t hear their voice shaking. 

The cracks started to get brighter as they reached their neck. They started to burn. Rex’s breathing started to speed up as they felt like they were running a marathon in the desert. They could feel their throat as it seemed to close in on itself, could feel as their knees shook and gave way. They remember what Legs had said, that first time they had died. 

“Inevitable, heh.” The sudden raspiness of their voice catches them off-guard. Coughing does nothing to clear their throat. “Guess the timing was off? Inevitable, all the same.” The cracks have reached their chest now, seeming to gather around where their heart should be and spread out like veins. Rex struggles to stand back up, not really knowing where they would go, not really knowing what to do. They take one step towards the bed, two, they collapse again as the cracks reach their knees. It’s like their legs have been bound and any attempt to move them just causes more pain.

The burning is more intense now, not in the way of lava or fire, but in the way ice burns your hands from holding it too long. The cracks were draining any warmth that their body had held and it was like they were freezing over, at risk of shattering.

With a great deal of effort, they curl into a ball and just hug themself. Rex was glad Legundo was still in the End. Sure, it’d be nice to not be alone but they also don’t want him to see them like this. They wonder for a second if he’ll have a second funeral for them, mourn them a second time, but quickly dismiss the thought. They were lucky to get anything at all the first time, why would he bother to do the same thing twice? Maybe he won’t even realize they’ve died. Knowing how paranoid he is, Rex wouldn’t be surprised if he thought it was all part of some plan to get him. They might of laughed at the thought if it hadn’t been for the feeling that something was trying to crush them to death. The cracks writhing around their form seemed to be connecting, tightening to the point that they could no longer feel their limbs. They could still feel the tears falling down their face at least. Even if they had been able to move, they probably would have let them fall anyway. Not like anyone could see them. Quiet sobs slipped past their lips, as the burning cold sank in and the cracks grew brighter still. A part of them made a selfish wish. If this truly was the end, they didn’t want to be alone.

Maybe the Universe was kind, because a dull thud came from behind them. They would have recognized the sound anywhere. It was someone respawning at their bed or in this case, returning from the End. 

It was Legundo coming home.

“Rex, I’m back! You would not believe how-” His rather cheerful call was quickly cut off and they could feel as he rushed over to them. Quickly kneeling in front of them, Legundo reached out as if to touch them but hesitated at the last second. “Rex? What’s going on?” The worry in his tone was touching, in a way.

Rex tried to speak. Nothing came out at first, just a hoarse, rasping noise. Clearing their throat, they tried again. “...Don’t know. Started… after dragon. Hurts.” Broken sentences are all that can be managed but they get the point across. “Dying maybe… you alone?” They take a deep breath before, “sorry.” There was so much more they wanted to say, but their throat seemed to seal over again, leaving them wheezing for air.

“Hey- hey! It’s gonna be alright! I uh…” He trails off, digging through his things. Legundo pulls out a healing potion, probably one he had gotten from the End, and uncorks it. His hand hovers over Rex again. “I’m gonna touch you now, okay? I can see where your face should be pretty well so I think I can help you drink this. Just, bear with me, okay?” He lays his hand on Rex, flinching back for a second as though he had been shocked. Shaking out his hand, he puts their head on his lap. He cups their jaw oh so gently, as if afraid he might break them. Using his thumb, he traces their lips, carefully parting them. Lifting the bottle, he pours a small amount in their mouth and waits. It’s a struggle, but they swallow it. The sweet taste of watermelon lingers on their tongue as they breathe a little easier. Another mouthful has Rex sucking in their first proper breath since this began.

“...hey, ‘Gundo I- I don’t know how long I have. This didn’t happen last time. I think… I think I might be-”

“Don’t.” He cuts them off. His hand that had slipped from their jaw to their shoulder tightened slightly. “You’re not dying. You said you were going to protect me? You can’t do that if you’re not here. So- So no. You’re not leaving me alone again Rex so you’re going to get better! Okay?” His voice is thick with tears as he pulls them into a deep, bone-crushing hug. Instead of feelling restrictive, however, it felt freeing. It felt like home. A promise between two lonely people that they weren’t going to be alone again, not if they could do anything about it.

Straining to move their arms against the numbness that had overtaken them, Rex returned the hug. The cracks covering their form seemed to reach a crescendo as they flared brighter than the sun. The two just held tighter to each other as Rex cried out in pain. A sort of crackling sound could be heard for a seconds and then, just as suddenly as it all had started, the light and noise stopped.

Rex could still feel Legundo’s arms around them but couldn’t bring themself to open their eyes until, “Oh, you’re colorful.” They were still close enough that the whispered statement seemed to tickle his ear as Legundo leaned back from him slightly.

Painstakingly slowly, Rex opened their eyes. They looked down to see their familiar blue and yellow jacket. They looked up to see Legundo looking directly at them. Their face faintly reflected in his glasses. “Yeah,” They breathed, afraid that speaking too loudly would ruin the moment somehow, make everything suddenly revert. But no. 

There were no disappearing acts that would be happening today. In the next few days they would probably fall back into their familiar routines of secrets and cryptic actions. They would have tense moments and heated exchanges. But, they would also remember this moment. They would share a look followed by a fond smile. They would both find excuses to exist closer to each other, soaking in the contact that they craved but didn’t dare ask for. They would allow themselves a second of vulnerability, because that’s what helped them sleep at night. Someone always by their side to keep the nightmares at bay.

Moments like these aren’t easily forgotten. They both rest easy that night, knowing no matter what, they’ll always remember what it feels like when someone cares.

[boreal-sea]

Liveblogging Midsommar

Summary: I didn't mind it and parts were good but it should've leaned harder into being weird, and making all the dudes unlikable was cowardly and the movie would've been far more impactful and horrifying if we'd actually liked the victims.

I can always tell when my aromanticism is making me not "get" a movie because like. I've started Midsommar and I've heard "oh her boyfriend is abusive, he deserves what he gets" but all I can see at is two people who just clearly weren't meant for each other?

The Swedish friend Pelle seems like a good guy, but I'm gonna guess in the plot of this movie he's doing that on purpose. Josh seems like an actually good guy. Mark is a dick though.

I'll say, comparing this to Wicker Man: This movie is trying too hard to be creepy and weird. They're just driving. The ominous music isn't needed. Tonally, all of the bright happiness of Wicker Man worked much better to give the movie a sense of "off-ness".

Christian really seems like he's just trying to be a good friend to Dani even though he's struggling with the relationship. Mark is definitely a jerk though. He's the kind of character you want to see die in a normal horror movie.

I do like the use of the midnight sun as an element of disconnecting the characters from reality and placing them in an unfamiliar world, that's a very good touch.

Alright cool good the movie has gotten weirder, excellent. This is what I'm here for.

Come on movie give me some silence to appreciate this gorgeous building. Constant dialogue is tiring.

Oh, so "this is my flame, no higher" was literal huh.

This is a joke, but as a grad student, stealing someone's thesis is totally justification to be killed by a cult. Being a lame duck boyfriend? Whatever. Stealing a thesis? Now you have gone too far!

That said, Christian... You are becoming more and more unlikeable. Josh is the only likeable - dangit Josh I was just saying you were likeable, and now you're sneaking around. And now you're dead, of course.

Do I get why the writers chose to make Christian more and more unlikeable as the movie goes along? Yes. They wanted the audience to be rooting for his demise.

Every death so far has been "justified" - Mark was terrible to begin with, and peeing on the tree and being killed for it is a "justified" death in the context of the movie, both from an audience perspective and the internal perspective of the cultists. I don't think the writers needed to make him a jerk, though - that just makes us root for his death in the first place, so there's very little punch when he disappears. You've been almost eagerly waiting for it to happen.

Josh on the other hand spends most of his time on screen being fairly likable, if bland and boring. He made a single mistake and was killed for it. As far as the cultists are concerned, his death is justified due to his mistake, but we as outside observers might feel it's a little unfair. I think his death could have more impact if he were more interesting as a character. But also, we already know Mark is dead too even though we haven't seen his body. Josh dying so soon as well just feels shallow.

And then there's Christian... Christian's personality has sort of shifted a lot. In the beginning of the movie and even up till the attestupa, he's still trying to be a good friend for Dani. But after that, his personality seems to shift more and more. If it's supposed to be a trauma response, it's not very clear. Overall, he just comes across as more and more of a jerk, but without any actual logic behind why he's suddenly a jerk.

I think the movie would've been stronger and more horrifying if it had not made any of them men jerks - if they had been warm, likeable people. If these cultists were just brutally murdering their guests for "little mistakes", or even perhaps for accidental infractions the characters could never have predicted, that would be terrifying.

It almost feels like making the men horrible people is being done to soften the blow for the audience, so they don't feel bad when the characters die.

That's weak writing, in my opinion. It's a horror movie, I want to feel horrified.

The flowers breathing is weird and I like it. I like what this movie is doing with lighting.

Ok, I have to admit I laughed at the old guy clapping his hands in Christian's face. Poor guy is very drugged and confused at this point. I would've liked it better if I actually felt sorry for him, but the writing is designed so you don't. I want to actually be upset that a nice guy is being torn from his girlfriend; I wish the wedge the villagers drove between them had been entirely artificial

I don't get why we saw the village prophet during the sex scene. Group screaming is very therapeutic though. The hen house scene is creepy but I'm not sure what purpose it serves. Seems like gore for the sake of gore. Ah and now she chooses. I mean, we don't see it on screen, but come on.

I'd heard the ending was "vague" but it seems pretty damn clear to me?? Very creepy, her final smile, too.

[pixieungerstories]

Quarentine - 1

They always say ‘buy the worst house on the best block that you can afford’ and god knows this place was a total shit hole.  1200 square feet on an overgrown lot surrounded by McMansions.  Hell, I paid less for the place that the land was worth.  I’m amazed someone hadn’t bulldozed the place years ago.

To make a long story short, I did not look a gift house horse in the mouth.

I mean, it wasn’t a total write off.  None of the windows were smashed.  There were mature fruit trees in the backyard.  If you ignored the weeds and rotting fruit, there was a lot of potential.  The plumbing was lead pipes and the electrical was knob and tube, but I know people and I could trade favours to get that replaced.  The foundations were good and the roof barely leaked.

I spent the summer camping in a tent in the back yard and slowly getting the place winterized enough that I could move it.

It was still a creepy ass house when I did.  It had a boiler.  I had no idea how to deal with that, but I was learning.  And I learned how to ignore the whistles, hissing and banging sounds that went with having a boiler.  The old rads were cast iron with pretty little details in the corners.

There were holes in the plaster, but I just ignored them.  It wasn’t worth fixing when I was going to gut the place and put up drywall eventually.  It just made it easier to get at the plumbing.

I started just living in the kitchen and ignoring the rest of the house.  I had disconnected the rest of the electrical and plumbing and was using that as a home base while I renovated outwards from there.

There is nothing quite as creepy as sleeping in a sleeping bag on what were probably asbestos tiles in an old house that makes the weird noises that old houses make.  I kept reminding myself that they only seemed louder than normal because the place was empty and there was nothing to muffle the sound.  The shrieking had to be the upstairs window that didn’t quite shut properly.

I had the feeling that something was watching me and prayed to god it wasn’t rats.

I was in this for the long haul.  Get up, shower at the gym, go to work, come home, renovate until it gets dark, shower at the gym, camp out in the kitchen.  Not exciting, but satisfying.  Let’s face it, this was the only way I was ever going to be able to afford a house.

When the work from home order came, I had to actually get a phone line installed so I could have internet access.  Me, my laptop and a kitchen table I rescued from the curbside a while back.

The creepy feeling was worse.  I told myself it had to be the isolation kicking in.  I skyped with my best friends at night to make up for it.  The power was still a bit dodgy and kept going out, but that’s what laptop batteries and cell phones are for, right?

I was sure the cough was from the dust.

The guy delivering groceries left them on the sidewalk instead of the porch.  It was fine.  I understood completely.  I hadn’t done much work on the outside of the building at all. 

I realized I was sneezing a bit when I started having to use toilet paper as kleenex.

I was fine.  I was young and healthy.  I didn’t have any sick days at work so I was determined to just push through.

I tried to get more rest.

I dreamed about something laying a cool hand on my forehead.

The grocery store was out of thermometers.

I mean, did it really matter if I had a fever?  I wasn’t leaving the house to share with anyone.

My cough got worse overnight.  I was vaguely aware of someone lifting me up and holding a cup of cool water to my lips.  I was so fucking thirsty. 

“You shouldn’t be here,” I mumbled.  “I don’t want you to get sick.”

“I won’t,” a rumbling voice assured me.

I didn’t remember making soup, but I jolted into awareness sitting at the table with a steaming bowl in front of me.  Chicken noodle out of a can.  It’s not that hard to make.  I’m sure I could add water and heat in my sleep.  Apparently, I just did.

I was so cold that night.  I don’t know where the extra blankets came from, but they were there in the morning.

I don’t know how I ordered a bed while I was sick, but it was there and on my credit card.  So was the mattress and sheets.  It must have been the fever talking when I ordered them.  I would not have picked out anything that old fashioned looking.

How did I get all this stuff up to the second floor bedroom?  I’m sure I don’t remember stripping the paint off the closet doors.   I must be losing my mind.  I slept, I ate, I stopped logging in at work.  I just needed to concentrate on getting better.

By the time I was able to stay awake for more than an hour at a time, the city was shut down.  I was confined to my house whether I liked it or not.  I was suddenly glad my fever addled brain had ordered a bed while I still could.  

The watched feeling was worse.  I ordered some rat traps with my groceries.  I didn’t catch anything.  They didn’t take the bait.  I swear I heard snickering when I checked them in the morning.  That was a new sound for the boiler to make.

“I am losing my mind,” I repeated to myself.  Then blushed when I realized I had said it aloud.  “And yes, I also talk to myself,” I added for good measure.  “At least it is some sound,” I muttered.  “I should turn on some music or something.”

Work was officially shut down but I still had the dumpster outback.  I spend my awake time cleaning out the other rooms.  The advantage of living in a construction zore was all the dust masks.  When I needed to actually go out, that might help.  In the meantime, I carefully sorted through the things the previous owners had left behind.  Some of it was just trash, but there were some old photographs, lost buttons, even a single antique earring.

“No chance of finding a pair, I bet.  Still this could be made over into a necklace or something.”  Shit.  I was talking to myself again, wasn’t I?

I still got tired easily.  I dreamed about my mom stroking my hair as I slept.

The footprints I couldn’t explain away.

I had taken down a section of wall and spent the day carrying out the chunks of plaster before microwaving a pizza pop and tucking in early.  In the morning there were footprints in the dust.  They weren’t mine.  They were huge and it was hard to believe they were human.  Weird long toes, with the claw tips a little in front were not what I was expecting.

That was the first time I had wanted to leave the house.

I grabbed my stuff and made it to the front yard before I was spotted by a passing patrol car and ordered back inside.  I had no idea how to explain that I thought there was some sort of monster living in my house.  I was shaking as I went back inside.

“Hello?”  I called from the doorway, ready to run.  I had no idea where I could even run to.  “Um…  Is anyone there?”  I don’t know what I was expecting.  “Hi?  Um ….  I bought the house, I didn’t know there was any … thing living here.  I have been trying to fix it up.”

“I know.”

Fuck.  The scratchy, rasping bass voice was not what I was expecting.  “I … uh…  I can go back to camping in the yard,” I suggested.

“No.”

I waited to hear if he (?) was going to say anything else.

Apparently not.

“Uh … no I can’t stay here?  Or no, you don’t even want me camping in the backyard?”

“If I didn’t want you here, I would have had many opportunities to get rid of you.”

Shit.  That wasn’t ominous or threatening at all.

With a low chuckle the voice asked, “Did you mean to say that out loud?”

I froze and tried to remember what I had said.  Oh.  “No, that was an accident.  I’m not used to having anyone around to hear me.”

“I always hear you.”

I closed the door and went out to sit in the garden for a moment to think about that.  I ended up pacing, swearing and wishing for a cigarette.  I hadn’t smoked in years.    The sun started to go down and the bugs came out.  I was being eaten alive outside.  Going inside was scary but he was right.  He had lots of time to …

I flung open the door.  “Did you order furniture on my credit card?”  I demanded.

The laughter that rang out was a whole other level of creepy.  I shivered and thought about going back outside.  The door pulled itself closed behind me.  I spun to look at it and didn’t see anything.  I could hear something breathing. I turned again.  Nothing.

“If we are both going to live here, can we at least agree on some ground rules?”

“Like what?” was almost purred in my ear.  Looking around wildly, I still couldn’t see anything.

I was shaking now.  “Is there a way for you to be less scary so I don’t have a heart attack?” I squeaked.

There was nothing but silence.  Still my sense of the presence suggested it was gone.

I didn’t sleep that night.  I would just start to nod off then jerk myself awake and look wildly around the room.  I never saw anything.

Six am, my alarm went off and I could smell coffee.

All the dust had been swept up.

“Hello?” I whispered.

Nothing.  I had coffee and cereal and tried not to think about my surprise roommate.  I was so tired, I passed out at my computer in the kitchen at some point that morning, only to wake in bed upstairs in the afternoon.  “I don’t want you to touch me while I’m sleeping,” I mumbled, painfully aware that there was dick all I could do to stop it.

“Alright,” the voice said, coming from somewhere in the direction of the closet.  “But don’t fall asleep at the table then.”

I breathed a faint sigh of relief.  I wasn’t expecting the next part.

“You need to eat something now.  You are still recovering.”

There was a can of soup heating on the stove.  My breakfast dishes were gone.  I found them clean and dry in the cupboard.  “Thank you,” I whispered.  He didn’t reply.  As I ate lunch, I was psyching myself into going upstairs to look in the closet.  The door had been painted shut when I got the house, but at some point had been stripped down to the bare wood.

I hadn’t worked up the nerve by the time I was done eating.  Or washing and drying the dishes.  I found myself at the bottom of the stairs staring up at the second floor.  Did I really want to see what was in that closet?

No.

But it would be better to look during the light of day.

Eventually, I made it up there.  I put my hand on the knob and tried to turn it.  It didn’t budge.

“You want rules?” the voice growled behind me.  I spun, there was nothing there.  “Do not open that door.  Do not come into my space.”

I went from trembling from nerves to bolting down the stairs in an instant.  I nearly tripped, but felt something - him? - catch me and set me on my feet.

“Careful,” he purred.

I spent the rest of the day in the garden again.  I was still out there when the sun went down and the back light turned on.  Then the kitchen light and for a moment I could see something outlined against the antique curtains I hadn’t replaced in the kitchen.  I tried to remind myself that he wasn’t necessarily that big.  He might just be closer to the light and casting a bigger shadow.

I didn’t believe it, but I tried.

I crept back into the house like a scared child who wasn’t sure how angry their parents were going to be after they had done something wrong.  I turned on all the lights on the main floor and stayed in the kitchen away from the stairs.

“Planning on staying up all night?”

I jumped.  “How are you always behind me?”

“I live in the shadows.  Go to bed.”

“Um…  I was thinking, that should be your room, really.  Your closet.  You picked out the bed.  I can just camp down -”

“No.  Go to bed.”

“Do you really think I’m going to be able to sleep in a room with a closet that must not be opened?  I have read Blue Beard, you know.”

“So have I.  The wife gets the house and lives happily ever after.”

“The last wife does,” I pointed out.  “The first dozen or so didn’t.”

He chuckled at that.  “We made a deal, remember?”

“Are you teasing me?  What deal?”

“I don’t touch you in your sleep.  You don’t sleep in the kitchen anymore.”

“How big are you?”

The lights flickered and went off.

“Do you want to see me?”  he purred, so close that I could feel his breath on my neck.

“Not in the dark,” I squeaked.

“Go to bed.”  

The light snapped back on, leaving me blinking.

I spent the night sitting on the bed with my back pressed against the headboard trying to see the whole room at one.  Eventually, I fell asleep.

My alarm did not go off at six.  It had been turned off.  The coffee was ready but not turned on when I went down stairs.  The air smelled faintly of solder.  There was a post-it stuck to the coffee maker.  Fine copperplate handwriting told me:

I have replaced the plumbing

I stared at it dumbly.  I had replaced the plumbing to the kitchen sink and the downstairs powder room and had been washing out of the sink since I had been forced to stay home.  The only other plumbing was down to the washing machine in the cellar and the upstairs bathroom.  I pushed the button on the coffee maker and slowly crept upstairs.

Sure enough the stack of copper pipe waiting in the other bedroom was gone. 

Well, not gone.  I could see it installed through the holes in the walls.  I turned on the tap to the sink and sure enough, I had water.  I now had an upstairs, working bathroom with a clawfoot tub.

And no walls.

“I don’t like the idea of you watching me bathe,” I called out.  Then I felt like an idiot because if whatever it was had voyeur tendencies, it could have been watching me for months.  I tried all the taps and the toilet.  Everything worked.

“Thank you,” I mumbled, unsure if I was talking to myself.

“You’re welcome.”  It was the least creepy, most normal thing I had heard from him.

----

When I got back downstairs, there still wasn’t coffee but there was a new note:

Humans who do not sleep start to hallucinate

I crumbled it up, threw it across the room and jabbed the on switch on the coffee maker.  Nothing happened.  I growled as I plugged it in.  The power went out.

“Oh come on!  Withholding coffee is cruel and unusual punishment!”

“Sleep.”  It sounded like the whole house had murmured that last bit.

I wish I could say I handled it gracefully, but I didn’t.  I stomped back up to the bedroom like a petulant child.

I woke to bright sunlight streaming in through the window.  The house was quiet and it felt empty for the first time in days.  I had a bath and washed my hair and I felt better than I had in days too.  Clean and dry and dressed, I bounced into the kitchen to try and turn on the coffee again only to see my laptop snap shut.

It was with a lot of trepidation that I opened it.  I was expecting a ridiculous online purchase which is why I stared dumbly at the screen unable to process what I was seeing.

It was a CGI woman with her hands tied to something over her head being railed by a monster who was fingering her clit with one hand and fondling her breasts with the other while her belly distended in rhythm with his thrusts.

“Ugh!  Dude!  You can NOT watch porn on my laptop!” I shrieked as I frantically tried to close the window.

“Would you rather I watch you?” he asked calmly from somewhere to the left of me.

I breathed out a shaky breath.  “OK.  Let’s talk about private browser windows and how not to get a computer virus.”

When I got to the end of my tentative explanation, I asked, “Do you need … some alone time?”

There was another house shaking howling laugh.

“Is that a yes or a no?”

“You need to eat.”

That brought up a whole other issue.  “Do you?  Eat I mean.  Do you eat?  What do you eat?”

“Don’t worry about me.  I am not going to eat you.  Unless you ask nicely.”

I blushed even further but got out a pan and a skillet meal from the fridge.

I spend the rest of the afternoon weeding the garden.  I came in when it got dark, heated up my leftovers from lunch and tried to figure out what to do with myself.  The nap had meant that I wasn’t tired for the first time in days.

I wondered what he would do if I watched a movie.  I hunted through the cupboards and found a bag of microwave popcorn from before the virus started.  Right! I thought.  Bowl of popcorn, a movie, skype with a few friends.  Pretend none of this was happening.

I wasn’t surprised when the lights went out.  That was just a thing now.  My computer was still illuminating a bubble around me and B99 was still hilarious.

I wasn’t expecting the bed to dip next to me.  That once again raised the question of how to deal with him around others.  I hit the mute button.  “What are you doing?” I asked icily.

“Not touching you.  What are you eating?”

“Human food.”

“Hmmm.”

I unmuted my computer to answer Penny’s question about how stir crazy I was going.

“12/10 on the looney toons scale,” I offered.

She just laughed.

All of the popcorn was gone.

“Ah hell.”

“What’s wrong?” Penny asked.

“All my popcorn is gone,” I grumbled.  I didn’t add that I had more than half a bowl left a moment ago.  Not eating me, I reminded myself.

“That sucks.  Need to pause and get more?”

“I don’t have anymore.”

She just laughed, “But do you still have toilet paper and hand sanitizer?”

I chuckled, “Toilet paper, at least.”

“I should go.  It’s getting late,” she said with a yawn.

“Yeah.  Good night.”  After Penny signed off, I just let Netflix autoplay the next episode.

“Do you need to sleep?” The whisper seemed to come from the direction of the closet but the bed was still dipped under his weight on my other side.

My heart leapt to my throat.  “How many of you are there?”

“Just me,” he purred too close to my ear.  I flung myself away from him and toppled out of bed.  Two hands caught me.

Two other hands caught my laptop.

I stared as it was placed back on the bed a little way in front of me.  The hands on my arms were cool and smooth.  “What are you?”

“I am me.  I have not asked your name.  You will not ask mine.”

“My name is on the mail.  And my credit card.  You know my name,”  I pointed out keeping my eyes locked on the screen, fighting the urge to look around.

“Nonetheless.”

This wasn’t going to work, but I had to try.  “I would like to be alone now.”

The bed shifted as the weight was removed from the side.  The black shadows that could be fingers moved from my computer.  The voice said, “Good night” from the direction of the closet.  

I sat frozen.  “In the morning, I’m moving the bed to another room.”

“Why?”

“Because the closet is yours and it’s scary being here with you,” I admitted.

“I have never done anything to harm you.”

“You scare the shit out of me multiple times a day.”

There was a long pause before he replied, “And yet you haven’t left.”

“The city is on lock down.  I can’t leave.”

“Hmm.”  

I jumped as my laptop snapped shut.  I fumbled in the dark trying to find it on my bed, “What are you doing?” I demanded.

“Taking this downstairs.  I will not bother you tonight.”

“What-” I started to say, then snapped my mouth shut as the realization that this may be his ‘alone time’.

This time the “Good night,” came from the bedroom door.

In the morning the only thing in my browsing history was netflix.  This was less comforting since I had shown him how to clear the cache.  I told myself at least the keyboard wasn’t sticky.

[aranea-mechanica]

(( BREAKING NEWS: here’s the 4k unfinished rp log from after this post, in which tarantulas temporarily adopted @medicalmurdersaurus, @kingasaurusrex, @surly-saurus, @tomatofaceasaurus, @elite-tracker, and @slvdge​, and they wreaked absolute havoc on the Tor.

TAKE CHANCES, MAKE MISTAKES, GET MESSY!

Tarantulas

One thing led to another led to another led to another. Scooping Swoop up somehow got leaked to Grimlock, then Grimlock threatening him via comm inspired Tarantulas to adopt him too, which got leaked to Slag as well, who joined the party and essentially dragged Snarl and Sludge and Slash along for the ride. Tarantulas hopped through one portal after another herding them into the Tor, and mysteriously enough, they all seemed completely fine with the impromptu field trip. It was surreal how quickly and painlessly it came to pass - and all the more foreboding for what would probably follow.

The room the Dinobots were plopped into was mainly clear of equipment, although it had a decent serving of webbing slung around here and there. One might mistake it for a foyer of sorts, given the paths branching off toward more dim destinations. Strange sounds and smells emanated from far too many directions.

…In hindsight, Tarantulas would probably find that this hadn’t been the wisest of places to drop the Dinobots into the Tor for the first time. Popping back into the foyer at last, he’d just have to see the results of his poor decision for himself, now wouldn’t he?

Swoop

On the plus side, getting kidnapped gives Swoop a chance to look around while his siblings are herded up. On the down side, getting kidnapped gives Swoop a chance to look around while his siblings are herded up.

The high ceilings are far too tempting. He has to know what is up there. Up where? Up there.

Tarantulas

Swoop's first guess is probably right - webs. More webs, loosely spun. Probably a pretty fantastic jungle gym, a thought that's definitely occurred to Tarantulas as well.

Grimlock

Grimlock had only been outside his own verse a handful of times. Notably only to see the Prime that wasn't Prime, but regardless, this place is new. With new smells. And new sounds. And several new sights. He squints through his visor, deciding quickly he doesn't like it.

Which is only a half lie to himself.

He's curious as hell. Enough so that he reaches out to start poking at the various webbing strands littering the area-

And immediately decided it was interesting enough to start pulling at. Weird how it looked like string but felt nothing like it. Should probably take some home. It'd look cool in Kraken's cage.

Swoop

Swoop circles the room once, twice, a third time for good measure. In the last pass, he dips down past Grimlock and pulls up sharply so he can get enough momentum to fling himself up to the highest webs while transforming. He shrieks all the way up to his new perch.

Sludge

Swoop chose to go up, but Sludge? Sludge chose to go left, and investigate this entirely new place from the ground level. There's weird smells coming from that way, he has to know what they are, immediately. And possibly touch whatever's making those weird smells.

Absolutely touch whatever makes the weird smells.

Snarl

Snarl is just kinda staying put exactly where he ended up.

Tarantulas

The threads aren't really sticky - most of them, anyhow - but they do pull and pull and pull, and never seem to actually snap. The ones on the ceiling are thicker and have less give, which probably benefits Swoop (though if he chooses wisely he could certainly have a bungee-jumping adventure). Grimlock, however, probably won't be able to snag a sample of silk unless he slices instead of pulls.

If Sludge wanders far enough down the hall to the left, he'll reach a room with massive vats of various organic and inorganic fluids. Science lab or buffet? Who can tell.

What does it really matter what the original intent was, honestly.

Snarl

This wasn't part of his plan for the day. Not that he ever had much of a plan, but he definitely hadn't been ready for getting dragged along to be a part of the Tor.

Kinda looked like they just traded one dark rocky space, for another dark-ish space.

Swoop

There is some WWE off the ropes flinging going on towards the ceiling. This is a great time and Swoop is here for it, except... since when do his brothers come on his weird outings? That's new. Swoop springs towards the machinery nearest Snarl, landing with a CLANG.

Snarl

A lesser bot who DIDN'T LIVE WITH SWOOP 24-7 would probably be startled.

Grimlock

He's coming to that conclusion himself, though his considerable strength had managed to pull the elastic-like strands a decent way out of their original positioning. Now he wants this even more. Wheeljack could probably make some awesome weapon or maybe just something all around cool for the Dinocave.

He's thinking punching bags.

A hammock would be kinda cool too. He's seen those on tv and they at least look like a good time. It's never going to happen, however, unless he manages to get some of this stuff back home.

So without further ado, he reaches to his back to disconnect the base of his sword and activate it. When in doubt-slice it.

Swoop

"SNARL!" the pterosaur giggles. "You go a place. An INSIDE place!" It's difficult for someone as cartoonish as Swoop to come across over the top enough for the sarcasm to be clear. But, by god, he's trying.

Tarantulas

Thus begins the damage that Tarantulas will eventually have to repair and/or clean up later. Swoop's definitely leaving claw marks on that machinery.

Snarl

Snarl levels him with a look as flat as stale water. "What inside place?"

You have a chance to sell it, Swoop.

Swoop

Swoop throws his arms out Robert Downey Jr style to illustrate the Tor. "Dunno!"

Sludge

Vats! Full of stuff!

None of which he recognizes, but they're interesting colors and he's pretty sure that red flavor is the best flavor for anything. Spike had said that once. Sludge peered between the vats for a moment, trying to locate one that was red. And once he finds one, he carefully sets his cat down on the floor out of the way, and promptly shoves his face into said vat.

It's time... to lick the red flavor.

Snarl

Well. That meant his options were play statue exactly where he was which was tempting or go along with Swoop.... who might screech and pick at his armor until he does anyway.

Path of least resistance it is. Massive shoulders rise and fall in a shrug. "Kay. We go."

Tarantulas

Red flavor = probably synthetic blood, maybe, sort of. Does Sludge know what hemoglobin and plasma taste like? If so, it'll definitely be familiar, and nothing that'll affect his systems. His cat might find the vat strange, though.

And Grimlock can certainly have at, and with moderate success. Expect much chastising from Tarantulas once he does arrive and finds missing chunks of webbing, though.

Swoop

Nice. Another victory for Swoop.

"Us goooooooo-" He spun in a circle and then pointed in an arbitrary direction. "-thata way!"

Snarl

Good of a place as any. "Kay." Off they go then.

Tarantulas

Lots of static coming from "thata way." They'll have to open a few very-locked doors before they get to the source of it all.

Snarl

Hm. A door.

Fire time.

Sludge

Blegh. Spike was wrong, red flavor is worst flavor. Sludge is going to try the ominously glowing purple flavor instead. Maybe that one tastes better? Hopefully Tarantulas won't mind that he knocked over the blue vat on his way there.

Snarl

...This door is being very stubborn for fire time.  Clearly that means there needs to be MORE FIRE TIME.

Swoop

Swoop is pro fire. He is always pro fire. But he's also pro comedy...

.... so he's going to go over and poke buttons to see if he can get the door open despite his brother.

Tarantulas

Blue vat leaves a sticky mess on the floor that Sludge won't enjoy stepping in, mostly because he'd get, well, stuck. Glowing purple flavor is mysteriously void of scent and taste, but leaves a mild tingle wherever it touches.

Snarl

At least the door is a little more pliable than before. So while Swoop is off CLEARLY not helping, Snarl decides to take matters into his own hands.

Literally into his hands. He starts beating on the door with his fists.

Sludge

The tingle is kind of cool. Let's try some more of that and see if he can make his insides tingle.

Tarantulas

The door, meanwhile, holds against the fire, but the buttons nearby start to malfunction under the combo of radiant heat & ridiculous mashing. They're doing Tarantulas a favor by finding out the flaws in his security, right? In the end the fists are what does the door in first, and they're on to the next one.

And yes, Sludge, your insides are definitely tingling now. That might be an unfortunate distraction from the fact that the other parts that WERE tingling are no longer feeling ANYTHING now.

Snarl

One last hit, and the poor door finally gives, getting essentially blown off its frame.

Snarl

"Open."

Swoop

"You Snarl DID IT!" : >

Snarl

"You Swoop and Me Snarl go to 'that way' now."

Swoop

Swoop dashes through the door and immediately looks up to see if there's more stuff to play with.

Swoop

Snarl follows along at a more leisurely, lumbering pace.

Tarantulas

Nope, just another hallway leading six possible directions. The static's coming from behind another door. Suuuuuper tempting, right?

Sludge

Well, his insides feel really tingly and it's super cool. But he feels weirdly off balance with half his face no longer feeling anything. Maybe he should leave the rest of the vats alone now. He'll come check them out again later. Aaaaafter he's checked what other rooms are in this hallway.

Snarl

"...Me hear noise."

"Swoop, that you?"

"You Swoop weird noise allllll the time."

Swoop

Swoop runs a circle, going past each possible option before sliding Tom Cruise style into Snarl's side.

"Nope! It not Swoop."

Tarantulas

Meanwhile, guess who's busy conjuring another bridge back to the Tor, finally. Oh dear.

Snarl

Snarl, squints and scrutinizes Swoop. Not that staring at him suspiciously does much for figuring out SOUND.

Slash

Slash finally makes it to the party, she looks around at what is going on so far, seems all her brothers have wondered off to do their own thing. She probably should be a good dino and wait for her leader Slag, but all the new scent and surroundings where to tempting to stay still for too long!

Slash was soon sniffing around and collecting as many new scents as she can, it was time to explore!

Grimlock

Grimlock has a large, triumphant handful of the strange white stringy stuff. After much hacking has been had to get it that far. He's, for the moment, content and immediately wraps it around his arm for safe keeping. Besides, it makes his arm thicker by just that much that clotheslining Slag is going to be hilarious later.

That done, he notices his brothers have, as they're wont to do, wandered off. Well shit. Whose scent does he follow- or does he follow the odd chemical smell that burns at his ol factory sensors in a way that's not entirely unpleasant....

His brothers would be fine. Odd smells it is then.

Swoop

For a genuine moment, Swoop lets Snarl listen. That is his thinking face after all. But Swoop can only stand it so long before he just.... chirp!

Snarl

Oh, hey, the weird noise is getting louder. Kinda sounds like the TV when the channels don't feel like working. Or something like that.

Nope. Was probably Swoop.

Tarantulas

Sludge's exploration supplies him with various rewards - rooms full of more organic smells and sights, something that looks like an operating theater, then a dissection lab that definitely has specimens still displayed. Ick.

Swoop

"This Spiderbot, uh, house."

Sludge

The poor dinobot has no idea what an operating theater is, but it's got sharp pointy things and shiny things so that's where he's gonna play now. Some of these look like things Ratchet uses. Where's Swoop? He'd know what they were.

"SWOOP!"

Tarantulas

Sludge's yell makes things shake and clatter a little. Nothing's damaged.... yet.

Also, 'house' is a generous term.

Slash

Slash decided to follow the scent to the vats she can smell Sludge has been here also, she wondered over to the vats to get a closer look and sniff only to step into the blue sticky mess and tumble forward into it.

Tarantulas

Grimlock's sense of smell leads him in a similar direction to Sludge, but down a different hall. It'll take him a long time to get to the source of the smell, but there's a straight path, and a green glow far, far off at the end.

Snarl

"Spiderbot have loud house."

"...."

"Wait that sound like him Sludge."

Slash

Slash is stuck! The blue goop clings to her if she tries to pull away.

Snarl

Hmmm. Sludge or the door. Decisions.

He looks to Swoop. ????

Slash

Slash is pulling! SHE WANTS OUT!! "ME SLASH STUCK!"

Swoop

Swoop looks back where Sludge's bellowing came from, then up at Snarl.

"Him dead."

Snarl

Well that settles that.

"Kay. We open door thing now."

Grimlock

Ugh. The smell was no longer as pleasant the closer he got to it. It stung, actually. Grimlock's face was set in a grimace under his mask and for half a second he almost turns back around. Then his optics narrowed and he growled. Giving up was for LOSERS. And Grimlock was no loser.

The green glow was more of a pinprick in the distance at the moment and Grimlock took off at a run, lumbering steps echoing down the narrow space.

Swoop

Swoop bobbled his head in agreement. Later, losers.

Snarl

There are more doors to break down. Like this one. Fire Time part 2.

Swoop

Swoop transforms into pterosaur mode and joins in the melting.

Tarantulas

The fire changes color when it hits the door, but it's slowly successful in melting it.

Swoop

He gaaaaaaaaaaasssps! <3

Snarl

Snarl stops immediately because did you see that?

Swoop

"AWESOME!!"

Sludge

Hmm. Swoop isn't coming. Shame. Now he has to go looking for his little brother. He gets to his feet and makes his way back to where he'd started, to pick a new hallway. Is he down this way?

Snarl

He's looking between Swoop and the door in quick succession.

Slash

Slash struggles to pull herself free of the blue mess on the floor, her claws start to heat up for more SLICING MELTING ACTION! "GRRR! ME SLASH WANT OUT!"

Snarl

Then he levels his brother with the most serious look that's ever graced his face. "Us burn ALL things. Find more colors."

Slag

Slag, for his part, waited to see where all his various brothers were going... and then went in whatever direction they weren't, plodding along leisurely with his drone pet/toy jingling about beside and somewhat under him when he pauses to scoot Gong Fat back between his front legs.

Gotta keep his toy from getting squashed or burned or otherwise Dino'd.

Swoop

Swoop lets out a victory shriek and flaps hard enough to get himself a ways off the ground. "YAAAAHHH!"

Tarantulas

Heated claws are super effective on the blue goop - it seems to melt as Slash slices, although it does leave a lot of residue on her as well.

Slag's adventuring leads to a far less interesting path than the others - it's mostly consoles, servers, and computer hardware in the rooms down his route.

Grimlock

Aaaagh even RUNNING was taking too much time! Grimlock growled, getting quite irritated. It was time to find a shortcut. He eyes the wall next to him, tapping on it.

The rearing his fist back to slam it into the surface with as much power as he can.

Slash

Slash was finally free and quickly gained as much distance from the blue goop as she can, her movement a little slow due to the residue left on her. She was totally leaving claw marks in the floor as she ran in a random direction.

ALSO SLASH SAW YOU SLUDGE JUST IGNORE HER >:C

Tarantulas

Also, tip to Swoop and Snarl: although all the doors in THIS hallway burn the same color, OTHER hallways might not. Have at it.

Grimlock immediately succeeds in denting the wall next to him, and there's a groaning rumble a few seconds afterward.

Grimlock

.........

Well, it did SOMETHING.

Time to hit it again.

Snarl

Snarl proceeds to be flamethrower, and immediately forgets to actually go through the door they demolished

Slag

Oh. Buttons.

Slag doesn't really read much to know what the buttons do but, they're colorful. And some of them glow. And they have TVs on them. He supposes he can find something to watch.

Maybe spider has movies. Maybe spider has Netflix.

One stumpy triceratops foot plops gracelessly on the console, sort of pawing at the keyboard to try to make something happen.

Slash

Slash now wishes she can flamethrower breath to get all this blue goop off of her, it was slowing her down! She doesn't like this place anymore it's dumb!

Slash finally stopped running to look around, just where was she now? She'll sniff the air to see where her brothers had run off to.

Tarantulas

Grimlock manages to rend the metal of the wall a bit, but only enough to see through. It's inky black, wherever that is, and smells like... nothing?

......

Sludge

Swoop is decidedly not down this new hallway, Sludge decides eventually. But there's more places to see, so he'll keep walking. If the other hallway had interesting things, this one should too.

Snarl

Follow the burning, Sludge.

Sludge

Why follow the burning, when he can make his own burning?

Snarl

Follow the scent of scorched metal and mania.

Snarl

ALSO A GOOD OPTION.

Tarantulas

Spider does not have Netflix. Spider has a security system on his console that requires eight levels of clearance before anything actually happens. Want to give it a shot, Slag? It'll make tons of interesting colors and sounds.

Grimlock

How does something smell like nothing? Grimlock's vents huff as he tries to peer through the hole. His curiosity is torn now between this seemingly empty space that smells like nothing and the challenge that was the green glow in the distance.

Slag

Huh. Colors are happening. Maybe it's a game?

Slash

Slash will follow the burning.

Slag

He can probably figure out the button combo to make it do the thing. Keysmashing usually works back home. This is probably the same.

Sludge

He can sort of hear Swoop and Snarl burning things, though. Somewhere to the right. Does he want to backtrack? Not really. So he's going to go the Quicker Route and start spitting fire at the wall.

It'll have to give way eventually.

Snarl

Some of the doors are just opening and closing now. Weird.

Swoop

The problem with a hallway is that he can't full on circle and swoop in the air. He'll have to make do with brief strafing runs. Snarl gets well and truly covered in fire, which is probably a nice bonus to all the activity. Toasty!

Snarl

Snarl, wreathed in flames, and fueled by destructive impulses is a fearsome thing to behold.

Actually that's a lie. He's looks confused

Why are the doors just opening like that now? Are they trying to get away from the burning?

'Cause, Ha. Like that'll happen.

More fire.

Tarantulas

Definitely not the same, Slag. This one eventually blacks out completely after too much keysmashing, since the chances of one Dinofoot following the pattern of eight Spiderpaws is slim to none.

Grimlock

Curiosity has given way to frustration. Guess what?

That wall's coming down if he has to break his knuckles doing it.

Swoop

Swoop thoughtlessly clips his own wing on a wall and eats quite a bit of floor before sliding to a stop. "KEHEHE!"

Snarl

Hmmmm.

Slash

OK one the doors almost closed on Slash's tail! NOT COOL!

Slash will just... Well slash at the controls of the door, maybe that will stop it from acting weird!

Slag

Oh. Broke it.

............

WHELP. Time to leave the scene of the crime. Last time he broke a console full of buttons he got buried alive so maybe he'll just wander off and have no idea who broke the thing.

Snarl

Snarl is gonna pick Swoop up, and toss him through one of the doors when they open.

He's aerodynamic. He'll make it.

Probably.

Swoop

Wheee! Off he goes! "KAHAH!"

Slag

C'mon Gong Fat let's find something to chew on.

Tarantulas

Knuckles needn't be broken - the wall comes down eventually, and Grimlock gets the opportunity to venture into a space that's completely open, aside from long metal supports stretching seemingly-randomly through the darkness. He can certainly hop onto one or another from the hole he's ripped in the wall.

Slash gets a small explosion for her efforts, but the door doesn't reopen.

Sludge

This was is taking too long to melt for Sludge's liking. Time to bash it headfirst. Good thing he still can't feel his face.

Grimlock

He does just that, pulling his blade out again to set it on fire. So he can see, you understand.

Slash

Good that will teach the door one!

Slash will then continue to follow the burning scent until she spots Snarl, "You Snarl set me Slash on fire. Get dumb blue goop off."

Tarantulas

Sludge succeeds! This wall is REALLY thick though, so it might take quite a bit of headbashing to make it through.

Sludge

He has more than enough headbashing to go around for this wall.

Tarantulas

The first thing Slag and Gong Fat chew on shocks their respective mouths hard enough to (hopefully) be a deterrent to chewing more.

Swoop

Swoop is either meeting more floor or going for an impromptu flight. Either way, he is down.

Slash

Ok new plan, start scratching all the blue goop off!

Slag

Ouch. Well it's definitely not a cabbage for shredding which is deterrent enough for Gong Fat.

Slag, however, is a bit miffed at the shocky stingy ouch in his mouth, and retaliates with a bolt of laser from the tips of his horns. SCREW YOU, SHOCKY THING.

Grimlock

So Grimlock can only remember having to do so much jumping one other time in his life. Somewhere in the Rockies. It sucked. This isn't much better.

But hey, everything echoes here and everyone always accused him of loving to hear his own voice. It's gonna roar into that void right now.

Snarl

Did it work though?

"You Swoop see things?"

Sludge

Persistent headbashing has led to a lot of ringing in his head, but if it opened the wall, then he will consider it worth it.

Tarantulas

Finally - finally. Tarantulas is ready to round up the Dinokids and show them around their new home. He can't wait. It's going to be fantastic.

...But they're not here in the foyer. And there are at least three paths of destruction in different directions, all of which sound like no one is up to any good. What in the WORLD is he going to do with these dangerous toddlers?

He's never had much reason to use it before, but he's ridiculously glad he installed the PA system now. Tarantulas's voice is unbelievably cheery as it echoes in every room of the Tor.

"I trust you're making yourselves at home!"

Snarl

!!!!

Sludge

!!!! Voices from the ceiling!

Snarl

LOUD YELLING AND IT'S NOT THEM, WHAT?

Slag

Head voices.

Head voices everywhere.

It's echoing.

His head isn't that empty. Shit's not supposed to echo.

Slash

Ok the halls are talking!

Slag

Where is that coming from???

Swoop

Swoop pushes himself up from the floor and looks at the PA. "SPIDERBOT!"

He cackles. ::Hi, Spiderbot.::

Snarl

Snarl yells to the void, "This not Dinocave. You dumb?"

Grimlock

Now the place is echoing back at him ! And it sounded like Spiderbot! Grimlock isn't a fan of hide and seek on the best days.

"WHERE YOU SPIDERBOT HIDING! COME FACE ME GRIMLOCK!"

Slag

Slag is just gonna skeedaddle further away from the scene of his crime. He didn't do it. You can't prove shit, echoing head voice. "Me Slag not at home. Me Slag here "

Snarl

It's a complete accident how correct his sentence is "This is a TOR."

Sludge

Sludge looks up, trying to find the source of the new voice. Spiderbot?

Slash

"THIS PLACE DUMB!!" Slash snarls. Ok she’s going to do some Climbing now.

It’s time to find a way out of this dumb place.

---

(tl;dr - the Dinobots tear up the Tor and Tarantulas adores them during every second of it, until he’s somehow forced to give the destructive children back to their proper guardians.)

[we-are-fam-ily]

Two Lies and a Truth

Wordcount: 1,600+

Tags: Roceit, Intruality, Secret Relationship, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Allusions to Sex, SFW

https://archiveofourown.org/works/23386231

Deceit pressed Roman up against the nearest wall in the empty mindscape hallway and then hungrily captured Roman’s lips in a possessive kiss.

Roman responded enthusiastically, willingly opening his mouth when Deceit’s forked tongue sought entry against his lips. In the middle of their heated kiss, Deceit slotted his thigh in between Roman’s, drawing a moan from the other Side.

Deciding he liked that noise, Deceit disconnected their lips and pulled Roman’s collar out of the way just enough to start sucking and nibbling at Roman’s neck.

He was rewarded with another delicious moan, and Roman shifting his hips in a desperate attempt to get some friction. Deceit smirked and mouthed at a spot right behind Roman’s ear that caused the other to whine, a high pitched, needy noise.

“I- ah! I want to- mn… Tell the others.”

Deceit pulled back immediately, drawing another whine from Roman.

“Yes, we can absolutely tell the others.”

Roman’s eyes opened and he stared at Deceit.

“Why not? We’re in love, why would they be unhappy for us?”

“We’re not just having sex, Roman.”

That was a lie. Deceit was madly in love with Roman. But, Roman didn’t know that. Roman had just confessed one day and Deceit had kissed him without saying anything.

Their sexual relationship had blossomed from there. Roman kept trying to take Deceit on dates, but he’d made up excuse after excuse, going so far as to insist they keep their trysts secret from all the other sides.

“Is- is that all you think this is?” Roman was looking at him with so much hurt in his eyes that Deceit almost told the truth.

“Obviously”

Roman frowned and turned away. “I guess I was wrong about you. I thought you had more in you than villainy. If you don’t have a good reason why we shouldn’t tell the others, we should call this off.”

“Patton wouldn’t like a Dark Side dating a Light Side.”

That entire sentence was a lie. Deceit didn’t know what Patton would think.

“That’s… Not good enough for me. I guess you really were just in it for the sex. I’m tired of being your dirty little secret. We’re through.”

Deceit didn’t say anything, and Roman began to walk away. His posture was so defeated that Deceit almost reached out, but… What good would that do? He’d just ruined the best thing he’d ever had.

Feeling tears begin to fall down his cheeks, he snapped them away with a lie.

He was fine.

He didn’t notice the green door at the end of the hall click shut.

~~

“Patty! Pit-a-Patton! I need your help!”

Look. Remus didn’t care that Deceit and his brother were fucking. It was none of his beeswax. He did, however, care that they broke up. Loudly. In front of his salad.

Also Roman and Deedee were crying and nobody made them cry but him, not even each other.

So! He had a plan! Deedee was afraid that Patton wouldn’t like their relationship, so he just had to get Patton to pretend to be fucking him and then Roro and Deedee would get back together and be happy! Boom. Awesome plan.

Plus the bonus of flirting with Patton. Talk about daddy.

“Sure, kiddo! What’s up?”

“We need to pretend like we’re fucking.”

Patton’s pretty little mouth dropped open, and he also dropped his half-eaten cookie. Remus caught it before it hit the floor and offered it back to the other Side.

“See, Roro and Deedee are fucking, well, they were, but Deedee thought you wouldn’t like it so I thought if they thought we were together they would get back together and be happy!”

Patton blinked, but didn’t say anything. Remus blinked back. Slowly! Like a cat! And then he remembered.

“Right! Magic words! Please, daddy?”

The other Side gulped, took his cookie back with a trembling hand, and nodded once.

Boom! Remus had the best ideas.

He heard another Side come into the kitchen and grinned. Showtime. He leaned down and pecked the unresponsive Patton on the lips.

“Thanks, daddy!”

“S-sure thing, kiddo.”

Remus winked at Virgil, who was staring at the two of them, walked past Patton just far enough to give a little patpat to his butt, and then sunk out.

He was never washing that hand again. Patton’s butt was a thing of fantasy.

~~

Patton cornered him the next day.

“So. How- how do we do this?”

Remus heard footsteps again, coming closer to the two of them.

“Easy! We just get close,” he backed Patton into the wall, bracing an arm over the other Side’s head. “And stay there.”

Patton made an aborted squeaking noise as Remus leaned down to kiss him. He noticed that Patton tasted like hot cocoa and cookies.

“Patton? Remus?”

Remus pulled away and licked his lips, noting the dark blush on Patton’s face, before turning to Logan.

And Roman. Ha!

“What are you doing?”

“Fucking! Right, daddy?”

“Language,” Patton squawked.

But he didn’t deny it. In fact, a tentative hand came up and clutched at Remus’ sash.

Logan looked out of sorts, and Roman-

Roman looked furious.

Oops.

“Is this some sort of joke, Remus?”

He shook his head, hoping that Patton wouldn’t say anything.

“Hey!”

Crap.

Patton weaseled his way out in front of Remus, hands on his hips.

“Don’t be mean to Remus! We’re not doing anything wrong!”

Oh. Nice. Great work, daddy.

Patton spun and pulled Remus down into a quick, but bruising, kiss.

“My room later, okay baby?”

Holy fucking shit.

“You got it, daddy!” Did Remus sound as breathless as he felt? Probably.

Patton winked, grabbed his butt, and then walked away, swinging his hips a little. Talk about daddy.

“I suddenly know more about Patton than I needed to know.”

“And he’s all mine.” Remus was in love. Patton was sneaky as hell.

~~

Deceit and Remus were in the middle of a game of Cheater’s Chess when Patton came upon them.

“Ha! Pay up, Deedee! My forces just hired Cthulhu!”

“Remus.”

Deceit watched in fascination as Remus flinched and looked up at Patton.

“Yeeeees, daddy?”

What the fuck.

“I told you to meet me in my room, baby. Are you disobeying daddy?”

“No sir!” Remus shot out of his seat and bolted in the direction of Patton’s room.

“What the fuck.”

“We have a date. Have a good night, Deceit!” Patton turned and followed Remus at a more sedate pace, whistling.

Well. Maybe Deceit could repair the thing with Roman… Maybe he could even be honest about his feelings for once.

He had mainly been worried about how the others would react to their relationship, but if Patton and Remus were a thing, maybe…

Maybe it would be okay.

It would not. Roman wouldn’t even look at him, much less talk to him.

Unbeknownst to Deceit, Patton and Remus studied their every interaction.

~~

“New plan! We gotta set them up on a mushy date!”

“Hmm…” Patton seemed reluctant. Time to pull out the big guns.

“Please, daddy?”

Patton laughed and capitulated.

Remus was in charge of setting up the imagination. So, maybe his trees were a little ominous and the butterflies had skulls on the backs of their wings, but he got a kiss or two out of it anyways.

The other Side was in charge of the picnic, as well as getting Roman to the assigned spot.

Remus had to get Deceit.

~~

“Come on, Deedee! We’re close!”

Deceit climbed the hill behind Remus, grumbling under his breath. He had wanted to spend the day trying to woo Roman back, maybe even take him out on a proper date, but now he was stuck with the wrong half of Creativity.

“Hey look! It’s Roman and daddy!”

Or maybe not. Deceit watched as Remus sprinted down the hill and swept Patton into a kiss, after which they sunk out together, leaving Roman and Deceit staring at each other.

“It seems we weren’t set up.”

Roman looked like he was about to sink out himself, but Deceit rushed down and grabbed his arm.

“Look, there’s not a picnic blanket. Can we… Can we have that date, now?”

“Why? You made your feelings very clear.”

“I- I’m sorry, Roman. I lied to you because I was scared. I’m in love with you, and that terrifies me.”

Roman didn’t look at him for a long while, and Deceit started resigning himself to a broken heart.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“I shouldn’t, but I love you and I want to make this work. So we can try this again. But!”

Uh-oh.

“Do not lie to me again, and we aren’t having sex until we’ve figured this thing out properly.”

Oh, that wasn’t bad. Deceit nodded so quickly he felt like a bobble-head doll, and led Roman over to where the little picnic was set up.

“Do those butterflies have skulls on them?”

Roman laughed.

~~

Boom! Plan worked. Remus grinned at Patton as they watched the two others reconcile. Patton smiled sadly back at him and then sunk out completely.

Frowning, Remus followed, only to find Patton beginning the preparations of stress-baking.

“Something wrong, Pattycake?”

Patton flinched. “No, Remus. Nothing at all.”

“There is! You’re acting weird. Tell me!”

Patton didn’t respond, only kept pulling out ingredients. Fine. One last time. Hopefully it would work even after their ruse paid off.

“Please tell me, daddy?”

The other side growled and pulled Remus down, almost into a kiss.

“I’m in love with you, baby, and it’s going to kill me if you keep calling me that as a joke.” His words were feather-light and oh so tempting against Remus’ lips.

Remus blinked. It had never been a joke to him. He leaned down the short distance it took to connect their lips gently.

After a long while, Patton pulled away first. Remus winked at him salaciously.

“There’s more where that came from, daddy.”

Patton kissed him again.

[mozartwasajungkookstan]

An Analysis of @jungnoir’s ‘First Love’ - Technically a Songfic?

Spoilers ahead for ‘First Love’ by @jungnoir ir (The first paragraph is just a rant about song fics, so that actually will make sense. You should still read ‘First Love’ though. You might also want to listen to Yoongi’s ‘First Love’ for some context as well - and because it’s a great song.

I’m not going hide it: I hate song fics. So much. I just see these little verses scattered throughout a fic and I lose my goddamn mind. Am I meant to read along in time with the lyrics while the song is playing? That makes no sense with fast paced songs - I have to quickly skim past the writing to keep up with the song because otherwise the lyrics I’m listening to won’t make sense with the part that I’m reading. Reading a fic with a slow song is even worse because then I have to wait for the song to catch up with me, so now I’m just sitting there, shrouded in the darkness of my room at 3am, waiting for the chorus of a song, wondering where it all went wrong. So am I just meant to keep restarting the song? That would just break immersion and completely ruin the experience. Should I just not play the song at all? That seems like the most logical solution... but then why are you giving me the lyrics? Now I’ve got to scroll past them every time I see them because they’re there for no good reason.

Ever since I’ve come across these things on Wattpad I just immediately click away when I see them. They just seem like a way to make a fic look longer and they’re used to easily create tone by just copying and pasting words that someone else wrote. I hate them. Have I made that obvious yet?

That being said, ‘First Love’ is sort of a song fic. But I also love it. Notice how I said “sort of”. Yes, ‘First Love’ is associated with a song, which means it could potentially be classified as song fic. But because there are so many things that set it apart from from your average Wattpad song fic based on ‘Colors’ by Halsey (wow, it’s a story about a boy leaving you after you fall in love with him. What a surprise. It’s not like I could’ve told you the entire plot after reading the title). No, this is much more than that.

Aesthetics are unfortunately important for writing because even if your fic is well written, something else with fancy banners and calligraphy in the title is more likely to win someone over. It’s one of the first things that a reader takes note of, so it’s fitting that I talk about it first. ‘First Love’ doesn’t market itself as song fic, which is why I’m reluctant to call it one. To put it simply: it doesn’t do that god awful thing where lyrics from a song are spliced in between paragraphs of writing. Admittedly, even if jungnoir did want to, it would be weird putting in lyrics of a Korean song so it probably wouldn’t have been an option anyways. But nonetheless, there are no lyrics awkwardly placed in between paragraphs, so I didn’t immediately click out of the fic. While this is really just a personal preference out of my hatred for song fics, it leads onto my second point - the title and song it’s based off of.

The title ‘First Love’ is honestly not all that interesting of a title unless you’re aware of the masterpiece that is Yoongi’s ‘First Love’. But here’s the thing: other than the title and the description mentioning a “brown piano”, there are no other explicit references to the song other than a mention of a piano, which could easily just be that; and calling Yoongi the reader’s “first love”, which is completely different to the way it’s used in the song because the “first love” in the song is the piano, not a person. This sets apart the fic from the song and makes them different entities entirely.

The song choice is also a fantastic one. It somehow fits perfectly with the tone of the writing, but if I told you about a piece of writing based off of Yoongi’s ‘First Love’ and asked you to guess the plot, you wouldn’t have a clue. You might’ve guessed a story about Yoongi and his piano and taken the lyrics literally, but the tale of an engaged woman realising her childhood friend is the one she should be with is probably not what comes to mind. This makes it way less predictable than any other song fic I’ve ever read because normally every lyric is taken at face value - a sad song about your partner leaving you will create a sad fic about your partner leaving you (who would’ve guessed it?). ‘First Love’ just doesn’t fall for that trap because how could it? The song itself is never about a romantic love, so to make a fic about romantic love gives it a sense of originality and shows that jungnoir hasn’t just transcribed some verses into prose and has instead made something entirely new.

And that’s what I love most about this fic: it’s different. It’s different from other song fics out there and it’s different to its source material. Hell, when I first read it, I wasn’t even aware of the song that it was based off of. But I still thought it was a masterpiece regardless. Unlike so many other song fics before, it doesn’t depend on pre-existing work to establish its tone. The knowledge of the song adds to the experience but doesn’t complete it. I think that’s why many people add in lyrics to their fics: the experience isn’t complete without the knowledge of the song and the writer knows that. I’m not saying that writers who use songs are inherently bad; it’s possible for songs to be used in a way that heightens the enjoyment of reading. ‘First Love’ is a testament to that. It’s just that people are starting to be dependent on these songs to do most of their work tonally and that just doesn’t work for people like me... because I’m way too lazy to pull up Spotify and find your song.

As well as it being a sort-of-songfic, ‘First Love’ is incredibly well written and I really like some of the choices made in it. For example, I think it’s really clever how the fiancé was never given an actual name. It really shows how insignificant he is to the main character and Yoongi’s relationship and shows how the main character feels so disconnected from her soon-to-be-groom, as the closest to a name that we ever get is “the heir of Kang Group”. It’s such an official title and we only get his surname, which makes his relationship with the main character seem way too official and formal for romantic partners. It also helps with making his family seems more ominous, with them being called “his family” and nothing more personal than that. It’s really good in constrast with all the interactions between the main character and Yoongi, which are so much more personal. The use of language tells the reader from the very beginning that the main character was never meant to be with her fiancé, which makes the moment where she decides to run away with Yoongi full of satisfaction and not guilt, which is a big problem that I have with runaway bride stories. The groom is never mentioned in a bad light so I always feel bad when the bride leaves him because ‘hey, he might’ve actually loved her’. This doesn’t have that problem - it’s pretty clear that the groom considers the relationship to be more like a business transaction.

It also doesn’t make the mistake of having the groom be needlessly bad. Yeah, I’m glad to get away from him, but this isn’t a fantasy universe and he shouldn’t be cartoonishly evil. If I can imagine the antagonist petting his black raven while maniacally laughing in a ‘realistic’ story, then maybe you should tone it down a bit. I’m glad there’s no scene where he gets into a fight with Yoongi and no moment where he calls the main character any derogatory terms because it would’ve been so easy to just put it in, but the fact that there’s more of a focus on Yoongi’s and the main character’s relationship is much better. Instead of just telling the reader that the main character loves Yoongi, it shows them through meaningful interactions, which makes the romance seem so much more believable.

Overall, I think this fic is an amazing example of using song in fiction. It’s perfect in the minimal amount of references to the song, which makes it incredible as a stand alone piece as it doesn’t ever depend on the song to evoke emotion in the reader and the focus on the moments between the main character and Yoongi emphasises the idea that the fiancé never really mattered and builds a realistic and believable relationship between the two.

I give it 10 brown pianos out of 10 (listen to ‘First Love’. It’s so good)

- [redacted]

[tumblunni]

Today’s random Thought about gamemaking, I guess? Does anyone else get inexplicably super pissed off when a song seems to give the wrong meaning to a scene?

Like seriously i do not know ANYTHING about making music, I don’t even know how to read music notation at a basic primary school level. So it seems bewhildering to me when super talented viddygame musicians seem to take a ‘ehh it doesnt matter’ attitude to their soundtrack. I can’t understand why any game would not even TRY to have music match to the story stuff that’s happening, seriously why are there so many mediocre products like that. EVEN STUPID BUNNI CAN SEE IT!!! WE EXPECT BETTER FROM YOU!!! Good retort for any other ‘don’t listen to the players, they couldn’t make their own game’ type argument- you don’t have to be a master chef to know a cake is burnt.

sorry, sorry, I’m getting offtopic here, I’m just a little fired up!

Well basically what I mean is that music can be REALLY IMPORTANT to enhance an emotional moment in a game, and it can backfire horribly if one of those moments has a bad soundtrack. Not that it’s the be all and end all of sorywriting though, I mean there are plenty of games out there with forgettable soundtracks that still made me cry. But.. I mean.. usually they were just forgettable, and not outright terrible. Not many games where I had to play the whole thing muted managed to stir up as much emotion, yknow...? RAMBLING AGAIN Summary: music is not > writing, but can add +1 to writing if they work in harmony.

But the point that bothered me today is remembering how a failed musical moment can confuse players on the meaning of a scene, if the writing didn’t outright spell it out. Or if the writing is very clear on the intended reaction and the music still seems to say something else, the disconnect can ruin your immersion even if you still understood what was trying to be said. or, hypothetically, if a situation exists with two versions of the same story and one of them has a fitting, meaningful song while the other has a rather generic one, that moment could seem to hold more ‘importance’ in the narrative depending on which version you bought. JUST SAYIN’

which actually happened once in pokemon ruby and sapphire and it still rustles my jimmies!!!

okay so we have two versions of the same game where the villain guy has a different personality and tries to harness the power of a legendary monster of either fire or water. They both still follow the same general plotline, and both have a moment where villain guy’s plan fails and he isn’t able control [insert monster name here], thus causing Apocolypse Time for some damn reason this was chosen as one of the only songs that differs between games, despite its emotional resonance being CRITICALLY important to this goddamn scene

I guess that’s bad? I suppose?

but then the other one gets the fuckin creepiest music i have ever heard in a pokemon game

I THINK THAT EVER SO SLIGHTLY CHANGES THE TONE OF THE SCENE, GUYS

seriously, the water one sounds more like a vaguely ominous dungeon exploration theme and like.. a music.. in general??? not a YOU DONE FUCKED UP! YOU DONE FUCKED UP! alarm blaring right in maximillian’s goddamn face. it’s deliberately dissonant non-music, and the other one doesn’t even try to capture the same sort of aesthetic!

and lil kid me had only played Sapphire Version, so I never even heard the spookier version until I played the Ruby remake a decade later I know it sounds weird to not grasp the gravity of a literal apocolypse if the music isn’t scary enough, but I mean.. its a jrpg cliche. The world is always under threat and we already knew it was under threat and that’s why we wanted to beat this guy. That spooky music moment was necessary to sell the audience on something that’s often lost its shock value in this genre. And it was also an emotional moment because its where the villain sees the consequences of his actions and realizes what he was doing was wrong. It shouldnt be just a ‘wow, new sea adventure dungeon, better get moving kiddo’ sort of thing, but something that knocks you off your tracks for a second and makes you pause to take in what this guy is saying and feel sympathy for his horrific realization. Its a moment that’s so disarming for him that you just have to leave him there nigh-catatonic as you rush off to fix his mistake, and he only properly teams up with you to help save the day a dungeon or two later. That just seemed like a plot contrivance in Sapphire because there wasn’t that same desperate urgency that you have to rush off NOW, and can’t wait for this guy. Apocolypses happen all the time in rpg games, you need to specify to the audience when you want it to feel like an URGENT apocolypse! FF7 had a similar moment where you learn a bunch of revelations about the main villain and he succeeds in summoning the magic meteor that was more of an abstract threat this entire time. Now you can see it hovering in the distant sky, and the world map music has a drastic spooky change similar to this game. it worked there, it worked in pokemon ruby, pokemon sapphire why did you change it?

also, a more random minor issue I had with another song in the same game

Is it just me or does Wally’s theme sound more like ‘classy rich guy’ than ‘unconfident younger child with a chronic illness whom you play a mentor role to’? It also sounds really cheerful and upbeat and reminds me more of the generic ‘HI I AM GIRL AND CUTE AND CRUSH ON YOU’ rival characters like May and Shauna. Its just kinda got that ‘hyperactive and clumsy but in a way that’s supposed to be seen as a love interest’ sort of vibe. So yeah to me it says ‘fancy high class characters are usually egotistical jerk rivals, but I personally want to assure you that this rich lady is actually super nice and adorable and possibly has cute comic relief aspects’. Aka Sonia Nevermind from Danganronpa. Is this just my brain making nonsensical associations or does anyone see where I’m coming from??

Also ‘Wally Emotion’ doesnt seem to have ANYTHING in common with it and I never even knew this was a Wally-only theme AT ALL until I saw the track listing.

THINGS THAT SOUND WAY MORE LIKE THAT: THIS seriously why is this just the generic song for the town the guy lives in, instead you don’t even really take enough time passing through it to hear the full thing...

also obligatory mention to possibly the greatest change in the whole remake being SPECIFICALLY GIVING THIS GUY ANOTHER ACTUALLY FITTING REMIX SONG hey guess what didnt give me emotions in the first version hey guess what gives me all the emotions now FUCK YEAH that’s how you sell ‘the student becomes the master’ entirely without words! this thing was so goddamn successful that it took me half an hour to even find a video of his ‘main theme’, youtube search was overwhelmingly shoved full of cover of this badass piece i cant believe that the original game just used the same old minor trainer battle theme for him...

[zoe-and-grace]

The Magic

I have an incredibly important secret I must tell you, one that very few in this world know. I’m trusting you with this, only you, so you cannot tell a soul. I once knew a little girl with magic. She truly had it, I’m telling you the honest to God truth! Don’t believe me? Fair enough. In this frightening world, it seems that magic cannot possibly exist. I’ve seen it though. I’ve seen it all.

           This little girl’s wondrous powers made the impossible into reality. She had the four elements at her complete disposal, whether she wanted to bring life giving water to a dominion, or unleash howling winds just to watch everything dance and quiver. She could build earthen fortresses with ease and keep voracious flames at bay with the force of her glare. Her affinity for water was the strongest. Sometimes she would wade into the ocean to swim with mer-people, twisting and twirling in joy. When she dove underwater, she became filled with indescribable serenity. She would make her home there for a while, encased in her turquoise haven, feeling beautiful and free.

Those eyes, they were powerful tools. The young girl also had the gift of painting, of creation. Before her, rapturous scenes would unfold, all at the behest of her cornflower blue eyes. With her breath of life, things that were often trapped in movies could now exist on her elementary school playground. She was quite fond of the adventures, with heroes, and danger, and wonder, and intrigue, and magic. The other kids couldn’t seem to see the little girl’s mystical talents. Sometimes they engaged in something of magical nature, she was sure they did, but they mostly pursued other strange activities. They played on the peripheries of her quests, hanging unaware from jungle gyms, energetically launching dodgeballs at each other, and screaming themselves hoarse. Eventually, the little girl found them—those with magic, or at least those who wanted to see it. She knew she couldn’t be the only one. With the addition of more diverse magic, her tales became even more vibrant, practically pulsing with energy. The colors became richer, the shapes gained more dimension, the sounds grew closer. Her heart was most at peace when others flitted about in their beautiful sorcery, running from the devious forces of evil intent on petrifying them all. But perhaps she created too well and her friends stayed permanently petrified, because most stopped coming to the playground field. She wondered if they had lost their skills.

She would always try to find those with the power. One was a boy named Gavin in the second grade. He was skinny and blond with a squeaky voice. When they created together, they became superheroes. They had any weapon imaginable at their disposal and adopted numerous personas to protect the world. They had a dark underground lair buried deep underneath the playground field, with miles of treacherous wilderness right outside. If the quests got rough, they would occasionally have to exercise their expert survival skills. However, you aren’t to mention Gavin to the little girl. He betrayed her and went to play soccer every recess. He never said it to her face, but all the people he played with afterwards were also boys. She suspected it was some sort of “girls have cooties” or “boys play with boys” garbage. She thought she could teach him magic again, but he abruptly moved to Hawaii.

There were a few others but they either had incompatible magic (there was a strange one who thought she was a cat, and that wasn’t the little girls style) or they lost interest. The little girl didn’t take it personally until a few other kids called her “weird”, “dorky” and “annoying.” It disheartened her greatly, and it appeared to coincide with a significant dampening of her magic. It was a horrifying experience. She had no trouble conjuring up the images of her stories and her natural powers, but she lacked the element that made them tangible. The little girl felt like a piece of herself was missing, and a piece of life. She tried to connect with the other kids and the adults, but was only vaguely successful with a select few. It eventually came to be that she was left in the field alone.

Shortly after her magic weakened, the clever little girl found a way to reignite it, a powerful spell called a book. These handy things were even more effective than her previous methods of animation. She could now be almost completely enveloped in faraway worlds, instantly transported into the magic. In no time at all, the girl leaped from Redwall to Warriors to Percy Jackson to Harry Potter and beyond. Every chance she could get was now spent in the library, or holed up with some book somewhere. The school librarian knew her by name, and the public librarian knew her by face and by the massive stack of books she hoisted onto the counter. The girl had managed to procure a library card, and now spent her afternoons riding her little purple bike down the street to the library with her mother’s Shakespeare tote hanging from her shoulders. She would disappear into the cramped juvenile section for hours, sitting on the floor and evaluating which books she wanted to explore next. Soon she found she had depleted the kid’s novel supply.

Somewhere between fifth and sixth grade, she emerged from the kid’s wing, looked both ways to see if anyone was watching, and creeped into the Teen’s section. At that point, she didn’t call it magic anymore. She no longer waved the garden hose around, calling herself a “water-witch.” She no longer swam with her mermaid doll, nor played “lost at sea” with her little sister. She barely stepped out on the playground anymore. She couldn’t even remember at which point imagination ceased to be synonymous with reality. The girl could now understand what others saw in her through her experiences while reading. If she detached from the world while reading, how disconnected must she have looked while playing superheroes? The girl still felt the pull to turn away from the present and slip into a state of unreality, but for many years she grappled with her imagination. Sometimes it enveloped her in comfort when she was disappointed, whispering what could have been. Simultaneously those prospects taunted her. Sometimes it would carry her away from her sadness, transforming her into someone better, braver, or prettier. Those images would then turn on her and make her mourn what could never be. The images could be her deepest desires and her strangest fantasies, and often they filled her with a magnificent desire to bound across oceans, dig her fingers into other soils and be one with the other. As the girl matured, her imagination had turned into its own beast, as if the magic from her childhood had spun out of control and manifested itself in ways she couldn’t comprehend, but delighted in.

I have an incredibly important secret I must tell you, one that very few in this world know of. I’m trusting you with this, only you, so you cannot tell a soul. There once was a young woman who was a prisoner of magic. She truly was, I’m telling you the honest to God truth! Don’t believe me? Fair enough. In this world governed by reason, it seems that magic cannot possibly exist. I’ve seen it though. I’ve seen it all.

One year the young woman fell apart. Her surroundings were changing more rapidly than she could handle, and her future seemed to be ominously looming over her shoulder, but that was on the periphery. The most concerning issue was the destruction of her mind. Everywhere she looked, she saw danger so everything she was became fear. If her petty paranoias from middle school had been a beast, then this new and horrible manifestation was a demon. It had possessed her so completely that she couldn’t tell where she began and the demon ended. Her fear spiraled out of control, taking charge of her body and her emotion. The place where the young woman had once retreated for safety was now a minefield.

Unfortunately, it only got worse. Rather than willfully stepping into the magic as she had done as a child, she was now sucked into a black tar pit of black magic. The things that were supposed to be confined to movies were now her reality. She couldn’t help but be consumed by the dreadful images that flashed before her cursed eyes and fleshed themselves out. In the mucky, soul sapping pit, she experienced the end of the world, over and over and over. She felt death creep up to her and breath its chill on her shoulder. It never touched her, but it seemed to love watching her shiver, gasping desperately for breath. The young woman despaired that her magic betrayed her so. She hated living every moment in that nightmarish otherworld, untethered and alone. She knew no one else could see the black magic. While being utterly alone disheartened her, she was only truly at peace when she reached out of the pit, clasped the hands of others, and pleaded for their warmth.

My secret isn’t a secret. There just aren’t many people who want to hear it. They refuse to see us, or validate our suffering. Escaping from the prison of my own mind was a long and laborious process. Sometimes I would feel as if I was taking three steps forward only to be dragged three miles backward. I felt the shame that my society had burdened me with, as if being in pain was my own fault. I felt as if I was solitary in that shame, and that no one could possibly help me. The secret is, we exist and we deserve to exist. The secret is, sometimes we fall apart. The secret is, we are never alone. It’s okay to desire strength. The strength of my own soul has gotten me through some rough patches. However, there are hands everywhere waiting to pull us into the light for a bit and help us heal. I promise, there is wonder everywhere, and you are still you, and I believe that you have the magic in you to take the hand, and hoist yourself up.

I have an incredible secret to tell you.  I’m trusting you with this, only you, so you cannot tell a soul. I never actually stopped being the little blonde girl with magic. I have had it all along, I’m telling you the honest to God truth! Don’t believe me? Fair enough. In this ugly world, it seems that magic cannot possibly survive. I’ve seen it though. I’ve seen it all.

The magic simply transformed.

[pixieungerstories]

Quarantine

They always say ‘buy the worst house on the best block that you can afford’ and god knows this place was a total shit hole.  800 square feet on an overgrown lot surrounded by McMansions.  Hell, I paid less for the place that the land was worth.  I’m amazed someone hadn’t bulldozed the place years ago.

To make a long story short, I did not look a gift house horse in the mouth.

I mean, it wasn’t a total write off.  None of the windows were smashed.  There were mature fruit trees in the backyard.  If you ignored the weeds and rotting fruit, there was a lot of potential.  The plumbing was lead pipes and the electrical was knob and tube, but I know people and I could trade favours to get that replaced.  The foundations were good and the roof barely leaked.

I spent the summer camping in a tent in the back yard and slowly getting the place winterized enough that I could move it.

It was still a creepy ass house when I did.  It had a boiler.  I had no idea how to deal with that, but I was learning.  And I learned how to ignore the whistles, hissing and banging sounds that went with having a boiler.  The old rads were cast iron with pretty little details in the corners.

There were holes in the plaster, but I just ignored them.  It wasn’t worth fixing when I was going to gut the place and put up drywall eventually.  It just made it easier to get at the plumbing.

I started just living in the kitchen and ignoring the rest of the house.  I had disconnected the rest of the electrical and plumbing and was using that as a home base while I renovated outwards from there.

There is nothing quite as creepy as sleeping in a sleeping bag on what were probably asbestos tiles in an old house that makes the weird noises that old houses make.  I kept reminding myself that they only seemed louder than normal because the place was empty and there was nothing to muffle the sound.  The shrieking had to be the upstairs window that didn’t quite shut properly.

I had the feeling that something was watching me and prayed to god it wasn’t rats.

I was in this for the long haul.  Get up, shower at the gym, go to work, come home, renovate until it got dark, shower at the gym, camp out in the kitchen.  Not exciting, but satisfying.  Let’s face it, this was the only way I was ever going to be able to afford a house.

When the work from home order came, I had to actually get a phone line installed so I could have internet access.  Me, my laptop and a kitchen table I rescued from the curbside a while back.

The creepy feeling was worse.  I told myself it had to be the isolation kicking in.  I skyped with my best friends at night to make up for it.  The power was still a bit dodgy and kept going out, but that’s what laptop batteries and cell phones are for, right?

I was sure the cough was from the dust.

The guy delivering groceries left them on the sidewalk instead of the porch.  It was fine.  I understood completely.  I hadn’t done much work on the outside of the building at all. 

I realized I was sneezing a bit when I started having to use toilet paper as kleenex.

I was fine.  I was young and healthy.  I didn’t have any sick days at work so I was determined to just push through.

I tried to get more rest.

I dreamed about something laying a cool hand on my forehead.

The grocery store was out of thermometers.

I mean, did it really matter if I had a fever?  I wasn’t leaving the house to share with anyone.

My cough got worse overnight.  I was vaguely aware of someone lifting me up and holding a cup of cool water to my lips.  I was so fucking thirsty. 

“You shouldn’t be here,” I mumbled.  “I don’t want you to get sick.”

“I won’t,” a rumbling voice assured me.

I didn’t remember making soup, but I jolted into awareness sitting at the table with a steaming bowl in front of me.  Chicken noodle out of a can.  It’s not that hard to make.  I’m sure I could add water and heat in my sleep.  Apparently, I just did.

I was so cold that night.  I don’t know where the extra blankets came from, but they were there in the morning.

I don’t know how I ordered a bed while I was sick, but it was there and on my credit card.  So was the mattress and sheets.  It must have been the fever talking when I ordered them.  I would not have picked out anything that old fashioned looking.

How did I get all this stuff up to the second floor bedroom?  I’m sure I don’t remember stripping the paint off the closet doors.   I must be losing my mind.  I slept, I ate, I stopped logging in at work.  I just needed to concentrate on getting better.

By the time I was able to stay awake for more than an hour at a time, the city was shut down.  I was confined to my house whether I liked it or not.  I was suddenly glad my fever addled brain had ordered a bed while I still could.  

The watched feeling was worse.  I ordered some rat traps with my groceries.  I didn’t catch anything.  They didn’t take the bait.  I swear I heard snickering when I checked them in the morning.  That was a new sound for the boiler to make.

“I am losing my mind,” I repeated to myself.  Then blushed when I realized I had said it aloud.  “And yes, I also talk to myself,” I added for good measure.  “At least it is some sound,” I muttered.  “I should turn on some music or something.”

Work was officially shut down but I still had the dumpster outback.  I spend my awake time cleaning out the other rooms.  The advantage of living in a construction zore was all the dust masks.  When I needed to actually go out, that might help.  In the meantime, I carefully sorted through the things the previous owners had left behind.  Some of it was just trash, but there were some old photographs, lost buttons, even a single antique earring.

“No chance of finding a pair, I bet.  Still this could be made over into a necklace or something.”  Shit.  I was talking to myself again, wasn’t I?

I still got tired easily.  I dreamed about my mom stroking my hair as I slept.

The footprints I couldn’t explain away.

I had taken down a section of wall and spent the day carrying out the chunks of plaster before microwaving a pizza pop and tucking in early.  In the morning there were footprints in the dust.  They weren’t mine.  They were huge and it was hard to believe they were human.  Weird long toes, with the claw tips a little in front were not what I was expecting.

That was the first time I had wanted to leave the house.

I grabbed my stuff and made it to the front yard before I was spotted by a passing patrol car and ordered back inside.  I had no idea how to explain that I thought there was some sort of monster living in my house.  I was shaking as I went back inside.

“Hello?”  I called from the doorway, ready to run.  I had no idea where I could even run to.  “Um…  Is anyone there?”  I don’t know what I was expecting.  “Hi?  Um ….  I bought the house, I didn’t know there was any … thing living here.  I have been trying to fix it up.”

“I know.”

Fuck.  The scratchy, rasping bass voice was not what I was expecting.  “I … uh…  I can go back to camping in the yard,” I suggested.

“No.”

I waited to hear if he (?) was going to say anything else.

Apparently not.

“Uh … no I can’t stay here?  Or no, you don’t even want me camping in the backyard?”

“If I didn’t want you here, I would have had many opportunities to get rid of you.”

Shit.  That wasn’t ominous or threatening at all.

With a low chuckle the voice asked, “Did you mean to say that out loud?”

I froze and tried to remember what I had said.  Oh.  “No, that was an accident.  I’m not used to having anyone around to hear me.”

“I always hear you.”

I closed the door and went out to sit in the garden for a moment to think about that.  I ended up pacing, swearing and wishing for a cigarette.  I hadn’t smoked in years.    The sun started to go down and the bugs came out.  I was being eaten alive outside.  Going inside was scary but he was right.  He had lots of time to …

I flung open the door.  “Did you order furniture on my credit card?”  I demanded.

The laughter that rang out was a whole other level of creepy.  I shivered and thought about going back outside.  The door pulled itself closed behind me.  I spun to look at it and didn’t see anything.  I could hear something breathing. I turned again.  Nothing.

“If we are both going to live here, can we at least agree on some ground rules?”

“Like what?” was almost purred in my ear.  Looking around wildly, I still couldn’t see anything.

I was shaking now.  “Is there a way for you to be less scary so I don’t have a heart attack?” I squeaked.

There was nothing but silence.  Still my sense of the presence suggested it was gone.

I didn’t sleep that night.  I would just start to nod off then jerk myself awake and look wildly around the room.  I never saw anything.

Six am, my alarm went off and I could smell coffee.

All the dust had been swept up.

“Hello?” I whispered.

Nothing.  I had coffee and cereal and tried not to think about my surprise roommate.  I was so tired, I passed out at my computer in the kitchen at some point that morning, only to wake in bed upstairs in the afternoon.  “I don’t want you to touch me while I’m sleeping,” I mumbled, painfully aware that there was dick all I could do to stop it.

“Alright,” the voice said, coming from somewhere in the direction of the closet.  “But don’t fall asleep at the table then.”

I breathed a faint sigh of relief.  I wasn’t expecting the next part.

“You need to eat something now.  You are still recovering.”

There was a can of soup heating on the stove.  My breakfast dishes were gone.  I found them clean and dry in the cupboard.  “Thank you,” I whispered.  He didn’t reply.  As I ate lunch, I was psyching myself into going upstairs to look in the closet.  The door had been painted shut when I got the house, but at some point had been stripped down to the bare wood.

I hadn’t worked up the nerve by the time I was done eating.  Or washing and drying the dishes.  I found myself at the bottom of the stairs staring up at the second floor.  Did I really want to see what was in that closet?

No.

But it would be better to look during the light of day.

Eventually, I made it up there.  I put my hand on the knob and tried to turn it.  It didn’t budge.

“You want rules?” the voice growled behind me.  I spun, there was nothing there.  “Do not open that door.  Do not come into my space.”

I went from trembling from nerves to bolting down the stairs in an instant.  I nearly tripped, but felt something - him? - catch me and set me on my feet.

“Careful,” he purred.

I spent the rest of the day in the garden again.  I was still out there when the sun went down and the backlight turned on.  Then the kitchen light and for a moment I could see something outlined against the antique curtains I hadn’t replaced in the kitchen.  I tried to remind myself that he wasn’t necessarily that big.  He might just be closer to the light and casting a bigger shadow.

I didn’t believe it, but I tried.

I crept back into the house like a scared child who wasn’t sure how angry their parents were going to be after they had done something wrong.  I turned on all the lights on the main floor and stayed in the kitchen away from the stairs.

“Planning on staying up all night?”

I jumped.  “How are you always behind me?”

“I live in the shadows.  Go to bed.”

“Um…  I was thinking, that should be your room, really.  Your closet.  You picked out the bed.  I can just camp down -”

“No.  Go to bed.”

“Do you really think I’m going to be able to sleep in a room with a closet that must not be opened?  I have read Blue Beard, you know.”

“So have I.  The wife gets the house and lives happily ever after.”

“The last wife does,” I pointed out.  “The first dozen or so didn’t.”

He chuckled at that.  “We made a deal, remember?”

“Are you teasing me?  What deal?”

“I don’t touch you in your sleep.  You don’t sleep in the kitchen anymore.”

“How big are you?”

The lights flickered and went off.

“Do you want to see me?”  he purred, so close that I could feel his breath on my neck.

“Not in the dark,” I squeaked.

“Go to bed.”  

The light snapped back on, leaving me blinking.

I spent the night sitting on the bed with my back pressed against the headboard trying to see the whole room at one.  Eventually, I fell asleep.

My alarm did not go off at six.  It had been turned off.  The coffee was ready but not turned on when I went down stairs.  The air smelled faintly of solder.  There was a post-it stuck to the coffee maker.  Fine copperplate handwriting told me:

I stared at it dumbly.  I had replaced the plumbing to the kitchen sink and the downstairs powder room and had been washing out of the sink since I had been forced to stay home.  The only other plumbing was the upstairs bathroom and the antique washing machine in the basement.  I pushed the button on the coffee maker and slowly crept upstairs.

Sure enough the stack of copper pipe waiting in the other bedroom was gone. 

Well, not gone.  I could see it installed through the holes in the walls.  I turned on the tap to the sink and sure enough, I had water.  I now had an upstairs, working bathroom with a clawfoot tub.

And no walls.

“I don’t like the idea of you watching me bathe,” I called out.  Then I felt like an idiot because if whatever it was had voyeur tendencies, it could have been watching me for months.  I tried all the taps and the toilet.  Everything worked.

“Thank you,” I mumbled, unsure if I was talking to myself.

“You’re welcome.”  It was the least creepy, most normal thing I had heard from him.