#I do feel better now but geez. louise even.

[thetwilightroadtonightfall]

this past week has been such a Week ✌️🤪

[fanficshiddles]

Eternally Mine, Chapter 36

Chris was feeling so satisfied now he had a belly full of Louise’s blood. Though the scent of her arousal was making his head spin… He could also tell by the way she was squirming that she was really aroused.

‘I uhm… sorry I let myself get way too carried away. In both senses.’ He coughed to clear his throat a bit. ‘I probably should have worn underwear.’ He blushed a little.

Louise giggled. ‘That was… so hot.’

Chris smirked and nuzzled her nose with his. ‘I can smell how desperate you are, pumpkin. Do you want some privacy to sort yourself out? Or if you want… I could help. These fingers aren’t just good at tickling, you know.’ He smirked and smoothed his hand down her side. ‘Only if you want to though, there’s no pressure from me. As I said, I can easily give you space to… satisfy yourself. I just don’t want you to be left frustrated, after you gave me so much.’

Louise’s eyes widened and her cheeks flushed even redder than they had been. ‘I… uh… are you… into doing that?’ She squeaked out, flustered at the mere thought.

Chris frowned and kissed her cheek. ‘Of course…’ but then he realised. Ray never pleasured her, it was just about his own pleasure. ‘Have you ever had someone else make you cum before?’

Louise shook her head shyly. ‘No… Just on my own.’ She admitted. ‘Was never… important.’

Chris understood completely without her explaining anymore. He knew that she didn’t like thinking about Ray, never mind talking about him really.

‘Well, I’ve got news for you, sweetheart. You’re going to be cumming a hell of a lot more than I will be. I just know that you are going to be such a delight to force orgasm after orgasm out of… I can’t wait to have you squirming and crying out my name, it’s all you’ll be able to remember.’ He growled seductively and kissed her.

He felt her gasp into his mouth, and he could tell by her body that she was getting more and more aroused.

‘That’s… quite a bold statement.’ She teased after the kiss.

Chris tickled her side. ‘Don’t worry, it’s one I will live up to…’ He smirked. ‘Now, you’ve got less than a minute to decide what you want to do, while I grab you a glass of water.’

He kissed her again before getting up off the sofa, he was walking a little awkwardly due to the mess in his jeans, making Louise fall into a fit of the giggles, he shot her a look over his shoulder before disappearing out of the room briefly.

Louise reached up to feel her neck and brushed her fingers across his bite mark, making her shiver. It was a little bit sore, but she quite liked the way it hurt. It was a dull sort of stingy ache. She couldn’t believe he’d bitten her, it had been even better than she could have imagined. She didn’t find she felt too bad either, rather drained but not as bad as she thought she was going to feel afterwards.

When Chris returned a minute later, he’d changed out of his jeans and into trackie bottoms. He had a glass of water for her and a bar of chocolate.

Though as Louise tried to sit up, her head began spinning so she paused. ‘Oh, geez.’ She said as she put her hand up to her head. Maybe she was bit more out of it than she had realised.

‘Easy, pumpkin.’ Chris put the water and chocolate down on the side table and grabbed her.

He carefully lifted her up in his arms and sat down behind her, cradling her on front of him between his legs, her back against his chest.

‘Sorry… thought I was feeling ok.’ Louise said sheepishly.

‘Don’t apologise, I’ve taken a lot of blood out of you. Of course your head might feel a bit funny for a while… Here, drink some water.’ Chris grabbed the glass of water and brought it round on front of her.

She took the glass but her hands were a bit shaky, so Chris put his hands over hers to help her drink. He was glad that she drank more than half of the glass, he needed to make sure she kept hydrated.

Louise was rather fascinated looking at his large hands over hers, making hers and the glass look absolutely tiny in comparison. Though she also noticed that the tattoos he had on the back of his hands were pretty faded.

‘What’s happened with your hand tattoos?’ She asked softly.

‘I didn’t like them, so I’ve been going through the process of having them removed. I have plans for what I want on one instead.’ He said as he nuzzled against her hair at the back of her head.

Chris grabbed the chocolate and broke the pieces up for her, then fed her each bit. Which didn’t help with her arousal, but the chocolate and water did help with the fuzziness in her head.

‘How are you feeling, sweetheart?’ Chris asked as he kissed her neck softly, over where he’d bitten.

‘Better… apart from… uh… you know.’ She said shyly.

‘Do you want me to help? Or would you rather have some privacy?’ He asked, his voice was a low rumble and she could feel his chest vibrating against her back.

She mumbled her response, very quietly, Chris could hear what she said but only because of his vampire hearing.

‘What was that, sweetheart? I didn’t quite catch that?’ He said teasingly as he wrapped his arms around her middle and tickled her sides.

She started laughing as she buckled further back into him. ‘Can you… help… please.’ She said a bit louder between laughing.

‘That’s better. Of course I can help, my sweet little pumpkin.’ He purred, sliding his nose up the side of her neck to just below her ear, he kissed her there softly and stopped tickling her. 

‘If you want me to stop, just tell me.’ Chris said seriously as he kept his right arm around her middle and his left hand started wandering down her body.

His arms were long enough he was able to reach the bottom of her dress just by her knee, he slowly tugged it up, his hand slipping under and lightly creeping up her inner thigh. She let her legs fall open a bit more, to give him better access.

‘How does it feel, having been bitten by your vampire?’ He asked in a growly tone as his hand reached her knickers, he lightly trailed his fingers across her centre, feeling how wet she was through the fabric.

‘It… it feels amazing.’ Louise gasped out.

She gasped again when he slid his hand inside her knickers and started touching her softness. He groaned into her ear, finally feeling her intimately was driving him wild again. Though he kept himself calm and composed, this was about her pleasure.

‘Hopefully I’m about to make you feel even more amazing.’ He purred.

His exploring fingers delved through her folds and he swiftly sought out her clit. He took his time stroking her, learning what she liked and responded to best. While he would have loved to tease and torment her, he knew there would be plenty of time for that in the future. She deserved an orgasm right now.

He still took his time, building her up slowly and carefully. Listening to every little whimper and moan, taking in every shaky breath and twitch of her muscles.

When he slipped a finger into her, he felt her body clutching him tightly. His thumb rubbed over her clit in firm circles, and he was able to insert a second long finger into her. He curled them in just the right way and hit gold, so he zoned in on that area.

‘You’ve been such a good girl for me, letting me feed from you. Making you cum is the least I can do in return. Let yourself go, my little pumpkin.’ He whispered into her ear.

Chris felt her body react strongly when he called her a good girl… Which intrigued him and got his mind ticking, though he stored that information away in his brain for later.

‘Fuuuuuck!’ Louise cried out as she gripped his arm tightly.

Her body felt like a tightly wound spring, ready to snap at any moment. It was one thing pleasuring herself previously, but having the man, vampire, that she loved dearly do it, was a whole new level of pleasure.

Using his right hand, Chris let go of her middle and reached up to grip her chin, turning her face to the side so he could kiss her sloppily. He kept his movements at the same strong rhythm, his fingers inside of her rubbing firmly against her g spot while his thumb continued to circle her clit.

As his tongue lapped against her own, she came unravelled around his fingers, whimpering and moaning into his mouth. She’d never had an orgasm so good before, she felt it through her entire body. It was like her bones had turned completely to mush.

When she was finished it took her a bit of time to catch her breath and for her racing heart to settle down again. Chris chuckled as he reluctantly removed his hand from her knickers, he couldn’t resist sucking his fingers clean, moaning at her taste.

‘Mmm, my god. You taste delicious, both your blood and your pussy.’ He purred at her, making her turn her face into his chest to hide as she felt another wave of heat wash over her face.

‘That was… wow.’ She giggled.

‘I’m glad you thought so. This is just the start, once I know your body inside and out, the fun will be endless.’ He grinned as she peeked shyly up at him.

‘I uhm, I feel like you’re needing something…’ She whispered, feeling his arousal pressing hard against her lower back.

‘No, no, pumpkin. I’ve got everything I need. You’ve already given me great pleasure tonight. I think we should get to bed, so you can rest up.’ Chris gently held her chin and kissed her sweetly on the lips.

She nodded in agreement. ‘I dunno if I’m going to be able to stand.’ She admitted.

‘From lack of blood or because of the orgasm?’ Chris smirked.

‘Both.’ She giggled.

‘Both is a good answer.’ Chris chuckled.

He carefully cradled her in his arms and stood, she put her arms around his neck as he took her upstairs into his bedroom. He gently sat her down on the bed, then nipped back downstairs to get more water and fruit for her.

She managed to make her way into his en-suite to get cleaned up a little, though her legs were a bit wobbly. She spent some time looking at the red bite mark on her neck, she felt so giddy having been bitten and marked by her vampire.

Chris pulled the covers on the bed back when he returned, then he stripped down to his boxers to get ready for bed. When Louise came out of the bathroom, she blushed when she saw him waiting in bed, sitting up so she could see his naked chest.

Chris’ heart melted upon seeing her in pj shorts and a vest top. He smiled at her and patted the bed next to him.

She rushed over and climbed into bed beside him. Chris wrapped his arms around her and kissed the top of her head as she snuggled in against his side.

‘I’m going to need you to drink this glass of water and have some strawberries before we go to sleep.’ Chris said as he reached to the bedside table and handed her a glass.

‘The whole glass?’ Louise asked with wide eyes.

‘Yep. The whole glass.’ Chris nodded.

‘I’ll be peeing all night.’ Louise whined as she took it from him.

‘I’d rather you pee the bed than pass out from dehydration.’ Chris chuckled as he handed her some strawberries.

‘Hopefully I’ll make it to the bathroom.’ She snorted.

‘I hope so too, but I’ll cope if you don’t.’ Chris winked at her and nudged her playfully.

Once Louise finished her water, with lots of prompting from Chris, because it was a large glass, she finished the strawberries too and was more than ready to sleep. They both lay down and snuggled together, she had her head on his chest and felt so content. As did Chris.

Louise was out like a light with Chris lightly trailing his fingers up and down her arm.

Chris was just enjoying the moment, having her in his arms. He was excited about getting to spend the whole long weekend with her.

He noticed his phone light up from the side, it was on silent. He reached back to check it, without disturbing Louise. It was a message from Loki.

L: Is Louise still alive? You haven’t bled her dry, have you?

Chris chuckled softly. He took a quick selfie to send to his brother, he was grinning widely with Louise’s head on his chest. She was sleeping so peacefully with a smile on her face.

C: One satisfied vampire, and one very satisfied human. ;)

[ask-codeearasure]

The Outer Realms -- Chapter 8

<-[Previous Chapter]

[Next Chapter] ->

Want to refill Ink's paint supply? Go to our askbox!

—-----

Chapter Eight:

How Have They Not Killed Each Other Yet?

—----

“The more often he feels without acting, the less he will be able ever to act, and, in the long run, the less he will be able to feel.” - C. S. Lewis (The Screwtape Letters)

—-

Ink had refused to move a single inch from his spot. He was wracking that empty skull of his for ideas as to how to deal with the creators instead of focusing on this strange version of Error that he had mentioned… how long ago? Error had been watching him the whole time.

“You can’t do nothing.” Error said.

“Yes, I can.” Ink said.

“No, I mean you won’t let yourself do nothing.” Error said, “Ink, I know you. I’ve known you for a long time. You won’t let yourself sit idly by while someone goes around destroying AUs, especially whenever you claim your precious CREATORS didn't plan for that.”

“But the creators… How do I–”

“SCREW THE CREATORS!” Error hissed, “They can wait. Maybe they should be waiting FOREVER! This- fucking COPYCAT is someone you can stop right NOW!”

Error paused, seething, and a long silence continued between them. He took a long deep breath and calmed himself down before glaring at the artist. 

“Ink, you and I may not agree on what to do with these abominations, but I… for whatever reason, give a damn about you, and I fucking hate seeing you like this more than I hate the creators. More than I despise the idea of a freakish copy of myself running free. You’re going to stop him even if it means I have to GET ON YOUR ASS ABOUT IT!”

Ink stared blankly up at him. Although he appreciated the gesture that Error cared, it wasn't like he could express that the way he wanted to right now.

The artist gave an exasperated sigh, the best effort he could to show how worn thin he became over the last several weeks.

As much as he wanted to help the creators like he always did, hear out their concerns and dissect them to get the best result for their projects— they weren't here. Or at best, they weren't responding. He had been waiting around enough. 

Ink grabbed his scarf and pressed it over his face with his hands, then screamed into the fabric. He then dragged himself upright, stumbling at first, then grabbed Error’s arm without warning to stabilize himself.

Error, decidedly, did not like that. The glitch made a scream of his own, high-pitched enough to rattle the ruins around them and yanked his arm back.

“The FUCK was that for, you half-pint ASSHOLE!?”

The artist gasped, putting an offended hand on his chest to over-dramatize how intense his reaction actually was.

“I was gonna go with what you proposed, dude! What do you want from me??”

“Some fucking elbow room, maybe!? Or did you already forget about my severe haphephobia? I should hang you by your feet over Mt. Ebott myself and make you watch the destruction of ANOTHER UNIVERSE.”

Ink flinched, “OKAY! OKAY! CHILLAX, ERROR, I'M SORRY! Geez louise!”

The destroyer crossed his arms and flipped an end of his scarf over his shoulder, growling indignantly to himself.

“Yeah, sure, you fuckin’ better be.”

Without missing a beat, Ink folded their own arms behind them, kicking a foot back and forth. But as he continued to think silently, something must have ticked the excitement button in his mind, and Ink vomited his namesake all over the ground, which Error quickly jumped away from.

“So uh… where do you think we start? Have you seen this other you anywhere lately? Think they like the same things you do? Liiiiiike stealing chocolate from Underfell!Sans? Stalking people in Outertale? Watching Undernovella? Making dolls? OOOHH, DO YOU ALSO PLAY PIANO AND NEVER TOLD ME? THEY COULD—”

“WILL YOU SHUT UP??? YOU ARE GIVING ME A HEADACHE!!!!” Error looked about ready to chuck them across the length of two football fields, glitches crackling above his eyes and face, some hovering over the discolored skeleton’s clawed phalanges.

This is the last time he proposed the idea of them working together, in so many words. Even with Ink taking half the amount of paints they should, he remained as agitating as he always did.

But according to him, that was still better than talking to a lifeless, empty husk.

Imagining his… ally like that ran a chill down Error’s spine. The taller skeleton worked quickly to compose himself, ignoring the slightly hurt expression on Ink’s face.

“Look. If they're anything like me, their main goal is the destruction of the surviving universes.”

“If your idea is to jump from AU to AU repeatedly, I don't think that's the most efficient plan.” Ink fiddled with the loose threads in his scarf, pulling out a few. “The minute we leave one, he could start messing with it knowing his work will be half-done by the time we’re back… probably.”

The artist stretched, popping away the stiffness in their spine. “No offense, Error, but that guy did a lot more damage than you ever did! He snuck into the Doodlesphere and everything! Brought a piano in, too!”

A growl rumbling in his figurative throat, Error was about to send a retort back, but that last part caught him off guard.

Yeahno, he didn't forget Ink had mentioned that piano part not two minutes ago, but his impostor dragging the entire damn instrument into the Doodlesphere with him was just ASKING for attention. What kind of overconfident bozo did that, unless they WANTED to get their teeth slammed in!?

By some miracle, Error withheld his building outrage, snarling to a nonchalant Ink from between his teeth.

“Okay then, wise guy, what's your idea? We're kinda short on time here, so I'd LOVE to hear it!”

Ink beamed at him, an absolutely elated yet mischievous grin stretching across his face.

“Simple! We go back to the Doodlesphere and watch the remaining universes from there! If one of them starts, I don't know, burning or something, then that's where your other self might be!”

That—

Alright.

That wasn't a bad idea.

But Error didn't want to give them any credit just yet. For that, Ink's plan had to work.

Ink didn't wait for a response, painting a portal to the Doodlesphere on the ground and jumping right through. Error for some reason felt a pit in his soul. Like something was missing. Deciding to ignore it, he walked over to the portal and fell in backwards.

It was upon landing in the Doodlesphere he saw what could only be described as absolute ruin in comparison to what he was used to. Ink didn’t seem surprised, but he could read that the artist wasn’t exactly happy. It was so empty in comparison to what happened when he last visited. He almost wanted to call it desolate, but it wasn't precisely that either. There were other AUs around, spared from the other guy's onslaught, they were just more spread out. Error tried to think about what Ink mentioned, some weirdo dragging out an entire piano into the middle of the fucking Doodlesphere… 

That was far from what Error himself was like. He couldn't imagine himself doing that. It was far from the behavior of any other error in general, even Blueberror had more tact than that.

He bit back his frustration back and asked himself “Why the hell would a guy bring a fucking piano in here?”

Ink shrugged, “Would you do it?”

Error tried his best to bite back his frustration, Ink’s voice was starting to become grating but it was both better than being alone and being stuck in deafening silence. “Not unless I wanted to both waste my time and be caught.”

“Why would he want to be caught, though?” Ink asked as he walked around, checking on the AUs, finding no smoke or fire, or any other suspicious activity.

Don’t beat the shit out of him. Don’t beat the shit out of him. DON’T FUCKING BEAT THE SHIT OUT OF HIM–

Error bit the tip of his tongue and did his best to not drop kick the runt of a fucking idiodic skeletion. “I don’t know, what the fuck were you doing at the time?”

“Oh that’s easy–” Ink froze and looked at his scarf, running through it like some medieval knave going through a scroll to find the part they left off to read, “Ah! Here it is, we were looking for you, because one of the AUs was falling apart while we were still in it, I thought you did it but you didn’t, obviously. So I…” he frowned and started mumbling, “I forced a Chara to come along with us as bait and… we found a bunch of strings tied around AUs but they wouldn’t break.... And that version of you was playing the piano, and… well…”

Error stared at Ink, unsure what the hell they were getting at. The taller skeleton's face twisted with multiple emotions, the most obvious ones being a fucked up sense of amusement and a flicker of his continuously building rage.

For a second, Ink didn't think Error would respond. But of course he would. He always did eventually, if not to get the last word once again.

The artist heard their friend clear his throat, theoretically picking his words carefully.

“Was anyone else there?”

“Yeah, uhm–” Ink bit his tongue again, raking his mind for the faces he knew were there.

“An Underfell!Sans, Carrot, and… Dream? Yeah! Dream was there too!”

Error chuckled, keeping whatever he found funny to himself, failing, then bursting out into a series of giggles he tried to stop before he ultimately gave up, holding his midsection as he continued laughing while a confused and frightened Ink witnessed yet another display of Error's insanity.

Finally, Error managed to pull himself together, wiping his eyesockets free of tears and keeping a strained smile plastered to his face.

The destroyer lowered himself to eye-level with Ink, the smile disappearing in an instant when Ink forced himself to make eye-contact. Error tilted his head.

“Ink, it continues to appall me, hearing and seeing all the bullshit you pull, even in front of your friends! How do they not hate you yet?”

Ink took a step back and looked down at his scarf, where he left off reading, the words ‘ripped out Chara's heart out and took their soul’ written clearly on it. The figurative gears turning in Ink’s mind finally clicked together.

“They probably do now…” Ink said grimly. “That…” they shook their head, “Chara died because of me… That version of you killed them right in front of them, we couldn’t do anything…”

Error grinned, “You’re a damn fool, you know that?”

Ink nodded. He wanted to justify himself, he wanted to argue, but he knew it wasn’t in his best interest to do so, given his intent didn’t exactly equate the very results he was given. They never do. Intent doesn’t always justify the results. He dropped his scarf and couldn’t look at Error at the moment. They could feel the amount of judgment from the look on Error’s face. The artist mumbled, “I not only ruined their story, but I can’t undo it… I can only stop this now.” it was mostly to himself.

Ink was almost too lost in thought to hear Error say “What the fuck is with the blaster?”

They looked up and saw a gaster blaster staring down at them. But it wasn’t a normal gaster blaster either. It looked so strange. So different, yet eerily familiar. It was a skull of some sort of animal, like a candid, and if that wasn’t enough, it was oozing a black substance from its mouth, complimenting the dark gray bone that formed its shape.

Before another word was spoken Ink tackled Error away from the blaster just in time for it to spew out a blast of ink at them, it hit the artist, but not the glitch.

“Illogical.” said an eerily familiar voice.

Error glanced around to finally see the speaker, they looked like Ink when he was nothing more than a husk, but they were very different. They were dressed far more… tamer than Ink, having on a blue hooded poncho and furred boots. They even had a backpack, and a far thinner paintbrush.

This was an Ink Copycat.

“Why would he save the likes of you?” the copycat asked.

Error glared at him and summoned several bones in an attempt to impale the husk, but to his horror the husk took the fucking damage without a single reaction. The husk flipped his brush, transforming it into a goddamn spear, launching it towards the glitch. Error was able to use his strings to catch it just in time. It was less than a centimeter from his sternum.

Ink summoned a gaster blaster of his own and hit the doppelganger while Error shattered the spear. “You okay?” Ink asked worriedly.

Error nodded as he watched the husk heal itself and transform the ink it bled into the brush, “I find it odd that you’re helping your natural enemy. Also, you’re actively taking part in that defect. Why is that?”

“What are you talking about?” Ink asked cautiously. He felt like he was staring into an inevitable reality, one where he ended up like the stranger before him, just worse.

“Emotions.” the husk stated as if it was obvious, he drew a line on the ground, the ink flowed upwards making several swords, “They’re a defect, things for creations to make their stories more interesting. They’re useless for the likes of us.” he holstered the brush onto his back before picking up a sword. “And helping your natural enemy is evident of that. Why help the one person trying to erase you? If anything is unnatural, it is that.”

“He’s my friend!” Ink hissed, swiping Broomie off his back and mimicking the intruder’s movements, but instead flooding the floor with as many sharp projectiles he could possibly think of. Swords, daggers, chipped bones, spears, harpoons, whatever could jab his opponent with just as much business and hurt overriding his mind. Error jumped out of the way, summoning his own arrangement of blasters to target the new anomaly, standing on top of one of them so he didn’t impale himself on the warzone Ink created.

The husk seemed to have found it all unexpected, summoning a whole other gasterblaster to hop on top of it, letting it tank the damage instead while using it and the other to blast the duo. He then used the sword to finish destroying the first blaster letting it explode into the ink he used to make it, creating and sending a variety of knives Error’s way.

Error swerved his blaster to the side and then some, then jumped off to another one right below, letting the previous blaster explode into a million pieces when it was hit. This only served as an opening for Error to summon more to cover his next move, which was snatching Ink off the floor by the hem of his scarf and chucking him straight into the pool of ink they and the stranger created. Ink, sharing an understanding of the assignment, let himself be absorbed into the monstrosity of half-solid blades. The destroyer then turned his attention to the anomaly, who in turn tilted its head to face him. Is this what Ink feared becoming? A fucking weirdo? For once, Error couldn’t fault him. The creature he was looking at was only little more than a emotionless, lifeless husk that lacked all sense of awareness or memory. But he wasn’t here to sympathize. Over his dusted body. The tall skeleton ducked through a barrage of oncoming attacks, dodging a near-shapeless blaster as he yanked two handfuls of electric blue strings from his eyesockets, unleashing them on every moving item as soon as he was in the clear, catching stray blasters, ink swords, and the husk in a strangling grip. Slowly, Error only tightened that grip, his strings tearing the husk’s attacks apart as easily as malicious fingers through wet paper. He was about to do the same for that pitiful creature, but again, it didn’t respond to the pain he was attempting to inflict.

The husk stared at the duo before grasping its brush and flung it upwards, letting as much paint it would allow before destroying it with the ink sword, transforming them into a railgun. It was aimed directly at Error. The masses of weapons it created before reliquified and began to rush towards Error in the shape of grasping hands.

“I’ll make this quick.” the husk said.

Suddenly, Ink burst out of the pool of ink, dyes, and paints, wrapping his body around the equally vertically challenged stranger. With his eyelights dark shades of orange and red, the artist put it into a headlock and yanked it by the head backwards recklessly. The weapons continued in Error’s general direction however, and in a last ditch effort to not get absolutely sauced by the stampede of messy pointed things, he opened a portal to Outertale, slipped in, then exited out another one at the back of the crowd, summoning a dozen blasters to shoot them out of the air, and hopefully, burn them out of existence.

The husk summoned a dozen gaster blasters and fired them off at itself and Ink with the pressure high enough to cut through the railgun forcing them both to be separated. When the blasters were done, the husk forced itself up using the ink that pooled around them to heal itself. But its spine that held its head forced its head to barely be hanging by a thread. It reached up and pulled its head back into place, the ink that came from the cracks in the spinal cord disappeared, melting back into bone.

“I suppose I must dispose of you as well.” the husk whispered, seemingly disappointed in this outcome.

Ink was trying his best to draw his bones back together as quickly as possible but from their peripherals, they saw a familiarly grinning figure toying with one of the AUs. He turned and saw it was that strange Error doppelganger, but he looked back at his own copy who was summoning several cannons, when he glanced back towards where the glitch copy was at, he was gone but the AU was on fire.

A decision had to be made, and quickly. Ink grabbed Broomie, twirling the oversized brush in his hands, and summoned a wall to block off his copy from hell itself. Before he could hesitate, the artist charged towards the AU, grabbing it at the last second as Error’s vengeful screams echoed through the Doodlesphere. But Ink couldn’t look back, not when he was so close to finding the answers he and Error wanted to know. Ink dematerialized into his namesake, and jumped into the burning page. When he materialized again, he saw the same results from that Underfell AU weeks prior, but now every resident realized the weight of the situation they had no escape from. If Ink had a heart, it had already dropped to join his soul. In the distance, he could spot Core!Frisk rounding up as many survivors as they could to take to the Omega Timeline, and Ink mentally cheered on their effort as he turned away to find Error’s impostor.

—-------

“You've been abandoned.” said the husk, staring at Error, the cannons rotating to aim towards him. “Creations matter more than your existence as they always have.”

Error was going to have a fucking aneurism if this thing kept talking. “And I bet you like the sound of your own voice way too much.” He would take care of Ink later, perhaps shove his face in the closest store of acid the second he came back. Fucking teach him not to run without warning, the little shrimp. And you know what? He was going to use this senseless pipsqueak as PRACTICE for that moment. The destroyer cracked his knuckles and grabbed another fistful of strings, summoning more blasters to counteract the cannon obsession his opponent favored this second. “When I get my hands on your code, you are going to wish death welcomed creatures like you.”

The husk fired the cannons before disappearing into the sea of ink that has yet to disappear. It didn't care about the threat. It didn't have the capacity to. Why should it? Appearing behind Error, almost predictably so, it swung its brush to fling a pool of sticky pink paint in an attempt to glue the glitch down. It had obviously grown bored with the fight and wanted to take advantage of Ink's absence. ‘Oh SHIT-’ was the last legible thought on Error’s mind before the husk reappeared behind him, and in a last ditch effort to either save himself or get the both of them fucked over, Error twisted around where he stood, grabbed the anomaly by the face, getting splattered with the sticky pink paint in the process, and summoned a gaster blaster to snap its jaws around them both, squishing the husk’s ribcage and pelvis between its gnashing teeth, and taking the brunt of the blast from the cannons in the back before it eventually broke apart and allowed the thing and Error to get pelted as well.

The husk and its paint seemed to have finally run out of steam. The ink and paint fading away into dust. The husk forced itself up, despite only having one arm left and barely 25% of its ribcage. To escape, the creature used its wrist to gather a final pool of ink and disappeared into it. The pool faded away just as quickly, leaving behind a stained, tattered backpack.

The fight was finally over.

Spitting out the blood that pooled in his mouth, Error watched the abomination escape in the most satisfying, decrepit state that blessed his eyelights. He sat up, out of breath, but still alive and fucking thriving. At once, Error screamed in celebration, yanking himself to his feet in an attempt to do an insult of a victory dance as well, but then his own lower body complained, and loudly. Error collapsed back to the floor with a pathetic groan, wishing he brought his pink feather boa with him. That item always crossed over his confidence in yellow highlighter with a cherry on top. Whenever Ink comes back, he’s fucking DEAD.

—----

Searching through a self-destructing AU wasn't exactly what Ink was expecting, nor did he even know what to expect. It was legitimately tearing itself apart. He'd open doors only to find nothing but pitch black. There were masses of crystals that would turn into drawn human eyes that had the texture of newspaper. It was… insanity.

He ran to where Snowdin should've been only to find the snow was now turning into lava only to shift into grass, then confetti, then crumbled paper, then actual code then–

Stars, he felt a migraine coming on. He made a note to himself to never ever drive anyone to have one of those ever again.

But there was no sign of the Error copy. None. Where was he? He couldn't stay here for long because if he did, he'd be torn apart by the AU’s destruction. But holy shit, out of all the mind-breaking creations he helped create, none of them compared to this level of reality-bending destruction.

Reading the script of what this AU was supposed to be gave him even worse results. Every AU had a set path of stories depending on the choices of The Player, or really any other characters the creators wanted to have the most autonomy and power of the narrative. Instead of there being a script in the first place, Ink’s eyes were assaulted by randomized code in many fonts, half of them unreadable, and others using alphabets and numbers he didn’t know existed. The artist shoved the physical copy of this corrupted script in one of the pockets of his scarf for later reference.

Before the closest pool of liquid could dissolve into something nonsensical, Ink dove in, traveling back towards the Doodlesphere as fast as he could.

Error’s glitches had managed to regenerate most of his injuries by the time Ink resurfaced, the artist dropping Broomie in favor of checking on his friend.

“Error! Are you okay?” Aside from the remnants of the scuffle around the area and the AU Ink had just escaped, nothing else around them seemed to be damaged. Except for Error’s already shaky sense of pride. The destroyer in question sent Ink a dangerous sneer. He had to reboot at some point before they returned, and on top of his predictable anger, he was still just a little out of it.

Error mumbled angrily under his breath in response to Ink’s question, then swung some backpack into his face as if that was another insult to his being. “YOU LEFT ME!” Ink caught the backpack before it had a chance at hitting him as intended, then set it off to the side. “I’m sorry, Error! I don’t think I had the time to say anything-” “YES, YOU DID, ASSHOLE!!!” “I DON’T THINK I DID, DUDE! I SAW THE OTHER YOU BACK THERE!” “YOU SAW MY WHAT!?” Error quickly gave up on Plan ‘Bash Ink’s Face Into The Ground’, yanking out more strings and aggressively stood up to look around the Doodleshpere from where he was. “WHERE IS HE!??!??!”The longer he waited around in this place, the more he became tempted to finish his importor’s job, which was supposed to be HIS FUCKING JOB IN THE FIRST PLACE, DAMN IT.

Ink let out an exasperated sigh, keeping a pointed gaze at Error. As much as he wanted to trust his friend 100% to not destroy everything here, Error’s behavior could go from 0 to 100 without the flip of a dime, he didn’t need to be provoked for his destructive tendencies to be asserted wherever he went. But this risk was necessary, in the artist’s mind. “Error, I lost him. Whatever he did, one more universe has been destroyed, and the only thing I have to show for it is this! Whatever it is!” They held out the script, which remained glitching between several textures, codes, languages, and numbers. Ink felt his migraine intensify at the sight of it, and his stress level only seemed to grow, even with the miniscule amount of paint still in his system. Error sneered down at the script as if it personally offended him, swiped it out of Ink’s hands to look at it himself, and took his glasses out of his pocket to get a clearer look at whatever kind of monstrosity he was supposed to decipher. Maybe. Ink hoped his trust in Error wasn’t displaced in this regard. While Error did his equivalent of working, which was staring daggers at a corrupted arrangement of magic papers that came with every AU, Ink took a second to lay down, gracelessly swinging  an arm over his eyes to block out the light. What a day they’ve had so far. First another ‘Error’ lookin guy, now an impostor of his own that was too close in resemblance to his worst nightmare for any comfort. Usually, he would have been thrilled to meet them as he did every new creation, but this other him wanted to hurt Error, then him, and Ink didn’t know what else he could lose before he lost his own mind. Who knows? Maybe it’s already gone! “I can hear your stupid thoughts from here, Ink. Drink your fucking paints.” Error said from a distance. Ink groaned in complaint. “Error, I don’t have any more! I’m gonna rot here!” “You idiot,” Error grumbled. There was a shift, then a couple steps made themselves audible, and the backpack was nearly kicked into Ink’s face. “Open it. Dumbass.” They sat up instantly, ignoring the pounding in their skull to give Error a warning look, only for the glitch to shrug and look back at the script he was given. Ink huffed, grabbed the backpack, and almost tore the top open, only for a gleaming substance to catch his eye from the inside. Oh. Ink didn’t know what he expected to see in there, but a collection of potion bottles and two books was not on his list of findings for today. They sent a questioning look to Error’s back, then back to the potions, stored in adorably decorated jars maybe twice as big as his own vials. Then it hit him. “Hey, Error?” “What now? I’m busy.” “Did you take this from the other me?” “Yep,” Error replied, popping the ‘p’. “Huh… thank you!” “Yeah, yeah, shut up.”

He didn’t know what to think now, and a part of him was kinda done with doing that as of right now. Ink lifted a pale, yellowish potion from the backpack, admiring the texture of the liquid inside. If this was paint, they didn’t think it was the same type they were used to drinking at the start of every day- wait a minute. Hesitatingly, Ink untied the string around the top and the body of the jar, then slowly twisted the lid off and sniffed at the concoction inside. Oh! It’s oil paint! No wonder it looked so strange to him at first! Ink twisted the lid back on, and with both hands, aggressively shaked the jar to mix the oil and dyes back together. By the time he was done seconds later, the paint was a brighter, more solid shade of yellow, almost the exact same hue his paints were, when he was still getting a stable and consistent supply of them. Before he could taste it, Error cleared his throat, and Ink turned to look in his direction as the glitch put his glasses away and crumbled the script into a ball. Ink choked on his own breath and moved to stand. “Hey, no! We need that!” “Not anymore,” Error tossed the ball away. “It’s a self-destruction code.” “Wh- huh?? Scripts don’t usually have ideas like that in them, Error.” “You sure about that?” “Yes? I help creators make their own stories, dude, this means I have access to the planned script and everything that’s supposed to happen in every universe. So believe me, whatever you read was not there before the other you happened.” Error’s figurative brow furrowed. “I think it’s genius, Ink, hacking into an anomaly’s code and putting a self-destruction command in it… I should have thought of that myself…” Ink gave his friend a blank look, one of his eyesockets twitching. Error smiled antagonizingly in response, then continued to fuckin’- Ink couldn’t guess accurately, but if he had to, maybe Error was thinking about the ensuing destruction in detail, but with his name written in Sharpie all over it instead of his impostor’s. Ugh, neither of them even caught their name…

They applied their attention back on the paints, their only saving grace. Ink took a small gulp of the yellow mixture, and near instantly, his compounding migraine ceased by the smallest fraction. Aside from it tasting like expired crackers, the potions still did their job, and would continue to do so. Hopefully. Ink didn’t want to question what else could be in these things, if there was anything aside from the properties he was used to.

He made quick work of the remaining jars, only taking little sips of each one to ensure they lasted him longer, then gently placed them back in the backpack and pulled out one of the books. “Do you know of a counter-command, Error? Or maybe you can remove it entirely?” Ink flipped through the pages, spotting sketches that started out with some life, then gradually seemed to wilt. They continued on, but came across a pattern of the same thing being drawn over and over again from page to page, then all activity stopped once he got to the middle of the book. He wasn’t going to judge, everyone develops art at their own pace, but considering this belonged to a copy of him, they couldn’t help but get a little… concerned. Error came back into his range of vision with a Sans Classic doll, tossing it from one hand to the other then back again. He must have portalled back to the Anti-Void to pick it up, maybe for his own comfort and brainstorming. Ink themself was not fond of Error’s home dimension. It was way too blank for his liking, but Error was a creature of habit. Changes easily stressed him out, so having some sort of familiarity within reach was for his own best health and processing.

Even though they were both in Ink’s territory, Ink wished he had something like Error did with his dolls. The Doodlesphere has been left so shredded that any semblance of comfort Ink got from the papers that resembled the AUs was now… What was the word for it? Sabotaged. His job was to protect the wills of so many creators, their wants and plans for the future for their creations, and he failed. Error snapped his fingers right in front of the artist’s face, jolting him out of his thoughts and back to him, where really, all their attention SHOULD be, thank you very much.

“Did you get all that?” “Uh…” “Nope. You did not.” “Sorry, Error, I got a little distracted.”

“OBVIOUSLY. Here Sans was telling me everything I needed to know and you were not listening! What kind of multiverse-saver are you?”

Ink made no comment, nor had the energy to rebuke the minor insult. Instead, he sunk into himself under Error’s judgmental stare. Error wasn’t impressed, but took that as a signal to continue without the rudeness of being ignored this time. “Anyways! Sans says I can, in fact, either counteract or erase the self-destruct command, but I need direct access to each anomaly’s code for it to work…. Yay, me.” Whatever joy in Error’s voice went down the drain at that last part, but Ink picked up that tiny spark of hope, feeling the urge to vomit again at even the tiniest idea of being able to reverse whatever curse the Error clone put on the multiverse.

“NO-” Error pointed an accusatory finger into Ink’s face, like he was scolding a rabid cat. “Don’t get excited. DON’T YOU DARE GET EXCITED-” They got excited. 

“GOD DAMN YOU.”

[ofthecaravel]

You Know How To Haunt

A 'You Don't Go To Parties' Halloween Special/ Mini Fic/ Oneshot

Summary: Before the night they confessed, Danny and Sam had a very similar evening that ended very, very differently.

Tags: Pre-confession YDGTP Sanny, ANGST, feelingssss (that aren't one sided but Danny thinks they are), saucy thoughts but nothing explicit, basically just infuriating tension

Words: 2.7k

A/N: Sooooo I missed the YDGTP boys and wanted to give a little bit more of a prequel to give y'all a feel of just how tense shit was between them. Inspired by Jennifer's Body, 'Halloween' by Noah Kahan, 'Cheerleader' by Ashnikko, and @holdingup-fallingsky's glasses Danny edit <3

~~~

It was a dark and stormy night, and Danny could not for the life of him find Sam.

It was the typical shtick with a Halloween twist; Sam proposed going to a Halloween party (of course) with costumes, tacky decorations, and “babes as far as the eye can see”. Danny complained and fought it as hard as he usually did, but Sam won for the thousandth time and Danny found himself rummaging in his closet for any semblance of a costume. After tossing on some cheap glasses frames, a velcro bow tie, and a very slim fitting button down that Danny had zero recollection of ever owning, Danny announced his costume.

“A nerd?” Sam mocked, his voice and subsequent laugh muffled from behind the bathroom door where he had holed up to put the finishing touches on his own costume. “Not straying far from reality, are we?”

“Fuck off,” Danny laughed, adjusting the cheap material of the bowtie that was already beginning to strangle him a little bit. “Come on, do I ever get to see your costume or do you just live in my bathroom now?”

“I’d live in here if it wasn’t so filthy,” Sam accused. “I mean, seriously, man, do you ever take out the trash?”

“You’re deflecting,” Danny shot back in a sing-song, banging on the door. “Open up! Michigan PD, you’re under arrest for loitering!”

“You’ll never take me alive!” Sam screeched. “Geez Louise, one second…”

After what felt like an eternity, the bathroom door swung open with a practiced grandeur and Sam strode out with his arms held high, carrying two tinsel pom poms and donning a ripped up cheerleader outfit. He had put on blush in a way that could only be described as amateur and his long, chestnut waves were pulled up in a high ponytail and fastened with a blue scrunchie. Danny played off his suddenly very dry mouth with a look of shock as Sam did a ceremonious twirl and shook a pom pom right under Danny’s nose. Danny snorted and batted it away.

“A cheerleader?” Danny asked, clearly not sold on the concept. “I guess, just, sort of…why?”

“I’ll be the talk of the town, that’s why,” Sam hummed proudly, smoothing the cheap fabricky pleats of his dizzyingly short cheer skirt. “Also, I mean, I look amazing. So that’s a big plus.”

“Yeah, keep telling yourself that,” Danny murmured, pretending to look away incredulously but doing it purely because he was finding it difficult to look at Sam’s costume at all. He felt the hot flush it provoked in his face and the last thing he needed was for Sam to notice.

“Hey, that’s my shirt!” Sam scoffed, yanking on the collar of Danny’s shirt. “What gives?”

“It was in my closet.” Danny pointed out.

“Yeah, well, it’s not yours,” Sam stammered, putting his hands on his hips and making the pom poms shimmy loudly. 

“What do you care?”

“It looks ridiculous.”

“I’m not sure I’m the ridiculous one here, Miss Team Captain.”

“It’s practically popping off of you, Dan.”

“Here, is this better?”

Danny undid the first top buttons and gestured at his chest.

“Now I’m a sexy nerd,” Danny purred, rolling his eyes and turning away from Sam. He heard Sam make a funny little noise he couldn’t quite identify before letting out an exasperated sigh that he knew all too well. 

“Whatever,” Sam muttered. 

“Get in the car, Stacy, the cheer squad needs you,” Danny joked, grabbing his keys off the wall and tossing a convincing smile back at Sam, already dreading the night that lay before them.

~~

To Danny’s disgust, Sam had been thoroughly right about his costume being a hit. People couldn’t keep their hands off of him; smoothing their palms over the felt number 1 on his chest and lacing their fingers with his to shake the pom poms and asking him over and over again to twirl. Sam, as he always did, gathered his crowd right within eyeshot of Danny, who sat in annoyance on the couch with a full Solo cup. Granted, Danny had corralled a few friends of his own to talk to, but he couldn’t help but sneak glances over at Sam every other minute. With each sip of his drink, Danny warmed up to the truth about why he was so pissed off at all the attention Sam was getting: Sam wanted the attention, but Danny wanted to be the only one to give it. And more glaringly, Danny wanted to be the only opinion that Sam actually cared about. There were all the usual underlying feelings behind it that Danny kept at bay like he always did, but Danny wasn’t all that interested in tuning in to the mushy gushy. As the alcohol softened up his gaze and warmed his limbs, he found his eyes dragging over Sam’s long legs and the curve of his neck, allowing himself to add on to a fantasy in momentary increments. However, after his attention had been drawn into conversation, Danny looked back to find that Sam had disappeared. Without thinking, Danny got to his feet and excused himself, stumbling through the crowd to track Sam down.

--

Danny couldn’t find him. He traversed the entire lower level of the house, ducking under cobwebs and paper bats and even circling the bonfire in the backyard in hopes of catching a glimpse of Sam and his stupid, slutty costume. After making his way back inside, Danny looked at the crepe paper that had been taped from banister to banister on the stairs and knew that if Sam was anywhere, it was where he wasn’t supposed to be. Danny stepped over the makeshift caution tape and jogged up the steps, becoming increasingly convinced that he was going to walk in on Sam and some random in the throes of passion. His stomach flipped and he swallowed thickly, waving off the imagery and reminding himself that he just wanted to know that Sam was safe. That’s all. 

Danny felt pretty bad about snooping around someone’s house that he didn’t know, but he knew Sam wouldn’t, and that’s why he was so certain he would find him up there. Sure enough, Danny hesitantly opened a random door and saw Sam sitting cross legged on a bed, flipping through a thick scrapbook by the warm light of the bedside lamp. His ponytail had been abandoned and the scrunchie was now around his slim wrist, the sequins catching the light as he continued to look through the scrapbook. His upper body was swaying slightly in a seasick, wobbling way that let Danny know Sam was properly drunk, which was further confirmed when he looked up at Danny and let out a surprised gasp.

“Oh my god, hi!” Sam greeted cheerfully, dropping the scrapbook and holding his arms out to Danny. “Come here.”

“You want a hug?” Danny giggled, his annoyance already melting away. Sam tended to do that to him, despite the annoyance always coming back tenfold after some time.

“No, help me up,” Sam whined. He hooked his arms around Danny’s neck as Danny pulled him to his feet, making no motion to move away as he sank into Danny’s embrace and let out a comical sigh, nestling his face into the crook of Danny’s neck. Danny let out a low chuckle and held him lightly, his heart threatening to beat through his chest as Sam swayed in his arms. 

“Don’t fall asleep on me, Sammy,” Danny joked, his voice cracking slightly and making him cringe at his own sudden ineptitude around his friend of over 10 years. He could hardly believe how pathetic he was sometimes.

“But you’re so cozy,” Sam argued, his voice muffled and sweet against Danny’s skin. 

“Do you wanna go home?” Danny asked gently, the noise of the party oddly melting away as he tentatively smoothed a hand over Sam’s hair.

“No!” Sam suddenly cried, straightening and pushing off of Danny, only to fall back onto the bed again with a bounce. He began to giggle raucously, holding his hands over his face as hiccups began to edge their way between laughs. Danny rolled his eyes and moved to pick Sam up again, but Sam swatted at his chest and wiggled out of his grasp.

“No, no, let me rest, you goon,” Sam slurred defiantly, even drawing a knee up to kick at Danny’s chest. “Ssh, I’m sleeping. I’m honking my mimi’s.”

“You can sleep at home, Sam,” Danny argued patiently, trying again to scoop Sam up and onto his feet. “Come on, up and at em, soldier.”

“I’m not your soldier,” Sam shot back, lifting his chin proudly. “I’m a cheerleader.”

“The very best,” Danny assured him with a grin, his breath beginning to shake with nerves as Sam’s hands reached for him, red hot and wandering as he grabbed at Danny’s shoulders and biceps. 

“You’re so strong,” Sam murmured, finally allowing Danny to pull him up again, swaying on the spot as his blurry eyes blinked up at Danny. His eyes were amber and nearly animalistic in the lamplight and Danny had to look away, kneeling down to pick up the abandoned scrapbook and tucking it where he hoped it belonged.

“What are you even doing up here?” Danny asked. 

“Bored,” Sam shrugged, beginning to wander around the outskirts of the room. “There weren’t even any good costumes here tonight which is so lame. And, I mean, there’s a whole floor we’re not even using? Of course I’m going to scope it out.”

“Yeah, you’re always where you shouldn’t be,” Danny teased, a touch of bitterness lacing his words. When he looked up at Sam again he knew his tone had gone right over his head, seeing as Sam was leaned up against the wall with his eyes trained on the ceiling fan, his head bobbing slightly as he followed each rotation. Danny allowed to indulge in another moment of observation, taking note of Sam’s exposed stomach and his arms tucked coyly behind his back. He was jolted out of it by Sam meeting his eye and grinning wickedly.

“Hi,” Sam sang softly, cocking his head at Danny.

“You ready to go now?” Danny asked, now desperate to get Sam as far away from him as soon as possible. He got to his feet and approached Sam, getting ready to argue before Sam surprised him by lacing his arms around Danny’s neck again and pulling him in close.

“Do you remember,” Sam started, whispering conspiratorially. “When we were younger, and we used to play boyfriend girlfriend?”

Danny felt an electric shock go through his body at the memory. It had been a truly innocent game, simply practicing the day to day motions they thought they might have to go through when they were old enough and had girlfriends. Who better to play with than your best friend? Plus, Danny had secretly always really liked calling Sam his “girlfriend”, and doing all the fake grand gestures to ensure his happiness had come very naturally. Sam had always said he was the best at being the boyfriend, and Danny had always believed it. 

“Yeah, sure,” Danny replied in confusion, his cheeks prickling with uncomfortable warmth again. 

“You’re always playing it when we go to parties and you don’t even realize,” Sam laughed. Danny’s eyes widened subconsciously and he stammered, knitting his brow in further confusion.

“What?” Danny managed, attempting a light hearted laugh. 

“You do!” Sam crowed in amusement, stabbing an accusatory finger into the center of Danny’s chest. “You love to boyfriend me. Years of practice. You miss it, huh?”

“Wow, you’re hammered,” Danny said dismissively, shaking his head. 

“‘S’not the point,” Sam sighed, his head dropping onto Danny’s chest, his soft hair brushing against Danny’s exposed skin and sending a shockwave through Danny’s reflexes. 

“I’m taking you home, Sam, end of story,” Danny whispered in Sam’s ear, attempting to straighten his neck before Sam’s hand reached up and pulled Danny’s head back down. Sam’s lips went to Danny’s ear in a whisper of his own.

“I hate you wearing my fucking shirt,” Sam whispered, his voice shockingly sober and coherent in the blink of an eye. A cold sweat broke out over Danny’s body and he felt his breaths coming out in jagged, stilted intervals as Sam kept him anchored to him. 

“You wanna take it off me, then?” Danny ventured, his voice matching Sam’s barely audible pitch. He tried to make it a joke but his voice fell flat and serious. He could have sworn he heard Sam’s voice hitch before Sam let go of him, allowing Danny to step back and boggle at Sam’s bizarre behavior. Sam had such an odd glint in his eye, assessing Danny with his lip tucked between his teeth as he continued to struggle to stay standing. For a moment, Danny considered what he would do if he was less restrained than he had learned to be around Sam. There was a massive part of him that was aching and begging for him to pin Sam against the wall and tear away at that infuriating little skirt, holding him down by the warmth of his waist and shutting him up with his teeth and tongue. But he knew he couldn’t, so he stood with a scowl on his face and challenged Sam again.

“What?” Danny snapped, his frustration growing as Sam continued to refuse to leave. That’s all Danny wanted right now, but Sam never, ever gave him what he wanted. 

“I…” Sam trailed off and didn’t pick it back up, simply staring a hole through Danny’s head. Danny could practically hear the gears turning in Sam’s brilliant brain, but all that followed was silence. It was the loudest silence Danny had ever heard, and he wondered with a jolt if there was something Sam wanted to say that was akin to what Danny had been screaming into pillows and scrawling in journals for years now. Without a word, Danny pleaded with Sam to just say it so he could stop slowly crushing himself under the weight of whatever it was between them that neither of them wanted to touch. But he knew he wouldn’t, and Sam didn’t, and Danny let out a sigh that threatened to bring tears with it. He walked to the door and opened it, motioning with a nod of his head.

“We’re going,” Danny said firmly, taking off the stupid glasses frames and ripping off the bowtie with an extension of his pinkie, crumpling them into a ball in his hand and tucking them into his pocket.

“But-”

“I don’t want to play anymore, Sam,” Danny snapped, unable to even look at Sam when he said it. “I’m not your fucking boyfriend, which you’ve made very clear, by the way, so I’m not going to force you to do anything. But if you want a ride home and you don’t want to wake up choking on your own vomit in some random person’s studio apartment, the time is now.”

There was a beat of silence, and when Danny turned to look at Sam, he felt a stab of guilt when Sam gawked at him like he’d been slapped across the face. Sam let out a wordless scoff and pushed his way past Danny, turning to glare up at him.

“I can take care of myself,” Sam hissed, his words still blurry and drunk around the edges. “I don’t need you.”

“You won’t be thinking that tomorrow morning,” Danny countered fiercely. Sam rolled his eyes and began to descend the stairs, his sneakers slamming into each step as he ran away from Danny. Danny, as always, ran after him with a growing sickness in his chest. Sam stopped before he reached the front door, looking back at Danny one more time.

Danny knew he had to say it now. He wanted to. 

He wanted to beg Sam to calm down and to beg for his forgiveness, worshipping on his knees for his grace like he’d been doing for what felt like his entire life. 

But he didn’t. 

So out the door Sam went, slamming it and leaving Danny alone.

Again.

~~~ 

[lonnieontherun]

Okay I got through the Boys season 3 so here’s a spoilery rant on Soldier Boy and the finale.

One thing though is that the showrunners been good at building up hype, but then been rather bad at the execution of it.

Soldier Boy in particular was disappointing. Not the character per say because I’ve enjoyed how f*cked up he was and I absolutely expected him not to win afterall, but they kinda did a piss poor job with it. Even from the get go I wasn’t one of those who bought into feeling sympathetic for him because I had the feeling that they would show him still being a bad man. You know, love the character, but accept that he’s not a good guy just because you like the actor.

Then the damned finale happened and uhm. NOW I’m suddenly doing a complete U-turn? Dude what I wasn’t feeling sorry for this guy besides the torture and you do this to me? Waat?

Because like I said, I knew he wouldn’t win and they can’t really have a man like that walk around free (But you can continue to let Homelander walk?!?!?!?). Whether you think he’s worse or lesser than Homelander. He is dangerous. So I saw that coming. Problem for me is the way they did it. 

They’ve spent almost the whole season to get Soldier Boy to fight Homelander and then right when they’re face to face THEN you turn on him? I can’t exactly blame Soldier Boy for getting pissed? Despite how f*cked up he is HE was the one to keep his word?? Wow didn’t see that one coming. 

Look I get it, it’s a kid. But uhm, at the end of the season you’re back to where you started, but now you got a psycho supe kid as well as a still full powered Homelander? Really? That’s lame man. I knew Homie wouldn’t die man, but at least with the build up of Soldier Boy’s powers taking other supes powers I really would have expected at least that to happen? Instead suddenly in the finale Soldier Boy is more important to take down? Of course he fights you when you turn on him? Geez louise what a mess. It wasn’t a bad finale per say, but they messed that up bad. 

So yeah I think they could have handled Soldier Boy better. Either go with the attempt of a redemption story (as much as you can because you can’t blame MM for his need for vengance and I even wished it for him) and do the right thing or go with him really turn on the Boys for real. Instead the Boys (well Butcher) turned on him just the wrong moment? 

Okay that’s it. This makes no sense. Feel free to ignore. One thing tho. KIMIKO

[skekilla]

https://www.deviantart.com/skekilla/art/Runaway-Train-Act-III-Scene-8-948017668

Home, sweet home. Well, car, sweet car.

Having somewhere to come back to—having any place in mind other than the distant locomotive or the even further idea of a way out of this never-ending train—really was a welcome change. BB’s altered car wasn’t like any place Johnny’d stayed before, but it was better than what he’d been doing lately. Even better, there were friends here: Sally, Orla, sure, Lillian as well. It could truly be something like a home if it weren’t for the gaps in that list of friends and the strange people who’d come to fill them. Johnny’s mind buzzed with anxiety about it; if his thoughts weren’t about Curtis and Ed and the kids’ returns (which Lillian was currently out trying to make happen), then they were about the three new figures where they sat off chatting to themselves. Sure, he understood them now, but that didn’t make their presence normal enough to quite ignore. The more he dwelled on it, the more uneasy to stay put he got, which wasn’t helped by the fact that he was currently missing a leg; each time he felt the urge to put more distance between himself and them, he glanced over to BB at her workbench where she was tinkering away on his prosthetic, and he sighed in despair. That was when he’d just switch over to worrying about the other group instead, and when that got too much, it’d be back to the former. It all blurred together. Hidden behind the both of them was something bigger and darker, too; a looming dread, a huge and hollow cage of a feeling about the real root of all this trouble. The Conductor… oh, what are we going to do? What are we going to do?

The sound of the door sliding open broke into Johnny’s thoughts. Lillian stormed through, furious as usual. “Well, we have stuff,” she said, “but only because SOME PEOPLE decided tearing up the seats would be a good idea.”

Paying no mind at all to her, Salem and Anne came bouncing out from behind them and over to Johnny. “We have supplies for your leg, Mr. Johnny!” Anne chirped. She saw, then, the absence of that leg. “Where is it?”

When they noticed what Anne had noticed, Salem peered wide-eyed at the pale stump of Johnny’s knee. They even pushed up their glasses to see as best they could. He knew they meant only the best and were just curious, but Johnny still tensed up under their stare. “Geez,” they murmured. “Does it hurt?”

“Yes, are you alright?” Anne added.

Johnny chuckled, half nervous, half endeared by the two. They really were such sweet kids. Weird, but sweet. “I’m fine,” he said with a small smile. “It’s all long healed, and when my pretend leg is fixed up, I-I’ll be walking again good as new!”

“Pretend leg? Why, Mr. Johnny, what’s pretend about it?” Anne asked.

He thought he had an answer right away, but he didn’t. What is really pretend about it… “I guess… well, it’s not attached to me.”

Anne’s eyes lit up, that red light in them flashing. “Oh! I can fix that, I’m sure!” she exclaimed. “I’m good at playing doctor.”

Well, any thinking about that was shut down. If being operated on by this little girl is the alternative, I think I’m alright with that prosthetic just being counted as my regular leg! “N-no thanks,” he said quickly. “Why not go talk to Louise over there?” —he pointed to the dentist— “She’s good at doctor too.”

The girl spun her parasol around in delight and took off in the direction Johnny’d sent her. Salem, as always, followed close by. Ed came up next, chuckling and shaking his head as he went to guard them in their little introduction with the three strangers. Good, Johnny thought, it’s good they’ve got someone to look after them.

It was then, as Johnny watched the little duo of kids with their protector talking to those grey-natured people, that the seat was unexpectedly weighed down next to him. His eyes flicked up and caught sight of Curtis. The sailor let out an annoyed sigh as he hunched over, but the coldness etched in his face faded slightly as he turned to meet Johnny. “Lillian didn’t give you any trouble?” he asked.

“No,” Johnny said quietly, but not shyly. “She was alright. S-she’s kind of a sweet girl, actually.”

Curtis raised an eyebrow, but, after a moment of thought, let go of whatever he was going to say. “I guess,” he begrudged. “If you trust her.”

A lull in the conversation passed, but it wasn’t an uncomfortable one. “What about you, Curtis?” Johnny said after a while. “Are you alright?”

He huffed and rolled his eyes a little. “Just wound up because of her antics.”

“Oh,” Johnny replied. For some reason, he couldn’t help but laugh a little at his grumpiness about the girl. I guess that act of hers really does get to some people, he thought.

His giggling made Curtis cross his arms and look away. Funny; in a way, there were some similarities between him and Lillian. To change the subject, he asked, “So all these strangers… where’d they come from?”

That was one way to shut down his laughter. “We just f-found them.”

“Yes,” added Sally, who had just walked over with Orla in arm. “Those three were in a car we were looking in. They had been settled there before.” She looked at her fine gloves, adjusting them. “It’s probably best we don’t tell you exactly how they got to be here. You might start swinging.”

Curtis squinted at the singer. “Fine.”

“Fine, alright!” Orla said. “They seem fine. Besides acting the maggot a little, they’re good fun!” Whatever “acting the maggot” was, Johnny got the impression it was a bit of an understatement, but he wasn’t going to say that now.

“As long as they can help,” Curtis grumbled. That was when Johnny’s heart sank. He would’ve been happy about him—all of them—coming to that conclusion if he didn’t guess they might be more trouble than they’re worth. This was a matter of life in death on all fronts; if there was even a possibility of…

“I don’t know,” Johnny said. “T-they don’t even want to leave the train…”

Curtis and Orla turned to Johnny, shock all over their faces. Sally, however, stayed even. “Well, I’m not sure that matters too much,” she began. “They’ve still said they would help, didn’t they, Johnny? I suppose I get it anyway; this place can be dangerous, sure, but there are parts that are good. I’m not even sure I’d like to leave. Why, I’m a star here again, and I’m sure no one cares for me at home now anyway.” She may as well have just shellshocked Johnny. Sally… doesn’t want to leave?

He didn’t get to speak though; Orla got to it first. “You can come out with me, then!” she said immediately. “We’ll stow aboard a ship in Galway and start again in the Americas. That was my plan anyway!”

Sally was already shaking her head. Johnny had never seen her look so… he couldn’t even put his finger on it. Upset was an understatement. She was in distress. “No no,” she said. “I’m sure I- I can’t. You don’t need me making trouble for you, I’ll be just fine on my own here.” She breathed heavily. “Besides, I’m helping you all anyway. What’s the issue?” It came to him then—what it was that she had been arguing with herself about when she decided to leave him behind with Lillian two days ago. She had been alone, then she had had them, and it made everything different. She had people to care for now, people who were more than fans. She couldn’t take it. She couldn’t take the idea of losing them, so she just had to cut them off herself. That was what she had decided. That was what she was trying to do.

Orla was in obvious dismay. She raked her fingers through her bushy hair for a moment, until she thought of something. Her frown changed to a spiteful line and her eyes glinted slyly. Without thinking twice, she turned to the three criminals, where they were still with Ed and the kids. “Hey, you’re all going to help, aren’t you? Isn’t that grand! With you three, Ed, the little ones, Lillian, and Johnny, Curtis, and I, we’ll have more than enough hands on deck! Sally’ll be welcome to stay here.”

Now Sally was just mortified. “Orla!” she exclaimed. “Really, now!”

“There’s no use staying in one place,” Lillian suddenly murmured from her corner of the car. “This train is where things pass through to the other side, whatever that is, not where anyone should linger. Whatever you think will happen—it won’t. I can say that, at least.” All had turned to her; the energy of the room seemed to be sucked into her void-eyeholes. Her voice had somehow become as hollow and empty as them as she spoke.

Johnny stuttered. “B-b-but,” he finally said, “the Conductor… we might have a c-chance, right?”

“Might have a chance,” she repeated under her breath bitterly. Her ivory face tilted down for a moment before it returned to look at them all. “If there’s anything anyone could do, it would be done by them,” she finally said. “Not just for getting people out, but also keeping anyone who wants to stay here safe. There’s almost no way that would work, though. Still, if you don’t go to the front—well, you’ll probably die either way.” Though her voice was flat, it was clear she didn’t like what she was saying anymore. Not for them, certainly. Maybe even not for herself.

It was as plain as it would ever get now: if Johnny wasn’t dead already, he would be soon, one way or another. His breath quickened and the room seemed to spin. He took hold of his legs to steady himself; the prosthetic knee of one was rigid, while the absence of the other to support him was sorely missed. On one side, the hard reality. On the other, everything he didn’t have—his limbs, his sister, his life before it all. Life: wasn’t it something? And death, too. He’d faced death so many times now, and he was still terribly afraid. He didn’t want to die. He didn’t want any of them to die. But then there was the promise of his repaired leg coming back. A chance. There was a chance at life, a small, weak one, but a chance. There was hope. “I’m still going,” he said. “I-if there’s any hope at living, I’m betting on it.”

“Me too,” Curtis agreed.

“Yeah! Us too!” Salem cried, holding Anne close.

“Well, I had better take care of you two, then,” Ed said, a dark smile on his face. “Me as well.”

BB looked up from her workbench, the glow in her dead eyes flickering. “Guess I can tag along too, if Lil’s gonna make it sound like such a big gig.”

Nick gestured widely with his hands. “You can already count us in, pal!”

“At your service,” Drake added, and Louise smiled in confirmation. Their collective boldness for the cause in the face of all that danger comforted Johnny’s fears about them a little, enough to strengthen his own will in kind.

Orla looked around in a satisfied way. “See? We have plenty of people,” she said. “You don’t need to busy yourself with us, Sally.”

“I already said I’m coming no matter what,” the singer bit back. Her eyes met Johnny’s and something passed between them. They both understood, but one certainly didn’t like it. In fact, both didn’t.

A sigh was drawn out from behind Lillian’s mask, as if it was painful. “Fine then,” she said. “But you better be ready for a fucking fight.”

[crymeariveronceagain]

ranty rant for ranting's sake

click if you dare

it's heavy and kinda personal but maybe relatable you never know

y'all i literally near about had an anxiety attack over the possibility of me getting a C as an overall grade in one of the stupidest classes i've ever taken in my fricking life

like sweet stars above can i just stop putting so much pressure on myself to be perfect???

like geez louise i try so hard and yet i don't do one thing and then one thing leads to another and im sitting on a bed feeling like i'm going insane because a grade is just a fricking number and a letter doesn't mean anything but i've so deeply internalized the idea that i am the sum total of my achievements and i need to be worthy of stuff and i need to do things perfectly and the best every single time that when i actually screw up i allow myself no mercy and no gentleness and i'm just straight up like

wow.

you could have done this months ago.

you could have turned the assignment in on time

you could have been so much better than this, you are better than this, what are you doing, you did so well back when you were in highschool and you had no friends and nothing to occupy yourself with, you got everything done and you still had time to develop an anxiety issue, what's holding you back now

like idk what i'm doing here i guess i just don't want to shout into a void because voids are only echoes

but

i've been perfect my whole life

like not even a perfect little christian girl, cause God knows I've got so many sins and flaws.

not a perfect daughter, i've let my parents down a million times

but i was at least a good student

not a pleasure to have in class but a joy to have in class

and like, i used to be so proud of myself and now i sit here all day and i stare at a screen that i type words into and i want to drop out of college and i want to go live in the woods and bake bread and get a job that doesn't involve me staring numbly into a computer screen all day but that's what my life is now, that's what it's always going to be, and it's insane

like, you get to college, and you sit there like i made it

and then classes start and you put your all into it but it's too easy because you went to a heavy-duty school that took no shit and gave no crap and now you're sitting here, surrounded by crap, doing busywork, writing pages about a book you didn't want to read, about videos you didn't want to watch, and you just think

my stars

wasn't this supposed to be my end goal? wasn't this something exciting?

and im like

well, i don't know, was it?

and all i can think of is how much i don't want to take tests and do quizzes and i don't even want to read poetry anymore for my class because even poetry cannot offer me reprieve from my own anxious, upset thoughts.

like, gah.

and then like, part of me wants to just abandon everything and go to a trade school and become an electrician because they make money but my stars i love books and i love reading i just

i just can't

words?

thoughts?

honestly the thought of me getting a C in a stupid class that doesn't mean anything probably messed with my head enough to trigger something and now i just want to cry in a lump on the floor

but anyway im not doing good tonight.

I really hope you are.

<3

[bigskydreaming]

And another thing, he said as if its ever just ONE more thing, hahahaha look, fuck you numbers, I’m not about to be limited by the likes of YOU.

Anyway.

Anyone else think its kinda weird that in all the many years of “Dick not so secretly resented Jason because Bruce adopted him and made him Robin and that’s why they were never close” fics.......there seem to be a big whopping zero that take the fix-it approach: 

“What if Bruce had been aware of the tension between the two because he’s not actually a Dumb Dumb McStupidhead and thought to himself, gee, if only there was something I, the parent, had the power to do about this resentment from one brother based on something I, the parent, did for the other brother who never did anything because he is not the parent and also he did nothing wrong? What if given that I and my actions are the actual problem here, I, the parent, he who holdeth both the actual power in this family as the parent and the power as the problem-causer, to address the problem.....like what if I got off my ‘matches with Batman’ butt and.....did...something? About it?”

Like.....oh I don’t know, just spitballing here....maybe explaining to Jason just what it was Dick was resentful about when it came to Robin and that Jason wasn’t the one Dick was actually mad at, which more than likely would have prompted the extremely empathetic at this age Jason to take Dick’s side and be like wtf, you gotta fix this B. 

Or maybe like, going to Dick and expressing how sorry he is that he didn’t consider how Dick would feel about any of this and that he’s let it go unaddressed for so long since then, which more than likely would have NOT resulted in Dick continuing to hold a grudge against an innocent third party but rather be like thank you this is literally all I ever wanted, a fucking acknowledgment that you’d hurt me and that my being hurt mattered to you? 

Or if the problem is more Dick being resentful that Bruce adopted Jason and not him, maybe Bruce explaining this to Jason and that Jason wasn’t the one Dick was actually mad at, which again, more than likely would have prompted the extremely empathetic Jason to go umm, wtf are you talking to me about this for then, if you think he’s upset about that why the fuck aren’t you going to talk to him about it and tell him all this stuff about regretting not adopting him before now and sparing him this hurt instead? Like what are you waiting for old man, your fucking helicopter to come pick you up? NOW. Go NOW. You’re not getting any younger, geez Louise, why are old people so dumb.

Or maybe like.....Bruce going to Dick and expressing how sorry he is that he didn’t consider how Dick would feel about.....look, you see where I’m going with this, right? You get it? Its not actually all that tricky to grasp?

Or hell, maybe even just in a fic where Jason nurses his own resentment over the fact that he’s heard so much about Dick and looked forward to meeting him and yet months and months go by since Jason’s adoption and in all that time his alleged big brother apparently can’t even be bothered to come introduce himself, RIP Jason’s feelings, guess he can’t possibly matter all that much to the guy, way to welcome him to the family......

I mean, its not like THAT thought neeeeeeever comes up in fic, so its like, hmmm, counterpoint, but where are all the fics that take the angle of rather than let Jason think he doesn’t matter to his predecessor and let Dick take all the blame for this impression when there’s LITERALLY nothing Dick could do about it since he found out about Jason from the freaking newspaper months after the adoption and only after Jason debuted as Robin.....maybe Bruce, could again, just like....start a conversation. And be like Jason I seem to have inadvertently given you the wrong impression here, but trust me, Dick not coming to meet you before now had nothing whatsoever to do with you and was purely because I never actually told him about you.

Again, cut to Jason, the actual brains of the family at this point in time, staring at Bruce with his mouth hanging open:

“Wait, so you’re telling me that after the two of you had this big fight and you haven’t seen him in like eighteen months, AND after his eighteenth birthday came and went without you bothering to even call him and let him know you still wanted him in your life despite him no longer legally being your ward, AND after you went and took me in and adopted me......you never at any point picked up the phone and said hey kid that I raised and consider family and still want to be part of my family no matter how long its been since we talked......I just thought you should know, given that we’re still family and all, that our family is now bigger, because that’s information that is kinda key to give to people you consider family, as NOT keeping them in that loop could kinda sorta maaaaaaybe give them the impression that you DON’T think of them that way or else you would have thought this was relevant information for them to have?”

Bruce: I’m not sure I see where you’re going with this.

Jason: How are you this dumb. No but seriously. HOW. 

Anywho, cut to me, twiddling my thumbs here all super casual like.....

But HMMM, isn’t it WEIRD how fandom, which is totally better than canon, and definitely does not have patience for that unnecessary family angst porn DC is so obsessed with and just wants these goshdarn idiots to be a FAMILY, like......neeeeeeeeever utilizes the transformative power of fanfic and their much more reliable takes on Good Parent Bruce Wayne to like....have Bruce....do something about the problems between past Dick and Jason? In any of these fics? And instead has him just....let the opportunities to make things better for them, AND HIMSELF in the process, just like.....sail away into the rear view mirror, waving a hand at them as they pass, content to let things fester and worsen until cut to after Jason’s return, like.....oh gee, really wish something could have been done about the relationship between Dick and Jason way back when, maybe Jason could have benefited from another close relationship in his life then and maybe Dick might not be as bad off now if he wasn’t burdened with unnecessary guilt over having had human emotions when he was a teenager?

So so SO weird that this angle never comes up or gets tackled in ANY fics that emphasize Dick’s alleged history of being an asshole to Jason and the reason they were never close or barely knew each other. I mean, its such an EASY and OBVIOUS fix to all that, don’t you think?

Unless, of course.....in the fics that make an emphasis of this fandom created dynamic.....its not actually considered a problem to fix at all.

But rather, this manufactured dynamic IS the fix, to what they see as the ACTUAL problem......any kind of real or explored focus on what Bruce actually DID and didn’t do, that caused the resentment they’re all too happy to show Dick nursing, but seem keeeeeeeeenly deft in avoiding any exploration of him FEELING. Except of course when it comes to a reason for him to feel even guiltier BECAUSE of it.

Its almost like we would have had a ton more variety in how fics depict the early years between Dick and Jason, perks of this oh so easily arrived at fix-it angle.....unless those fics were always doing exactly what they intended by keeping every one in the comments sections so busy commenting on what a jerk Dick was in that chapter or in the older events that chapter mentioned, that they just so happen to never really spend much time considering Bruce’s inciting choices back then to be AS worthy of comment or criticism.

Idk you guys, I just happen to find it kinda hilar in that ‘what a weird coeenkeedink kinda way’ that so many of the things a lot of fandom are EXTREMELY loud about holding against Dick (whether Dick did or not actually do those things in the first place)....just so happen to be the very things that most of these same people REFUSE to ever hold Bruce accountable for, or admit that he actually did.

Y’know, like how Bruce never actually fired Dick as Robin, that was just a retcon (when there’s literally been more versions of events where Dick WAS fired than WASN’T at this point).....but meanwhile, Dick very much definitely did FIRE Tim, that was exactly how that went down.

Or how similarly, Bruce neeeeeever actually kicked Dick out, let alone made him give back his keys, but Dick DEFINITELY kicked Tim out of house and Gotham.....even though Dick literally did none of that and in fact was living at the penthouse the whole time he was Batman, meaning Wayne Manor was perfectly available to be Tim’s home base the whole time, if he’d wanted it. 

Or how Bruce has never lifted a finger at his eldest, or thrown any kind of a temper tantrum, because he is a good person who would obviously never ever do that, BUT if the son he spent the longest time raising just so HAPPENS to end up with a reputation of having a hair-trigger temper, going off at the drop of a hat, blowing things all out of proportion and lashing out physically whenever he’s overwhelmed emotionally.....well, that certainly has nothing to do with Bruce or anything he’s ever done, lol why would it, BUT its definitely something that needs to be commented on time and time again because it very much did happen all these times in canon, whereas all these times you’re talking about with Bruce are very clearly out of character writing because see, Bruce just isn’t like that, uh doy.

Or how Bruce definitely wasn’t being problematic as hell when it came to his non-interactions with Dick back when Jason was living with him, but Dick’s non-interactions with Jason are 10000x more worthy of comment and criticism. And Dick’s responsibilities towards the emotional wellbeing of the kid he didn’t pick to be his family and wasn’t even actually legally family with at the time, let alone actually obligated to, are definitely the same as Bruce’s responsibilities to the emotional wellbeing of both the kids he did actually pick to be his family and did actually make obligations to. Thus the one is definitely more deserving of a call-out post than the other....wait, what? Dammit, I was SURE my math checked out on that one this time. Well fuck a duck, now I am THOROUGHLY flummoxed by all this.

Yup.....

Just really funny in that lmao ‘actually not at all sorta’ way, how its the extremely PRECISE things that so many fans absolutely REFUSE to acknowledge Bruce ever doing, that they just can’t help but ‘expose’ as a mere retcon, bad writing, ooc behavior, writers just ‘not getting who Bruce Wayne is,’ etc, etc, whenever it does get brought up by other people....

It just so happens to be these very specific things that come up time and time again as the things people just WILL NOT LET GO when it comes to Dick doing them.....even when.....in most cases he didn’t even actually do them! Not because they were ‘mere retcons’ or just ‘bad writing’ or ‘ooc behavior’ or ‘writers just not getting who Dick Grayson is’....but because they literally. Did not. Happen. Until fandom for some reason - ‘despite’ HATING canon for having Bruce do THESE VERY SAME THINGS - put their own interpretative or transformative spin on things and MADE those things happen in such huge numbers that a lot of new fans coming into fandom by way of fics honestly believe that THESE are the canon moments and its the ones attributed to Bruce that are just fans of other characters having their sour grapes moments.

I mean....

You gotta laugh.

Anyway. So I mean, unless I’m just totally reading the room wrong, I’d have to hazard a guess that the only real reason we NEVER see fics addressing things the way I outlined in my earliest examples at the start of this post.....is that a whole lot of fandom just kinda decided over the years that it was just waaaaaay easier to just redirect peoples’ ire at other characters, away from Bruce, than it was to go to the trouble of like....actually ADDRESSING Bruce’s pesky little canon mistakes.

Cuz see....writing a happier, more united Batfam in the years before Jason’s death is only a fix-it fic if the problem you’re fixing is the family’s relationships.....and not ‘Bruce acknowledging - let alone taking ownership of - his mistakes.’ If the latter is the REAL problem, well a more ‘together’ family isn’t something you actually need at all....you just need someone else to pin its divisiness on.

But I digress.

Aaaaaanyway.....now standard stock disclaimer that as I’ve always always always said....I don’t actually hate Bruce nor do I have anything whatsoever against Good Dad Bruce.....my issues are always just with peoples’ approach to his canon mistakes or poor writing being to double down on the problem but just make it someone else’s. And that one little thing where the Smartest Man In The World can come up with a way to fight Doomsday with a paper clip and some chewing gum, but goshdarnnit if he’s not completely helpless and powerless when it comes to fixing his own mistakes or interceding in his childrens’ emotional problems. 

(As in by just y’know, parenting them. Sitting them down for a conversation. No, bugging their apartments and calling that his love language doesn’t count.)

Also, an Honorable Mention Pet Peeve goes out to all the fans who love to dismiss Dick Grayson stans raising this issue because ‘this sort of thing happens with all the characters’ when lololololol, no, it really actually does not. Given the weeeeeeeird similarities and parallels in the very specific things we tend to gripe about Bruce doing in canon and others tend to gripe about Dick doing in fanon, like, I’d actually think some of you would be a bit more empathetic about how much it sucks seeing your fave character condemned for stuff like this, given the lengths you go to when avoiding acknowledging Bruce doing it. But then again, that would defeat the point of attributing all that to a Bruce scapegoat instead of a Bruce in the first place, so I mean, I guess not actually.

But whatevs. I guess I’m just not able to grasp the nuances of how people criticizing or even fixating on some of Bruce’s worse actions in canon gains the ire of fans who are like, I am just here rolling my eyes at you guys for being so addicted to your shitty misery porn that you like, just loooooove going with the takes where Bruce is just the worst person ever and a totally shitty dad....

While meanwhile.....many of those exact same fans.....

Two seconds later: Now if you don’t mind, we have to get back to making up scenarios and bad faith interpretations that paint Dick as being just the worst person ever and a totally shitty brother or son. But in a not-that-we’re-addicted-to-shitty-misery-porn kinda way or whatever, because we’re obvs SO not, that’s YOU guys, this is totally different. We don’t LIKE doing this, we’re only doing it because we HAVE to. It has nothing to do with us not actually minding the writing or the content of what’s being written whatsoever, we just don’t like that it makes Bruce look bad, and as long as you keep fixating on how it makes Bruce look like, duh, what other choice do we have but to make someone else look worse instead? When you think about it, this is all your fault, really.

Anyway. You just gotta love the takeaway.

Us: Griping about something Bruce does in canon and how the writers portrayed it and any resulting followup.

Others in Fandom: manufactures a parallel scenario with Bad Brother/Son Dick Grayson out of a single out of context panel, tinfoil and some dental floss.

Fandom: These two situations are the same.

Us: Okay but see they’re really fucking not tho, is the thing....

[oboevallis]

Sooo I was re reading hungry part 2 and I saw the part where you wrote about link making Amelia walk around Home Good and Lowe’s while she was heavily pregnant and I was wondering if you could write a fic about that? Hope your staying safe!

rocking chair

thanks so much for the prompt, i had a lot of fun writing this i hope everyone’s doing well and staying safe!

“Hey babe.” Link whispered as he shook his girlfriends shoulder, trying to lull her out of sleep.

“Leave me alone.” She grumbled into the pillow, turning away from him. He chuckled at her grumpiness, shaking her again. “Geez, what do you want?” She snapped.

“We’ve gotta go shopping for the apartment.” They had recently moved into an apartment together, before their son arrived. He was expected to come in 3 weeks and Link wanted to get everything in order while all Amelia wanted to do at this point was curl up into a ball until the baby came.

“Nooooooooo.” She whined turning around to face him.

“We have to. The baby can’t come home to an empty apartment.” Link chuckled at his girlfriends sleepiness.

“We have furniture, and we have baby things, why can’t we just order the other stuff online?”

“First off we’ve waited too long to do this, so stuff won’t get her in time, and secondly you can’t rely on the internet you have to go and see the stuff, and there are DIY projects I want to do. We’ve gotta make this place homey.”

“Hell no Link. I’m not going to walk around the store with you so you can get stuff for projects you’ll never do.”

“Come on babe, it’ll be so much fun. And we can get you a soft pretzel on the way to the store.” Amelia perked up at the mention of a pretzel. After some time Amelia reluctantly agreed to the excursion.

_______________________________________

“Ready babe?” Link asked as he unbuckled his seatbelt.

“Can’t I wait in the car?”

“Come on it’ll be fun.” Amelia rolled her eyes and begrudgingly got out of the car. She held onto her boyfriends arm and leaned against his shoulder, they had just begun and she was already tired.

“What do we need?” She wanted to try and make this excursion as quick as they could, so she wanted to assure she kept him on task.

“I’ve gotta make two key copies, paint for the baby’s room, some tile backsplash for the kitchen, some lightbulbs and a new light fixture for the living room.” The neurosurgeon sighed, she could tell the was going to be a long trip.

“After this can we get a pretzel.”

“I promised didn’t I?” Link chuckled absentmindedly, as he compared paint swatches. “So we decided on light green for the nursery right? Which on do you like better?”

“I don’t care whatever you want.”

“Alright.” Link sighed, staring to realize his girlfriend was going to be of no help. “This one then.”

“No that’s the wrong one.” The neurosurgeon dramatically sighed, picking up the paint swatch she thought would be best in the room.

“I thought you didn’t care?”

“That was when I thought you were gonna make the right choice.” Her boyfriend chuckled wrapping his arm around her.

“Come on this is so much fun isn’t it?” Link asked as they walked through the tile isle, he took out his phone to look at the pictures he took of the kitchen to try and see what would look best in their kitchen.

“No, my feet are swollen, I’m hungry, and I want to take a nap.”

“I promise we’ll get pretzels after this.” He smiled charmingly.

_______________________________________

“Link why do we have to do this?” Amelia complained as she trailed behind her boyfriend in Home Goods. “We have a couch, bed, crib, and changing table at home already this is unnecessary.”

“We’ve got to make it homey, babe.” Link wrapped his arm around her, trying to help her keep up the pace.

“I like our cold cave.”

“See wouldn’t this mirror look cute in the entryway?” Link asked pointing to one on a shelf.

“I don’t care, whatever you want.”

“Come on, lighten up. We’ve gotta make the apartment our home, it’s gotta have a little something.”

“I’ll lighten up once this bowling ball is out of me.” Amelia bit back, starting to lose her patience. Link kept grazing down the aisles, his girlfriend trudging along. “Can’t we sit down?”

“We’re almost done.” He got distracted with another item. The tired neurosurgeon sighed and walked away from him, and towards the front of the store where a bench was. She carefully lowered herself down onto the bench and sighed, she was tempted to fake contractions but she knew Link would take her to the hospital, as she was plotting in excuse an older woman then sat down next to her.

“Your husband drag you here?” The woman asked whilst smiling.

“Yeah.” Amelia chuckled, not bothering to correct the woman that it was her boyfriend.

“My husband drags me here all the time. Any home improvement store for that matter, it’s keen like this our whole marriage. Never made me when I was pregnant though, I would’ve killed him if he did that.” Amelia chuckled, as much as she loved her boyfriend she was at her wits ends with his restlessness. “With the first baby they have all this nervous energy, that they don’t know what to do with, so they do home improvement projects.” Amelia winced at the assumption that this was her first baby. “Our first, she’s 25 now, God that’s crazy to say, but he made this rocking chair himself. I remember we had this big fight, I can’t even remember what about, but I told him to get out. So he went out the front door and I cried and cried thinking he’d actually left, but in actuality he was out back in his shed building that chair. Throughout the years he’s made amazing things for our home but that’s by far my favorite.”

“That’s sweet.” Amelia smiled melting a little bit at the sweet story.

“I lied to you.” The woman said, Amelia crooked her eyebrow; confused. “My husbands dead, I just come here to feel him.”

“I’m so sorry.” Amelia sobered up a bit.

“It’s okay, he died of what the doctors said was something called a brain aneurysm. When the doctors tried to explain it they used all these fancy terms. I think that’s what upset me the most, they could see I was distraught but didn’t even dumb it for me. He was completely healthy, the day before he was at the doctors clean bill of health, how could they of not caught it? For how smart they acted, I couldn’t believe they missed it.”

“Their hard to detect, a lot of the time there are no symptoms, until it’s too late.”

“Oh, are you a doctor? I didn’t mean to offend you.”

“No offense taken, I get it. As interns we’re taught a list of bullet points, and they give you all that crap about being sensitive but that doesn’t resonate with a lot of people, until they’ve lost someone they love.”

“Would you mind explaining to me what a brain aneurysm is?”

“Of course.” Amelia nodded turning to face her a bit better. “There are blood vessels in your brain, and if one of them gets weak, it then kinda acts like a balloon and fills up until it bursts.” The woman simply nodded, indicating she understood, starting to understand better.

“What kind of doctor are you?”

“I’m a neurosurgeon.”

“So you see those all the time?”

“Yeah, I do.”

“Are they ever detected early?”

“It depends. Sadly in most cases it’s too late and the aneurysm bursts, sometimes if it starts leaking you can clip it and fix the issue.”

“Thank you.” The woman nodded, shooting her a sad smile. “May I ask why you became a doctor?”

“Well all my siblings are doctors, so I guess it never really occurred to me to do something else, but I think we’re all doctors because our dad died when we were younger, in some way thinking we could change what happened I guess.”

“It helps when you start to accept the things you can’t change.” Amelia immediately noticed the phrase, it was from the serenity prayer.

“I hope you don’t mind me asking but are you in A.A?”

“I am, I haven’t been in awhile. I know it’s not the best to be in a relationship with another alcoholic but I think we kept each other in check, and were sober for each other.”

“Im in AA too.” Amelia smiled, watching the woman relax a bit. “If you want to we can go together.”

“You know, I’d very much enjoy that. I really should be going, the want to drink has been lurching over me since his death. Thank you.”

“Of course.” Amelia smiled as she took out a pen and piece of paper from her bag to write her number on and handed it to the woman.

“Thank you dear.”

“Sorry about that babe, you ready?” Link asked his girlfriend as he spotted her on the bench.

“Yeah.” Amelia nodded slowly standing up. “I’m sorry I don’t think I caught your name.”

“Louise. And yours?”

“Amelia. It was really nice to meet you.”

“Likewise, I’ll send you a text message later dear.” Amelia nodded and walked out of the store with her boyfriend.

“Who was that?”

“My friend.” Amelia smiled to herself. “I’m sorry for being cranky earlier.”

“No I’m the one that’s sorry. I dragged you to a bunch of different stores and we still haven’t got you that pretzel.” Link chuckled as he placed the bags into the trunk and closed it. “And your 8 months pregnant and exhausted.”

“No it’s okay.” Amelia smiled once he got into the drivers side and buckled his seatbelt. “What were you planning on building for the baby?”

“Well I know your tired so I’m gonna get you that pretzel and drop you off at home, but I’m probably go to ikea and get a rocking chair.” Amelia perked up to this and smiled.

“No don’t go to ikea, you should build it.”

“Well yeah, they give you all the parts there.”

“No you should build it from scratch.”

“What happened to the online shopping Amelia?”

“Come on wouldn’t it be really sweet?”

“I haven’t really built anything like that since high school wood shop, but I guess I can figure it out.” Link smiled, happy Amelia was starting to appreciate the DIY side of him. “You know what I think I will.”

“Thank you.” Amelia smiled, relaxing into the seat. “I have the best boyfriend ever.”

“And I have the best girlfriend ever.”

“That’s correct.” Amelia smirked.

[midnight0stars]

**Axel and Luxord Falling for Reader at The White Room**

Both of them knew it was against the rules. There weren’t many at The White Room, but this one was a doozy. Never develop feelings for a client. Sure, easy enough… At least, it seemed easy enough until you showed up.

Luxord

-It was your smile that first struck Luxord. You matched his smirk with one of your own as he came out, everyone else in the room fading away as his focus was only on you. He knew immediately that you had gotten him, that he was entranced, and he turned it into a game. How close could he get to you without technically breaking the rules?

-You were there with a group, for someone’s bachelorette party or something rather. Luxord hardly paid attention to the pointless details, only the patrons that mattered. His eyes rarely left yours, a certain flame behind his gaze as he made sure you knew that you had his interest.

-He made sure to make the other patrons happy, especially the bachelorette everyone was there for. It was his job after all, and he was a master at it. The entire time though, he couldn’t stop thinking about you. Kept checking to see if you were watching, wondering what you thought of him, if you’d even consider him when he was a stripper. That look in your eyes though, it seemed to show more than enough that you felt the same draw to him as he did to you.

-Near the end of the private showing, you got up and left the room, sending Luxord a smirk just before you left. He immediately noticed the look, but waited a few minutes before leaving the room as well. He found you waiting in the hallway beside the restrooms, leaning against the wall, waiting for him. Seeing you there, ready for him, he dearly wished he wasn’t locked down to the rules of his job. There was no touching allowed between strippers and patrons, but right then, he wanted nothing more than to push you hard against the wall and lock you in a deep, passionate kiss.

-Instead, he walked over, leaning his arm against the wall, his body barely a few inches from your own. You looked up at him, your face warmed as your eyes drifted between his and his lips.

-”I don’t normally do this,” you assured him with a soft whisper, your lips parting at his smirk in response.

-”Neither do I, Love.” He assured you in return, leaning forward until your lips were just a scant distance from the other.

-He could feel the warmth of your shaking breaths and the smell sweet scent of alcohol on your tongue. Oh, how he wanted a taste for himself, but that would be going against the rules.

-”Y/N! Where’d you run off to?” Your friend called out for you, breaking both tension as you let out a huff of breath.

-”It seems our meeting has come to an end.” Luxord told you, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a black jack playing card. He held it out for you between his fingers, a number written on it.

-You took the card from him, giving it a glance before looking back at him and opening your mouth to reply. He brought a finger to his lips, cutting you off. “Do you know the rules?” He asked, winking before turning around and heading back to work.

Axel

-He found you as he was doing his routine rounds through the stripclub: sending the winks, the cheesy, heated lines, lap dances that even caused the most prudish of clients to melt, it was a normal night, albeit a tad slower than usual. You were sitting near the back, just a few seats away from a boisterous group of girls that were the usual type of patrons for the club. Despite the way you smiled back at Axel when your eyes met, you seemed entirely uncomfortable to even be there.

-Axel’s eyebrow quirked up, you were most likely there because you had been dragged there by your so-called friends. If they weren’t going to make sure you were enjoying yourself, then he supposed it was up to him. After all, he did have the highest satisfaction rate to maintain.

-He sauntered over to you, despite the way your eyes widened and you subtly shook your head. Honestly, your dread in him coming over only spurred him onwards as he sat down beside you, legs crossed, his arm over your seat.

-”You got dragged here, huh?” He asked, his smirk growing at your long breath. “Any way I could make it more enjoyable?”

-”Hard pass,” you told him in a rush, your eyes glancing at him before darting away. Your arms tightened around yourself, “Just waiting for them to be done so I can drive everyone home.”

-Axel scoffed, “Geez louise, you got dragged here and got stuck being the designated driver?” When you nodded, he laughed, “Man, I do not envy you.”

-Your lips spread thin. “Aren’t you supposed to make people swoon or something? Cause you’re kinda sucking at it right now.”

-Axel put up his hands, “Hey, you’re the one that said you were giving me a hard pass. I’m just trying to make conversation.” He sighed, getting up from his seat, “But, I better get back to work.” He sent you a wink, “See you on the dance floor, Babe.”

-You scoffed, looking away as your cheeks warmed, which Axel took immediate notice of.

-Axel snickered as he walked away. Oh, he had you in the palm of his hand. After a few more flirty comments to other patrons, all the while keeping his eye on you, occasionally sending you a wink or a smirk, he disappeared in the back.

-Part of you was convinced that Axel had left, that maybe his shift had ended, and part of you wished he was still out there… at least he made the place interesting.

-That was when the music stopped and the lights dimmed… a show was about to start. Your friends hooted and hollered, making complete spectacles of themselves as you simply sat back and wished you could head home already. You hardly expected it to be Axel when the curtains drew back, but the sight of him sauntering down the stage towards a pole, his gaze fixated on yours, it caused your heart to jump to your throat.

-Axel couldn’t see that much through the bright spotlight, but he knew exactly where you were sitting, and he made sure to make good use of that knowledge. Every move, every wink, he made sure you got the best view. The screams and hollers from the patrons were lost on him, sounds he was used to hearing, all he was focused on was how much your heart was probably pounding in your chest.

-He didn’t normally care so much about a specific patron. It never took much to make them swoon and then walk away with briefs full of munny. But with you… there was something all the more gratifying about it. He wasn’t sure what though, and he refused to give it much thought while he was performing.

-As the show ended and he disappeared behind the curtains, Axel listened to the applause and cheers die down before he snuck back out to the floor. Your friends were beyond drunk, each of them swooning over anything with the slightest resemblance of a dick walking past them. You though, you stayed in your seat, your eyes scanning the club as if you were searching for something.

-”Enjoy the show?” Axel asked, startling you as you jerked you attention up to him, a stammer of various sounds spilling out of you as your face warmed.

-Looking away, you cleared your throat, “It was… fine.”

-Axel laughed, putting his hands on either side of your chair. You looked up at him, your breath catching at his smirk as he leaned forward. “Just fine, huh?” He asked. “What’s it gonna take to impress you?”

-”I don’t have any cash on me if you’re wanting to get some sort of tip out of me.” You informed him, averting your eyes as your entire warmed warmed further.

-Axel scoffed, about to assure you that wasn’t the case, but even his own thoughts caught him off guard. That was his job…. To make people melt and swoon over him so he’d get the highest tip… He knew you didn’t have anything, yet here he was attending to you personally, anyways. He swallowed, glancing over his shoulder in case Superior was watching. If he was, Axel was sure there would be hell to pay for giving you special attention with no compensation.

-”Who said that’s what I was after?” He asked you with a hushed voice, “Maybe I actually like what I see and want to know how I can get more of it.”

-You blinked, looking back to him, your heart pounding in your chest. This was the last place you expected to find someone that would be interested. Your mouth opened and closed a few times, before you cleared your throat, settling on giving no verbal reply.

-”That being said,” Axel let out a long breath, standing back up straight. “I’ll get in trouble if I stick around too long.”

-You looked up at him, already missing his warmth.

-”But I work evenings the whole week,” Axel told you, winking as he pointed to his head. “Got it memorized?”

-You chuckled, recognizing his catchphrase from your friends. “Yeah, yeah,” you laughed under your breath, your hands tightening in your lap. “I’m sure my friends will drag me here again.”

-”I’m looking forward to it.” Axel told you, smirking one last time, before he turned and went back to work.

[thetwilightroadtonightfall]

finally got to watch Melody of Memory’s cutscenes and man, do I have thoughts

so I definitely went into this knowing that we wouldn’t be getting too much new content but wow, this might be a new record for the least new content in a game so far

that being said, this game is also definitely meant to set up the bigger storyline, acting as a transition kind of like 0.2 did, so it’s understandable that there’s less and it’s a bit slower in pace

I loved how Kairi stood up to Xehanort and was even able to go toe to toe with him for the most part. It shows that her character arc is starting to go in an interesting direction despite this Xehanort only being a figment of her memory but geez louise it’s still going at a snail’s pace when it’s already been established in kh3 that she trained a lot.

oh yeah, that line about her having to train more really rubbed me the wrong way, as I’m sure it did for many of you as well. Considering that she’s put next to Sora and Riku, characters who could hold their own in dangerous situations long before they had any sort of formal ‘training’, that line really just came off sounding like a double standard, making Kairi have to work for what the boys already had innately or got to achieve thanks to firsthand experiences on their journeys. How much more training does Kairi have to go through before she can actually have her own journey and be seen as a valuable force?

first Sora’s form takes over for the Xehanort fight when it could’ve been executed in so many other better ways, then Riku’s the one who gets to go to Quadratum without her....agghhhh why do the writers shaft her each and every time...she’s almost 20 years overdue for her time to shine

Riku and Kairi interacting with each other, we love to see it. But it felt so disheartening to see Riku turn her down before heading off to Quadratum alone. It’s almost an exact parallel to Sora’s infamous “you’d kind of be in my way” line from kh1 except this time Kairi’s the one who says that she’s not strong enough....ghhhggghhg Nomura

but I digress

not gonna lie, when “fictional worlds” were mentioned, the first thing I thought of was the 100 acre wood and that Sora ended up in there again somehow

also wasn’t it established that everyone has gummi phones now??? Why can’t we use those to tell everybody else what’s going on instead of venturing out to find them in person?

idk man there were a lot of strange storytelling/exposition devices used here and idk how to feel about them. Like Fairy Godmother is a nice character to have around, but she feels so disjointed from the plot, just slapped in there with so much knowledge this time around compared to what she stuck to in ReMind, which was dreams, her forte

I don’t know why exactly Kairi wants to train with Aqua (maybe she feels at ease with her given the connection she has to her, or she thinks Aqua’s RoD experience can help toughen her up), but I’m here for it. Now let me see the two of them team up in a game!!

okay believe me when I say I’m trying so hard to be invested in the Verum Rex/Quadratum plotline and maybe I will be someday, but as it stands now, I’m far more interested in how khux’s story will progress and what the foretellers will be up to

Also curious what the sea salt and wayfinder trios will do now that they’re not going to be helping find Sora using their original methods anymore. Maybe they’ll try something different, or join in on Mickey’s ancient keyblade masters quest? I wouldn’t mind a game about the seven of them working stuff out

For my final thought...since unreality/fictional worlds are for the most part inaccessible...maybe the MoM’s black box acts as a way to get into those worlds. Heck, maybe he or other chi characters are from that kind of unreality too, since they’re from an age called the Age of Fairy Tales aka fiction?

[emachinescat]

Does It Count as Eavesdropping if You’re Comatose?

A Psych Fan-Fiction

by @emachinescat ​

@febuwhump​ day 28 / alt. 3 - coma

Summary: They say people who are comatose can still hear what is going on around them.  This is what Shawn heard.

Characters | Relationships: Shawn, Henry, Gus, Juliet, Madeline, Lassiter, Jack, Despereaux, Buzz, Woody, Chief Vick | Shawn/Juliet

Words: 3,898

TW: coma

Note: I really hope you enjoy this piece.  It was one of the most emotionally taxing, cathartic, and fulfilling pieces I’ve written in a long time.  I hope that comes across when you read it.  

Keep reading here, or on AO3!

If you enjoy, please consider liking, commenting, or re-blogging, and you can follow me for more content like this! :)

Shawn?

Where’s the doctor?  I need to speak to him.  Busy, my ass!  My son is in a coma.  I get that you’re just doing your job.  Just… find me someone who can give me an update.  …  Please.

Hey, bud.  I, uh – 

Shit.

Shawn, for the love of – what the hell did you think you were doing?  Going off on your own like that, not telling anyone where you were going or what you were doing.  You knew these people were dangerous, and you still… I know I taught you better than this.

Why, why do you never listen? 

***

Hey, Shawn.  Don’t think that just because you’re in a coma right now that we’re going to let this go.  You’ve pulled some stupid-ass stunts in your time, but this … this takes the cake.  And you know you’re supposed to share any cake you get with me.  Fifty-fifty split.

We’re partners, Shawn.  Why did you go in alone?

Well, all I have to say is that you better wake up soon.  The doctors say they are cautiously optimistic that you’ll have a full recovery if you will just wake up.  We’re all well aware that you are the laziest time-waster in Santa Barbara, but just this once, will you prove us wrong?

…

Please, Shawn.  You’re my best friend.  I … I can’t lose you.  Just.  Just come back, okay?

***

The doctors said that you might be able to hear what we say to you.  In my experience, doctors always say that, but, I don’t know.  It seems a little weird, don’t you think?  I mean, the thought of you lying there, so still that you might be … you know.  Anyway.  To think that you could actually be hearing everything I’m saying right now is…

It’s actually a little bit embarrassing.  Gosh, why do I always ramble like a moron when I’m nervous?  This is worse than the movie theater, the first time I asked you out.  Remember that?  Now that was humiliating.  

I know your dad and Gus have probably already given you enough lectures to fill up a novel, so I won’t yell at you for being an impulsive, stupid idiot.  Not yet.

For now, Shawn – his hand is really cold; is that normal?  Should I call the doctor?  No? – just know that I love you, with all my heart.

And that if you don’t wake up soon, I’ll kill you myself.

***

Mr. Spencer.  

Shawn.

I… I apologize for not coming to see you sooner.  It’s no excuse, but we’ve been really busy.  God knows how you did it, but you somehow managed to still get us the evidence we needed to take these guys down, even on death’s door.  These monsters have been tormenting a lot of very good people for far too long, and until you… did what you did, our hands were tied.

I suppose what I am saying is thank you.

It was incredibly stupid, and I – we all – wish you had never done it, but… thank you.

Wake up soon.  That’s an order.  

Oh, hi, Henry – I was just stopping by for a moment.  How are you holding up?  Yes, I – 

***

Hey, Goose.

I would have been here sooner, but I was stuck in New York.  I was in for a conference, and my flight got delayed because of snow, but… but you don’t really want to hear about that, do you?

You look good, considering.  From the way your father talked, I thought you’d be wasting away.  But your color is good.  You don’t have that gray pallor I’ve seen so often in those who have given up.  

That means you’re still fighting.  And that’s good.

If you’re wondering where your dad is, don’t worry.  Juliet and Gus dragged him to the cafeteria for some actual food – or as close as you can get to real food in a hospital.  Your father… That man, Shawn, I just don’t think you know how much he cares about you.  Not that it’s your fault.  Henry has never been good at showing how he feels.  

Sometimes I wonder if that’s why I married him, so long ago.  Maybe I thought I could fix him.  But you can’t really fix people, can you, Goose?  Not the way you’d like to.  

The doctors are doing everything they can to fix you, Shawn.  So don’t give up.  

Oh, here comes your father –

He’s fine, Henry – did you eat something?  Gus, did he actually eat something?  What did he eat?  Henry Spencer, coffee is not food!  Good grief, I’ll be right back...

***

Oh, Guster!  I… I didn’t know you would be here.  I’ll just… I was in the wrong room, that’s all.  Yeah, I was just visiting an old friend of the family.  Who?  None of your business, actually.  Just a friend, who is not Spencer.

What do you mean, I should stay since I’m already here?  Guster, I have important things to do, cases to solve, people to see!  Well, I suppose… Just for a minute, do you understand me?  This is ridiculous… Spencer butts his nose into my case, breaks the whole thing open, and damn near dies in the process…  

Guster – where the hell are you going?  You can’t leave me alone with Spencer!  …  What do you mean, talk to him?  Are you insane?  I don’t want to talk to him when he’s awake, why would I –?

You don’t have to shout.  I’ll stay while you step out.  

But I won’t talk to him.

…

…

Well, Spencer, this is a fine mess you’ve put yourself in.  

I mean sweet justice, man, do you ever think about what you’re doing?  About how it will affect other people?  The people who love you?

Not me, of course.  You know I could care less about you.  But my partner, your girlfriend, for some unfathomable reason, has chosen to be with you.  To like you for – man, this is hard to say – to like you for who you are.  I mean, have you met you?  That’s something that should never have happened, especially not after all the stupid stunts you’ve pulled over the years.  

But it did.  She… Juliet, she cares about you.  A lot.  If you could see just how much she’s hurting right now… 

Spencer, I once told you that if you hurt my partner, I’d kill you.  Well, you’ve gone and done it.  But I’m a fair man.  Well, I can be a fair man if given the right circumstances.  Okay, fine, I’m not exactly fair, but I do care about Juliet, so I will give you an ultimatum: If you go ahead and wake up, if you put a smile back on her face, then I will let you live.  But you’ve got to do it soon, got it?  No lollygagging like you usually do.  Just…

Guster!  You cannot just sneak up on a man like that!  No, I wasn’t talking to Shawn, don’t be ridiculous.  I’m on the phone with someone … Bluetooth.  

What?  NO!  My eyes are not “misty.”  Good lord, man, not everyone is a crybaby like you.  No, I’m not staying any longer!  Dammit, Guster, I don’t care – 

***

Hey, Shawnie!  

Look, this is a little awkward, I know, especially since I haven’t really been in touch since the whole Buchard’s treasure incident, but when your father finally got ahold of me, I rushed right over.  Bygones, and all that, am I right?  

Anywho… I brought you a penny.  I know it’s not much, but this one’s special.  It’s a 1943 bronze Lincoln.  One of the rarest out there.  I’ve been holding onto it for a while, but I thought you could use a little luck.  Well, a little more than a little, but…

Anyway, kiddo.  I hate seeing you like this.  I’m getting ready to go cliff diving in Peru, but I’ll be here with you in spirit, you got that?  Don’t do anything stupid while I’m gone. 

Or do.  I guess if you’re doing something stupid, then you’re not sleeping anymore. 

Damn it.  I’m not good at this stuff.  

See ya around, kid.  

***

Hey, Shawn, my man!  Long time, no see, huh?  Do you mind if I eat something while we chat?  Want a bite?  It’s your favorite…

No?  Well, more for me, I suppose.

Hmmmm… your color looks less gray than last week.  Maybe the doctors are right, maybe you really are recovering, but… I don’t know.  Gah, I really wish they’d let me take a crack at you – ah, I mean, examine you, just in case, but… Apparently “someone who spends all day with the dead isn’t the right person to diagnose a living person, blah blah blah.”  Between you and me, friend, I think they’re hiding something from us.  It’s a conspiracy.  … Not like the Chief Vick is actually a time traveler conspiracy, mind you.  A real one.

Ah, whatever.  Whatever happens will happen, am I right, Shawn?  I have to say, you’re excellent company today!  I do miss your witty retorts, but you’ve got that comforting presence I’ve come to expect from my friends in the morgue.  They only get chatty when I haven’t slept for four days straight.  

Huh, you normally would’ve laughed at that.  

Anyway, keep on keeping on!  Whatever happens, whatever direction this thing ends up going, just know I’ve got your back.  And if you don’t make it in this world, well… let’s just say I picked out the perfect body bag to carry you into the next.  Spoiler alert: I embroidered this one myself!

Oh, and don’t forget!  I’ve called dibs on your autopsy, should it come to that!  Gosh, I can’t stop wondering if your heart really is going to be two sizes bigger than most.  I know it’s scientifically improbable, but you just love so damn much…

Ah!  Oh, Henry, you scared me!  I was just – no, I don’t have the body bag.  Promise.  Cross my heart and hope to – well, you know.  Little joke of the trade, hehe.  You’re not laughing – Shawn would have.

Okay, okay, I’m getting out, I’m leaving!  But if anything happens, you know that I – OW!  Okay, okay, yeah, got it.  Geez Louise, you’ve got a tight grip.  Did you arm wrestle in high school?  

***

Hey, Shawn.  How’s it going?

I mean, you’re in a coma, so I imagine it’s not great, but… I dunno, maybe it is.  Maybe it’s nice, wherever you’re at.

Say, I wonder if you’re in the place your psychic visions come from.  When you wake up, do you think you’ll be even more psychic than before?  That would be so cool…

Oh, Franny and Mrs. Pickles say hi.  She wanted to bake you a pie – Franny, of course, not Mrs. Pickles, he’s a cat – but I told her you were on a feeding tube, so she made me a pie instead.  It was blueberry.  One of the best pies I’ve ever tasted.  She told me to tell you that if, I mean when, you wake up, she’ll make you a pineapple upside down cake.  A whole one, just for you.

You’ve just got to wake up first, Shawn.

I … I really hope you wake up soon.  I miss seeing you around the station.  Heh, I even think Lassiter’s missing you.  He doesn’t say it so many words – or any words at all, for that matter – but he’s different.  Angrier, and I wasn’t even sure that was possible!  And he keeps glancing over at the front doors, like he’s expecting you to come waltzing in at any moment.  

Or, I dunno, maybe he ordered a pizza, but I’m betting he’s missing you, deep down.

We’re all missing you.  Get better soon, okay, buddy?

***

Well, kid.  It’s been five weeks.  You’ve always been a slowpoke in the mornings, but this is getting ridiculous.  

I’m running out of things to talk about.  Bet you’re not too broken up about that, huh?  Never did like to listen to what your old man had to say.  Still… you listened when it mattered.  Sometimes.  

I’m thinking about retiring again.  Karen’s trying to convince me to stay.  She says that she’s always got a place for me, that they may be bringing in a couple of temporary consultants in the next few weeks, to help lighten the caseload.  There’s a criminal profiler, a young woman who really knows her stuff, but Karen’s been holding off on hiring her.  Honestly, the girl’s good at what she does, but she doesn’t hold a candle to what you do.

Then again, she’s not an attention-seeking moron who runs head-first into danger without thinking of the consequences, but… she’s still not you.

Anyway, I told Karen I’d think about it, but I don’t know.  I’m getting old, kid.  I thought I wasn’t, I still felt pretty young, but recently… I don’t know.  The world just has a little less color in it than I remembered, and that’s what growing old looks like, isn’t it?  

If I retired, would you wake up?  If you didn’t have me “hovering” over you all day at work, would you finally come back?  I mean, I accepted the job in the first place to keep you safe, and that went to hell in a handbag.  Maybe I’m not so good at that job, after all.

Anyway, kid, you need to get off your lazy ass and wake up.

Believe it or not, I’m really starting to miss hearing your voice.

I love ya, kid.  And I want you back.

***

Shawn, you will not believe what came in the mail today!  

Seriously, guess.  

Come on… 

Dang it.  I really hoped that would get you curious enough to open your eyes.  

Anyway… something really did come in the mail.  Well, sort of.  I found it on your desk in the Psych office when I came in to check on things.  I’ve been advised that it might be a good idea to stop paying rent for an office I’m not using, but that feels like letting you go, like I’m giving up on you, and I’m not ready to do that.  So I’m going to keep paying that bill, okay?

But as I was saying, this envelope was just sitting on your desk!  Just your name on it, too.  At first I thought you were finally getting your Hogwarts letter, because it’s in a really fancy envelope.  It wasn’t, by the way.  Damn, I’m really rambling today.  Sorry.  I’m just … tired.  But I wanted to read you this letter before I head out to see a few more clients.  Here we go:

Dear Shawn,

It has come to my attention that you have been gravely injured and are in a coma in Santa Barbara Hospital.  My contact has informed me that you’ve been in this state for nearly two months now.  I am devastated to hear about this, and hope that by the time this letter finds you, you have awoken and are back to your normal self.  If not, then I can only hope that your friend Mr. Guster will be kind enough to read you this letter.

I regret that I was unable to visit you myself, but as I am currently wanted in no less than four countries, I thought it best to stay away from any place that is crawling with police officers.  I don’t know if you are aware of this, but between your lovely lady friend and her grumpy assistant, along with all of your other friends at the SBPD, you have an officer of the peace in your hospital room nearly around the clock.  And I know what you’re thinking – I made my name sneaking in and out of impenetrable places.  You would be right.  Perhaps I cannot face seeing you in such a terrible way with my own eyes.

You must recover soon!  I stole a lovely Van Gogh in your honor, but there was no way I could have mailed it to you without its being confiscated by the authorities.  I do think of you every time I see it upon my mantle.  

Sincerely,

Pierre Despereaux, Gentleman & Art Thief 

Did you hear that, Shawn?  Your iffy role model Despereaux is even worried about you.  I know that you would – for some reason – do anything to make that man proud.  So what do you say?  You ready to wake up yet?

…

Dammit, Shawn.  I don’t know how much more of this I can take.

***

Hey, there, Goose.  

I know it’s been a while since I’ve visited, but I’m actually on a conference tour right now, and your father is keeping me up to date on all developments.  You look nice today – your father just gave you a shave, and though it’s not the most even of cuts, it makes you look more like yourself.  

So, your father called me yesterday in near hysterics.  He said that you had shown the first signs of waking – when your nurse took your blood, you pulled away.  For the first time since all this started, you reacted to something in your surroundings.  Of course, I flew right in.

You haven’t responded to anything since, though.  Shawn, I –

You know I love you, right?  I realize that I’ve never been the best at this sort of thing – at being a mother.  I know I didn’t always make the right decisions.  Even now, I…

I miss you, son.  If you can hear me at all – and I know that you can – please, please, just… whatever is trapping you in your own mind, whether it is fear or trauma or pain or … please, just.  Come back to us.  I – 

Oh, Henry, when did you get back?  No, you don’t have to leave, I –  No, no, I’m fine, I told you I’m fine, I – 

 – It’s all right, Maddie.  I’ve got you.  You don’t always have to be strong, you know. – 

***

Okay, Shawn, I know I normally try to keep things light and positive, but I don’t think I have it in me to do that today.  I’m sorry, I just…

Today sucked, you know?  Like, really sucked.  Well, if I’m being honest, the past seven months have sucked.  But today was extra special.  

I won’t burden you with all of the details, but work was difficult today.  Lassiter and I got assigned a tough case, and, well, it didn’t end up the way we’d hoped.  Long story short, we uncovered a dirty cop.  It was, um… do you remember Lawson?  He worked in narcotics.  Turns out he’s done some things … hurt some people.  He wasn’t always accountable out in the field, and some things came to light.  Anyway.  It’s a mess.

And then there’s this whole thing with you.  I just … every time it looks like you’re making improvements, you just … you just retreat back into yourself, and I feel like I’m losing you more every day.  I promised you when this all started, on day one, that I would wait for you, that I would be patient, and I’m trying, but…

It’s not that I want to leave you or anything.  Not at all.  My patience is just wearing thin, and I can’t sleep and night and every day I wake up terrified to look at my phone, because what if I have a message that you’ve woken up, but that you don’t remember me at all?  Or worse, what if I get a message that you’ll never wake up again?  

Our bed feels empty.  I sleep with Mr. Snuggles every night, though – do you remember Mr. Snuggles, you know, the bear you won me at the fair when we started dating?  He’s soft, but he’s wearing a bit thin.  I guess holding a stuffed animal like it’s a lifeline every night for over half a year will do that, but I’m afraid he’s going to break soon.

I think… 

I think I’m already broken, Shawn, and I can’t – 

I’m sorry.  I’m sorry, I don’t mean to… I just miss you.

Did you know that I kiss you every night before I leave?  Nothing fancy, just a single, light kiss on the lips.  Sometimes I pretend that you’re the damsel in distress and I’m Prince Charming, and I almost manage to convince myself that when I pull back, your eyes will be fluttering open to look at me, like Snow White or Sleeping Beauty.  But every time, you stay asleep.

Maybe this time, you’ll wake up.  Can you do it for me, baby?  Please?

…

Well, it was worth a try.  I miss the way you used to kiss me back.  I’ll try again tomorrow.

I’ll never stop trying.  

I love you, Shawn.

***

I just don’t get it, Mr. Spencer.  The doctors say he’s recovered from his injuries almost perfectly.  Even the head injury, on the surface, has healed.  Why isn’t he waking up?  It’s been eleven months!

If I knew, Gus, I’d be the first to tell you, but I have no idea what’s going on inside that thick head of his. 

I’m sorry.  I know you’ve got a lot on your plate right now, too.  I shouldn’t be –  

Gus.  Just like I told Jules, we have to be here for each other.  That’s all we can do.  That, and be here for Shawn when he wakes up. 

If he wakes up.

Don’t say that, Gus.  You know Shawn.  He’s the most stubborn person either of us knows.  He’ll wake up.  He’ll make it through this. 

How long are we going to keep telling ourselves that?  He’s been comatose for almost a year, Mr. Spencer.  Every time he shows signs of coming back, he just… doesn’t.  How long do we keep waiting?  Two years?  Five?  How long until we’ve reached the point of no return?  Will we even know it when we see it?

Gus, the point of no return doesn’t happen until he stops breathing, and that’s not going to happen, okay?  We stick by Shawn until our prayers are answered or are no longer necessary.  Got it? 

You’re right, I’m so sorry.  Of course I’d never give up on Shawn, I’m just so tired –

Shhhh! 

I am pouring my heart out here!  I let you cry on my shoulder yesterday, and you won’t even let me –

First off, I wasn’t crying, and even if it was, I wouldn’t be doing it on your shoulder.  Secondly, I could have sworn I saw – yes!  He’s moving!  Do you see his hand, Gus?  Gus! 

I … I dunno Mr. Spencer.  Could be another false alarm.

Maybe, but… this feels different.  Shawn?  Shawn?  Can you hear me, bud?  Can you open your eyes? 

He’s stopped moving.  His heart rate’s normalizing.  I think –

“D-dad?”

Oh my – thank GOD, Gus, get a doctor, get a nurse – call Jules – Shawn, Shawn, can you hear me? 

“Dad?”

I’m here, Shawn, I’m here.  Open your eyes for me – there you go.  Gus has gone to get the nurse.  He’ll be back with someone in a second. 

“Jules?”

She’ll be here, she’s just outside.  Thank God you’re awake, I – 

“I h-heard, Dad.”

What? 

“I heard.  Everything.”

You did, huh? 

“Yeah… do you a-always sound like a dying lawn mower when you cry?”

Dammit, Shawn, can’t you let me enjoy having you back for one second before you ruin it?

“L-love you, too, Dad.”

…

Welcome back, son.  It’s good to see you smile again. 

“Yeah, you too, dad – weird… But good.”

[galactic-magick]

Secret Darling: Logan x Reader

Request: Hiya! I was wondering if you could maybe make a Logan x reader, (Gender neutral or female), where Logan's just casually sitting on the couch, (and I mean casual like he's not wearing his tie and is just, casual for once), typing away on his laptop when reader just wants attention and affection? Like just pure fluff, and a lot of it? XD - @zarieslayer​

Summary: None of the sides know you and Logan are dating and you wish you could be more openly affectionate.

Words: 1300+                                        

Warnings: Lots of kiss kiss

Author’s Notes: Combined this request with an idea I had for a secret dating AU lol. I also got very flustered writing this so hopefully it meets your fluff standards 😂 also this gif is gonna give me a stroke geez louise

Taglist: @luluwinchester​ @nerve-ous-love​ @zarieslayer​

-

-

-

Logan wouldn’t be caught dead like this except when he’s with you. He maintains a strict image of professionalism at all times. It gives him confidence, puts him in an intellectual mindset, and convinces everyone around him he’s serious and not to be messed with. He never as much as loosens his tie outside of closed doors.

Only with you does he allow himself to breathe, especially since you’re the only person he shows the softer part of himself to. None of the other sides know you two are together. It would completely destroy his reputation if they knew he has feelings, after all. Still, he does make an effort to spend as much time with you as he can when he’s not working. You meet him in his room nearly every day, and he gives you attention whenever he can when the others aren’t watching.

When you come in, he’s lounging on the couch, laptop on his lap, with the top few buttons of his shirt undone. His tie is completely off and his hair is a bit messy, but he’s still incredibly focused.

“Oh, hello darling,” he greets you.

“Hey,” you sigh, sitting down next to him. “How long have you been working on that?”

He doesn’t look up, continuing to type furiously, “Just a few hours,”

“A few hours?”

“Yes,”

“Don’t you want to take a break?”

“I will when I’m finished,”

“When will that be?”

“If I stay on schedule, approximately two more hours,”

“Two more hours?!”

He locks eyes with you, “You seem to be distressed over the normal passage of time, darling, are you quite alright?”

“Yeah…” you rest your head on his shoulder. “I was just hoping to get a bit of affection, that’s all,”

“Oh,”

“I know you’re super busy, but I just don’t think taking a break would really hurt,” you shrug, sitting up. “Did you know that in many people cuddling and kissing releases hormones that benefit your health? And people who hug a lot tend to have lower blood pressure levels?”

He smirks, “Sweetheart, are you trying to use knowledge against me?”

“Plus the happy chemicals or whatever can help you fight off sickness and sleep better, and we all know how much you love getting enough sleep,”

“Is that all?”                  

“Well you probably know more about science stuff than me, but there’s definitely bajillions of other benefits too, maybe kissing can cure allergies or something,”

“I don’t believe that’s correct,”

“Prove it, then,” you grin. “Kiss me ‘til I never sneeze again,”

“Darling, if all you wanted was for me to kiss you all you had to do was ask,” he closes his laptop and sets it aside. “You know I’d do anything you desire,”

You giggle as he interlaces his fingers with yours and pulls you close to him. He kisses your forehead first, then your nose, then each of your cheeks. His kisses are deliberate yet adoring, slow but not teasing. He presses his lips along your jaw and then stops to look into your eyes, taking a moment to memorize your flushed face before finally kissing your lips.

Your heart flutters as he moves his hands to cradle your face, running the pads of his thumbs across your cheekbones.

“Don’t you ever wish we could do this in front of the others?” you ask between kisses.

Logan pulls away, his fingers grazing down your neck and landing on your shoulders, “You…want to do this in front of everyone?”

“Well not this exactly,” you hesitate. “I mean like just casual quick pecks, holding hands, being able to cuddle when we have group movie nights,”

He looks down, “Would that…would that make you feel loved? Would that make you happier?”

“Oh, Logan,” you lift his chin up. “I do feel loved, and I am happy. I’m just saying it would be nice, that’s all,”

“It’s settled then,” he nods. “We won’t keep this a secret anymore,”

“Really?” you squeal, falling onto him and wrapping your arms around his neck.

“Yes,” he hugs you back tightly. “Although we should consider breaking it to them slowly, possibly have a bit of fun,”

“Fun, huh?”

“Are you questioning my ability to have fun?”

“Maybe a little bit,” you laugh.

“I simply think the best way to tell them is by acting as if they already knew, isn’t that fun?”

“You want to gaslight them?”

“That’s a bit of a strong word, but essentially, yes,”

“Have you been spending time with Janus?”

“Absolutely not,” he runs his knuckles down the side of your head. “You know I spend all my free time with you,”

“Ah, yes,”

“Would you like to resume?”

“Please,”

 -

 The next morning you meet everyone for breakfast and coffee in the kitchen. You give Logan a quick smooch before sitting down, and the others stare in disbelief.

“Please tell me I was not the only one who just saw that,” Roman gasps.

“What’s the matter, never seen a kiss before?” Virgil rolls his eyes.

“Excuse me, I have seen and experienced many kisses!”

Patton starts making indistinguishable noises, something between screaming and hyperventilating, “Logan!!! When were you going to tell us?!”

“Sure, whatever Princey,”

“You’re not at all shocked by this Virgil?”

“Not really. I’ve seen them going into the closet to make out a couple times,”

“What?!”

You give Logan a look, and you can tell he’s really struggling to stay composed. This is not going according to plan, especially since this didn’t seem to be as much of a secret in the first place as you thought.

“Alright, fine, you got us,” you surrender. “We’ve been together for a while now,”

“Awwww!!” Patton bounces in his chair.

Roman bursts out laughing, “Ha! Logan’s in looove,”

Logan turns his head to him and tightens his tie, “I don’t quite understand why that is so humorous to you, Roman. Love may be nothing more than chemicals in the brain, but it is nothing less than an exquisite experience that brings a multitude of opportunities for growth and learning. I for one find it quite exhilarating, and I hope one day you too will find someone who makes you feel the same,”

The table is dead silent for a moment.

“Wow,” Roman exhales. “How do you manage to sound so nerdy even when you’re being mushy?”

“It’s a talent only for the true intellectuals,” you butt in, reaching your hand across to grab Logan’s. “See you guys later,” you wink and dash out of the kitchen, pulling Logan along with you. You go into the closet and shut the door.

Logan let’s out a long sigh of relief, “You know, we don’t have to hide in here anymore,”

“Yeah…” you chuckle. “Did Virge really see us? We were being so careful,”

“I suppose not careful enough,” he grins. “But it no longer matters,”

You smile, pressing yourself against him and he wraps his arms around your waist, “That was really sweet what you said,”

“Well it’s true. Loving you has taught me much, and I wouldn’t trade it for the knowledge of a thousand books,”

“You’re adorable,”

“Only for you,” he smirks. He tightens his arms around you and gently captures your lips. You grab the collar of his shirt and deepen the kiss, only stopping when a bright light hits your eyes.

You both look towards the door to see Patton standing there with his mouth wide open.

“Oh! Uh, sorry kiddos,” he grabs his coat. “Just needed to get this, uh, thing,”

You cover your eyes and slam your head into Logan’s chest in embarrassment.

“Anyways, have fun! Stay safe!” Patton waves and closes the door.

“I’m beginning to think it would be favorable to find a new designated affection spot,”

“Yeah…but not yet,” you pull him back to you, kissing him hard.

[artificialqueens]

Spirit (Part 1/2) - (Gigi x Crystal / Gigi x Nicky) - opalescentcheetah

A/N: My exponentially growing love for Crystal Methyd and for fantasy has resulted in this: a 5.6k thing of magical shenanigans. Enjoy! And feel free to drop by my blog, @opalescent-cheetah , to say hi - I don’t bite!

Thank you so much to Rusty for beta-ing!

Summary: “It’s some sort of… devil, she thinks, but she can’t be sure. It has a pair of small, golden horns sprouting from its forehead, and its body is covered in a layer of short red fur that seems to sparkle in the artificial lights, curls of glittering hair framing its round face. The most normal thing about it is the 16th-century ruff around its neck."

Gigi finally meets the spirit that has been terrorising the abandoned warehouse for ten years. Nothing goes the way she expects it to.

~

The doors fall shut with a loud CLANG, sending a gust of metallic wind in Gigi’s direction and plunging the room into darkness. She jumps, suddenly disoriented, and stumbles back the way she came, trembling fingers pushing and prying at the cold metal of the door handle.

It won’t budge. She shakes it, rattles it, but it’s unyielding, cold and dead in her sweaty palms.

Are you some sort of coward?

A scream tears loose from her throat. She kicks the door.

Go in the haunted warehouse, Gigi. Go on.

The door shudders violently, but remains firmly shut. How old is this thing? She kicks it again.

Are you scared? Hah! Look at her, she’s terrified!

“Let me out!” she howls, voice echoing pathetically in the abandoned warehouse. Tears are gathering in her eyes when she hears movement behind her - there’s a shuffling sound and the crash of something heavy falling. Gigi sucks in a shaky breath.

“Finally!”

The voice is unfamiliar.

“It’s been way too long. Wow,” the stranger continues, and Gigi presses her back against the door, her heart in her throat, her very bones hollowed out with fear. She wants to shout a reply into the darkness, but the words won’t come. She can’t move, can’t see - every limb is stiff with terror.

“Wait, wait, I think I’ve got it…”

She hears a snap, and suddenly there’s fire, flickering lazily against the eerie black. She glances past it, meeting red eyes and a shining, toothy grin.

For a moment Gigi can only stand, paralysed with fear, lungs heaving with shuddering breaths.

And then she screams.

It’s a wordless wail of absolute horror. She’s sure she’s about to die.

“Geez Louise, the years really must’ve done a number on me, huh?” A clap, and the fire goes out. “Do people still say that? Whatever, you get my point. There better be a damn mirror in here somewhere.”

“Let me out!” Gigi shrieks again, broken voice echoing hollowly in the cold warehouse air. She lunges blindly at the creature, fists flying, eyes hot with tears.

“Woah, woah, calm down!”

The voice whirls past Gigi’s ear and she stumbles, flailing her arms into nothingness. Once she’s regained her balance, she looks around in vain, unable to see anything but the tiny stripe of gold light beneath the door.

“Let me go,” Gigi growls into the darkness, struggling to keep her voice from trembling. “Open that goddamn door right now!”

“That’s not within the range of my capabilities, I’m afraid,” the creature says calmly. At least it has the decency to sound a little bashful. “I can turn the lights on for you, though, if you’d like to have your sight back.”

Gigi swallows. A beat of silence passes between them - she doesn’t even hear the creature move.

“That… would be nice.”

A moment later, white factory lights flicker on overhead, crackling with years of inoperation. Gigi glances sidewards to see the creature standing near the lightboard, squinting at the ceiling.

It’s some sort of… devil, she thinks, but she can’t be sure. It has a pair of small, golden horns sprouting from its forehead, and its body is covered in a layer of short red fur that seems to sparkle in the artificial lights, curls of glittering hair framing its round face. The most normal thing about it is the 16th-century ruff around its neck.

“You know,” it says suddenly, “a thank-you might be nice as well.”

Gigi tenses when the creature turns to look at her, but its eyes are alight with curiosity - there is less malevolence in its small, shy smile than in the faces of some of her friends.

“…Thanks,” she mumbles, and the creature grins.

“It’s been a while since I’ve heard one of those,” it tells her, carefully stepping closer. “In fact, it’s been a while since I’ve heard anyone say anything at all.” It stops a metre away from her, its tail flicking pleasantly behind it as it sticks out a hand. “Nice to meet you. I’m Crystal.”

The name makes sense, Gigi thinks to herself; the creature - Crystal - is glittering all over like a thousand blood-red fireflies.

“Gigi,” she replies, staring at Crystal’s outstretched paw. She doesn’t take it.

After a moment, Crystal sheepishly withdraws her arm. “I guess people don’t do that anymore.”

“Why can’t you open the door?” Gigi asks, blatantly ignoring her question.

“I’m not the one who shut it.” Crystal shrugs, an air of nonchalance about her. Gigi’s heart stops, right then and there, and her blood turns to ice.

“It wasn’t you? You swear on it?”

“It wasn’t me, I promise. I can’t shut doors from that far away.”

Gigi has to take a seat. She slumps to the ground, reality slapping her twice round the face, leaving her cheeks hot and eyes stinging. She doesn’t want to believe Crystal, she really doesn’t - she wants to scream and cry and call her a liar, but there is too much sincerity in those inhuman eyes. It takes her a moment to realise she’s crying.

“Wow. Uh. Sorry, I guess?” Crystal’s voice edges its way through the cracks in Gigi’s fragmented thoughts, pulling her back to reality.

“Don’t be.” Gigi wipes her eyes with the back of her sleeve. “I just - I just can’t believe–” Her breath hitches in her throat, tears dribbling down her chin.

Crystal crouches on goat-like legs beside her, still keeping a reasonable distance. She’s quiet, and Gigi can see her biting her lips, eyes darting awkwardly around the warehouse at anything that isn’t Gigi’s tearstained face.

“I–”

“God, this is so stupid.” Gigi pauses. “Sorry.”

“No, no, keep talking. I’m listening.”

“My friends dared me to come in here,” Gigi admits. “They were calling me a coward, and I… I wanted to prove myself.” Her voice breaks, and she buries her face in her hands, mumbling through her fingers. “I’m so fucking dumb.”

“So they locked the door?” Crystal asks quietly, and Gigi nods. “Wow, that’s… they sound like. Uh. Lovely friends.”

“I can’t believe I fell for it. Nicky said I was stupid to keep trying to hang out with them, but… god, I don’t know. I just wanted to be cool.”

“Well… I think you’re pretty cool,” Crystal offers.

“You don’t even know me.”

Crystal surprises her by giggling, hiding her smile behind her hand.

“You’re the only person I’ve seen in ages, so therefore, you’re cool, since I have no-one else to compare you to.”

Gigi exhales in a breathy laugh. “Wow. Thanks, I guess. I’ll take what I can get.”

“No problem!”

In the silence that follows, Gigi looks around the warehouse, taking in her surroundings. Apart from the creature sitting next to her, everything seems to be fairly normal.

Well, except for the fact that almost every box is overturned, shelves spilling over with loose objects - there is no possible way to describe the mess that lies before her.

“How long have you been alone here?” she asks Crystal, unable to hide the incredulity from her voice. Crystal, having started shuffling through one of many boxes brimming with randomness, turns around to look at her again.

“That’s a very good question,” she replies, thoughtfully tapping her tail on the hard concrete. “I don’t know. Months? Years? Maybe decades. I… don’t get out often.”

Gigi thinks back to when the rumours started, back when she was only five or six, and people told tales of the horrors they’d seen in the warehouse. It’s been abandoned for years, but sitting here now, Gigi finds herself wondering what they were all so scared of.

“Wait, wait. Can’t you just leave? The door’s been open for, like, ever.”

Crystal shrugs. “Curses are weird.”

“You’re cursed? Is that why you’re…” she bites her lip, not wanting to sound offensive, “…red?”

Crystal blinks down at herself, as though only just remembering how she looks.

“No, no, that’s got nothing to do with it,” she smirks, and suddenly there’s a tall, humanoid figure standing in her place, with a billowing shawl and a dozen beaded necklaces, grey-tipped hair haloed around her face. A moment later, the sparkling crimson creature returns, lips curled in a shit-eating grin. “I can look however I want - red is just my natural colour. But I’m here serving some, like, spirit jail-sentence or something. I don’t really know. They said I can go back when I finish some sort of moral task, I guess, but I’ve been trapped in this place for ages and nothing ever happens.”

“So you’re just… stuck here? You can’t leave the warehouse?”

“Yep. I’ve tried a million times, but it’s like there’s some sort of invisible barrier around it.” Crystal shrugs, turning away from Gigi to return to rummaging through her box.

It isn’t hard to tell that Crystal’s nonchalant facade is faked. She’s got her back to Gigi now, her tail flicking restlessly from side to side.

“You must get so lonely,” Gigi murmurs. All of a sudden, every year she’s spent at school struggling to make friends seems like a breeze. At least she can make friends - Crystal’s been abandoned here for years, alone, with nothing but hundreds of overturned boxes to keep her company.

Her shoulders droop in a sad, humourless laugh. “I guess so. But it’s fine! I mean, how could it not be, when I have all this stuff to myself?” She pulls out a jacket covered in bright patterns and beads and shrugs it on in one swift movement. “Like, look at this. It doesn’t get any better than this.”

Pity spears itself through Gigi’s chest. “I’m sorry.”

“Pfft, don’t be. It’s kind of my fault that nobody comes by anymore.” Crystal digs around in the box again, triumphantly pulling out a small, cracked mirror. “Ahah! Found it. …Wow, I don’t look as bad as I was expecting. You sorely overreacted, you know.”

“Are you really as scary as they say?” Gigi asks, her fascination getting the better of her.

“I used to be, I guess, but people stopped coming and it got boring. Why, what have you heard?” Crystal absent-mindedly pulls at one of her fiery curls, watching in the mirror as it springs back in place.

“I’ve heard… lots of things.” Gigi thinks back to the tales that haunted much of her youth. “Like, an enormous creature of fire. And sentient ice cream–”

Crystal finally looks up again, cutting her off with a burst of laughter. “Oh, that was one of my favourites! I don’t know if the people who came in that day were morbidly terrified or just thought they were going completely nuts.”

“I’d say the latter, to be honest,” Gigi admits with a giggle.

“Yeah.” Crystal grins. “Hey, do you wanna see the ice cream monster?”

“I’m good, thanks.” Gigi is content to leave that much up to her imagination.

“Aw, shame.” Crystal waggles her fingers in Gigi’s direction, and for a moment her hand turns into ice cream, glittering like it’s covered in frozen jewels. “Let me know if you change your mind!”

Gigi laughs, still in utter disbelief that this is really happening to her. She’s sitting across from a spirit in the form of a goat-legged demon, with one outstretched paw made entirely of ice cream. It feels like a fever dream.

“Anyways,” Crystal goes on, returning her hand to normal, “while you’re stuck in here, want to go through some boxes with me?” She rummages around nearby, pulling out a long, cone-shaped, gold-and-green hat and placing it gently behind her horns. “There’s a ton of stuff here that I totally forgot about.”

“Are you sure there’s no other way out?” Gigi bites her lip, avoiding the offer. The door behind her is still firmly locked.

Crystal blinks, her bright smile wilting at the edges.

“There’s a door at the back, but it’s usually locked too… hey, how about I take you on a tour of the warehouse?” Her tone is quietly hopeful, and Gigi’s heart aches despite itself.

“Sure. I’d love that.” She pauses when Crystal offers her a hand - it’s warm, as though her palms still spark with flame, and there is strength in Crystal’s grip when she pulls her up. “Thanks.”

“No problem.” Crystal smiles easily at her, twining her tail around Gigi’s wrist to pull her along as she dashes between the rows and rows of storage shelves. There isn’t much to show except boxes, crates and piles and piles of mismatched objects, but Crystal manages to sound excited about it all anyways.

And then they reach the back of the warehouse, where an imposing set of double doors gleam in the artificial light. Gigi pulls her wrist free, scrambling towards them with her heart in her throat. She wiggles the handle, desperate, and–

Nothing happens.

She chokes back tears. How long is she going to be stuck here for? Internally, she curses the people she called her friends and her own stupidity for allowing herself to be dragged into this.

A gentle hand on her shoulder grounds her, and she looks over to see Crystal, red eyes swimming with sympathy.

“I’m sorry. I did try to warn you,” she says, and she’s close enough for Gigi to see her fangs.

“Are you - are you sure you can’t open it?” Gigi asks, a childlike whine on the edge of her tongue. She hates how pathetic she sounds.

“I’m sure,” Crystal promises. “My powers are limited to shapeshifting and fire.” She snaps her fingers, and a small burst of flame flickers briefly at the tips of her claws. “And trust me, I’ve tried burning this place down before. It worked as well as you’d expect.”

“Fuck.” Gigi rests her head against the cold metal. “What am I going to do?”

There’s a moment’s silence, and all Gigi can hear is her own heavy breathing.

“You could… stay here with me, I guess?” Crystal offers.

“Yes, but–” as much as Gigi pities her, Crystal is supposedly the story of nightmares, and Gigi doesn’t want to stay for long enough to find out why. “I - I need food, and clean clothes, and - well - human things.” She fishes around in her pocket, finally resorting to calling someone for help.

Gigi can feel Crystal’s curious eyes on her, her gaze tracking every tiny movement as she unlocks her phone. Her pointed ears prick with shocked delight when Gigi raises the device to her ear, and for a moment Gigi wonders how good her hearing is. She turns her back to Crystal as a tinny voice crackles through.

“Gigi! Hey, what’s up?”

“Nicky! I’m stuck in the–”

“Oh my god, girl, you did not.”

“Shut up! I know it was dumb, but I–”

“Gigi! I told you they were only going to hurt you. Why do you keep trying to be friends with them?” Nicky’s voice is edged with pain, and it pricks at Gigi’s skin like needles.

“I don’t… I don’t know.”

“So what have they done to you now? Locked you up in the haunted warehouse?”

“Yes, that’s… exactly what happened.”

“You’re so fucking stupid.”

“I know, I know, can you just– fuck!”

Gigi is abruptly bowled over by the force of Crystal’s excitement, leaving her sprawled on her back, winded and annoyed. Crystal sits pleasantly on her stomach and pries the phone from her fingers.

“Hello!” she yells eagerly at the phone before raising it to her ear. “Oh my gosh! This really is a talking box! I can’t believe it. Hi! I’m Crystal!”

Gigi watches as Crystal’s cheerful expression morphs into an affronted frown, her bottom lip jutting out in a pout. After a moment, she tosses the phone roughly onto Gigi’s chest.

“Your talking box is mean. Tell it to learn some manners.”

Gigi manages a laugh, Crystal’s weight on her stomach still making it hard to breathe.

“Gigi! GIGI!”

“I’m here, I’m here.”

“Gigi, who the fuck was that?”

“The spirit that’s been haunting this place for the last decade.”

“Ohh, so it’s been a decade,” Crystal gasps above her, quietly astonished.

“Wait, it’s actually haunted?” Nicky asks, startled. “Gigi, please tell me you’re alright. Are you hurt? Did it do anything to you?”

“No, no, I’m fine, I’m just - I’m just kind of locked in here right now.” Her voice shakes, and she blames it on the fact she can’t quite breathe properly.

“I’m coming to get you. Hang in there, okay? I won’t be long, I promise.”

“Thanks, Nicky,” Gigi whispers, gratitude a hard lump in her throat.

“Nicky’s much too nice a name for such a nasty box,” Crystal tells her once she puts the phone back down.

“Please let me up,” Gigi gasps, wheezing with laughter. Crystal huffs before she complies, pulling Gigi to her feet again. She dusts off her clothes before asking incredulously, “you’ve never seen a phone before? They existed ten years ago.”

“Woah, wait! So that’s what a phone looks like?”

“Yeah–”

Before she knows it, Crystal has twined her prehensile tail around the device and plucked it straight out of Gigi’s hands. Gigi watches as she holds it up in front of her face, inspecting it, before tapping lightly on the screen and gasping delightedly when it flares to life.

“Hey! Look! That’s you…” Crystal points at Gigi’s smiling face, staring back at her from Gigi’s lockscreen. “And who’s this? She’s pretty.”

“That’s Nicky.” Gigi’s chest warms at the sight of her.

“Wait, the one you were just talking to?” Crystal scrunches up her nose in distaste. “But she’s so mean! Why do you like her so much?”

Gigi laughs - Crystal’s first impression of Nicky hardly surprises her.

“Yeah, she can be pretty intense, but she’s really fun once you get to know her.” Gigi sighs quietly, skin suddenly crawling with guilt - this whirlwind of a morning has really put things into perspective for her. Nicky was right, and she sees it now; it was stupid to go chasing after people who didn’t care about her simply for a vote of popularity. Gigi looks at Nicky’s gentle, charming smile and aches.

And then the phone begins to ring, vibrating softly in Crystal’s tail. She jerks backwards, so surprised she nearly drops it.

“Jackie,” she reads aloud, slow and careful, testing the shape of every syllable on her tongue. She glances sidewards at Gigi, a devilish grin spreading across her face.

“Crystal, whatever you’re planning–”

“Accept call!” she yells delightedly, pressing the button with gusto.

“No– stop– Crystal!”

She twirls away from Gigi, tapping the phone again.

“Speaker!”

“Hello? Gigi?” a concerned voice rattles through the phone.

“Hello!” Crystal says cheerfully before her skull transforms into something dark and shapeless, her voice little more than an ominous rumbling. “Welcome to the apocalypse,” she intones, and Gigi can see her biting back a grin, stark white fangs on display.

“Gigi! Gigi, are you there? Is everything okay?”

“Jackie! Hi! Yes, everything’s fine!” Gigi exclaims, before Crystal can get another word in.

“The world is ending,” Crystal growls. “Death is imminent!”

“Gigi, what in the world is going on? Nicky said you’re stuck in the old warehouse, and that it really is haunted, but I didn’t want to believe her.”

“No, it is,” Gigi tells her, sharing a secret smile with Crystal. “I’m afraid you got the bad side of my new friend, though.”

Crystal’s eyes soften as her head shifts back to normal. “We’re friends?” she squeaks, and her face is alight with such childlike joy that Gigi’s heart melts.

“Your friend?” Jackie questions, not quite sharing in Crystal’s delight.

“Yeah. She’s keeping me company while I’m stuck in here.”

“Hellooo!” Crystal purrs into the phone. “Don’t worry, I’m very nice. I’m just a little devil that likes to raise hell in the Bible Belt.”

“How long did it take you to think of that one?” Gigi grins.

“Well, to be fair, I had ten years and several crates of old books at my disposal.”

“Gigi, you’re sure you’re okay?” Jackie’s voice crackles through the phone again, thick with worry.

“One hundred percent,” Gigi replies, warm with Jackie’s kind concern. “Crystal was just messing with you. Everything’s fine.”

Jackie breathes out in a whoosh of air. “Call me if anything happens, okay? Nicky’s already on her way.”

“Will do. Thanks, Jackie.”

“Stay safe.”

The call cuts off, and Crystal tosses the phone back, looking far too proud of herself. Watching her, Gigi can’t help but think that for a moment back there, she’d been eye-to-eye with the monster from the stories.

“Crystal…”

“Yes?”

There’s a playful gleam in her candy-apple eyes. Maybe it was always that way - there is no malice in the cool air.

“Why did you stop scaring people?” Gigi asks. What made you spare me?

Crystal toys with the edges of her kaleidoscopic jacket, her gaze darting away.

“I got kinda lonely.” There’s the briefest of pauses before her bright smile returns and she flicks Gigi’s forehead with her tail. “But now you’re here, so everything’s okay!”

“…It was always just for fun, wasn’t it?”

Crystal lets out a short, dry laugh, looking slightly unnerved. “What’s with all the personal questions all of a sudden?”

“No, I’m just–” sheepishly, Gigi scratches the back of her neck. “Sorry. I’m just curious. Everyone always used to say there was a monster here, that we couldn’t come play here anymore because it’d kill us.”

Crystal’s face drops. The wounded look in her eyes doesn’t suit her.

“They really thought that?” Crystal’s voice is suddenly small. “I never meant to hurt anyone. It’s… it’s just like you said. It was all for fun. Gosh, no wonder everyone avoided me for so long.”

Gigi can see it clearly now, should’ve been able to see it from the moment Crystal lit that small burst of flame in the darkness.

“God, I’m sorry,” she says. “I shouldn’t have brought it up.”

“No, I’m glad you did,” Crystal assures her. “I guess I need to work on being nicer.”

“If it helps, I think you’re doing a good job.”

Crystal ignores the compliment in favour of removing her tall, cone-shaped hat and placing it gently atop Gigi’s head.

“There, perfect,” she giggles, and Gigi is pleased to see joy returning in a golden flush to her cheeks. “I feel much better.”

Gigi strikes a pose, pretending she’s on the front cover of a fashion magazine. “How do I look?”

“Awful. Terrible. It suits you.”

Shrieking with indignant laughter, Gigi swats Crystal’s shoulder. “Okay, nope, you still have lots of character building to do, you nasty little devil.”

Crystal’s body suddenly begins to grow, her features changing until she’s an enormous, black-horned beast, her face fixed in a permanent snarl. “Did someone call?”

“I said little,” Gigi laughs.

Crystal flicks her lightly with the spade-shaped tip of her tail. “Shut up. I’m much cooler this way.”

“I think I prefer the regular you. She’s much easier to talk to,” Gigi tells her - she’s craning her neck to see Crystal’s face and mostly getting an eyeful of the inside of her nose.

Crystal bares enormous fangs in what might be a smile before shrinking back into her usual spritely form. She reaches out, her face close enough for Gigi to see the freckles of glitter along her cheeks, and adjusts the clown hat until it sits askew on Gigi’s head.

“I have the best idea,” she says, and Gigi likes the way her eyes crinkle when she smiles. Without waiting for a response, she takes Gigi’s hand in her own and pulls her deep into the clutter, cloven hooves clicking on the hard concrete.

Gigi feels tiny in the forest of steel, a rainbow of fabrics and toys and books spilling from the shelves like unkempt vegetation. The warehouse is like a world all its own - a whispered secret, a breathless discovery, that belongs to her and Crystal and nobody else. Crystal’s soft palm is warm in hers, and for the first time since she’s been here, Gigi allows herself to feel at ease.

“Here we are!” Crystal says, and Gigi can’t help but be disappointed when she tugs her hand free, swiftly scaling the shelf. She pushes box after box onto the ground, watching as they succumb to gravity and spill feathers and frills, buttons and bows, all over the floor. When she’s done, she peers over the edge at Gigi, and the sparkle in her eyes is still bright even from this far away. “Welcome to the costume aisle!”

“What are we going to do, play dress-up?”

“Well, yeah! I thought it would be something fun to do while we wait,” Crystal beams, leaping easily back down to the ground. “Don’t you think?”

All of the people Gigi tried to call her ‘friends’ would have sneered at her if she proposed this idea to them. But standing here now, looking at Crystal’s earnest grin and her mismatched ruff and jacket, Gigi throws all her doubts to the wind, letting her face stretch into a bright smile. The six-year-old girl in her who always wanted to be a princess has woken up again, and Gigi can feel her childlike excitement radiating through her skin.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Crystal chuckles, picking up a sparkling green jacket and draping it over Gigi’s shoulders. “Beautiful. It matches your hat.”

In return, Gigi finds a flower crown among the mess and places it gently on Crystal’s head. The warm yellows and pinks of the petals bring out the jewel tones in her face, and for a moment, Gigi can only stop and stare. Crystal’s cheeks blossom with gold under her gaze, dark lips quirking in a shy smile.

“You look gorgeous,” Gigi tells her, flicking her lightly in the forehead.

Crystal giggles. “And you look ridiculous.”

“Hey! You said I looked beautiful just a second ago!”

“Yeah, nah.” Turning away, Crystal rummages through the overturned boxes. “I can do better than that. Didn’t spend a decade here for nothing.”

Gigi laughs, watching as Crystal tosses aside various garments and accessories, clearly dissatisfied with everything she’s finding. Finally, she sits back on her hooves with a sound of delight - she’s clutching something in rippling shades of blue like the ocean, and Gigi’s curiosity piques.

“Look at these!” Turning around, Crystal proudly holds out a denim top and jeans. “They’ll look so good on you, I’m sure of it… the blue matches your eyes.”

She presses the garments into Gigi’s hands. The denim is soft and worn, the seams fraying at the edges, but the pieces have clearly been put together with care. Gigi holds up the bottoms to admire the craftsmanship: from the knees down, strips of denim in different shades have been sewn together to create the illusion of something like a circus top. She’s never seen anything like this before, but she’s immediately captivated.

“I think I chose well,” Crystal comments beside her, pride seeping in through the edges of her voice.

“You did! I’m curious, though… how did all this” - Gigi gestures outwards at the mess - “even end up here?” Even the jacket on her shoulders seems like it could have been expensive, if moths hadn’t already eaten at the inner lining.

Crystal shrugs, as though the question has never occurred to her before. “I guess it’s just all old stuff nobody wants anymore. No-one’s ever come to pick it up - most of it looked like it had been used before I got here, anyways.”

“This place is like a treasure trove,” Gigi breathes, finally realising the value of what she’s stumbled into.

“Really?” Crystal asks, dubious.

“Yeah! It’s like a time capsule. Imagine what else is in here! There’s so much stuff to draw inspiration from.”

“Ohh, like fashion inspiration?” Understanding dawns in Crystal’s eyes. “Are you, like, a designer?”

“I want to be,” Gigi admits. “It’s… kind of a dream of mine.”

“Well then, I’m very happy to be of assistance. Now go try on those things before Nicky gets here!” Crystal exclaims, shooing Gigi away.

Ducking into the next aisle, Gigi changes into the denim outfit, fluffing out the waves in her auburn hair until it neatly frames her face. The denim top is off-the-shoulder, long sleeves hugging her arms, and Gigi feels beautiful.

“I’m coming back,” she calls out. There’s a squeak of excitement in response and when she turns the corner, Crystal is waiting expectantly, an obscene amount of colourful beaded necklaces piled on top of her ruff.

“Oh my gosh!” she squeals, bounding up to Gigi, every step punctuated by the loud clicking of plastic beads. “You look gorgeous! I was right, this really suits you. Blue is definitely your colour.”

“Thank you,” Gigi replies, warm with Crystal’s effervescent compliments. Gesturing to Crystal’s neck, she asks, “what’s all this?”

Her tone must be overflowing with amusement, because Crystal grins, as cheerfully radiant as the pearl-white lights above them. “Aren’t they awesome? I love accessories. Hey, I should find some for you!”

Without waiting for a reply, Crystal picks out a string of beads from around her own neck and puts them on Gigi, soft hands brushing her bare shoulders. The necklace is a gorgeous cyan with a large beaded flower, crystalline blues and silvers emblazoned across Gigi’s chest. There’s a tenderness in Crystal’s eyes when she stands back to look at Gigi, who strikes a pose, feeling like Crystal’s gaze has stripped her right down to her core.

They both stiffen at a sudden banging from the front of the warehouse. There’s a metallic creaking and an accented voice permeates the air, calling Gigi’s name.

She drops her pose immediately, rushing from Crystal’s side towards the pool of golden sun collecting in the doorway. There’s a person standing there, outlined by the light, and Gigi has never been happier to see anyone in her life. Lunging at Nicky, she winds her arms tightly around her shoulders, breathing in the sweet French vanilla scent of her.

“Nicky. Oh my god, I’m so happy to see you.”

“I’m so glad you’re okay,” Nicky whispers against her hair. “I was so worried. I was scared if I didn’t get here fast enough–”

“Shh.” Leaning back, Gigi can see the stark worry pooling in Nicky’s gorgeous eyes. “It’s okay. I’m okay. Thank you for coming to get me.” Her throat is tight with gratitude and joy at seeing Nicky’s face again. Gigi has missed her, has never felt so lucky to know someone in her life. Guilt rips at the edges of her heart as she thinks about all those times Nicky was her second choice, when she left her hanging to go running off after people who should have mattered less. And yet, Nicky is still here, still looking at Gigi with that genuine care and adoration. Gigi hugs her again, holds her close, never wants to let her go.

Eventually, a gentle tap on her shoulder gets Gigi to move again. Drawing back from Nicky, she turns and meets earnest red eyes - it’s Crystal, shyly holding out her clothes.

“Don’t leave these behind,” she says, pressing the balled-up fabric into Gigi’s hands. “And keep the denim… you look beautiful.” She hesitates, takes a quiet breath. “It was really nice spending time with you. Thank you.” There’s unsaid words in the warmth of her gaze, touching Gigi with strokes of sunshine gold.

“Thank you too,” she whispers, wrapping Crystal in a hug. She squeaks in surprise before reciprocating, enveloping Gigi in her velvet touch.

“Are you Crystal?” Nicky cuts in after a moment, and Crystal reluctantly steps back, nodding silently.

Nicky’s gentle face has gone tense, her lips pursed, and Gigi sees steel in her wintry eyes. She jumps between them, opening her mouth to say something, anything, to dispel the tension.

And then Nicky smiles.

“Thank you for looking after her,” she says cordially to Crystal, before throwing an arm across Gigi’s shoulders and tapping her on the nose. “God knows this dumb bitch can’t do anything for herself.”

There’s sincere humour behind the words, and Gigi laughs, pushing her away. “You’re so mean. I hate you.”

“It was my pleasure,” Crystal giggles. “It’s lovely to finally meet you, Nicky. Gigi told me a lot about you.”

“Did she really?” Nicky quirks a curious, playful eyebrow at Gigi. “What did she say?”

“Only good things,” Crystal assures her.

“Ah, très bien. I’d be surprised if she found anything bad to say about me - I’m far too fabulous.”

Crystal laughs. “Gigi was right - you are fun.”

“Well, what can I say? I can’t tell a lie to save my life,” Gigi chuckles.

Nicky snorts, and Crystal hides an amused smile behind her fist. After a moment, they lapse into a comfortable silence, before Gigi steps forward and takes both of Crystal’s hands in hers.

“I guess I should go soon,” she sighs, rubbing her thumbs over Crystal’s knuckles.

“You’ll come back though, won’t you?”

There’s a tender hopefulness in her tone, in her eyes, that tugs at Gigi’s fragile heartstrings.

“Of course.” She pulls Crystal into another hug, holding her close, holding her tight. “I’ll see you again. I promise.”

Crystal relaxes into her touch, and Gigi can feel her smiling against her cheek. “I’ll be here.”

They stand like that for several heartbeats, before Nicky gently rests her hand on Gigi’s shoulder and pulls her back. “We should go,” she whispers. “People are waiting. They’re worried about you.”

Crystal nods in silent understanding, stepping back, and the air around Gigi goes cold again.

“I’m really glad I met you,” she says, quietly sincere, waving gently as Gigi leaves with her hand in Nicky’s.

The door falls shut behind them, heavy with finality. Crystal stands alone beneath the harsh white lights, a blossom of hope flaring orange and bright in her chest.

[ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes]

Field of Poppies Part 7

Summary: After being apart for six years, childhood friends Tommy and Amelia reunite under odd circumstances. Tommy is an outspoken young man and Amelia is pregnant and out on the streets. The bond of family can be unbreakable but it is tested often. Especially when Europe descends into war.

Part 7: Amelia decides on a name for her baby, Tommy decides on a name for his gang. 

             “Look at that.” Amelia folded the knitted blanket over the railing of the cot. It had been a present from her employers at the grocery store. They had given her a couple of months off of work so she could deliver the baby and get settled. “All ready.”

            Tommy was sitting on the chest at the end of her bed. “Just need the baby now.”

            She smiled and rested a hand on her swollen abdomen. “Couple more weeks.”

            “Are you nervous?” He asked.

            “I don’t know.” She admitted and adjusted the sheets on the cot. It was perfect, just waiting to cradle the little boy that was due. “I suppose I am but it feels okay, lie everything will be taken care of.”

            “It will be,” Tommy promised. “You don’t need to worry about a thing.”

            Amelia went to sit on the bed, leaning back on her hands to try and ease the ache in her lower back. “I can’t imagine how things would end up without you, Tom.” She murmured softly.

            “You’d be alright.” He stood up and stepped in front of her. Cautiously, he tucked a piece of her hair behind her ear. Although they had confessed their love to one another the month prior, neither of them took a step to show that affection. Either because they were always surrounded by family or they weren’t sure what to do. How to allow things to begin.

            Tommy and Amelia were very familiar with one another, being friends for so long. But being in love was so different that they almost had no clue how to handle it. It was new territory. Tommy had flings before, girls flocked to him. A combination of blue eyes and a reputation for trouble was alluring. But with Amelia, it was different. Tommy saw a future, which was very unlike him. Most of his plans were related to lifting his family out of the slums of Birmingham. He wanted to make others understand the hardships of the working man. But with Amelia, he saw a personal future.

            She took his hands in hers. “I was thinking about what we could name him.” The change of subject brought Tommy out of his thoughts.

            “Yeah?”

            “Remember I told you about the woman at the fair who I talked to for a bit?”

            “With the baby?”

            “Right, Maxine. I was thinking we could name him after her. I mean if Polly’s right about the gender.”

            Tommy chuckled and gently grazed his thumb over her knuckles. “She’s never been wrong yet. Me mum said she knew what gender each of us would be months before we were born.”

            Amelia smiled. “Well, then we’ll have to name him Maxwell. Max for short?”

            “That sounds like a fine name.” He agreed. Tommy didn’t want to suggest naming the boy after his father and he had a feeling she wouldn’t want to name him after her father either. Neither of them was a role model.

            “Maxwell Thomas Shelby.”

            Tommy looked surprised, wondering if he’d heard her right.

            Amelia looked a little sheepish. “I mean if you don’t mind if he takes your last name. I didn’t really want to give him mine.”

            “I wouldn’t mind at all but…you want to give him my name too?”

            “Why not?” It was a no-brainer to Amelia.

            “I just-” He shrugged and realized he was at a loss for words. The simple act of giving the boy his name was just solidifying the future he would have with Amelia. It was exciting but also petrifying. For the first time in his life, he was thinking about ‘forever’ and not just the brief moment. Everything suddenly had long term consequences. Things he couldn’t walk away from. But he didn’t want to walk away. He wanted to be by Amelia’s side forever. “I’m never gonna leave you, Mel.”

            “I know you wouldn’t.” She looked up at him, trust in her brown eyes.

            Tommy, overcome by the moment, threw caution to the wind. He helped her stand up from the bed so he could kiss her.

            Amelia let go of his hands and for a moment, he was afraid she was going to push him away. But instead, she wrapped her arms around his neck so she could bring him as close as she could.

            It was a thrilling moment but Amelia also felt exceptionally safe. As if Tommy could keep her completely out of harm’s way as long as he was near.

            And back then, Amelia thought he could.

 ~~~~~~~~~

            The betting shop was gaining attention fast. But Amelia was purposefully kept in the dark. The less she knew, the better. And Tommy knew it wasn’t to mislead her or be deceptive. He just didn’t want her to worry about any of the business side. He wanted her to live a comfortable life removed from any of the danger the betting shop might garner.

            Tommy and Arthur had spent a lifetime learning to defend themselves. But they needed to become better. More ready. That’s when the idea of concealing razor blades came up.

            “Coppers can take guns ‘n shit, but what if they can’t find any weapons on us even when we’re still armed?” Arthur mused in the empty betting shop with Tommy one night after closing.

            Tommy posed this to Great Jurossi who worked at her family’s tailor shop. After becoming a loyal member to the union cause and the communist party, the young woman trusted Tommy. So, she didn’t question his reasons for wanting a concealed weapon. The streets of Birmingham were rough, a lot of people had weapons.

            She came back with a prototype of sorts. One of Tommy’s flat caps with two razor blades sewn into the brim. A suitable weapon and a clever one as well.

            And it worked a dream when one of the Birmingham Boys came around talking shit.

            Two weeks after the Appleby Fair, Tommy was accosted by a man who told him Billy Kimber didn’t appreciate his territory being threatened.

            It wasn’t a fair fight, especially since the man hadn’t even reached for his gun before Tommy slipped his cap off. Adrenaline pumping, Tommy gouged the man’s eye out.

            The man screamed as he clutched his face, blood pouring down his hands and arms. He fell to his knees in agony.

            Tommy, his heart pounding like nothing he’d felt before, stood over the man. He clutched his flat cap close, the man’s blood dripping from the blades. “You go back and tell your boss, to never fuck with the Peaky Blinders.” He said in a ragged voice before taking his leave.

           ~~~~~~~~~~~

            The name was pieced together by Tommy. Although he took two separate comments from Greta and Arthur and pieced them together.

            “It’s got a blade peeking out the top,” Greta said as she showed him what she’d put together. “So you need to be careful with it now, if you grab it the wrong way, you’ll cut your hand.”

            Peek.

            “Fucking hell,” Arthur said when he examined the cap. He held it firm in his grip. “You could blind a hundred men without skipping a beat with this thing.”

            Blind.

~~~~~~~~~ 

            “That’s a fucking stupid name,” Freddie remarked from his spot on the front stoop.

            “I weren’t asking your opinion. That’s what we’ll be known as.” Tommy insisted. “People will remember it.”

            “Yeah,” Arthur agreed. “From Brighton to Blackpool, everyone will know the Peaky Fucking Blinders!” He crowed proudly.

            Danny laughed. “So, we’ll have a uniform then, like those cavalry dicks?”

            Tommy shook his head. “The hat isn’t a uniform, it’s a weapon. And a damn good one.”

            “Yeah, he cut a Birmingham Boy so badly, he won’t ever fucking see again.” Arthur grabbed his younger brother by the shoulder and shook him playfully.

            “You did what?” Freddie’s eyes widened. “Tom, Billy Kimber owns the racetracks, what are you bloody thinking by cutting one of his men?”

            “He was on our territory,” Tommy answered simply with a shrug as he lit his cigarette with a match and shook Arthur off.

            “Territory-you don’t have any fucking territory.” Freddie protested. “You’re biting off more than you can chew.”

            “I know what I’m doing.”

            “You could do more with Greta. You’ll have people who will be backing you up, Tom. It’ll help Small Heath more.” Freddie argued.

            “That’s the end goal, mate,” Arthur said. “We’re helping more than those bastards in the Commons ever will.”

            “Greta knows the extent of the law,” Tommy spoke after a long drag from the cigarette. “As do we, but we choose to not follow the law because the law’s never helped us. If we play by their rules, they win. If we play by our rules, we win. Then they’ll have to pay us some attention instead of kicking us to the dirt like they have for generations. But you can’t build Rome overnight, aye?”

            Freddie looked displeased but just shrugged.

            “Who’s building Rome?” Amelia came down the sidewalk, only catching the tail end of what Tommy was saying.

            “Geez Louise, Mel, you’re ‘bouta pop!” Danny remarked.

            Amelia rolled her eyes. “I’m well aware, Danny.” She giggled. Indeed, it was so close to her due date. In fact, it was a miracle Polly and Tommy had let her go for a little walk up and down the block. Tommy was afraid she might go right into labor down the street.

            Tommy ditched his cigarette so he could help Amelia up the front stairs. “Yeah, should be any day now.” He was hoping she would forget anything she heard if he didn’t mention it.

            “Oh, Tom, you’ve got a stain on your hat.” She noticed. “Want me to clean it?”

            “No, no, I can do it.” He waved her off. He wondered if she’d noticed his wariness around his hat. Ever since Greta had sewn in the razorblades, he’d made extra sure to know where it was, never just tossing it to the side. The last thing he wanted was for anyone else to pick it up and see what had been added, worse even, they might accidentally cut themselves.

            “I don’t mind.”

            “You need to be resting.” He said and walked into the flat behind her. “How are your feet?”

            “They ache, I guess.” She was a bit suspicious of how quickly he was to change the subject. “Is something the matter?”

            “I’m just…” Tommy had a hard time meeting her eyes. But that was a mistake because it made Amelia zero in on the brim of his hat.

            “Tommy?” She reached up to slip his hat off his head.

            “Mel, stop.” He tried to stop her but she was too quick.

            “What is this?” She inspected the brim with confusion. “Are these-Tommy!” When she pushed back the fabric of the cap, she could see the distinct lines of a razor blade. “Tommy, what the fuck are you doing with bloody razor blades in your hat?” She exclaimed.

            “Sh, sh, c’mon.” Tommy tried to quiet her so Polly wouldn’t hear the conversation. His aunt didn’t know anything about the Birmingham Boys or the Peaky Blinders.

            “No don’t shush me! I deserve an explanation for this!” She shook the hat in his face.

            “It’s just a precaution.” He said calmly.

            Amelia made a noise of displeasure and she pushed his cap back toward him. “I told you this betting shop was a bad idea, Tommy, it’s only going to get you into trouble. What happens when you’re arrested? You said you were going to be there for me and the baby!”

            “I’m not-Mel, I’m keeping my promise. But this money is going to be good for the family. I’m not going to be my father. I won’t let the baby go hungry every night like we did.” He asserted.

            “We can make do without getting into trouble,” Amelia argued. “This isn’t the only route.”

            “You’re right, but I’m not going to waste me life working for no compensation. If we rely on jobs in Birmingham we’ll never get anywhere. We need to rise above this, Mel, and this is how we’re going to do it.”

            Amelia looked uneasy. “It doesn’t feel right that you need to carry weapons with you.”

            “I’m sorry, but it’ll be alright. You won’t have to worry about me.” He touched her cheek gently and kissed her forehead. “Just trust me.”

            “I trust you.” She said quietly. Though her world had been shaken, Amelia had no clue what was to come.

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Episode 3: Across the Street

All right, this one's the statement of an "Amy Patel," given when I was 27 years old.

We've got another student—an office worker taking a Criminology course at night as a sort of distraction from her boring job. One of her fellow students is a man named Graham, about a decade older than her, and a bit off-putting.

He smokes a lot, which means I wouldn't be able to even be around him because the smell would burn like acid and sandpaper in my nose and lungs and throat. Apparently this isn't a problem for Amy Patel though, which I find kind of enviable because dang it, isn't my life painful enough without all the extra pain any time I'm around anyone who smokes? They may think they're covering it with deodorant or perfume or aftershave or whatever, but they’re not, and the extra scents just make it worse, really... and those chemicals smell like poison.

He also scribbles furiously in a notebook during lectures, but says he doesn't take notes.

So either he doesn't realize he's doing it, or what he's writing has nothing to do with the lectures he's in, which... what's the point of being in the lecture, then?

She only sees him in classes until one night when they're both on the same bus. He's in front of her, so she's able to watch him without him knowing (which, personally, I think is the best way to watch people), and he's staring out the window like he's looking for something, scanning streets and rooftops.

At which point Amy Patel does a quite incomprehensible thing and goes and says hi.

And sits down next to him.

And talks to him.

Who, may I ask, thinks that's an okay thing to do?

Bafflingly, Graham seems fine with it. In fact he almost seems to like it, since he relaxes when she sits down by him, and apparently carries on a conversation about nothing with reasonable facility. I don't understand either of these people.

Then it turns out they've both got the same stop, at which point Amy returns to sanity for a bit and isn't comfortable with him knowing where she lives.

They get off the bus and they're both heading the same direction, and it's looking like they live on the same street, actually, when Amy (walking behind Graham) gets grabbed from behind and thrown into the street. By... apparently no one. Ooh, I'm thinking we've just encountered whatever Graham was scanning the streets for on the bus!

Strange that it would go for her, though.

Because it's the middle of the night and there are basically no cars, she doesn't get run over. But she does get a concussion.

Actually she gets knocked out for a bit, and because of the way head wounds bleed there is apparently a notable amount of blood and Graham calls an ambulance. The paramedics patch her up and tell her not to be alone for the next few hours because concussion.

That sounds terrible, frankly.

Even if I had a concussion, I think I'd be fine on my own, thanks. I can set alarms and things. Plus I've always been quite disciplined mentally.

In any case, she doesn't want Graham knowing where she lives, so she goes home with him—which doesn't strike me as much better, as these things go, but I suppose if one had to choose... well, why not find an all-night store or a restaurant or something?

It turns out all right, though, because she's able to learn that Graham's apartment is just across the street from hers and only two floors lower, which is not ideal for spying but not bad for it either. Also she spots a couple of hooks inside the window and assumes they support a window box, but when she looks again the hooks are gone. I'm... that's worrying. That's delightfully shivery, and brings back memories of whatever shoved her and vanished.

Graham has a lot of bookshelves, which I approve, but apparently they all hold notebooks, which I'm less sure about.

I mean, I have seven or eight bookshelves myself, but they all have books on them. Proper books, written by people who aren't me, mostly in English but maybe 200 or so in Japanese and a couple in, you know, German and Greek and that—normal books, is my point.

Not notebooks.

Also, they're categorized by language, then genre, and within genre, ordered by author's family name. Graham's notebooks, on the other hand, don't seem to have any system at all.

I do not approve.

So he settles her down on the sofa and gets her an icepack for her head and some tea for her insides, which is nice, and then he doesn't know how to handle silence, which is less nice. I mean, don't get me wrong: it's enjoyable to learn things about people. I can't count the number of times complete strangers have come up to me and told me things about themselves I never asked, and I've never objected. But when one has a concussion, I feel, people should leave one alone.

In any case, Graham tells Amy his life story, and she becomes thoroughly enraptured by his living room table in preference to listening to him.

The table interests me, too.

Apparently it's wooden, ornately carved, and has a hypnotic pattern of weaving lines on the surface which lead toward the center of the table, where there's a small square hole. Graham notices her staring and provides some information: he found it in a secondhand shop in bad shape and fixed it up but can't find the bit that goes in the middle.

Meanwhile, outside the window that doesn't have a window box in it, there are weird noises that Amy Patel assumes are pipes but I do not.

I'm thinking whatever it was that threw her into the street is hanging outside the window with its hook-hands, being creepy. Ooh, that's such a spooky thought! I really like it. I believe it's after Graham, but clearly it's not averse to going after her as well, so....

Anyway, Amy Patel heads off to be alone sooner than the medics said was okay, which I really can't fault her for, and does just fine.

A few days later, though, she starts spying on Graham.

Because she knows where he lives now, of course, and which window is his!

Honestly, I would have started spying a lot sooner. Actual real-life humans are far more interesting than fictional ones, and I like information, especially when it's about particular humans and no one knows I have it. Here, at least, Amy Patel makes sense to me. She makes Graham-watching her hobby "purely out of a detached interest in his life." I understand that.

And what she sees is weird.

He's obsessed with his notebooks, apparently, but can't seem to order them properly no matter how many times he reorganizes them, and sometimes he writes even in the ones that are already full.

Oh, and then there's the time he pulls down a notebook, tears out its pages, and eats them one at a time.

See, that's just weird.

Plus he's constantly freaking out any time there's an unexpected noise, running to the window and craning around like he's looking for something (then calming down when, apparently, he doesn't see it). And when he's not doing weird things with his notebooks, he just sits around chain smoking and staring at nothing, or at that strangely hypnotic table.

Which doesn't seem healthy to me. But Amy Patel says he leaves the apartment regularly and she doesn't follow to watch him outside it—which I might do—so who knows what all else he gets up to?

They're not in the same course anymore because she had to drop out, so he never sees her.

And then on Friday, April 7th, the real spooky happens.

Amy Patel is staring into Graham's living room via the window, and his light's on but he isn't in the room, so she's waiting for him.

Then she notices that there's a water pipe outside the window where there never was one before. And then it bends. And Amy Patel realizes that it's a long, thin arm—which reminds me of the long, thin arm in that dark alley from the first episode! Is this that same monster? It is the same world....

Anyway, it hooks the end of itself through the window.

Told you those weren't window box hooks.

And then the whole thing pulls itself through the window really fast, which is unhelpful. I'd quite like a better description! It's mottled gray, apparently, with at least four limbs. It whisks inside and the window slams after it and the light in Graham's flat goes right out.

Whereupon Amy Patel calls the police and reports a break-in.

I... I wouldn't do that.

I mean, it's not that it doesn't seem like a good thing to do, but I just wouldn't. I don't like using the phone. Text messages are fine, but one can't exactly text the police, can one? And that's about all I'd be comfortable doing.

She stares at the window until the police arrive—and when they do, the light goes back on in Graham's apartment.

The police go up, and a stranger lets them in: somebody shorter than Graham, with blond curly hair instead of short, dark hair... somebody wearing Graham's clothes. And the police search the place, looking for an intruder, and find nobody (because the intruder is right there, pretending to be the lawful owner of the place).

Which pretense you'd think would've gone right out the, uh, window it came in by when one of the cops finds a passport—but no! She looks at the passport, looks at the stranger, and decides they're the same person.

Oooh, that's freaky. I like it.

The police drive away and Amy Patel watches them go... and then she looks up and the imposter is looking right at her.

And he grins.

And pulls the curtains.

Oh, geez louise! That's lovely. That's just beautiful; I love it. That is so creepy.

So now Graham's gone. There's only this new person, who apparently throws away all Graham's notebooks, and keeps the curtains closed except when he's staring at Amy Patel's window, which he does every night. I suppose turnabout is fair play, but when the one doing the turning isn't—well, that doesn't seem right!

Personally, I would've gone through the garbage. I mean, you never know: maybe those notebooks would've cleared some things up... and even if they didn't, more information is always welcome.

Ooh, and whenever she finds a picture with Graham in it, it's always this new guy! While nobody from the course seems to remember him at all.

That is some power. I am impressed.

And then she runs into Not-Graham one day before work and he says he'll need to visit her one of these days, whereupon she moves away. And this seems to do the trick, since she says she never saw him again.

These stories are so good! I know this is only the third one I've listened to so far, but my. We are off to a good start.

Mr. Sims would like to dismiss this particular story, I think, but he's having trouble because Amy Patel is frankly very sane. Which he knows because Tim (the same assistant from last time) got hold of her medical records. Which doesn't seem legal? Jonathan Sims doesn't seem to care about legality so much he does as finance, though.

"He'd better not be using Institute funds to woo filing clerks again," he says.

Again?

Uh.... I'm not sure what kind of research the Magnus Institute does, but it looks like Mr. Sims, at least, is more interested in getting information than in following the rules.

Interestingly, the Institute somehow managed to get a whole bunch of photos of Graham (last name Folger, like the coffee), and only the Polaroids show the original Graham. Which reminds me of the bit in the first episode where Mr. Sims said some of the archive files apparently couldn't be recorded except with an old-fashioned tape recorder....

Ooh, and they got one of his old journals!

Which was apparently just full of "Keep Watching," written over and over again. So... way less helpful than I'd hoped. Oh well. Still nice to know.

I'm not sure this is the same monster from the first episode. I mean, that one seemed to vanish people for good and all, not replace them. But they—I dunno, they strike me as similar somehow. So perhaps they're, sort of, monstery cousins or something?

The coffin one seems very different from these two.

But I suppose I could be wrong.