#I’m dealing with a lot right now in the ol’ noggin

[ghoul--doodle]

Commissions are gonna stay closed for a bit longer :}

I talked abt it over on my instagram a lil bit but I want to take a step back from digital art for a little bit n try and focus on other stuff

I’m not gonna be quitting or anything- I’m just struggling a lot creatively at the moment and I think a change of pace would be nice!

[thedarkestgreys]

16, 20 and 28

🥰🥰🥰🥰

16) do you research for your fics? if so, how deep of a rabbit hole have you gone down by accident while researching?

totally depends on the fic. there’s certain things I feel like it’s totally fine to just make up for the sake of making a plot work, but not so much for others. Currently I’m learning a lot about drugs and their side effects, cost, etc… 😅😅😅 but back in the day my knowledge of the world of ASOIAF/GoT was extensive due to research, like to the point that it was easier for certain friends to just ask me clarify canon material instead of looking up the information themselves 🤷🏻‍♀️ (all that information is probably still trapped away in the ol’ noggin)

20) Whats your favorite part about the fanfiction writing process?

Right now it’s when I’m hitting particular parts of my outlined draft that I’m really looking forward to writing. I don’t think I use a lot of filler content, but there’s always going to be Big Moments that I have planned that I’m really excited to get to writing. Certain lines I’ve had planned and getting to finally put down (“You’re not dangerous. You’re Fezco.” is a great example imo) and getting to see reactions to them when it’s finally publish is always something I enjoy!

28) How do you deal with writing pressure? (ie: pressure to update, negative comments, deadlines etc…)

Honestly if I’m feeling pressure it’s all internal, it’s all from myself lol. I don’t ever feel pressure to update. Like this is something I do because I enjoy it and I’m doing it for free, so unless I have a self imposed schedule, I don’t feel like I HAVE to update to make people happy if that makes sense. Same kinda goes with negative comments - I’m doing this for free, if you don’t like my content, don’t read it. If your upset with a choice I’ve made in my plot and feel the need to be negative about it in my comments, I’m also really cool with that because if my choices bother you that much no one is making you read it ya know?

Deadlines too, all of mine are self imposed. I wrote the first 1/3 of your violent overnight rush like a freakin’ maniac imo, 65k-ish over like a two month period or so? I know I’m not going to write the second and third acts that quickly, and I’ve been honest about changing up my posting schedule when I bring it back from the month long hiatus it’s going on after Sunday. But it’s because I know chapters are going to be longer and the plot is getting heavier and I really want to give y’all the best I can, so if I need the time to do that, I need the time to do that.

[cbspams]

See? Not scary!

Yet anyways.

You tugged your jacket closer in a poor attempt to protect your from the midnight chill. Why are you out here so late anyways? You hadn’t planned on it at all yet here you were, wandering the empty streets with nothing more than your phone and a couple bucks hastily shoved into your pockets. You kicked a rock and watched it clatter away, the only sound besides your still beating heart.

He chuckles, stepping down and visualizing a more acceptable appearance. He’s long since learned that humans are a tad too delicate for his true form. Burn up right there and then they do and while a good crunch is nice, crispy isn’t his preferred mode of consumption. He coughs lightly behind you.

You whip around, clutching your phone tightly. He steps forward with a lopsided smile, hands raised slightly. He seems normal enough though you swear you see something around him under the flickering streetlight. You rub your eyes and squint at him. “Hey,” he says, seemingly barely a whisper. “Don’t be afraid, I’m not going to hurt you.” Yet.

You freeze. There’s no way. There’s no way you should have heard him speak like he was right next to you instead of several feet away. As if his voice was right in your ear. He grins, walking towards you leisurely. You on the other hand, start to shake, willing yourself to move but unable to do so. Your heart beats too loud in your ears, trying to cover the echoes of his voice.

“I-I don’t believe you! Who are you?!” How you managed to speak at all is beyond you but you had and now you wish you hadn’t. He still has that same smile, eyes crinkling at the corners, but it feels cold somehow. Calculating. He drops his hands into his pockets and continues to walk towards you. You should run, you can feel it in your bones, but you don’t. Rooted to the spot.

“That’s the million dollar question ain’t it? Tell you what, you get three guesses. Get it right and I’ll give you a prize. Sounds like a good deal right?” He laughs, finally standing face to face with you. Your eyes are wide, so wide that he can see his true form reflected in them. And you’re trembling, fear snaking out of your skin like smoke. While a tiny bit disappointed that he’s not going to eat anger today, he’s never turned down a good tasting fear and by the look of it you might as well be a delicacy.

“Let me g-go, please.” You clutch your phone close to your chest, breathing heavy. Cold sweat breaks out on your skin, chilling you even further. He tsks, sighing.

“Calm down love, you’re going to taint yourself. C’mon, just give it a guess! I’m sure you’ll get it, it’s not that hard.” He raises a hand and flexes his fingers, seeming to draw something out of the air. You have no idea what it is though, since it just looks like a shadow to you. A shifting shadow, flickering. He clicks his tongue again. “Ah ah, don’t look at it too long or you won’t be fun anymore.”

You swallow, trying to gather the last of your scattered wits. He’s clearly not human but... there’s so many mythical creatures and beings out there. How are you supposed to know? Think, (Name), think. It’s the dead of night, no one else is around. What do they call this? The witching hour? But witches aren’t usually this menacing right? What else roams the night?

“Vampire?” You cautiously say, cowering when he chuckles.

“Unfortunately not. Two more guesses.” He squeezes whatever’s in his hand and you feel something wrap around you, so cold it burns through your clothes. Okay, okay what else. What else, what else, what else? You don’t know, you can’t think like this. You’re near a cemetery... maybe a ghost? No, they’re usually way more docile. And less... whole human looking. But a branch off of ghosts would be...

“A ghoul.” You know it’s wrong as soon as it comes out, before he even gives you a mockingly disappointed look. He can’t be a ghoul, ghouls don’t speak idiot.

“Last chance love, try to think with that little brain of yours mm? I’ll even give you a little hint.” He shimmers before your eyes and you catch sight of... many eyes. Too many eyes and a flickering of limbs and huge spread wings. You know what he is. Fallen angel might be one term but... somehow you suspect it’s more sinister than that. He’s grinning already, the look a bit too stretched for his human features.

“Demon,” you whisper.

“Winner winner what’s for dinner!” He laughs and you squeeze your eyes shut, expecting... something? Maybe a tearing sensation or burning or anything that’s not... nothing. You peek your eyes open again just to see his still delighted face. “Honestly you kids are so fun to play with. A promise is a promise, what kind of reward do you want?”

... Okay back up. What? Weren’t you going to get eaten or something? He snickers at the look on your face, disbelief and confusion oozing out of you thick like blood. “You know you’re out awful late, shouldn’t you be home? Didn’t your parents teach you it’s dangerous? There could be serial killers out here.”

Your brain must be short circuiting. Are you hearing him correctly? “Y-you’re not going to eat me?”

“Oh good heavens no! Did I scare you? Oh jeez, I guess I did it again. You humans are all so fragile, I always forget about that.” He hums, tapping his cheek. “Ah, but you sure had some delicious auras! Is it auras these days? They used to call it something else. Hm... Oh I can’t remember, it’s been too long for the ol’ noggin.”

“T-then what was the thing? In your hand and the- the cold?” You shiver, arms coming up to clutch yourself.

“Huh? Oh that. Well this little thing,” he says with a shake of his hand and you swear on god that you heard a rattling, “Was to catch whatever was lurking on your shoulder. Nasty business that is. And as for feeling cold, I didn’t do anything.” He shrugs, tucking his hands in his pockets again. “All I did was stall you long enough so I could eat up whatever was bothering you. Speaking of, what is bothering you huh? It was real tasty so it’s gotta be bad.”

You give up trying to understand. “It’s my roommate. We’re having a fight.”

“Aww, that can’t be fun. I could do something about it if you want. Y’know, reward and all that.” He nods his head in the direction you came from.

You shake your head. “It’s okay, I can deal with it. I should probably sell my soul for something a lot better than fixing my stupid little problem.” You laugh weakly, shoulders slumping.

“Awww, alright. Guess I’ll eat your soul another day then. Oh shoot, look at the time. I’ve gotta go but hey, here’s this.” He holds out what seems to be a business card of some sort, a strange foil print design on it. “I gotta go but give me a call if you need that favor sometime yeah? Better try and do it before next week, thing’s are happenin’ fast.” You take the card, absolutely confused. But before you can ask anything more, he gives you a wink and then sinks into the floor like it’s nothing.

You stare down at the spot for a long while before turning the card in your hand. Scrawled on the back in messy writing is a short note: add one drop of blood to summon your local demon. You tuck it away slowly.

Maybe you should just go home. This is probably some weird fever dream and you just need to chill with maybe a glass or two of wine. Yeah, that sounds like a plan.

Chan laughs, watching you walk off. Maybe he’ll keep you around after he’s slaughtered most of humanity. Tormenting you slowly seems like it’d be fun...

[skzss]

Meeting

Member: Demon!Bang Chan x gender neutral!reader

Warnings: Eeeh, demons? Not really anything in there though

Genre: Slight thriller, slight horror

Word count: 3269

Description: Who’s that in the shadows? Hunting you quietly?

Author’s notes: Long time no see! Why? Because I’m bad at consistency :) Actually this was supposed to be posted Saturday but oops. Also this isn’t really thriller or horror but I don’t know what a genre is and I’m too afraid to ask. Cross posted from another blog I run :)

You tugged your jacket closer in a poor attempt to protect you from the midnight chill. Why are you out here so late anyways? You hadn’t planned on it at all yet here you were, wandering the empty streets with nothing more than your phone and a couple bucks hastily shoved into your pockets. You kicked a rock and watched it clatter away, the only sound besides your still beating heart.

He watches you with interest. Were you perhaps a runaway? Those were common enough in this hour, though usually they were seeking a place to sleep instead of continuing to wander around. You didn’t seem like a runaway though, at least not by the way you kept checking your phone as if waiting for something or someone. 

He chuckles, stepping down and visualizing a more acceptable appearance. He’s long since learned that humans are a tad too delicate for his true form. Burn up right there and then they do and while a good crunch is nice, crispy isn’t his preferred mode of consumption. He coughs lightly behind you.

You whip around, clutching your phone tightly. He steps forward with a lopsided smile, hands raised slightly. He seems normal enough though you swear you see something around him under the flickering streetlight. You rub your eyes and squint at him. “Hey,” he says, seemingly barely a whisper. “Don’t be afraid, I’m not going to hurt you.” Yet.

You freeze. There’s no way. There’s no way you should have heard him speak like he was right next to you instead of several feet away. As if his voice was right in your ear. He grins, walking towards you leisurely. You on the other hand, start to shake, willing yourself to move but unable to do so. Your heart beats too loud in your ears, trying to cover the echoes of his voice.

You freeze. There’s no way. There’s no way you should have heard him speak like he was right next to you instead of several feet away. As if his voice was right in your ear. He grins, walking towards you leisurely. You on the other hand, start to shake, willing yourself to move but unable to do so. Your heart beats too loud in your ears, trying to cover the echoes of his voice.

You freeze. There’s no way. There’s no way you should have heard him speak like he was right next to you instead of several feet away. As if his voice was right in your ear. He grins, walking towards you leisurely. You on the other hand, start to shake, willing yourself to move but unable to do so. Your heart beats too loud in your ears, trying to cover the echoes of his voice.

“I-I don’t believe you! Who are you?!” How you managed to speak at all is beyond you but you had and now you wish you hadn’t. He still has that same smile, eyes crinkling at the corners, but it feels cold somehow. Calculating. He drops his hands into his pockets and continues to walk towards you. You should run, you can feel it in your bones, but you don’t. Rooted to the spot.

“That’s the million dollar question ain’t it? Tell you what, you get three guesses. Get it right and I’ll give you a prize. Sounds like a good deal right?” He laughs, finally standing face to face with you. Your eyes are wide, so wide that he can see his true form reflected in them. And you’re trembling, fear snaking out of your skin like smoke. While a tiny bit disappointed that he’s not going to eat anger today, he’s never turned down a good tasting fear and by the look of it you might as well be a delicacy.

“Let me g-go, please.” You clutch your phone close to your chest, breathing heavy. Cold sweat breaks out on your skin, chilling you even further. He tsks, sighing.

“Calm down love, you’re going to taint yourself. C’mon, just give it a guess! I’m sure you’ll get it, it’s not that hard.” He raises a hand and flexes his fingers, seeming to draw something out of the air. You have no idea what it is though, since it just looks like a shadow to you. A shifting shadow, flickering. He clicks his tongue again. “Ah ah, don’t look at it too long or you won’t be fun anymore.”

“Calm down love, you’re going to taint yourself. C’mon, just give it a guess! I’m sure you’ll get it, it’s not that hard.” He raises a hand and flexes his fingers, seeming to draw something out of the air. You have no idea what it is though, since it just looks like a shadow to you. A shifting shadow, flickering. He clicks his tongue again. “Ah ah, don’t look at it too long or you won’t be fun anymore.”

You swallow, trying to gather the last of your scattered wits. He’s clearly not human but... there’s so many mythical creatures and beings out there. How are you supposed to know? Think, (Name), think. It’s the dead of night, no one else is around. What do they call this? The witching hour? But witches aren’t usually this menacing right? What else roams the night?

“Vampire?” You cautiously say, cowering when he chuckles.

“Unfortunately not. Two more guesses.” He squeezes whatever’s in his hand and you feel something wrap around you, so cold it burns through your clothes. Okay, okay what else. What else, what else, what else? You don’t know, you can’t think like this. You’re near a cemetery... maybe a ghost? No, they’re usually way more docile. And less... whole human looking. But a branch off of ghosts would be...

“A ghoul.” You know it’s wrong as soon as it comes out, before he even gives you a mockingly disappointed look. He can’t be a ghoul, ghouls don’t speak idiot. 

“Last chance love, try to think with that little brain of yours mm? I’ll even give you a little hint.” He shimmers before your eyes and you catch sight of... many eyes. Too many eyes and a flickering of limbs and huge spread wings. You know what he is. Fallen angel might be one term but... somehow you suspect it’s more sinister than that. He’s grinning already, the look a bit too stretched for his human features.

“Demon,” you whisper.

“Winner winner what’s for dinner!” He laughs and you squeeze your eyes shut, expecting... something? Maybe a tearing sensation or burning or anything that’s not... nothing. You peek your eyes open again just to see his still delighted face. “Honestly you kids are so fun to play with. A promise is a promise, what kind of reward do you want?”

... Okay back up. What? Weren’t you going to get eaten or something? He snickers at the look on your face, disbelief and confusion oozing out of you thick like blood. “You know you’re out awful late, shouldn’t you be home? Didn’t your parents teach you it’s dangerous? There could be serial killers out here.”

Your brain must be short circuiting. Are you hearing him correctly? “Y-you’re not going to eat me?”

“Oh good heavens no! Did I scare you? Oh jeez, I guess I did it again. You humans are all so fragile, I always forget about that.” He hums, tapping his cheek. “Ah, but you sure had some delicious auras! Is it auras these days? They used to call it something else. Hm... Oh I can’t remember, it’s been too long for the ol’ noggin.”

“T-then what was the thing? In your hand and the- the cold?” You shiver, arms coming up to clutch yourself.

“Huh? Oh that. Well this little thing,” he says with a shake of his hand and you swear on god that you heard a rattling, “Was to catch whatever was lurking on your shoulder. Nasty business that is. And as for feeling cold, I didn’t do anything.” He shrugs, tucking his hands in his pockets again. “All I did was stall you long enough so I could eat up whatever was bothering you. Speaking of, what is bothering you huh? It was real tasty so it’s gotta be bad.”

You give up trying to understand. “It’s my roommate. We’re having a fight.”

“Aww, that can’t be fun. I could do something about it if you want. Y’know, reward and all that.” He nods his head in the direction you came from.

You shake your head. “It’s okay, I can deal with it. I should probably sell my soul for something a lot better than fixing my stupid little problem.” You laugh weakly, shoulders slumping.

“Awww, alright. Guess I’ll eat your soul another day then. Oh shoot, look at the time. I’ve gotta go but hey, here’s this.” He holds out what seems to be a business card of some sort, a strange foil print design on it. “I gotta go but give me a call if you need that favor sometime yeah? Better try and do it before next week, thing’s are happenin’ fast.” You take the card, absolutely confused. But before you can ask anything more, he gives you a wink and then sinks into the floor like it’s nothing.

You stare down at the spot for a long while before turning the card in your hand. Scrawled on the back in messy writing is a short note: add one drop of blood to summon your local demon. You tuck it away slowly.

Maybe you should just go home. This is probably some weird fever dream and you just need to chill with maybe a glass or two of wine. Yeah, that sounds like a plan.

You tugged your jacket closer in a poor attempt to protect you from the midnight chill. Why are you out here so late anyways? You hadn’t planned on it at all yet here you were, wandering the empty streets with nothing more than your phone and a couple bucks hastily shoved into your pockets. You kicked a rock and watched it clatter away, the only sound besides your still beating heart.

He watches you with interest. Were you perhaps a runaway? Those were common enough in this hour, though usually they were seeking a place to sleep instead of continuing to wander around. You didn’t seem like a runaway though, at least not by the way you kept checking your phone as if waiting for something or someone. 

He chuckles, stepping down and visualizing a more acceptable appearance. He’s long since learned that humans are a tad too delicate for his true form. Burn up right there and then they do and while a good crunch is nice, crispy isn’t his preferred mode of consumption. He coughs lightly behind you.

You whip around, clutching your phone tightly. He steps forward with a lopsided smile, hands raised slightly. He seems normal enough though you swear you see something around him under the flickering streetlight. You rub your eyes and squint at him. “Hey,” he says, seemingly barely a whisper. “Don’t be afraid, I’m not going to hurt you.” Yet.

You freeze. There’s no way. There’s no way you should have heard him speak like he was right next to you instead of several feet away. As if his voice was right in your ear. He grins, walking towards you leisurely. You on the other hand, start to shake, willing yourself to move but unable to do so. Your heart beats too loud in your ears, trying to cover the echoes of his voice.

You freeze. There’s no way. There’s no way you should have heard him speak like he was right next to you instead of several feet away. As if his voice was right in your ear. He grins, walking towards you leisurely. You on the other hand, start to shake, willing yourself to move but unable to do so. Your heart beats too loud in your ears, trying to cover the echoes of his voice.

You freeze. There’s no way. There’s no way you should have heard him speak like he was right next to you instead of several feet away. As if his voice was right in your ear. He grins, walking towards you leisurely. You on the other hand, start to shake, willing yourself to move but unable to do so. Your heart beats too loud in your ears, trying to cover the echoes of his voice.

“I-I don’t believe you! Who are you?!” How you managed to speak at all is beyond you but you had and now you wish you hadn’t. He still has that same smile, eyes crinkling at the corners, but it feels cold somehow. Calculating. He drops his hands into his pockets and continues to walk towards you. You should run, you can feel it in your bones, but you don’t. Rooted to the spot.

“That’s the million dollar question ain’t it? Tell you what, you get three guesses. Get it right and I’ll give you a prize. Sounds like a good deal right?” He laughs, finally standing face to face with you. Your eyes are wide, so wide that he can see his true form reflected in them. And you’re trembling, fear snaking out of your skin like smoke. While a tiny bit disappointed that he’s not going to eat anger today, he’s never turned down a good tasting fear and by the look of it you might as well be a delicacy.

“Let me g-go, please.” You clutch your phone close to your chest, breathing heavy. Cold sweat breaks out on your skin, chilling you even further. He tsks, sighing.

“Calm down love, you’re going to taint yourself. C’mon, just give it a guess! I’m sure you’ll get it, it’s not that hard.” He raises a hand and flexes his fingers, seeming to draw something out of the air. You have no idea what it is though, since it just looks like a shadow to you. A shifting shadow, flickering. He clicks his tongue again. “Ah ah, don’t look at it too long or you won’t be fun anymore.”

“Calm down love, you’re going to taint yourself. C’mon, just give it a guess! I’m sure you’ll get it, it’s not that hard.” He raises a hand and flexes his fingers, seeming to draw something out of the air. You have no idea what it is though, since it just looks like a shadow to you. A shifting shadow, flickering. He clicks his tongue again. “Ah ah, don’t look at it too long or you won’t be fun anymore.”

You swallow, trying to gather the last of your scattered wits. He’s clearly not human but... there’s so many mythical creatures and beings out there. How are you supposed to know? Think, (Name), think. It’s the dead of night, no one else is around. What do they call this? The witching hour? But witches aren’t usually this menacing right? What else roams the night?

“Vampire?” You cautiously say, cowering when he chuckles.

“Unfortunately not. Two more guesses.” He squeezes whatever’s in his hand and you feel something wrap around you, so cold it burns through your clothes. Okay, okay what else. What else, what else, what else? You don’t know, you can’t think like this. You’re near a cemetery... maybe a ghost? No, they’re usually way more docile. And less... whole human looking. But a branch off of ghosts would be...

“A ghoul.” You know it’s wrong as soon as it comes out, before he even gives you a mockingly disappointed look. He can’t be a ghoul, ghouls don’t speak idiot. 

“Last chance love, try to think with that little brain of yours mm? I’ll even give you a little hint.” He shimmers before your eyes and you catch sight of... many eyes. Too many eyes and a flickering of limbs and huge spread wings. You know what he is. Fallen angel might be one term but... somehow you suspect it’s more sinister than that. He’s grinning already, the look a bit too stretched for his human features.

“Demon,” you whisper.

“Winner winner what’s for dinner!” He laughs and you squeeze your eyes shut, expecting... something? Maybe a tearing sensation or burning or anything that’s not... nothing. You peek your eyes open again just to see his still delighted face. “Honestly you kids are so fun to play with. A promise is a promise, what kind of reward do you want?”

... Okay back up. What? Weren’t you going to get eaten or something? He snickers at the look on your face, disbelief and confusion oozing out of you thick like blood. “You know you’re out awful late, shouldn’t you be home? Didn’t your parents teach you it’s dangerous? There could be serial killers out here.”

Your brain must be short circuiting. Are you hearing him correctly? “Y-you’re not going to eat me?”

“Oh good heavens no! Did I scare you? Oh jeez, I guess I did it again. You humans are all so fragile, I always forget about that.” He hums, tapping his cheek. “Ah, but you sure had some delicious auras! Is it auras these days? They used to call it something else. Hm... Oh I can’t remember, it’s been too long for the ol’ noggin.”

“T-then what was the thing? In your hand and the- the cold?” You shiver, arms coming up to clutch yourself.

“Huh? Oh that. Well this little thing,” he says with a shake of his hand and you swear on god that you heard a rattling, “Was to catch whatever was lurking on your shoulder. Nasty business that is. And as for feeling cold, I didn’t do anything.” He shrugs, tucking his hands in his pockets again. “All I did was stall you long enough so I could eat up whatever was bothering you. Speaking of, what is bothering you huh? It was real tasty so it’s gotta be bad.”

You give up trying to understand. “It’s my roommate. We’re having a fight.”

“Aww, that can’t be fun. I could do something about it if you want. Y’know, reward and all that.” He nods his head in the direction you came from.

You shake your head. “It’s okay, I can deal with it. I should probably sell my soul for something a lot better than fixing my stupid little problem.” You laugh weakly, shoulders slumping.

“Awww, alright. Guess I’ll eat your soul another day then. Oh shoot, look at the time. I’ve gotta go but hey, here’s this.” He holds out what seems to be a business card of some sort, a strange foil print design on it. “I gotta go but give me a call if you need that favor sometime yeah? Better try and do it before next week, thing’s are happenin’ fast.” You take the card, absolutely confused. But before you can ask anything more, he gives you a wink and then sinks into the floor like it’s nothing.

You stare down at the spot for a long while before turning the card in your hand. Scrawled on the back in messy writing is a short note: add one drop of blood to summon your local demon. You tuck it away slowly.

Maybe you should just go home. This is probably some weird fever dream and you just need to chill with maybe a glass or two of wine. Yeah, that sounds like a plan.

Chan laughs, watching you walk off. Maybe he’ll keep you around after he’s slaughtered most of humanity. Tormenting you slowly seems like it’d be fun...

[boogiewrites]

Mae Flowers Ch. 8

Characters: Alfie Solomons x Mae LeBlanc (OFC)

Summary: A modern, magical Alfie Solomons AU. Alfie takes Mae out to celebrate a milestone in her magical work. It turns into an evening of deep conversation and bonding, learning about one another.

Warnings/Tags: Language.Magic/Supernatural.FLUFF. Bonding. Talk of being soul mates. Support/Love. Talk of confidence issues and mild bad memories.

Click on my screenname then go to Mobile Masterlist in my bio for my other works and chapters. (Had to do this since Tumblr killed links, sorry.)

“Go throw something on that makes you feel like celebratin’ and we’ll go out ‘n do just that.”

It was a simple enough request. But one Mae was having a hard time with. She watched the grass and soul gather in the antique tub's drain, washing the sweat from the sun off her warm brown skin. Wiggling her yellow-painted toes, she took a few deep breaths to ease the sense of anxiety building and give the many potted and ivy plants in the bathroom a good dose of co2.

She stood before her full-length mirror in her room whose colors all deep jewel tones made her feel at peace. A mix of malachite, amethyst, and a pop of color with citrine soothed her as she adjusted her dress. Mae wasn’t the “going out” type. Like most, she had a dress that had been dormant in her closet for ages. The one that you bought on a whim when you had some manic episode where you swore you’d start going out and dating and having fun like everyone said you should. But it just sat in the back of your closet. A reminder of money wasted and goals not met.

She frowned, her dark curls against her shoulders only covered by the thin straps of the bold red dress. Her hands moved across her body, a pudge to her stomach, her hips wide from her pear shape and her breasts barely enough to fill out the cups of the dress. It reminded her of the “hot girl” dresses in 90s movies from when she was younger. Cinched in a baby doll cut and the rest hugging her body in a way she was unfamiliar with showing off. Her denim cut-offs and a tank or shop t-shirt were her go to outfits. She never purposely dressed up to seem more attractive, it was function over fashion for her at this point in her life. The last time she’d gotten “dressed up” had been when Ruth and Nancy set her up with a “nice boy” from their church. What a bust that had been.

She let herself take a deep breath to gather what confidence she could and it only deflated into a sigh. She let her head fall back and made silent protests with clawed hands and an angry face before stomping and glaring at her reflection. Why couldn’t she just feel...good? She was a so-called powerful witch but all she saw looking back at her was an unsure girl. Not the confident woman she wished she was. Her chest aches a bit, a pit in her stomach as sadness came and went, flashes of failed attempts at dates and moments others killed her hard work at feeling confident in one single comment.

“Okay…” she exhaled forcefully. “This is as good as it’s going to get.” She flops her hands to her hips and decides maybe a cardigan would be an acceptable addition to the outfit. She could cover up a bit, but it wouldn’t look like she was trying to hide. Yeah. That’d work. She found comfort in the extra layer, adjusting it over her cleavage as she exited her bedroom.

Alfie stood relaxed and confident as always. He looked up to her, hazy blue eyes under a heavy brow of ginger tinged hair. He blinks slowly and watches her unsure movements. He could very literally see the dark haze of uncertainty around her but only a blind man couldn’t see how shy she felt.

“Why’ve ya got a sweater on? It’s blazin' out.” Alfie asks with a furrowed brow as he sees her usually sunny disposition missing.

“If you think it’s hot now I have some bad news about the summers in the south.” she answers back, a clear deflection.

“I know it’s hot enough to melt ya bollocks to your leg down ‘ere but that’s not what I asked now was it?”

Her face falls into a defensive expression. “It’s part of the outfit.” she says and averts her eyes from his.

“Mae. Now, what would be the point in lying to me? When I don’t even have to get into that noggin of yours to read it.”

“None I guess.”

“So why are ya?”

“Because I don’t wanna get into it,” she states with an attitude-filled head shake. “I’m just trying to...get through this night out you wanted to do.”

“Nope.” he says with a clap of his hands and moves her over to the couch. He squats in front of her and stares her down. “We don’t lie to each other Mae. Not only is it pointless it serves no purpose for growth. And that’s why we’re together. So I’ll ask again.”

“Just read my mind if you wanna know so bad. Since you can just poof everything into existence without trying.” she snaps back.

“You’re acting like a teenager, Mae. You’re a grown woman.”

She glares at him because he’s right. “I’m wearing it because I want to hide. Is that what you want to hear?” she blurts out.

“The truth yes but I never want you to feel poorly.” he pats her knee. “Why?”

She huffs out, feeling her face be red with embarrassment and hurt and anger. “Because I don’t… I’ve never worn this and it’s tight and I’m not… I don’t wear things like this because it’s something hot girls wear and I’m not that.”

“No, you are not.”

His eyes blink and go wide at his response.

“You are a beautiful woman. Not some slaggy young thing. You are of substance. Of...principal and power.” He sees the tears prickle up in her eyes from her rush of emotions. “You also look lovely in that dress. Red suits you. It’s a shame a woman like you would lack confidence when you owe the world nothing. You gracing these mortals with your visage is a gift they do not deserve.”

“You’re just being full of shit now Alfie.” she groans.

“No. No Mae darling I am not. I said no lies did I not? I stand by that.” he raises her chin with his calloused index finger. “I understand that your big big soul is feeling lots of things in this little human body of yours. I know you’ve been hiding it from me and I commend you for trying to handle it all on your own. But the purpose of us existing my love is to NOT have to deal with these burdens alone. Now tell Alfie what is wrong so he may mend it.” he leans in to kiss her forehead and hug her. It was too much for her little heart to handle. “Let it out little one.” he shushes as she sniffles and pretends she doesn’t want to sob and wail.

“I just feel so… boring. So not confident and I don’t like what I see when I look in the mirror. Nothing is where I want it. I don’t look how I should. I don’t-” she hiccups and he wipes away her tears.

“Says who? Who told you you had to look any certain way? Some old rich white man behind a desk who doesn’t give a shit about you and only wants your sorrow to make more money off of things you don’t need based on self-hate? Who do these negative emotions serve eh? Not you. And you are all you have to be concerned with. You are as you are. As you are is how you should be. There is no “supposed to” in reality, Mae love. There is only a culture that hates women. And you are so very fuckin' far above their standards and expectations I cannot even begin to tell you. You are otherworldly. A soul full of sunshine and vulnerability. Things most humans hide from. You are growing and with that comes those damned waves of emotions. This is why we do the shadow work, yeah? We accept all parts of us, and release what no longer serves us? I’m not just talkin’ out me arse love. I promise.”

“You...really?” she sniffles.

“Not to force any standards of beauty upon you my darling little sunspot but you are the most beautiful soul I have ever encountered and will ever encounter. To me you are perfection and I hope one day to make you see that as well.”

She begins to cry again and he takes her back into his arms. “You’re so nice to me-ee-e.” she stutters.

“Only honest pet. You created life with your thoughts today Mae bug!” he squeezes her upper arms. “You are so powerful. And you’ve barely scratched the surface. Now let's dry those tears, right? Let’s take off this shroud of negativity you call a jumper.” he chuckles and takes it off her and then pats her cheeks with it.

“It’s a sweater you cockney bastard.” she lets out a giggle that he answers with an amused snort.

“There she is.” he bops her on the nose. “A smart mouth and cheeky disposition was something I always did favor in a woman.” he muses and helps her up from the couch. “And you are a clever little thing. Far too smart to feel so low about yourself.”

“Thank you.” she says quietly.

“Now chin up pumpkin. We are going to go out and have a wonderful time, yeah? Celebrate your progress and the simple fact it is a beautiful evening and we just so happen to exist at the same time. That’s enough cause for a drink and a good meal.”

“You’re… very good with words.” she says as he fusses with her curls and wipes away any running mascara from her eyes.

“Thank you. Ol’ cockney bastard like me has to have something going for him, eh?” he grins.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Mae sat back and enjoyed the breeze in Alfie's antique car that resembled more of a boat to her. It was long, a bit excessive but it did suit him. Something quirky for a man that looked like some sort of mystical cult leader in dress and charm. He could feel the calm around them now. The late evening air humid but the breeze made it tolerable. With her head laid back in a nest of curls and her eyes closed the golden light of the sunset highlighted the round highs of her face. A round heart-shaped face with doll eyes and high cheek bones and a button nose sat in the middle of all the delicate softness. He smiles softly, glancing over and seeing her take in the day's last touch of sunlight as it sets.

“You seem to be doing better.” he speaks softly and pats her knee to break her from her half-hearted moment of meditation.

“I am.” She answers softly.

“You seem like the type to enjoy solitude and silence more than the company of others.”

“Yeah. When I was young I wanted to have ‘my’ people so bad. My own little group. But then I got used to being alone. Now I prefer it.”

“When other's lower vibrations drain your energy it’s hard to want to be around that. We can work on shielding. But tonight is about a good time. What is a good time for you Mae? What is that moment you just sit and relish in and appreciate?”

She tilts her head in thought. Blinking slowly she tries to find her happy place. “In the morning on Sundays. I’ve slept well and have the day off. I’ve got my favorite mug and I’m in my little spot in the sunroom. It’s raining and Percy is asleep on the bench. My music is playing in the kitchen. Outside is quiet and all you hear is the rain. You can forget you live around people on those mornings. Everything foggy and dewy and the sheets of rain run off the glass ceiling.” She lets out a content exhale. “That’s my favorite time.”

“Lovely innit. Life’s simple pleasures.” He mused and scratches his chin. “I believe I can work with that.” He nods. “I know a little hidden beer garden I believe you might enjoy. We'll go there.”

“A beer garden?”

“Yeah.” He says obviously and confused by the questioning inflection in her voice.

“What’s that?”

He turns and blinks rapidly at her for a moment before looking to the road. “You dont-?” His brows furrowed in question. “You don’t know what a beer garden is?”

“Would I be askin' if I did?”

He lets out a small snort of amusement. “‘Spose not. A pub-a bar outdoors. This one's in the old part of the city.”

“I don’t go there much because of the tourists.”

“No tourists where we’re going. Not exactly Bourbon street.”

“So an outside bar? Do they call those beer gardens? Weird.”

“Well, I think you not having tea in every restaurant is weird.”

“We got sweet tea.” She grins.

“We are not having this argument again Mae. That abomination is NOT tea. It’s sugar water in a cowboy hat.”

She lets out a giggle that warms him, recalling an almost argument on sweet tea and good British char one night before bed. Mae didn’t see what the big deal was. But she was promptly informed by Alfie it’s because she was a bloody yank so she never would.

————————-

The place he took her was off the beaten path. A small old white building with a courtyard in the middle with small iron tables and canopies. It was quiet and rustic and full of plants along the walls and in decorative planters. It felt green and wet and lush and alive and she felt oddly at home. A gentlemanly pulling out of her chair before he sat, his crystal pendants glinted in the sun around his neck. They lay at the edge of his vest, a dark and worn fabric over his usual worn in white button ups.

“Order whatever you like darlin' this is a treat for you.”

“I’m gonna order sweet tea.”

“Cheeky bugger.” he smirks and keeps his eyes on the menu.

“I’m not sure.” She says quietly.

“When I say order what you like I do mean you could order the whole fuckin' thing.”

She blinks and thinks a moment. “What if I actually did?” Her big curious eyes have a smile to them as she looks his way.

“I wouldn’t have to worry bout cookin' dinner for a tick then would I?” He answers with a playful nod her way. “I think I’ll go with seafood.” He says after a long pause. “No point in wastin' bein so close to the water eh? Perhaps calamari to start. Fried, of course, because you lot can’t just leave things be.”

“Never had that.”

“Hmmph. Guess you will be tonight.” He affirms with a nod.

“We could get the variety appetizer. I haven’t tried escargot either.”

“A day of firsts calls for a night of the same.” He declares confidently to her. “We are here for you Mae. Indulge.”

———————————

They sit among multiple plates and drinks, the frosted glass of the table growing cool as the sun sets and the garden lights and music turned on. A little candle was lit on the table for “ambiance” the waitress said with a wink. Mae tried to hide a blush but ALfie felt the ruffle of energy come from her and hid an amused smirk.

“Can I have some of your-?”

“Yes, of course, scoot ya bum over here.” Alfie chuckles and pulls her chair next to him. With their arms pushed together she lets out a small but audible content sigh. She continues to pick at his appetizers and he at hers. A vibrating calm between them as they touch.

“Nice innit?”

“It’s really good.” Her answer is muffled by the food in her mouth.

“The food is yes but not what I meant.”

“Wat.” She says with stuffed cheeks and wide questioning eyes.

“This.” He holds his hand out palm up on the table.

She looks at it and blinks.

In his head, he hears. “What the fuck?” And he laughs.

“Put your hand over mine Mae bug.” He chuckles as he holds her hand a few inches above his own. She holds in and swallows, she gives a small shiver in response. He touches his fingertips to hers.

“It tickles.” She giggles and slaps his hand.

“Not into tickling?”

She shrugs. “Not really? Not really had it done before.”

“How’s bout this?” He asks with a nod of his head, lacing their fingers together and resting

“Mmm.” She hums and smiles at him. “That you or the alcohol?”

“Can’t take credit completely. Can’t feel it myself without you.” He says it matter of factly but he feels the sentimental response like warm honey through his veins.

She studies his face a moment and then their hands, taking her time and connecting and disconnecting, tips then palms, moving to put as much skin to skin as she can. With their arms and shoulders pushed against one another, she speaks softly in realization, “It's when we touch.”

He makes a grunt of agreement. “What’s it feel like for you?” His curiosity gets the better of him.

“It’s...good.” She says after a pause.

“You can be more descriptive than that.” He scolds playfully.

“Than what’s it like for you?” She sass's back and takes a drink with her free hand.

“There was a place...long long ago I lived alone. Which is what I preferred. I got away from my old life, a pipe dream to be sure. But it was the happiest I had been before...this life. Feels like that relief. But without the loneliness.” He looks at her and she once again has tears in her eyes. “Oh come now love do your eyes ever dry?” He laughs and dabs at her cheeks.

“That’s better than I could ever put it.” She says and smiles. A sniffle and she squeezes back. “It’s our souls right? They missed each other this much? It’s like I feel warm down into my bones.”

“We missed you more than even my silver tongue can express.”

She lets out a heavy sigh. “I must’ve missed you too. Because this feels…” she smiles sweetly and puts her head on his shoulder, only feeling more contentment. “Feels right.”

“Like morning sunshine. Warm and dare, I admit,  happy.”

“Probably Like a good hug or like when Ruth makes me a pie when I’m sad.”

“I do suppose that would be rather good.”

“The best.” She smiles as she rests her cheek on him. “Man… people are missing out. This is like drugs.” She softly laughs.

“Why did you say it's probably like a good hug? Odd way to put it.”

“Well… people say hugs from people you love or miss are the best.” She pauses. “But I don’t know that I’ve ever had one of those.” She admits.

“I admit I don’t know how you aren’t beloved by everyone. A sunspot like yourself should know of everything good and pleasurable in life. You deserve only the best Mae. And if I can help it I’ll help you feel the love you’ve deserved. Show you how to open up. You are a white witch after all, you radiate love.”

“Guess it’s all going out and not stayin' in” she mumbles and gives him a half-smile. It was a rather good observation.

“So many things you haven’t done yet” Alfie muses as he feels her inexperience in her thoughts.

“I can… feel you up in there.” She pulls away and shakes her head, curls bouncing. She shivers. “That’s so strange I can… feel you in there now.”

“You’re learning how to.”

“It kinda… feels like you’re scratching an itch in my brain.”

“Because I mean no harm, only help.”

“Does it hurt if a bad person is trying to get in my head?”

“For a sensitive little bean like yourself, I would assume so. It’s all about intention. As I’ve said. I see loneliness and fear of missing out and I want to alleviate it. So with good intention brings good feeling.”

“What are you seeing?”

“I don’t want to upset you, darling.”

“It’s my head it won’t upset me.” she snorts.

“I see you alone at a school dance. On the bleachers. Watching everyone else dance together.”

“Yeah. That is a bit upsetting.” She shrugs. “But a long time ago.”

“It was...the first time you felt a real romantic rejection and alienation.” He squints his eyes as he saw a small underdeveloped Mae in an out of style hand me down dress hiding tears as a boy she thought might’ve liked her looked at her and laughed with his date that was the opposite of what she looked like.

“Yeah… it got easier after that.”

“Shutting out everyone else isn’t easier Mae it’s self-sabotage.”

“Well.” She says thoughtfully. “It made it hurt less.”

He looks down at her with understanding. She was so full of life and emotion and she was robbing herself from fear and it made him sad for a moment to see her potential being stunted due to the hateful actions of others. “I’m here to show you how to master your emotions to unlock your potential, love.”

“That sounds...exhausting.” She looks down at his hand and rubs its embrace with her thumb.

“Nah. We can start small.” He insists with a look around. “Let’s start by checkin' something off your list.” He implores as he begins to rise.

“Like what?”

“I’m going to give you that dance.” He states obviously

“I don’t...I’m not a dancer.”

“Neither am I?” He laughs. “It’s about the experience. With it grows your confidence. It’s simple, I’ll show you.”

“I know HOW I just…” she glances around. “I don’t wanna in front of people.” She whispers

“I can fix that. Make it so no one notices us.”

“You can do that?”

“I can do most things you could ever imagine.” She looks around the small courtyard and weighs her options. He stood with a steady hand outreached .”I could even SHOUT ABOUT HOW ICED TEA IS SHIT...and no one can hear.” He grins.

Her eyes go wide but see's no one even glances their way as she rises to her feet. “Are we invisible?”

“No, just an illusion of the mind.”

“Can I be invisible?” She asks as he pulls her to the open center of the patio space.

“I can show you how to be very elusive. Although I don’t know why you would want to be.”

“Because I’m shy. Crippled with anxiety. Full of trauma. Where do you want to start?” She answers honestly but with a chuckle.

“We’ll start with this.” He pulls her close and minds his hands to keep it PG. She was skittish enough without adding physical affection to the mix.

She slowly gives in to his affectionate embrace. A simple back and forth and distanced as she’d wanted in her memory. He can feel the remnants of hurt the memory left around her, her yellow energy turning blue. “I know it means nothing when a man says these sorts of things, and only time will prove it to be true but you don’t have to worry about me rejecting your true self Mae. You do know that?” She looks up at him, knowing she must’ve been very bad at hiding her fear. “As cliche as it is we were made for each other and I have no intentions of abandoning this partnership.” He pauses and she lets out a heavy sigh. “I know love it seems like everyone has left you that’s said that. But I won’t yeah?” He gives her cheek a gentle playful stroke.

“Thank you. For trying to help me.” She says softly, feeling a warmth that wasn’t from the summer evenings still wet heat. “For being nice while I’m… still all...fucky.” She grins and lets out a soft laugh. “I know I’m grown but I feel like such a child sometimes. I’m kinda glad you can read my mind because with feel like I don’t even know what’s going on in there sometimes.”

“You’re going through a...magical puberty Mae and you’re doing wonderfully. I only celebrate things worth it and today-and your work was. Excess innit? Folks like us aren’t meant to be about it. It’ll go to our heads.”

“Good thing I don’t have to worry about that.”

“Your powers are just beginning and you’ll grow as they do. You’ll come to understand yourself and the things you’ve been through as lessons. You have so much power within you little one you’ll be astounded one day looking back at your life before. We have so much to gain, and it’s worth these emotional outbursts your human self insists on having.”

“You make everything sound so fancy and purposeful.”

“It’s just the age and accent dear.” he grins.

“You’re very wise.” She insists with big soft eyes. “I’m glad you’re my person. I need someone to keep things straight like you do.” She leans in and hugs him but doesn’t pull away.

He smiles down at her, a flutter in his stomach for this small gentle creature being accepting of him despite the dark monstrosity he had fancied himself for so long. “You’re too kind Mae.” He places a kiss on her bouncy head of curls and settles into a comfortable embrace.

She sighs and surprisingly to him cozies up to his chest. “I like these Feel Good drugs” she grins as he holds his hand to her bareback with her head on his chest. “I’m glad you’re here.”

“Course. Always will be.” they both feel it warm and encompassing them both. A moment of being on the same page and the barriers between them thin.

———

They stuffed themselves on seafood and local beef and ease was between them now that hadn’t existed before. A bit of honesty went a long way with Mae. Her nature was very trusting in general and optimistic, so Alfie's reassurance left her feeling much more relaxed than she had in a long while. Alford was practiced at restraint as Mae was not. So he could not only feel but see in her eyes as they parted for the night to go to their rooms that she didn’t want to separate. He found it very endearing of her to want him around. He would as always have her make her own choices in her own time. Make her ask for the things she wanted. So instead of making the giant step of sleeping in the same bed, platonically, mind you, he simply whispered a soft intention as she snuggled into her own bed and yearning for that comfort he gave her now.

“Sleep well little one and may the morning find you as sunny as it.”

She hears him in her head and sighs, a happy one this time.

“Goodnight Alfie.” She murmurs, trying to send the thought his way and not knowing if she succeeded. But she had.

@jaegeeeeer​  @brianaisasongbird​ @hardygal69​ @emerald-bijou​ @captstefanbrandt​ @coolgh0st​ @tinastarkandco​ @xstylishmileage​   ​ @peakys-mystic @likedovesinthewnd​

[2lovesihaveofcomfortandfandoms]

Skinamalink: Chapter 7

Despite being in lockdown, it’s still taken me 4 days to post this somehow. Ah well. It’s up and I’ve also made some edits back the ways as well - nothing major just a bit of fixing the flow.

archiveofourown.org/works/20955815/chapters/55940269

Or here, if you fancy:

Chapter 7: Monster Back In Town

Vlad smiled wide – crooked teeth on show. Shark’s teeth – or a wolf’s. Either way, something carnivorous and hungry. But perhaps what was more terrifying was how genuine Vlad’s smiles were. Dark eyes brightened and laughter lines gathered around them.

           ‘Are you ever going to let me off the hook for that?’ Vlad chuckled.

‘No.’ Edward’s response was solid and definite, leaving little room for argument. Nevertheless, Vlad tried,

‘Be fair, Eddie – I was doing what was best for you.’

           ‘Debatable.’

‘Is it? What do you think Sikes would have done to you if he knew you were my son?’

Edward didn’t need to think – he knew. And it would probably have started with his kneecaps and a crowbar. But he wasn’t about to give Vlad the satisfaction, so Edward only shrugged in response.

           ‘Fine. Sulk if you want to. You’re avoiding the question. How do you feel now that Sikes is awake?’

Where to begin? He had taken to checking over his shoulder more often in the past week. And double-checking that the door was locked. Scrutinising the crowd in the café for familiar but unwelcome faces. But that was natural, wasn’t it? A man who wants to kill you comes back into the picture, you're bound to get a little paranoid. Edward knew the kind of man that Bill Sikes was and what he was capable of. He had witnessed it – even participated in some of it. And don’t all monsters fear the monster who made them? Not that Vlad would understand that – he was a monster all by himself.

           ‘Eddie?’

‘Look, I’m not doing great, but I’m handling it. Dorian’s the one we should be worried about.’

           ‘That’s really why you called me, isn’t it?’ Edward nodded. ‘You think he might start using again?’ Another nod. ‘He’s been clean five years.’

‘Sikes being in a coma helped with that. And honestly, I’d find it hard to blame him if he lapsed. Sometimes... sometimes it was the only thing that could get him through it at all.’

           ‘You didn’t need it.’

‘A lot of the others did. Sikes made your life his or he made it hell – sometimes both. A lot of us were too young to see and do the shit we did – so we found ways of coping.’ And then he said in a whisper, and mostly to himself, ‘We were just kids.’

           ‘I know.’

Vlad cast his mind back to the first time he’s seen Edward. Fifteen. Hair shaggy and black. Green eyes unmistakable, even with the bruising around one of them. The split lip. The slight limp. His face had been so thin and tired that he looked several years older than he was. Now, Vlad didn’t often get sentimental, but Edward had slowly teased it out. And the thought of anyone harming the boy... incited a vicious streak and violent thoughts that surprised even Vlad. And if Sikes did come for his son... well, this time Sikes wouldn’t even make it back to the hospital.

           ‘I should go. I’ve got work to do.’

Vlad squeezed Edward’s shoulder,

‘Alright, Eddie. You know that if you need anything – anything – you come to me.’

           ‘Yeah.’ Edward reached for the car door.

‘Eddie... if things get worse with Dorian – you will let me know, won’t you?’

           ‘Course I will.’

Edward left the car without a backward glance. Vlad watched as he walked back inside the café, closing the door hard behind him. Vlad paused to adjust a cufflink and said with incredible nonchalance,

‘Renfield, I want another man put on the hospital.’

           ‘Yes, sir.’

‘And if I find that any of our dealers are distributing to Mr Gray, they will find themselves on the nasty end of a spike.’

           ‘Of course, sir.’

DS Newcomen was in a growling bastard of a mood. Once again, the news had been delivered that his application for the post of Detective Inspector had been denied. No, no – someone else was being transferred into the unit, they said. A more efficient use of resources, they said. A load of bollocks, Newcomen thought. He’d been a DI once, hadn’t he? He still would be if Sikes hadn’t gone and got his head bashed in a car crash. Eight years ago, he had been on the heels of something great – just a few steps away from getting Sikes behind bars for good. But no bad guy, no case. No case... ten years of his life up in smoke.

           But now... now he had a chance for redemption – a chance to finally make the case and get everything back. And it was getting snatched away again.

           When Newcomen heard that Sikes was awake, he damn near fell out of his seat. He’d rushed straight to the hospital and had stayed there for hours until the doctors had let him in the room. There had always been something about that car crash that didn’t feel right – something that didn’t quite fit – and he was going to get answers.

           Sikes had smiled at him when he stepped inside,

‘Well, well, Inspector... time wasn’t kind to you, was it?’

           ‘It’s Sergeant now. You cost me DI.’

‘Shame. Where’s my fruit?’

           ‘What?’

‘You visit someone in hospital, you’re supposed to bring ‘em fruit.’ Newcomen bit the inside of his cheek and swallowed down the urge to arrest.

           ‘I ain’t here for a visit. I have questions.’

‘I hope it ain’t on current events – I’m a bit spotty there.’

           ‘No. I wanna ask about the car crash.’

‘Car crash?’ Sikes shrugged his shoulders and grinned like a hyena – deliberately evasive. ‘What car crash?’

           ‘Yes. Car crash. That’s how you got here. You know that. Do you remember anything about it?’

‘Nah. Nothing.’

           ‘Nothing?’

‘Nothing. Dashboard must’ve hit the ol’ noggin too hard. Sorry.’ Again, Sikes smiled and shrugged – it wasn’t apologetic, it was smug. It said, you couldn’t touch me then and you can’t touch me now – if you think I’m going to answer your questions, you’re even stupider than I thought you were.

           ‘I’m done here, Sikes. But I’ll be back.’

‘Next time bring fruit. I like strawberries.’

Newcomen had left and had been in a bad mood ever since.

           He flipped through the meticulously arranged binder on his desk – one of three. All on the same subject – the life and crimes of William Sikes. Some might call it obsessive. It was obsessive. But when questioned, Newcomen would always say that to catch a criminal you need to be a little obsessed. A cup of bad coffee from the machine was placed on the desk in front of him.

           ‘Ugh, Skip, again with the binder?’

‘It’s called police work, constable.’

           ‘The new DI’ll be here any moment.’

‘Exactly. I’m gonna give ‘im this and tell ‘im we should take the case.’

           ‘What case, Skip?’

‘Sikes is awake. Which means, after all this time, he can be brought to justice.’

           ‘Skip, I don’t get it. There’s plenty bad guys out there – what is it about Sikes?’

‘How old were you eight years ago?’

           ‘Fourteen.’

‘You’d have been a good age for him.’

The constable shifted uncomfortably where he stood. Newcomen turned his attention back to the binder.

           ‘What... what exactly does that mean?’

‘Sikes liked drafting kids into his crew. He’d find kids in need. Give ‘em a place to stay. Get ‘em fed. Make ‘em feel safe. But now they owe him, so he asks ‘em to do a job – and they feel like they can’t say no. So, they do it. And now he’s got ‘em committing a crime, so he uses it to make ‘em do more. Before long, he’s groomed these kids into criminals and they’re a long way from who they used to be. So it’s not just that Sikes is a bad man who does bad things. He drags other people down with him.’

There was a pause, then the constable said softly,

‘How many kids?’

Newcomen flipped several sections of the binder and spun it around for the constable to see. The page bore a list of names. There were forty-three in total but to look at it, they seemed to go on and on. All forty-three were arranged neatly alphabetically with birthdates – and in the case of an unfortunate handful, death dates. The constable blinked, refusing the tears passage.

           ‘You understand me now?’ The constable nodded. ‘Then get back to work.’

The atmosphere in the café had not improved and everyone felt the tension. Lucy was staying quiet. Justine bore it, even though confusion poked and prodded her. Adam stayed in the kitchen away from it all.

           The winter sun had set two hours ago – still leaving them with another three to go. Lucy rapped her knuckles on the side of the kitchen window.

           ‘Adam?’

‘Yes, Luce?’

Adam ducked down so that his face was visible through the gap.

           ‘Close up the kitchen, love. I’m gonna shut us for the night.’

‘What about the boss?’

           ‘The boss’ll deal with it.’

Adam nodded and gave a small smile. It was one thing to be grateful for – Adam’s smile had never been affected by the scars across his face. It was a good smile – kind and genuine.

           ‘How are you doing with all this, love?’ Adam shrugged.

‘Not gonna lie, Luce, the thought of Sikes being awake... of him being out again... I don’t like it, Luce. Not at all. I mean, sure, the goons who did this,’ Adam gestured towards his face, ‘are long gone – but the man’s a monster... and he’s going to hurt people.’

Lucy reached out and gave Adam’s hand a squeeze. It too was patterned with raised scars.

           ‘It’s gonna be ok.’

Lucy left Justine to start cleaning. When she reached the door of Edward’s office, she knocked softly.

           ‘Ed?’

There was no response. Lucy pushed the door open. For a moment, Lucy thought that Edward must have left. He wasn’t at his desk and his jacket was gone from the back of his chair. A slight shuffling sound drew Lucy to the couch. The leather jacket was serving as a makeshift blanket and his shoes were kicked off so that he could curl his legs up.

           ‘Ed? Ed!’

Edward jolted awake – eyes bleary and hair tousled out of place.

           ‘Jesus, Luce – what the hell?’

‘You’re sleeping?’

           ‘I’m fucking tired. I was woken at five.’ Edward rubbed his eyes. ‘What d’you want?’

‘Wanna close the shop.’

           ‘Shit, is it ten already?’

‘Seven – but it’s quiet. And I don’t think anyone is feeling it tonight.’

Edward didn’t even have the resolve left to contradict her. He started to pull his boots back on.

           ‘Alright. Let’s close it down. Where’s Dorian?’

‘Gone.’ Edward jolted upward.

           ‘What!?’

‘Ed, it’s alright. He left with Basil an hour ago.’ Edward grumbled and sank back down on the couch. ‘Ed, is Dorian using again?’

           ‘No. Maybe... I don’t know.’

Lucy settled herself beside Edward and put an arm around his shoulders. They stayed there for a long moment, silent, in the reassuring company of the other.

           ‘We’re all gonna be here. Whatever happens, Ed. We’ll stick by you.’

‘You shouldn’t.’ Edward shrugged Lucy’s arm away. ‘Sikes is gonna come for me – and when he does, no one can be anywhere near me.’

           ‘He might not, Ed.’

‘I put him in a coma, Luce,’ said Edward, hands running through his hair. ‘He’s coming for me.’

[katsidhe]

And now it’s your turn! I would love to get the Director’s Commentary on “Awake, Arise.” Especially if you get inspired to add another chapter. 😜❤️

Thank you so much to both @caranfindel and @quirkykayleetam for asking about “Awake, Arise”! It’s a multi chapter, WIP season 9 AU with all my favorite things: Sam, and also torture. What else is there to say??

…okay, fine, let’s add some background.

How did you come up with the idea?

Sam’s been hurt a lot, hasn’t he? He gets injured every other episode, he gets tied up and threatened and tortured, he gets choked and stabbed and conked on the noggin and everything else under the sun. It’s why we love him. But most everything that’s happened to him (with the big ol’ glaring exception of the Cage) has been, if not wholly unanticipated, at least a shock in that moment. On the job, then acute hurt, then relative safety. When he’s in a fight, he can give as good as he gets. If he’s abducted, it’s a surprise, and it’s temporary. If he’s killed, it’s sudden, and he’s coming back. Even though hideous injury is a predictable hazard of his occupation, Sam hasn’t really been in a prolonged period of helplessness/anticipation of injury without a reasonable hope of escaping it or fighting back… at least, not on Earth.

In the Cage, on the other hand, Sam experienced unimaginably brutal and creative abuse, with no hope of escape or fighting back or rescue, and with every anticipation that each new day would be more absurdly unbearable than the last. But… he also didn’t need to be functional, per se, not beyond whatever variable standard of “entertaining” that Lucifer specified. He didn’t have to pull himself together to research a case or interact with civilians or navigate the nuanced and thorny complexities of his relationship with Dean.  

Basically, Sam’s day-to-day struggles are stressful and ongoing and dangerous, but he never knows precisely what to expect, and he knows he’s generally equipped to fight back; his time in the Cage was a lot more morbidly predictable and inevitable, but there was no requirement to be a sane, productive member of society.

So….. what if we combined the best worst of both worlds? What if Sam got an exact time and date and description for the hurt, a who what when where, without any way for him to fight or avoid it? And it would just keep happening, but in between, he had to keep living his life? What if, on top of that, it was the worst thing he could imagine: a return to the Cage? (Trauma is nice but REtrauma is nicer.) How do would he deal with THAT flavor of ongoing trauma—something unlike anything he’s felt before? 

Hence… the premise of Awake, Arise, which I tossed around in my mind for a few years, sort of fruitlessly wishing someone else would think of the same idea and write it. (I found a few stories with premises that were… vaguely similar but not quite there.) Eventually, I realized I’d have to be the change I wanted to see in the world. Or some such thing.

Why is it set in season 9?

Short answer? Not to put too fine a point on it, but adding Lucifer to s9 makes a stew that I think most embodies what I see as SPN’s mission statement: “Sam Winchester navigates various abusive relationships, of varying severity, to varying degrees of success.”

Longer justification: first of all, it’s gotta be after season 7—so that Sam’s in a place of relative functionality—and before season 11—so that Lucifer’s got little hope for imminent rescue. So that narrows the field a little.

And then I got to thinking about the other goals I had for a fic (y’know, beyond just endlessly self-indulgent Lucifer and Sam convos and Cage headcanons, which is my real genre of choice), and I realized I really, REALLY wanted to deal with the intricacies of Sam and Dean’s post-Gadreel relationship. The newly Mark’ed Dean is looking for absolution that Sam’s in absolutely no mood to give. Sam’s reeling from possession and betrayal; he’s trying, for the first time in a long time, to set some boundaries in their relationship. What better time to make things EVEN WORSE, than when Sam’s already got to navigate his victimhood at the hands of his own brother? What better time to add in Lucifer as both foil and cruel truth-teller?

Other things to love in season 9: Dean’s, erm, complicated relationship with violence and torture and Sam-as-victim is being exacerbated by the Mark (oh Dean, you scary bastard, I do love you)… and Cas and Sam’s friendship is both touchingly close and more than a tad off (”the only one who’s screwed up worse than you is me”, anyone?)… and Gadreel, whom I love, is hanging around to be a Sam-mirror (they should be friends but they’re very much noooot ahahaha)… 

What’s with the title?

“Awake, arise, or be forever fall’n” is a Paradise Lost quote. It’s Satan’s rallying cry to the other angels who have fallen from God’s grace: he’s telling them that he’s their only salvation. 

How closely is it going to follow canon events?

I’m operating under the logic that the ONLY thing that’s altered between canon and the Awake Arise universe is the existence of Abaddon’s spell. That being said, the addition of Lucifer to the season 9 chessboard upsets the plans of quite a few players, and changes the Sam’n’Dean dynamic dramatically! There are a lot of fun implications that come from that one alteration, so while  generally, facts that are true in canon remain true here, the landscape’s gonna look pretty different in the end.

Was this your first real attempt at creative writing?

Yepppp. It’s not my first fic ever (that dubious distinction belongs to a very short piece I wrote in about an hour right after 11.09 because holy shit 11.09 was not fucking around), but it’s the first one I’ve ever expended serious effort on. When I started writing it in 2017, I didn’t think of myself as any kind of an author. I think my writing has improved since then, and hopefully it will continue to improve.

It’s incredibly self indulgent, isn’t it?

Why, yes. Yes, it is. It is an excuse for my id to hurt Sam in fun new ways. I tacked intellectual character justifications onto it post hoc.

Are you ever going to update?

Yes. I am going to see this unholy thing through to the bitter end (which btw is already written). Chapter 17 is about three-quarters done.  

How long is it going to be?

Who knows! It began life with a broad fifteen chapter outline, but I kept thinking of more things to add to the middle, and then I needed additional things to connect those things in ways that made sense… you get the picture. Right now my outline has bloated to 33 chapters, and it’s almost certainly going to be longer than that.

And there’s my commentary! Thanks for asking!! I’m not even sure what people are most interested in knowing about this piece, since it’s a WIP… so if there’s some burning question or idle curiosity I didn’t cover, drop me a line!

[theonlil]

Boring story time.

I only recently learned that I had executive dysfunction and when I figured it out I started to feel better about why I got so angry when things just didn't go right. I started to feel like I can now go to a dr and say so this is a thing when before I didnt know what the thing was.

So Things that help me. Lists. Once its down on paper or on a whiteboard I now don’t have to think about it and get on with my life. 

When things go wrong at work. Okay I need to check my to do list to see what the score is. Ticking of tasks and seeing what was done really makes sense of everything, and the things that didnt get done, well its on paper so its not really in my head anymore (most of the time. ngl sometimes I revert to being bogged down by what goes on in the ol noggin)

When things go right at work? So sometimes things go well and I have like nothing to do but like 2 hours until shift ends. Well I have a back up list of odd jobs to look at. So if i’m working and i’m like... I need to tidy up my paperwork tray it is atrocious, but can’t right now because I’ve got labwork to do. BOOM it takes 2 seconds and I have written down, ‘clean out tray’ on my odds and ends list. When will I get to that? next week, next month, next year? I dunno but now I want forget about it and I wont let the fact my tray is fucking awful upset me while im working because its on the list (you think, I’m joking but it did take a year for me to label the cupboards, but that tray was done like a week later and it is looking better... could still use some tweaking but it is a heck of a lot nicer to deal with) 

Managing my housework. I now have a whiteboard of the week set up and chore rotation so I can have a reasonably clean flat (lets not have people think im super together i am a freaking slob my flat is okay)

And okay this is not a perfect strategy because I still get upset that I cant do the gajillion things I want to do (man do I get upset when I run out of time and only have like 15mins left to draw or something) but yknow its okay, it’s on a list and I’ll get back to it when I can

[inktheblot]

As awful as it was, Fiddleford getting Portal straight to the head was what snapped Stanford out of his Bill-worship and stubborn adherence to the success of the transuniversal metavortex. What if that didn't happen, and Weirdmageddon came to fly 30 years ahead of schedule?

Or, a summary of an AU I will probably never get around to writing but I put too much thought into anyway.

Setting the scene of 1982-Weirdmageddon in full swing. Turning Gravity Falls inside out is fun, but eventually, of course, Bill figures out that he can’t go any further than this stupid hick town. He turns to who else but Stanford Pines, the man who changed the world, for potential solutions. “Hey, pal, you wouldn’t happen to know anything about this barrier thing, would you?”

Ford is basically Bill’s brainwashed little lap pet of the apocalypse by this point. The demon decided to keep him around because messing with him is entertaining and he might happen to have some decent knowledge left in the ol’ noggin that could come in handy later. “You belong here. I am your Muse and you are my Genius,” Bill constantly reminds him, an endlessly repeating mantra in his head. Bit by bit, Bill has twisted Ford’s thoughts and convinced him this is where he was meant to be all along: living among freaks and monsters.

Now Ford is half-asleep and half-drunk from time punch. He starts babbling about the Law of Weirdness Magnetism and how yes, you can drop the barrier. But after layers of intoxication and mind alteration, he’s barely talking coherently at all, so Bill takes things into his own hands. “Hey, don’t wear yourself out, kid! You wouldn’t mind if I just poked around in that brilliant mind of yours for that equation, right? See, it’s no biggie…You rest, Sixer. I’ll handle the hard work here.”

But Ford’s mind is a mess now; it’s not even close to organized anymore. It’s scattered with lots of weirdness, lots of upside-down-ness…and triangles. Lots of triangles. It’s pretty funny, Bill thinks: a couple of years ago, Stanford Pines was the most driven and determined young scientist this side of Dimension 52, and now he’s complete chaos-ified slush.

Bill amuses himself sifting through the disarray of Ford’s Mindscape, until he comes across something very interesting tucked inside a battered textbook. It’s an old photograph of two near-identical boys posing on a beach, all sunburns and smiles. 

Bill gets a Wonderful Awful Idea.

“OH BOY. OH BOY OH BOY. CONGRATULATIONS, MISSUS PINES, IT’S TWINS!” 

How HILARIOUS would it be to hold a little family reunion??? While Bill’s physical form can’t leave Gravity Falls - yet - the Dreamscape is still his to conquer, and it won’t take long for him to pick up this second Stan. He puts Ford’s mind to sleep and returns to the material world, only to project his dream form back outward moments later. He leaves the town - and his pet - in the hands of his Henchmaniacs.

Stanley is, frankly, in deep shit, as we might expect. By the time he dreams of this floating nacho, he’s just about had it with the world. Since he never got that postcard from his brother, he’s pretty convinced that no one gives a damn about him and nothing in his life is gonna turn around anytime soon. He’s pretty dead set on ending it all, but he figured he’d at least sleep on it before being too rash.

Then along comes this triangle guy who seems to know Lots of Things, throwing haughty proclamations and bizarre nicknames left and right. “Hey, Fish Head, you’re a bargaining man, yeah? How’s about striking a deal with me,” he proposes. “Before you go blowing your brains out, I thought maybe you might want to see your brother one more time…”

Stan is not on his conman A-game. He's too exhausted and miserable to try sorting through riddles and deals and God knows what else. He does protest the offer at first: “Nah, why bother? I haven’t seen him in like, what, twelve years? He hates me.” But eventually he figures this is all a dream, and anyway, he has nothing to lose. So he shakes the demon’s hand.

The blue fire thing is a little creepy, but he doesn’t have much time to process it, since the next thing he knows, his body is being yanked out from under him. 

He regains consciousness somewhere that must be very far away from the deadends of New Mexico. This doesn’t look remotely like his trashy motel room. It doesn’t look like Earth at all, really. “What the hell is this? Is this hell?? Is that what that flyin’ corn chip was getting at? I’m dead, I’m in hell, and - and - and Ford’s here too! That’s it, isn’t it? This is it? This is - this is the end?”

Right on cue, Stanley catches sight of his brother, now somewhat awake and alert again, floating in midair, glowing yellow and looking utterly…well…demonic. Something deep within Stan breaks. He balls up in manic panicked laughter on the floor of the Fearamid.

Things don’t go too well between a Stanley barely alive and a Stanford spellbound by otherdimensional evil. An ugly conversation fueled by old grudges and new magic commences.

Eventually Stan finds a means of temporary escape from Bill’s lair, dropping onto the streets of chaos-torn Gravity Falls, muttering curses to himself all the while. The next human being he happens to run into is none other than Fiddleford McGucket, decently crazy but still technically sane. That’s when solutions start happening…if tackling a grumbly guy in the street because "DID YOU SAY STANFORD?! YOU��VE SEEN STANFORD?!” is any way for things to start shaping up.

Fidds is safe, relatively speaking. When things started getting messed up, he immediately figured Ford’s research had something to do with it. He rushed over to Ford’s house, where everything was pretty much wrecked, but he managed to snatch up Journal 1 and the components for the unicorn-hair protection spell. Then he found a shed to put up the shield around, to keep himself alive at the very least. He avoided use of the memory gun as best he could, figuring a situation like this would require all his wits, and anyway, trying to forget about this living nightmare wouldn’t make it disappear.

Stan and Fiddleford explain to each other as much as they know about Stanford and the situation at hand, and begin to formulate a plan. They return to the Fearamid with the memory gun. One of them distracts Bill while the other blasts his influence out of Ford’s head.

The three reconvene. Stan and Fidds attempt to jog Ford’s memory: just enough to get him to understand what’s going on, but not so much that he falls back under Bill’s power.

Seeing the people he loves most so distraught ignites something in Ford. He is reminded of all the things he wished he’d said to them, all that he owes them, and he knows what he has to do to make it up to them. As if again possessed but now by a benign force, he sets the memory gun in his own name and summons Bill into his mind one last time, offering up his genius and the equation needed to escape Gravity Falls.

Bill answers the call immediately, meandering through Ford’s mind in search of his prize, only to realize soon enough that everything is going down in blue flames. He whips around to find the image of Ford staring him down, his eyes clearer than they have been in over a year.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!” Bill shrieks. "YOU’RE DESTROYING EVERYTHING! WHAT ABOUT ALL WE WORKED FOR?! YOU CAN’T DO THIS TO ME! YOU ARE MY GENIUS! I AM YOUR MUSE!”

“It’s true that there is great Genius involved in this, but you won't find it in here,” Ford murmurs, thinking of his brother and his best friend holding down the trigger on the other side of his consciousness. “No one else will suffer from your trickery…or my foolishness."

Bill screams. Ford exhales. The Mindscape fades to white. The invasive weirdness evaporates from Earth Dimension 46’;.

Ford awakens to Stan and Fiddleford leaning over him, tears in their eyes and worry on their faces. They manage to convince their amnesiac companion to return to his old house, but any hope of restoring his memory seems for naught…

That is, until Fidds happens upon a stray thirty-eight-sided die stuck in the floorboards. “This was our favorite game in college,” he explains to Stan wistfully. “Kinda nerdy, maybe, but we sure had fun with it. How did that chant thingummy go? Something like…‘with pen and paper, shield and sword…’”

A weak and tired, but nevertheless passionate voice sounds from the other side of the room.

“‘Our quest shall be our sweet reward.'"

[lettersfromleslie]

SUMMER HEAT / EMPTY STREETS / JUSTICE NOR PEACE IN SIGHT / BUT STEP RIGHT THIS WAY FOR THE ONLY SHOW IN TOWN

Hello again from the belly of the beast!

It’s been a weird, hot, bittersweet summer. The new abnormal has made itself at home, the phases of the ‘rona have been swimming by, and one way or another life’s gone on living… Just wanted to put down a quickish sketch of what that’s been like in our lovable ol meatgrinder N.Y.C.

The lil lady and I spent the three months from mid-March to June in lockdown. I talked about all that plenty in my last post. It was a very surreal and foggy phase for us and looking back it’s hard to form a clear picture of what we did or how we felt. I think that fogginess has a lot to do with the mood swings, the phases of the news cycle, the ever-evolving picture we had of the world and our place in it… I kept my sanity by working on the album. It was good to have a mission in that. It was good too that I’d done the crowdfund and people had already paid for the damn thing, which kept me from slacking off too much. When I wrote my last post on May 2nd I was feeling quite blocked-up and discouraged because I wasn’t getting my takes, but then towards the end of May things started falling into place and before I knew it I had the whole album on tape. And whaddaya know, I think it’s a pretty good one! Probably the best one I’ve done. It was the first time I deliberately set out to write and deliver an album on a schedule, setting my dates without having the material in place, and I think that led to it being a very tight, compact statement. Of course the songs wound up being a bit more introspective and quarantine-y than planned, but that’s just how she goes, eh?

I wrapped up recording work around the beginning of June. That coincided with the period that Ariel and I started really venturing out again - starting on May 29th when we first joined the BLM protests against police brutality. I have to admit it doesn’t come naturally to me to talk about the protests online - not because it’s not important, but because I’m unsure if my voice would be as meaningful or articulate as the voices of those who are speaking from a lifetime of experience. Everyone’s feeds are already flooded with this stuff, and being a vaguely foreign white boy with an escapist bent there seems so little use in me going up and taking the mic. I'd just be repeating what I'd had to learn from others.

But that said - taking part in the protests was absolutely eye-opening. The energy and anger and emotion were relentless, and the demands for fairness and justice were so obvious, so simple to understand, and just so plainly the right thing to do. Which made it all the more incredible that it didn’t seem to affect those we were protesting in the slightest. I naively thought that the NYPD would at the very least be eager to put it out there that they, too, were against the indiscriminate killing of unarmed people, black or otherwise. I thought they’d take a knee with us. Not out of the goodness of their hearts, necessarily - but still, maybe just for the sake of PR. Intead we got to watch them go out of their way to perform live demonstrations of what we were protesting against over and over again… That’s to say my skinny white ass got a real crash-course in the harsh realities. We got kettled, intimidated with helicopters, we watched people get rounded up and beaten with batons for violating the 8PM curfew, we were there when that cop car rammed into a group of protesters on Flatbush Avenue… We also saw the looting, and the cop cars on fire, and the trash fires all along Broadway and on Union Square.

What can I say about it? It was fucked. It’s fucked. To be treated as an enemy by the police for protesting police violence. What else to assume than that they were taking the side of violence? They acted more like heavily-armed counter-protesters than peacekeepers. And of course it all led me to examine my own life and the advantages I’ve had. If you’ve been following me over the years you know I’ve always made a point of organizing my life in such a way that I have room to kinda detach from modern life and dream. And I used to think everyone could just do that. I was always proselytizing about it when I was a kid. “Just go live it!” All the while unthinkingly accepting the free passes that society would give me. Playing the free-spirited ragamuffin, simply expecting the world to recognize me in my role - and the world did! - while in a different body I wouldn’t have been recognized. That’s clear enough. So what kind of hypocrite would I be if I wasn’t out shouting for the same freedoms for my fellow humans? It’s something of a karmic debt at this point.


While all this was going on I also had to be dealing with my money situation, which was getting pretty bad. For reasons you can imagine I wasn’t in a place where I could apply for unemployment or any other kind of government assistance. My album crowdfund, the livestreams, and a little help from family and friends had seen me through the worst of the lockdown, but by the end of June I really had to start busking again. Sink or swim.

So, back to old Wash Square. That park has been through some phases in 2020, lemme tell you. It started out seriously mad. When I first started busking again the protests were still going full blast. March after march would weave in and out of the park, speeches were held, kneel-ins, sit-ins, you name it. I’d play the lulls. Around mid-July that righteous energy started making way for some seriously weird craziness. The NYPD had by this point stopped enforcing any of the usual small stuff and the Weird Ones had taken note. A squatter who called himself Jesus built a permanent home for himself and his followers in the fountain. Noise complaints were a thing of the past. Fights and brawls galore. Drugs, nudity, raves, and a riotous fuckitall feeling in the air, masks off, hands on, summer of mad recklessness. Me and my quarantine brain weren’t quite equipped to join the fray. I just kinda nervously skitted around the edges of it, yodeling here and there. Bit absent I was, maybe, but how can you go carefree gonzo when doing so means constantly risking killing someone’s granny by accident? I kept my social distance. There were some bad encounters. Bottles thrown at me while playing. Got assualted by some nut outside the W4st subway station, yanking me by the hair, punching me in the noggin. It was clear to anyone out there that the police had thrown their hands up at the situation and were letting people find out what life was like without them. As far as I could make out this unofficial police strike emboldened both the bad guys and the protesters without getting the cops anything. They might’ve been hoping the resident bougies would put their foot down one way or another, bark up the food chain some, but forget about it. There wasn’t much backlash or pushback from these upstanding, tax-paying pillars of society - they all just skipped town and headed for greener pastures. This mass exodus of wealth which had seemed temporary back in April started really accelerating around this point and by now the absence has started to feel permanent. If there’s any force of NIMBYism left in the Village I haven’t seen it. Those who have stayed on seem to have adopted a live-and-let-die approach. Aside from the fairy-lighted open-air restaurant patios with their potted plants and plexiglass dividers the streets belong to the people again, for better or for worse.

Personally, I don’t mind at all. Why should I? The money’s tough, but hell. I’ve always been broke. I’ve spent all my seven years in this city staring up at the rungless ladder which is Manhattan. If it can stop being a playground for the rich, it might become a place where I could actually hope to live someday.

Anyway, the last month has seen a sort of stabilization of the status quo. Some of the park regulars are back. R&B Lee, who used to be stuck down underground in the W4st subway station, has made a permanent place for himself and his giant PA on the western corner of the fountain. Jimmy the drummer is out all the time with a revolving cast of players. There are DJ sets on weekends and they get loud as all hell. So music’s back, but it’s a different world, and a much louder one. I’ve taken to playing in the small circle of benches on the western side of the park. There’s really not much space for unamplified music; the regular acoustic jam sessions have moved to other, more private locations and Colin Huggins, the park’s much-beloved pianist-in-residence, has more or less given up for the time being. Johan the living statue is out again much of the time. The portrait artists and street art sellers and fortune tellers are back, but the park poets are still in absence, probably conferring with their muses. Check out this article by Charlie Crespo with photos of some of the characters who are out and about.

Meanwhile the atmosphere out there is weird, anarchic, and sorta wonderful if you’re into that sort of thing. I guess I am. You won’t get bored hanging out on Washington Square in the summer of 2020, that’s for sure. Different threads of activism and action going on in every corner, friendships forged, love-ins, creativity, occasional bad chaos and ill energy, along with a good helping of just regular old hedonism in radical trappings. For a while there were great crowds of activist kids sleeping on the lawns and yakking all night about the revolution… The cops put a stop to that one, started clearing everyone out of the park again at midnight. Honestly a lot of it feels like what I always imagined the sixties might’ve been like. I’ve often looked at it a wee bit wistfully wishing I could be twenty again for it, with a head full of hot air and a fabulous tolerance for risk, instead of with bills to pay, dwindling resources, and a partner & a cat to look after. Oh, but I’ll be alright.

To everyone who’s still in NYC and has been worried about going out in public: if your health & conscience permit, come to the park sometime & let me sing a song for ya. I mean, do it responsibly - don that mask, bring your hand sanitizer, observe that distance - but New Yorkers have been knocking it out of the park when it comes to beating the virus, and that means the risks are lower and going out is almost as safe as it used to be. The park has plenty of room to socially distance. No one will bother you about it if you bring a picnic blanket and a bottle of something. The subway is safer to travel on than you might expect. The nights are hot and humid and saturated with all the great unknown we’re traveling through together.

And as far as I can make out, it’s the only show in town!

[agirlanonymous-blog1]

FYI, I‘m really high right now.

What has been on my mind lately? Honestly, same ole shit just on different days. Currently, searching for a job in an area where there are none! I need to move.

I feel horrible right now, I made plans with someone tonight and ditched them. It’s something I would never do but for some reason this time was different. I’m hoping they’re not mad, Hopefully they know I would never do this to them but I did. We’ll just have to wait and what the morning brings.

So, as I have mentioned in a past post I’m currently living with my boyfriend and his parents, long story short, we weren’t doing good money wise, in other words there were more bills then there was money. So we moved in with his parents to just help us out and save some money. End of story and where this was going is, tomorrow they’re having everyone over for Thanksgiving dinner, and I’ve been trying to mentally prepare myself all day to have to deal with the yelling and bitching at each other that’s going to happen.

Man, do I ever feel bad. I asked her to come to where I was, shes been there before and I actually thought she would to but apparently I was wrong. My subconscious is killing me here, I’ve always noticed that I have a strong subconscious, I remember skipping off school one day, a friend and I just took our book bags at lunch and left and on the way out the door a teacher asked us where we were going, so basically we got caught then and there but we left anyways and from that point out I knew we were going to get in trouble and low and behold the principle shows up at my front door and drags our asses back to school and I ended up with in school suspension. 

So, the boyfriend isn’t moving now, he’s going to wait until Spring so we can drive up together, there’s kinda why I’ve been looking my ass off for some jobs, note to self: pass out resumes this week. But I will say both of us were not on the same page about that decision and leave it at that.

Well I guess I’ve lave this one of here. Just a lot mumble, jumble. But that’s why I made this Tumblr so I can ramble and get these thoughts out of my noggin’.

Good night! xo