new-fate-stay-night-heavens-blog

[kittymaine]

Drunk Boys

Summary: Edwin agrees to go to a Halloween party with Charles. When they both start drinking enchanted alcohol, things get out of hand.

AN: Written for Dead Boy Ween, Day 11, prompt: Halloween.

Somehow these fills keep getting longer and longer. This is another one that I would be open to writing a sequel to, if there's interest in it. It ends on sort of an ambiguous sad note.

“The two of you are going to a house party? On Halloween?” Crystal asked incredulously.

“What, you think we can’t fit in at a house party?” Charles asked, sincerely puzzled.

“You, I understand. It’s Edwin that I can’t picture partying, let alone somewhere as informal as someone’s house,” she said with a pointed look at Edwin. He was seated behind the desk, occasionally moving papers from one pile to another in a transparent attempt to look uninterested in the conversation.

“It is not my preferred activity for revelry,” Edwin said, dry as the desert.

“Do you have a preferred ‘activity for revelry’?” Crystal asked with a raised eyebrow.

“I think it’s wonderful,” Niko interrupted them to add. “It’s like an iconic teenager experience. I’m happy for you guys.”

Edwin frowned faintly in Niko’s direction, but held his tongue like Charles expected. Edwin was incapable of saying anything even vaguely not nice to Niko.

“Thanks, Niko,” Charles grinned, throwing himself onto the couch, even though there was definitely not room for him on the tiny loveseat. He ended up mostly sprawled across the girls’ laps, Crystal groaning and slapping his arms away and Niko humming happily and resting her bubble tea on his stomach.

“We’ve had a standing invitation for years, but this one,” Charles gestured at Edwin, who huffed and put his nose in the air, “has never been open to going.”

“Oh? Why the sudden change?” Crystal asked Edwin, her tone a little arch but mostly curious.

Edwin sighed and fiddled with the papers again. “No particular reason,” he mumbled, unusual for him but maybe he disliked all the attention.

Charles didn’t want Edwin to get self-conscious about agreeing to go to the party and change his mind, so he quickly changed the subject. “It’s like the biggest ghost event of the year! It’s super fun.”

“I didn’t realize ghosts had a social calendar,” Crystal said with a raised eyebrow.

“There are certain days of the year when spectral energy waxes and the veil that separates the living and the dead thin,” Edwin explained in what Charles thought of as his professor voice. If he was professor-ing at them, then Charles’ distraction must have worked, and he was back to feeling comfortable. “Both Samhain and Beltane mark days when the balance between light and dark, summer and winter, are perfectly balanced. This makes them ideal days for rituals regarding the dead.”

“He means that Aleister Crowley enchants a whole house every year and throws a crazy rager in it where ghosts can actually interact with the living and get drunk and all that,” Charles adds with a grin to the two girls.

“I suppose, if you want to be crass, you could explain it like that,” Edwin said crossly.

“Aleister Crowley is a ghost?” Crystal asked with big eyes “A ghost that throws Halloween parties?” she added, sounding even more surprised.

“He’s completely off his chump,” Edwin snapped, “A fake in all but the most rudimentary of magicks,” he added with a curl of his lip.

“We don’t like him, as a rule,” Charles said with an apologetic look at Edwin. Edwin was too busy scowling down at the surface of the desk to notice. “He called Edwin a, uh, what was it, a poodle something?”

“Poodle-faker,” Edwin spit, then winced, like just saying the word left a bad taste in his mouth.

“Yeah, that,” Charles sighed.

“I’m sorry, but what does that mean? Poodle-faker? Off his chump?” Niko asked quietly.

Edwin made a face like he’d rather chew on a shoe than explain what those words meant, so Charles quickly answered, “Off his chump is like, he’s totally nuts, off his rocker like. Poodle-faker is like an old timey insult that means you hang out with women too much,” Charles added that last explanation carefully, hoping that his tone got across how stupid of an insult he thought it was. He didn’t totally understand what it meant or why that was an insult, but he knew that Edwin had been in a properly awful state for days after that casual insult, so it must have meant a lot to him.

“So, he’s a monumental dick,” Crystal said dryly.

“Yes,” Edwin agreed enthusiastically.

“Why do you want to go to a party thrown by someone who’s a monumental dick?” Niko asked as sincerely as she asked every other question that ever escaped her perfect pink lips.

“Because I’ll be there to kick his spectral ass,” Crystal said with a grin that showed the sharp points of her teeth.

“No way!” Charles exclaimed, sitting up fast enough that Niko’s tea almost spilled, though her quick reflexes saved it from toppling off of Charles’ stomach and all over the girls’ laps. “You guys can’t come,” he said frantically.

“Why not?” Crystal asked, her eyebrows communicating that she was two seconds away from wanting to fight him about it.

“Because any party thrown by Aleister Crowley is a dangerous place for the living to be,” Edwin said darkly, giving Crystal a severe look. “He has no respect for anyone, but he especially does not respect the living. Or women,” he added with a troubled frown.

“Ew,” Niko said quietly before sucking her drink loudly through her straw.

“We can all go to Miss Ava Gardner’s party on Beltane,” Edwin said with a nod, like it was already decided. “She is a consummate host and a lovely woman. You’ll be safe as houses there.”

That set them off on a completely different tangent, with Crystal and Niko asking Edwin and Charles how many dead movie stars they knew and how many lived in London and what Crystal and Niko could possibly do to earn a polite introduction.

They never quite circled back to why exactly Edwin wanted to go to Crowley’s Halloween party. Charles was happy that Edwin wanted to go, he had been trying to get him to agree to go for literal decades after all, but the lack of explanation was concerning. Crowley was shite, but the party was fun and it was a huge get together for all of undead London. Charles had been a ton of times, though it was a lot less fun without Edwin there.

Charles tried to push his concerns down. Edwin had agreed to go. Charles didn’t have to be let in on every little twist and turn of his best friend’s thoughts, he could just be happy that they were together.

---

The night of the party, Charles was a mess of nerves. Edwin seemed nervous as well, though Charles expected that had more to do with his anxiety over running into the host and less to do with the party itself. Charles got the impression that Edwin had never been comfortable around people when he was alive, based on the stories that Edwin told. But, Charles had never seen Edwin act anything other than confident and self-possessed in person. Still, Charles wanted the night to go well so badly that he could almost feel his stomach doing flips below his ribcage.

The girls had decided to aggressively have fun without them. They were both decked out in beautiful creative costumes. Charles definitely appreciated all the bare skin and glitter and makeup and Edwin seemed to be fascinated with the pageantry of it all.

Crystal was dressed in huge curling demon horns, red glitter, and a series of sinfully suggestive black leather body harnesses under a tiny halter top and distressed shorts and huge platform boots that looked like they were built with curb stomping as the one and only activity in mind. Niko looked like a dream in pastels and holographic fabric, every movement she made shining and glittering back in prismatic halos of color.

“I’m an angel alien. I think,” she said, adjusting a headband with pink pompoms on bouncing springs on top of her head. The pompoms bounced cutely every time she moved.

Charles barked out a laugh. “Hell yeah you are,” he agreed with a grin.

Edwin curiously fingered her plastic holographic skirt, watching the play of the warm orange light of the office lamps play across it. “You look enchanting. I can barely bring myself to look away from you,” Edwin said with a smile that Niko shyly returned.

“Am I enchanting?” Crystal asked with a teasing smile.

“You’re terrifying,” Edwin said, straightening from examining Niko’s outfit and trying to suppress of a smile of his own.

“And hot,” Charles added with a wink.

“Perfect,” Crystal declared, “Just as I intended.” She flicked a curl over her shoulder while Niko giggled.

Not much later, they were all off. The girls had an impressive itinerary of clubs and bars and parties planned out, but the boys had only one location in mind.

Every year Crowley’s Halloween party was held in a different location. That year it was being held in the Ragged School turned museum down in the East End.

By the time that Charles and Edwin got there, just as the sun set below the skyline, ghosts from all over the city were flowing into the building. The lights were on inside, making every old broken down window shine out into the near darkness of the crisp autumn night like a beacon. Music poured out of the open front door, an odd mix of music from all manner of eras and time frames. The nearby canal gave the chill a humid tinge, making the air around them feel even colder than it really was.

“It feels morbid, doesn’t it?” Edwin asked, frowning up at the squat square facade of the school. It wasn’t grand or beautiful like some of the old buildings left behind from Edwin’s time. Charles thought he might have read somewhere that the building was a warehouse before it was converted into a school for the city’s poorest children sometime around the end of the 1800s.

“Suppose it’s just because we’re school boys, init?” Charles asked. The building did look a little ominous, even with the bright lights and music and all the ghosts slowly making their way inside.

“You ready?” Charles asked with a smile, thinking it was probably better to move inside rather than linger and wonder about times past.

Edwin took a deep breath and visibly straightened himself, his chin tilting up, his shoulders pulling back.

“As ready as I’ll ever be, I think,” he said doubtfully, despite his stiff posture.

“Brills,” Charles smiled. “Let’s head in.”

The inside of the Ragged School was absolutely packed with an eclectic mix of people both living and dead with the odd scattering of other kinds of supernatural creatures. The museum itself was pretty sparsely decorated, from what Charles could see through the press of the crowd. It definitely looked like a school, with glimpses of old wooden desks in big empty classrooms and a nice open staircase in the front hall with a polished wooden balustrade. It was obvious that the bits near the front entrance had all recently been repainted and polished up. Charles wondered if it would continue to look that way through the whole school.

Charles and Edwin didn’t have much of a chance to investigate, as they were quickly recognized by a knot of ghosts lingering near the front door.

“The Dead Boy Detectives themselves!” a pretty young man with curly hair and mutton chops said with a cheer.

“You’re both here!” a young woman with her dark hair shaved close to her head exclaimed in surprise. She was hanging from the neck of the young man who had spoken first, her dress so tiny that Charles would have blushed if he was able to.

“Are you on a case?” an older woman with a mischievous smile asked from their other side.

Charles recognized most of them from previous cases, though it was hard to remember while he was trying not to look at all the soft dark skin the young woman had on display. He thought that the guy with the mutton chops might have been haunted by a devil dog or something twenty years ago.

“Not tonight,” Edwin said shortly, nodding to them all.

“Yeah, just here for a bit of fun,” Charles said, winking at the older woman, even though it was the young couple who laughed.

“If you want to avoid Crowley, stick to the first floor,” the older woman said to Edwin with a knowing smile. “He thinks he’s holding court up there, but really he’s just making it easy for rest of us to avoid him.”

Edwin perked up a bit at that, some of the tension leeching out of his shoulders. “Thank you for the tip. I will do that.”

And then they were being buffeted through the crowd, bouncing from one group of ghosts to another. It was almost like a who’s who of spirits that the dead boys had helped or talked to or bargained with in the past thirty years. Everyone seemed happily surprised to see them and everyone was eager to talk. It was times like this that Charles was reminded of how deeply they had ingrained themselves into the supernatural tapestry of London.

Charles felt a little bit like he understood why girls fantasized about being the prettiest girl at the ball, because that night Charles certainly felt like one.

At some point, someone pressed a red solo cup into each of their hands. With a laugh, the ghost had explained, “It’s enchanted!” which made Edwin frown and Charles smile.

Edwin opened his mouth, probably to ask for the exact specifics of what kind of enchantment was on the cup, but Charles was already knocking it back.

It bubbled across his tongue in a familiar tang of sour and hops that Charles recognized from the bottles of bitter he and his friends used to sneak behind the school gymnasium after games. The taste of nostalgia was so strong it almost brought tears to his eyes. He had almost forgotten what it had tasted like, but that was it exactly.

“Charles,” Edwin sighed in exasperation. “Really. You should not drink things handed to you by a stranger.”

“I’m not a stranger,” the stranger said. “You boys saved my pet goldfish from a hungry selkie three years ago. I owe you one.”

“See?” Charles said, elbowing Edwin gently with what he knew as a cheeky smile. “He’s an past client. We can trust him. Try it!”

Edwin looked doubtfully at the liquid in the cup. It looked like nothing more spectacular than tap water, but Charles knew that it wouldn’t taste like it.

After taking a bracing breath, Edwin tipped the cup up and took a sizable swallow. When he brought the cup back down, his eyebrows were raised in surprise.

“Oh,” he said faintly. “That tastes just like the wine tonic my mother used to make me take as a child.” He turned to Charles in surprise.

“To me, it tastes like the beer me and my pals used to sneak after school,” Charles said.

“And to me, it tastes like Jack Daniels and tears,” the strange man said mournfully. “Cheers, boys. Enjoy the party,” he said and then wandered off, sipping from his own red solo cup.

The party got noticeably more blurry after that.

Charles and Edwin kept their cups in hand and kept drinking from them. No matter how much they drank, the cups never seemed to empty, so they never had to wonder where they could get more and didn’t keep much track of how much they had drank. At least, Charles certainly didn’t. He couldn’t speak for Edwin, but it felt like he was keeping pace with Charles.

Edwin had stuck close to Charles since they entered the party, but the drunker they got, the closer they became. First, they started leaning on each other, then Edwin looped Charles’ hand around his elbow when he started stumbling, until eventually they were mutually clinging to each others’ arms to stay upright.

The happiness that Charles had felt when they first entered the party just kept building. He felt warm and comfortable, even more so when his own enjoyment was mirrored in Edwin’s face. Everyone was so happy to see them, they laughed when the boys stumbled and helped right them again, pretty men and women kept touching Charles’ sleeve hair and older women carefully fixed Edwin’s hair or righted his bow tie.

Charles felt like he was on top of the world. So, when he heard one of his favorite songs come on over the speakers set throughout the house, he didn’t hesitate.

“Come dance with me!” Charles insisted, already dragging Edwin into the middle of a nearby classroom that had been repurposed into a dance floor. The desks had all been pushed into the wall, a small knot of people already swaying in the center.

Edwin stumbled, his hair falling over his forehead for the thousandth time that night.

“Charles,” he mumbled, “I can’t dance.”

“It’s okay. It’s not that kind of song,” Charles assured him, pulling him into the knot of other dancers.

England Belongs to Me by Cock Sparrer was blaring over the speakers and people were jumping and banging their heads, but Charles wasn’t paying attention to anyone but Edwin. Edwin looked uncertain and ungainly, his long legs becoming so much less certain as they both became more and more drunk. But, his eyes were stuck on Charles, watching him, waiting for him, and it made Charles feel like he was at the center of the universe.

“It’s easy!” Charles shouted over the music. “Just bounce up and down!” Charles said, grabbing both of Edwin’s hands in his and popping up and down on the balls of his feet to the rhythm of the music.

Edwin tried to follow his instructions, but he looked self conscious. He squeezed Charles’ hands in his and looked down at their shoes which was just not the thing, was it? Charles let go of Edwin’s hands after the second verse and instead wrapped his arms around his waist and pulled him close.

“Just move with me,” Charles said with a grin and a squeeze. Edwin still looked completely lost, but now he also looked a little flustered which was perfect in Charles’ opinion. Charles kept bouncing, but now he also swayed side to side. After only briefly hesitating, Edwin put his arms around Charles shoulders and let him move him.

And then the song changes and Pure by The Lightning Seeds came on. The crowd around them was laughing and dissolving and then coming back together as new people took to the floor. Charles and Edwin stayed where they were, swaying, pressed together.

Charles looked into Edwin’s eyes and they were so intense and pretty in that moment. Edwin was a pretty boy, Charles thought, in a different way that people sometimes called Charles a pretty boy. People called Charles pretty because he had an earring and he styled his hair. Charles thought Edwin would look pretty no matter what he wore or what he did with his hair.

They swayed together, looking into each other’s eyes for longer than either of them would have been capable of doing sober. Charles remembered the song that was playing, the way he used to listen to it on loop the month before he died. The guy who was on the cover of the cassette, Ian Broudie, was cute in a way that Charles hadn’t let himself think about back then. But, when he would lay on his bed and close his eyes he would imagine that the singer was there in his room with him, singing him a love song with soft lips and softer looking hair and big glasses that made him look sweet and inviting.

Before Charles noticed it, Edwin’s lips were on his, soft as the Charles back then had imagined the boy in the song’s might be, sweeter than any kiss he’d had before then.

Charles barely got a chance to kiss back, before Edwin was pulling away. His brow was crumpled and his eyes were afraid. Charles tought that Edwin shouldn’t look so afraid, especially not right after kissing him.

“I’m so sorry. I don’t,” Edwin swallowed and his throat clicked, his adam’s apple bobbed against his collar. “I don’t know what came over me.”

“I liked it,” Charles said. He heard the slur on his voice, so he repeated himself just in case. “I liked it,” he grinned and leaned in. “Do it again?”

Edwin met him halfway and they were kissing and swaying and music was playing. Someone whistled and clapped and Charles had enough thought to take a hand off of Edwin’s shoulder and point his middle finger in the general direction of the whistler to the raucous laughter of the crowd.

They kissed and danced and the music kept changing. It felt a bit like the room was spinning, but Edwin felt solid and perfect, so Charles just held onto him and kept kissing him until long after a living boy’s lips would have gone numb.

---

At some point, Charles and Edwin ended up on a couch.

“This does not seem historically accurate,” Edwin had muttered into the couch cushion, but by that point Charles was too invested in kissing every square centimeter of Edwin’s long beautiful throat to bother engaging in talk about Edwardian furniture.

“Perhaps you boys should get a room,” a feminine voice laughed from somewhere nearby. Long acrylic nails glided through Charles’ hair, scratching his scalp. “I think you’re scandalizing some of the geezers.”

“Don’t care. Fuck off,” Charles grumbled, waving a hand to banish the heavenly nails. Whoever she was, she laughed and removed her hand. Charles fumbled around until he found Edwin’s hand on his waist and slapped it onto his head instead. Edwin seemed to get the message and started scratching his short nails through Charles’ hair.

Edwin was laid out on a hideous plaid couch, his long limbs splayed out, his bow tie long gone, his shirt unbuttoned. His hair was a mess and his lips were wet with Charles’ spit. Charles had no idea how they had gotten to the couch or even a vague idea of where they were in the building, but he was glad to whatever drunken stumble or nice friend had gotten them there. They must have been at the edge of the party. There were a few people talking or necking in the room with them, but it was a lot wherever they were than it had been earlier.

Charles was cradled in the basket of Edwin’s legs, his strong thighs squeezing Charles’ hips every time he did something especially clever with his mouth. Somewhere in the back of Charles addled brain he knew he was hard and that Edwin was hard and that he had been rocking himself into Edwin for however long it had been that they’d been making out.

A small voice was starting to panic somewhere in the soupy mess of his brain. Edwin loved him. Charles had told Edwin that he didn’t love him like that. And now Charles was grinding Edwin into a dusty couch in the back of a house party while they were both drunk off their asses. That was not a respectful way to treat a friend.

Charles reached over the edge of the couch and grabbed his solo cup, tipping a huge swallow down his throat. His thoughts became pleasantly unfocused again.

Pushing himself up Edwin’s body in an indecent drag, Charles mouthed at Edwin’s ear. “You feel so good,” he groaned, thrusting down hard. Edwin gasped and moaned, thrusting up to meet Charles, the hand not buried in Charles’ hair reaching down to grab Charles’ ass and pull him against him harder.

“Oh-kay. Everyone out,” the woman’s voice from before called out through the room.

There was grumbling and laughing as ghosts and creatures started to slowly trickle out of the little back room.

“Who gave them solo cups?” someone asked in exasperation as they walked by. “They’re practically babies.”

“Jerry,” someone said with a snort.

“Jerry!” a number of people chorused their discontent with poor Jerry, but Charles didn’t want to hear that. He didn’t want to think about the cup, he just needed every thought that wasn’t about Edwin and how to make him make that sound again to go away.

Charles reached over and fumbled for his cup again, almost knocking it over. He tipped it back, his throat working to swallow and swallow and swallow until his stomach rebelled at the thought of swallowing more. Then, he passed the cup to Edwin, who wobbled his way up onto his elbows so that he could do the same.

Whatever happened after that was indistinct. Charles remembered more moaning, from both of them but especially from Edwin. He remembered the taste of Edwin’s skin and the feel of his soft hair between his fingers. He remembered pleasure singing up and down his spine and burning low in his gut.

He remembered that they clung to each other afterward and whispered sweet words against each other’s lips and nuzzled together so tenderly. No one had ever touched Charles as gently as Edwin did, but Charles would never be able to remember the words they whispered to each other as they did so.

And, even though ghosts don’t sleep, something like it must have stolen over them eventually, because Charles couldn’t remember anything after that.

---

If Charles had felt like a princess during the party, he felt like the scum of the earth the next morning.

It didn’t seem fair for ghosts to be able to get hang overs, but Charles couldn’t come up with any other explanation for why his head was pounding like it was. Even when he was alive, he had never gotten a hangover before, but he supposed enchanted endless solo cups were probably stronger than the cheap beer that his mates would steal from their parents.

Charles pried his eyes open to blink at the sunlight bright room and saw Edwin blinking tiredly at him from about two inches away. Charles screeched, lurched backward, and fell painfully onto the dirty floor beside the couch.

“Charles?” Edwin asked sleepily, leaning over the side of the couch and looking at Charles with concern.

But, Charles couldn’t look at him. He couldn’t look at his pale throat still plainly visible against his open collar, or his mussed hair that had felt so soft between Charles’ fingers, or his frowning mouth that had gasped and moaned just the night before.

“I know what he sounds like when he cums,” Charles thought wildly, before shooting to his feet in a burst of adrenaline as that thought seared itself into the inside of his skull, something he could never unthink or undo or bury.

“Are you alright?” Edwin asked, looking distinctly more concerned.

“Yeah! Brills! Perfect!” Charles shouted, his voice strangled and awful even to his own ears. Edwin’s face was folding into a more severe frown. Charles had to do something to salvage the situation. “My head is killing me, though. Can’t remember a thing about last night,” Charles laughed, wincing and pressing a hand to his forehead. Luckily, his head was actually killing him, so he didn’t even have to pretend to wince.

Edwin’s face went startlingly blank, the frown and the furrowed brow dropping off like they’d never been there. Charles held his breath and felt like the world did too.

After what felt like an eternity, Edwin faintly said. “Yes. Me too.” He looked away and swallowed and very briefly a pained look flitted across his face that cut Charles to the quick.

“No no no,” Charles thought. “That was wrong. That was the wrong answer! Fuck!”

Edwin sighed and began doing up the buttons of his shirt in sharp yanks and twists of his elegant fingers. “You really should listen to me, Charles. I told you it was foolish to accept mysterious drinks from strangers. Now we might as well have not come to the party at all.”

“Ah, well. I mean. It wasn’t that bad,” Charles stumbled. His heart was pounding in his chest and Edwin wasn’t looking at him. “It was a lot of fun before we started drinking, yeah?”

Edwin ignored him, running a hand through his hair to try and neaten it, though the effort was wasted. His hair was too mussed to be fixed by a little bit of finger combing.

Climbing to his feet, Edwin began to pull his clothing straight. But, it still looked rumpled, even to Charles’ untrained eye. He wondered why Edwin didn’t just imagine his clothing neatened like he usually did. He wondered if Edwin was as flustered as he was.

“We ought to be getting back to the office. The girls are likely wondering where we are,” Edwin said stiffly, opening the old wooden door out to the corridor and striding out. The school looked different in the daylight. The glass was old and dirty in the unfinished part of the museum, making the early autumn light look strange and anemic on the peeling paint and scuffed wood.

“Wait, Edwin,” Charles hurried after him, but Edwin didn’t slow down. His long legs ate up the distance down the corridor toward the general direction of the front hall. “I said wait!” Charles grabbed Edwin’s wrist.

Edwin stopped suddenly, twisting his head to the side to pin Charles with a venomous look.

“Do you have something you want to talk about, Charles?” he snapped.

Charles felt pinned to the spot, like Edwin had pinned him to a piece of corkboard like a bug. “Well,” Charles mumbled. He hesitated. He knew what he should say. He knew he should come clean and admit that he did remember what had happened, but there was a rock in his stomach and his tongue felt too numb to get the words out. “Well, no, I guess-”

“If you have nothing to say to me, then let’s get on with business as usual. Shall we?” Edwin asked.

He looked brittle in that moment, like he had spun himself up a facade made of glass and if Charles so much as touched him the wrong way he would shatter. Charles had done that to him, to his best friend in the world.

Charles let go of Edwin’s wrist. He felt small and pathetic and that he likely deserved much worse than Edwin snapping at him.

“Yeah. Okay,” Charles croaked.

Edwin looked at him for a long time, but eventually he nodded and turned back around. He started walking again, this time at a more reasonable pace. Charles walked just a step behind him and tried to force down all the feelings swelling up in his chest with nowhere to go.

He would follow Edwin and protect him and be his best friend as well as he could, Charles decided. That was all he could do.

[enby-calamity]

Happy dead boy ween everybody

@deadboyween thank you for the event<3

[yourgaydads]

killed two birds with one stone! i hope you like it!

[venzilanddeathcult]

ALL TIME FAVORITE ALBUMS CHART

2023 is basically ending and i dont think theres any upcoming album thats going to absolutely shatter my perception of music (most recent one would be ants from up there my beloved) so i made a chart of all my favorite albums ever forever adn ever but 4x4

so thats that

ALBUMS IN (loose-ish) ORDER

O Terno - Melhor Do Que Parece

Slint - Spiderland

The Mars Volta - Frances The Mute

SWANS - The Seer (!!!!!!!)

Ween - Quebec

The Beach Boys - Pet Sounds

Milton Nascimento & Lô Borges - Clube da Esquina

TOOL - Lateralus

Have A Nice Life - Deathconsciousness

Les Rallizes Dénudés - '77 Live

Queens Of The Stone Age - Songs For The Deaf

Dead Kennedys - Plastic Surgery Disasters (And In God We Trust Inc., that one's equally amazing)

Pink Floyd - Wish You Were Here

Nirvana - In Utero

Ween - The Mollusk

Pixies - Doolittle

[that-trans-autistic-guy]

yall i didn’t realize an entire day of dead boy ween was themed with “orb” oh my gods what have i done to this fandom 😭

(and to my phone, it autocorrects to the orb names lmao)

[toopimpabutterfly]

making my INTRO!!!!! or this is my intro. ykykyk. (meet my shitty way of designing intros and stuff too,)

HIHI call me Jésus I'm 16 Apache Mexican American. With some other stuff cause yeah. just mentioning that cause. I will say a lot of stuff yk. I'm autistic and scitzohenic but PLEASEEEE I NEED FRIENDS and PEOPLE TO talk to about my current interests!!!

MOVIES

Oh to go. on ABOUT THIS.. here's my letterboxd I fucking love movies.

DOGMA, MOONLIGHT, CLERKS, NATURAL BORN KILLERS, GOOD WILL HUNTING, FIGHT CLUB, NAKED LUNCH, FEAR AND LOATHING IN LAS VEGAS, CONSTANTINE, HELLBBOY, GUMMO, MAD MAX + FURIOSA, GODZILLA, I SAW THE TV GLOW, AVATAR, JACKASS, MID 90S, STRAIGHT OUTTA COMPTON, I LOVE YOU PHILIP MORRIS, WEEKEND AT BERNIE'S, FRIDAY, THE MATRIX, JAY AND SILENT BOB STRIKE BACK, THIRTEEN, REQUIEM FOR A DREAM, TRAINSPOTTING, THE PEOPLE VS LARRY FLYNT, DUCK TILL DAWN, THE WATERMELON WOMAN, DONT BE A MENACE TO SOUTH CENTRAL, BOYZ IN THE HOOD, 12 MONKEYS, MENACE II SOCIETY, WATCHMEN,MALL RATS, KIDS and a lot more.. coughs.

TV SHOWS

PREACHER, THE BOYS, THE MAXX, ÆON FLUX, THE BOONDOCKS, LOITER SQUAD, CLERKS ANIMATED, AQUA TEEN HUNGER FORCE, BOJACK HORSEMAN, BEVIS AND BUTTHEAD, JACKASS THE SERIES, SMILING FRIENDS, THE ERIC ANDRE SHOW, FUTURAMA, KING OF THE HILL, MORAL OREL, BLACK DYNAMITE, HOME MOVIES, SPACE GHOST COAST TO COAST, THE OBLONGS, and more stuff again. Assume that a lot tbh.

MUSIC

THE BUTTHOLE SURFERS, KENDRICK LAMAR, ICE CUBE, N.W.A, BLACK FLAG, DEAD KENNEDY'S, LEONARD COHEN, NINE INCH NAILS, OUTKAST, TYLER, THE CREATOR, NAS, DR DRE, BONE THUGZ, QUASIMOTO, EAZY-E, KMFDM, ALEX G, WEEN, CHEMLAB, JANE'S ADDICTION, GERMS, ANGRY SAMOANS, NEW ORDER, JOY DIVISION, COWBOY JUNKIES, JESUS LOVES JUNKIES, PIXIES, DINOSAUR JR, HOOTIE AND THE BLOWFISH, THE VELVET UNDERGROUND, THE DEAD MILKMEN, NECROS, CIRCLE JERKS, HOLE, and a lot more. I love hardcore punk, crust, hip-hop, rap, and basically everything tbh.

MISC + FIXATIONS

I love comics like the Punisher, The Maxx, Preacher, Bratpack, the clerk's comic, Watchmen, Hellboy, little things. I like reading, TOO . I LOVE HUNTER S THOMPSON!!! Mostly Fear and Loathing in las Vegas, Hell's Angels, and the Campaign Trail 72, and other books like Revolt of the Cockroach People, Get in The Van. Little books like that sorta. GAMES TOO I like Faith the unholy Trinity, DOOM, POSTAL, GTA, DUSK, and a few others!

I collect DVDS, games, VHS tapes, books, CDs, records, laser discs, literally any piece of physical media . All of it. I like conspiracy theories, civil rights activists, some art history, Malcolm X. I'm a punk I go to local shows and stuff and might sometimes post that when I can. I have a HUGEEE fixation rn on Dogma(1999) and Kendrick Lamar. But I heavily enjoy the viewaskew universe rn and want to interact with more of the little fandom please... my dad got me into the movies and we watched them all together n stuff. I do powerlifting as a hobby and like to go on walks around my town and say nonsense please interact. I will post whatever I want here really tbh.. BYE.

#toopimpabutterfly <- tag for everything I post

TAGS!!!

#TPAB lyric posts <- me lyric postin, nuff said.

#TPAB rants <- mostly vent or ranting about my horrible life. how fun

I got socials too, discords are irlwillhunting MAIN and h0peeradicated as alt. My Instagram is topimpthebutterfly . Spotify is here .

[f1-disaster-bi]

Spooky/Autumn Prompts

"It was a dark and stormy night." "It's literally 76 and sunny outside."

For norstappen? <3

"It was a dark and stormy night.....", Lando lowered his voice, speaking dramatically as Max watched him from the doorway. There was nothing he loved more than watching Lando read to their children. Their twins eyes were laser focused on Lando, watching and waiting for Lando to do all the voices that they loved. Lex was clutching his stuffed dog close to him, mouth a little open as he hugn on Lando's every word. Sam had his blankie pulled around him and thumb in his mouth. They had been working on weening them off of their dummies, but when Sam was tired, he always put a thumb or fingers in his mouth. Max could have easily walked across the room to gently pull it from his mouth, but he didn't. He didn't want to disturb the magic Lando was weaving as he continued on with a toddler friendly Halloween tale. Halloween was all that the twins were talking about now that they were a bit older and understood it. They already had their costumes picked and hanging in their wardrobes, just waiting for their pre-schools Halloween party before the break and Max knew Lando had his camera ready to capture as many pictures as possible. After another few moments, Max finally stepped away from the doorway to help Lando settle the boys down for their nap. It was easy to do. They took after Lando in that once they were asleep, they were dead to the world. "A halloween story? On a day like today?", Max teased softly as he wrapped his arms around Lando, pressing a kiss to his cheek, "It's literally over twenty degrees outside and sunny" "It's still spooky season", Lando whisper argued back at him, "And everyone loves Meg and Mog" Max didn't argue back as Lando pulled him out of the room with one last lingering look back at their sleeping boys.

[arrowofcarnations]

Fic-O-Ween 2023 Day 4: Dead End

Some Luke/Logan friendship for day four of the fest (@noots-fic-fests)! Thanks to @lumosinlove for creating these two, and special thanks to @fruitcoops for beta-reading this and being an all-around excellent friend and hype noot. <3

Title: Birds of a Feather Characters: Luke Deveaux, Logan Tremblay Rating: G

(Contains Vaincre spoilers!)

“Luke and I have been running along the river. You know, the Hudson River path? It’s been kinda warm so sometimes we lay out after. There’s a park with grass. It’s nice.” (Logan, Vaincre, May Part Two)

~

They didn’t have a set schedule or anything. It would happen like this: Luke would text him something like “Run tomorrow? Gonna be nice out,” Logan would send a thumbs-up, and they’d pick an access point along the path to meet—sometimes a familiar one, sometimes a new one way uptown or downtown so they could try out a different route. That’s how it happened in the beginning, at least. Now Logan texted first sometimes, too.

Neither of them were runners the way Finn was, both preferring to keep it down to a few easy miles at most. Sometimes they’d stop so Luke could pet a dog, or so Logan could take a picture of the view to send to his boys. It was…well, nice, like he’d told Leo. Grounding. Head-clearing. Nice, too, to hang out with Luke outside of practice, travel and team dinners.

He had other real friends in New York, of course—with Alex, Percy and Will as his teammates, it still kind of shocked Logan just how many friends he had here—but there was a level of understanding with Luke that was unique. Alex and Percy were loud, outgoing, hearts-on-their-sleeves people. Will was a thousand times more patient and level-headed than Logan could ever be. But Luke—Luke was a lot like him. A hundred silent thoughts for every one said aloud. Guarded around new people. Tough shells, Leo had said of the two of them. Logan supposed that was as good a phrase to characterize it as any. He just knew he was thankful for it.

On this particular day—the warmest they’d had since they’d started doing this together—they hooked up with the path near the George Washington Bridge and headed south, flanked by rows of still-blooming cherry trees lining the river. They’d timed it late enough in the afternoon for the crowds of cyclists, families and dog-walkers to have thinned slightly, but with enough daylight left so they could finish before dark. Streaks of orange and pink were starting to paint the sky by the time they reached Riverside Park. They found an empty spot and planted themselves there; the grass was cool on Logan’s skin as he flopped down on his back, only raising his head to take a sip of water before going boneless.

“Do you have a good route in Gryff?”

Logan’s gaze traveled from the wispy clouds overhead to Luke sitting beside him, bent over his own thigh in a stretch.

“Ouais, kind of,” he replied. He liked that Luke never used the past tense when they talked about Gryffindor, about his life there. “I usually go with Finn—he has his favorites. There’s one we do in the old part of the city that’s good. You know the Godric’s Hollow neighborhood?”

Luke nodded, switching to the other leg. “Hazard dragged us to a bakery there on some little dead-end street once.”

An ache Logan was now familiar with pinged briefly in his chest. Race you to the door. Damn, I can smell those croissants. C’mon, Lo baby, I’ll buy you something sweet. “I know the one. Pretty sure he built the route around that bakery. Even when Knutty and I sleep in, he’ll bring us back something.”

It was a relief to not have to pick and choose his words when it came to Finn and Leo. So new, and still so strange. Had there ever been a time before the last few weeks when he didn’t have to worry about implications?

Finished with his stretch, Luke sat up straight and rolled his neck and shoulders a few times before grabbing his own water bottle. “He’s a morning guy, eh?”

Logan nodded. “Annoyingly so. He needs a coffee in one hand and a book in the other just to keep him in bed past eight.”

Luke gave a hum of acknowledgement, then chugged the rest of his water. He was quiet long enough that Logan was about to ask something else, but then Luke, staring out at the water, said, “Saint’s the same way.”

It was a good thing that Logan had already noticed, that he’d already suspected as much, because it was easy to keep his expression neutral. He was surprised, though; not because Luke and Saint were a thing, but because Luke had told him about it.

“He’s a morning runner?” he asked, staying put in his casual sprawl as though no big news had just been dropped.

“No, yoga. Out on his balcony, ass crack of dawn, with this ugly tie-dye bandana on his head.”

Logan laughed, loud and bright, and it startled a little laugh out of Luke, too. “Goalies are crazy.”

Luke’s shoulders, which had been creeping up toward his ears, dropped; his whole body seemed to relax by several degrees, and he smiled. “They’re nuts.”

They both let the lull in conversation stretch for a little while after that. Luke eventually laid down under the waning sun like Logan was, both of them watching the sky as the city provided a familiar soundtrack of birds, dogs, people and distant traffic. Logan thought about how Luke helped make New York feel like a home away from home. About how nice, how necessary, it was to carve out new routines and memories in a place that was so tangled up with his memories of Finn, and how Luke seemed to know that, how he’d been helping Logan do that without ever discussing it. Though, he guessed part of it was that Luke simply wanted to hang out with him because he liked him.

Liked him and trusted him. Logan wasn’t sure how he’d earned that, but he knew he’d do his best to keep it.

And because he liked Luke, too, he had to turn his head on the grass to look at him and find out what the two of them were dealing with, even if it was awkward.

“Do the other guys know?”

Luke shook his head.

“Your families?”

Another head shake.

“Have you talked about it? You and him.”

Luke glanced away, then snapped his eyes back to Logan like he was making himself stick this out. Logan understood that more than he could put into words. “Not really. It’s—a thing, but not…no one’s said boyfriend. It’s not like Black and Lupin. Or you three.”

“D’accord.”

Luke didn’t ask him not to tell anyone. He didn’t need to.

“You don’t seem surprised,” Luke said after a moment.

Logan shrugged. “Not because—I didn’t hear anything from anyone. I think maybe I can see it because I lived it for so long.”

Luke looked like he was taking that in for a second. Logan hoped he got it right. He wasn’t Finn, who always knew just what to say to anyone, or Leo, who made people feel comfortable with the kindness that radiated from him like sunlight. But Luke nodded, tossed him a stick of gum, and started talking about their upcoming game on Tuesday, so Logan figured he hadn’t fucked it up too badly.

They talked hockey until they really started to lose the light, then made their way through the park toward the street, walking fast to keep warm as dusk ushered the spring chill back in. They lived close enough to share an uber, and Luke called one as they reached the curb.

Logan pulled out his phone as they waited; Finn had correctly guessed where he was just from a blurry picture of one of the pink-petaled trees from earlier, and Leo sent a selfie of the two of them with goofy grins from ear to ear and a love you, gonna kiss you in 2 days!!!. He forgot all about the weather, warmed from the inside out at the sight of them. He wanted that for Luke and Saint, too. He wanted it for everyone who still had to hide, who still told themselves they weren’t allowed to have it.

The car pulled up in front of them and, just before they got in, Luke put a hand on his shoulder, squeezing briefly.

“Thanks, Tremz,” he said, tone casual but green-brown eyes sincere. “For real.”

“No worries,” Logan said, a phrase he’d picked up from Leo. “Get in, I’m fucking freezing.”

Luke shoved him, then climbed into the car. Logan followed his friend close behind.

[ghostboyhood]

INT. BEDROOM - NIGHT

A boy lays in his bed with headphones on listening to the same song he has been for hours. His eyes are sunken in and he is visibly tired.

The camera pans to the boys face. He sighs, looks directly into the camera, and closes his eyes.

Cut to black.

☆ Name - Ghost / Kurtis / Trevor

★ Pronouns - He/Him

☆ Sexuality - Queer

★ heyy!! this is mainly a place of whatever my current hyperfixation,, i talk a lot about a lot very incoherently so bear with me.. i have autism + adhd which u could probably tellll

☆ my dms are open but if you make me uncomfortable ill just block you! i do enjoy talking to people, i just have a rough time starting conversations because i dont want to be annoying.. i also have a very hard time getting my thoughts into coherent sentences.. but dont hesitate to dm or send me an ask !! oh and close moots can ask for my insta <3

★ right now im really into they might be giants!!! im currently watching white collar !!

☆ i love tv show and movie recommendations,, i cant guarantee ill watch it 100% but i bet ill eventually get to it one day.. i plan on watching succession, the good place, and interview with the vampire sometime.. i also love talking about tv shows/movies with people so Pleaseee talk to me about ur interests or my interests or whatever, i luv listening to ppl infodump!!!

★ some other things im into areee - house md, its always sunny in philadelphia, breaking bad, bobs burgers, good omens, all of john mulaneys specials, velvet goldmine, brokeback mountain, rocky horror picture show, saw (2004), fight club, dead poets society, a quiet place (all three), deadpool (+ wolvie), the outsiders (book mostly), many more movies just ask, life is strange, i plan on beginning detroit become human, dan and phil, danny gonzalez, kurtis conner, drew gooden, markiplier, and a lot of other things i just.. havent written down

@faileddog ^ (mona, joel, and i watching american psycho)

☆ i love love love love music with my whole heart,, i listen to most genres but i go through phases of only listening to specific songs/genres/albums/etc

★ my favorite artist is vundabar!! they have been for years now i love them so much

☆ right now ive been in a slight music rut so ive been listening to the same songs over and over on my main playlist i have..

★ some artists i like include - they might be giants, pure sport, ween, the frights, stephen sanchez, my chemical romance, green day, david bowie, nirvana, system of a down, sign crushes motorist/birth day, lord huron, the magnetic fields, alex g, deftones, childish gambino, twist off!, etc etc

☆ if u wanna go listen to any of my playlists ☆

★ hmm what elsee,, im really into punk rock n i go to a lot of punk shows!! concerts are like my favorite thing and ive seen 20+ people live <3

☆ as i said i luv movies, i want to work on movies one day as a cinematographer or maybe even director.. my dream is to make my own movie. i would also like to be a concert photographer because i love photography and yeah!!!

★ ouhh i also love queer history, history in general but mostly queer history.. i love learning about the past and how life was for people.. im mainly intrigued by like the 70s-90s but honestly anything in the 20th century..

☆ i could talk about some of my favorite characters for hours,, i get Really invested in usually one show at a time though so its hard to invest myself in things that arent.. that fixation

★ i dont wanna write down all the guys i like but you'll definitely be able to tell because i wont shut up about them and my reblogs will mostly be them...

☆ credit- @hopelesshardrockfan for my banner

[thatssomuchlove]

Fic-O-Ween Day 10

Characters by the lovely @lumosinlove and fest organized by @noots-fic-fests!!

Prologue for a Stardust AU (a sort of hodge-podge of book and movie) featuring the one and only Ramsey O'Hara:

Ramsey’s scrap of sanity was getting pretty threadbare. He loved his son dearly; he loved his wailing and crying son so dearly, but he was going crazy. He knew that losing his wife in childbirth was just as tough on his baby as it was on him (he hadn’t loved her like the storybooks say, but it was a practical match and they really were very good friends), but god he just hadn’t had a break in over a year. That’s why Ramsey had written to his sister to come stay with him for a little bit. He needed the company, he needed the help, and he desperately needed the pot of tea she was making for them in the kitchen. Alex had quieted down by the time Shannon brought their teacups to the sitting room where Ramsey was bouncing him in his arms. He breathed a quiet word of thanks to his sister before sitting down in his armchair with one arm around Alex where the baby was now sleeping on his chest and the other raising the tea to his lips.

“Ramsey, darling, you look exhausted,” Shannon started.

“Ah, well I can’t imagine why,” Ramsey responded before taking a sip from his teacup. She just gave him a look over the rim of hers.

“How about I take him for a bit? You need some fresh air,” his sister suggested.

Ramsey clutched Alexander a little tighter. The boy may wear him out, but he needed Alex as much as Alex needed him, if not more. His child was the last piece of his wife that he had left, and sometimes letting him go felt impossible.

“I am perfectly capable of putting him down,” Shannon added with a raised eyebrow.

“Yes, all right.” But Ramsey was slow to get up and hand Alex over. He really was such a sweet baby. Those huge brown eyes framed by dark red lashes could bend Ramsey’s will on anything, and he felt their pull even while they were closed peacefully. He grabbed his coat then bid them goodbye with a kiss to his sister’s cheek and his baby’s soft, sweet-smelling head. Right before he was out the door, he turned back to the people that mattered most in his life. “Thank you, Shannon.”

She just smiled and waved him off, and Ramsey stepped out into the cool autumn night air and shut the door softly behind him. He looked up at the stars, fainter in the glow of his porch lamps, and chose a direction. After passing the last house on the lane, he almost stopped dead in his tracks when he felt an urge—the first in a long time—to whistle a tune. Ramsey also felt himself being inexplicably drawn to the wall that inspired the name of his town. It was one of the rare Market Days at the beginning of November. He had rented out one of the rooms in his house to a curious man in a black silk top hat because the inn always filled up very fast, and it was considered rude if the townsfolk did not offer up their homes to the visitors—for acceptable payment of course (though what was considered acceptable varied greatly with this strange lot; Ramsey was currently being paid both in coin and the promise of his and his progenies’ Heart’s Desire). He was only comfortable leaving Shannon alone in the house because he knew that his mysterious tenant always stayed out in the Faerie Market all night. Ramsey had never been to the Market, as he had moved from Ireland less than three years ago. Escaping the growing food scarcity, he started working for sheep farmers in Wall to send money back to his family. He became good friends with the farmer’s eldest daughter; and very quickly, he and Daisy were expected to marry, so they did. They had Alex a year into their marriage, and just like that, she was gone. His in-laws generally took care of Alex while he was working, but he still hadn’t expected to have the time nor the energy to see the Market. However, something about this opportunity that would end tonight and not come again for nine years was suddenly irresistible.

When Ramsey emerged from the tree line to see the wall guarded by none other than Mad-Eye Moody himself, he was surprised to find no one passing through either way. Still, he nodded to Moody and attempted to go through the crumbling gap in the wall before his chest bumped into the cane that Moody had thrust out in front of him.

“You can’t pass through the wall, O’Hara,” Moody said in his rough, gravelly voice.

“Why but it is a Market Day,” Ramsey responded with his eyebrows pinched together.

Moody stared at him hard, “yes, but I only let people through midday to dusk. It is not safe over there after nightfall.”

“Oh,” Ramsey knew that Moody was not someone who could be bargained with. “Well… that sounds rather final. Better just go home then, I suppose.” Ramsey turned around to make it appear that he was heeding Moody’s warning, but that last strand of sanity had finally snapped.

“Good,” Moody started walking back to his seat off to the side of the gap. He wasn’t fast enough to stop Ramsey when the young man suddenly turned back around and sprinted towards the wall, leaping through the gap and not stopping to the shouts of “wait!” and “O’HARA!” that followed him into the forest on the other side of the wall. Ramsey knew that Moody would not leave his post, but he didn’t stop running to catch his breath until he was well into the trees.

The Faerie Market lay outside the town that served as a magical counterpart to Wall. He could hear the hawking of wares and music from instruments he could not identify as he moved closer to the orange glow filtering through the forest. Ramsey did not want to look like a tourist, but he felt like his eyes held the same naïve wonderment as his son’s when he finally entered the Market. Some of the stalls were already closed up as it was past normal hours, but there were still plenty of people selling wild things like parts from animals he had never heard of and bottles of swirling clouds and sweet-smelling food (that he knew very well not to take thanks to his Maimeó). He felt almost in a trance as he wandered the winding rows of stalls until sharp awareness flooded back as he beheld the most beautiful woman he had ever seen standing behind a table of small glass flowers that chimed delicately. She had long curly auburn hair hanging loose over bare shoulders and past the neckline of her blue dress with ruffled skirts. Her violet eyes and pointed ears alerted his brain that she could be dangerous, but his heart told him that it didn’t matter.

She caught him staring, “See anything you like?”

It was then that the man with the black silk top hat passed by, though Ramsey did not notice his presence or whisper of a debt being paid in full.

“Definitely,” Ramsey breathed. He could not stop looking at the woman, and when she smiled in response, he lost all higher brain function. He averted his eyes to the flowers and stammered, “they- they are very lovely,” and he picked up a violet that seemed to sing as he held it, “how much?”

“We don’t take money at this stall.”

Ramsey cocked his head, “what do you take?”

“I could take the pattern of freckles on your cheeks… or your memories of the rain. I could even take your ability to smell fresh baked bread or the spice of autumnal air.”

Ramsey put down the flower, feeling a little out of his depth, but he would give up quite a bit just to keep talking to her.

“What is your name?”

She smiled sadly, “I no longer have a name,” and she held up her skirts just enough to show a silver chain tied around her ankle, “I am a slave, and the name I had was taken from me by the witch-woman who owns this stall.”

Ramsey tried not to let too much of his horror show on his face, “And you are her slave forever?”

“No, not forever. But the conditions in which I gain my freedom are not so easily met. My mistress lured me out of my father’s lands and caught me many years ago. I dream of the day that I can return to them as a free woman.” The young woman, who had been looking out unseeing into the middle distance, returned her gaze to Ramsey, “Will you buy a flower from me, young master?”

“My name is Ramsey,” he told her, having been enraptured by her sad tale and forgetting that one must be careful with names in the land of Faerie. He gave the table another look and picked up a white snowdrop that he knew Alex would like. “And what would this cost me?”

“That one would cost a kiss, just here on my cheek,” and she tapped it coyly.

Ramsey grinned at her, “oh that I will pay gladly,” and he kissed the soft skin of her cheek. He felt the overwhelming desire to linger and continue breathing in the inviting, magical scent of the woman, but he pulled away and searched her unusual violet eyes.

“Will you stay awhile? My mistress will not be back for some time,” she asked.

The quickness with which Ramsey started nodding made him pause, “I feel as if I am under some sort of spell.”

Her laugh was even more wondrous than her smile. “You are under no spell, pretty boy,” and she led him to sit in the grass between the painted caravan and her table of wares.

They both looked up at the stars in the clearing between the trees, and Ramsey could not help but remark on the unidentifiable difference to the ones he saw mere hours ago on his side of the wall, “these stars, they seem like… more.”

The woman beside him (she was so close, but he could feel the inches between them so distinctly) hummed melodically and asked, “What are your stars like?”

She looked at him as he struggled to name the difference, “They are beautiful.” He met her gaze and his breath caught, “But everything feels so much more alive here.”

“What about you? Do you feel more alive?”

He didn’t tell her about the challenges he was facing back home—grief, loneliness, homesickness—but he had a feeling she knew anyway. “I think I do,” he whispered and brought a hand to the cheek that he had kissed. He leaned in, and she brought her mouth to his. The desire that Ramsey had felt from that first kiss on her cheek multiplied tenfold, and it felt only natural when she led him through the small door of the yellow caravan.

~

When Shannon scolded him and told him she was this close to forming a search party at the late hour that he finally returned to his home, Ramsey made up some story to placate her and quickly fell into bed (but not before placing the snowdrop carefully on his bedside table), utterly exhausted and strangely content.

~

Nine months later, Ramsey received a surprise in a basket delivered by Moody to his doorstep after hearing a knock at dinner time. The surprise had a little bit of fuzzy red hair and startlingly familiar chocolate brown eyes when he opened them to peer up at Ramsey curiously.

Moody stated gruffly, “This was left at the wall for you. It says his name is Finn.”

All Ramsey could do was stare at the man, and then at the baby.

“Dada! More, peas,” Ramsey heard from where Alex was seated in his highchair at the dinner table.

“One second, a leanbh,” Ramsey called back to Alex before taking the basket from Moody. He told the man thank you and received a grunt in response before closing the door and heading back into the dining room. He set the baby and basket onto the table and picked up the piece of paper that had “Finn Callahan O’Hara” written in looping cursive. There was also a letter and a small package addressed to Finn tucked into the side of the basket that he did not touch.

“What dat?” Alex asked, trying to peer over the edge of the basket, and while there was no written confirmation, Ramsey knew. He knew that he was going to do this again. But he didn’t feel as alone this time. He had Alex, he had his sister, and he had the people in his community, like Iva and Marius, who were always willing to help.

Ramsey gently lifted Finn into his arms and held him so that Alex could get a good look. “This is your little brother Finn,” Ramsey said to Alex and watched his eyes go wide. He then turned to the baby, who had reached out his hand at the sight of the toddler. “Finn, this is your big brother Alexander.”

At least it was going to be easier to get Alex to believe the stork story now.

[weirdmageddon]

any dave music hcs? :) my playlist for him mostly consists of relatively popular rock music. besides wacky but awesome garageband beats, i personally think he’d be a rocknroll radio hits kinda guy, at least for pre-sburb dave, i don’t think he’d have as much freedom to really explore music the way he wants before then. some of my favorites for him are all mixed up (311), superman’s dead (our lady six), bound for the floor (local H), everything to everyone (everclear), inside out (eve 6) and birds (butthole surfers). i also think he’d like metal too! particularly nu metal. even if mixing music and rapping is an outlet for him, i see him relating to these types of songs a lot and maybe at the time when his #ironiccoolguy persona is most prevalent + affecting his interests/personality heavily, he’s embarrassed about admitting his popular favorites b/c it’s not cool to him to like what’s mainstream. but you know character arc! and besides when the earth explodes no music is really popular anymore LOL. btw i liked your davejade music posts ^_^ so i’m very curious if you have any thoughts for dave music on his own!

one of the first things we know about dave is “You like to rave about BANDS NO ONE'S EVER HEARD OF BUT YOU” but its never brought up again. so i can see him having a bit of a punky existence. but its pretty impossible to list bands that people havent heard about but him. it doesnt mean he can’t like known acts. pink floyd are one of the most well known music artists of all time but i think he would like it for instance

but of those known acts i know his ass does not listen to fallout boy or whatever

idk dave he strikes me as someone who listens to both brian eno and death grips but at the same time theres a lot of stuff i CANT see him listening to

i think he probably likes beastie boys. paul’s boutique (1989) is probably one of his top albums. deltron 3030 (2000) too. both experimental hiphop, paul’s boutique utilizing plunderphonics while deltron 3030 is a bit more epic and psychedelic.

i think both wouldve changed his life. paul’s boutique for for his pragmatic bent (sampling)

and deltron 3030 on the psychological / reflection / journey / listen and close your eyes rock opera side (“It is a rap opera concept album set in a dystopian year 3030. The album's story casts Del in the role of Deltron Zero, a disillusioned mech soldier and interplanetary computer prodigy rebelling against a 31st-century New World Order. In a world where evil oligarchs suppress both human rights and hip-hop, Del fights rap battles against a series of foes, becoming Galactic Rhyme Federation Champion. Del the Funky Homosapien's lyrics veer from serious social commentary to humor to epic sci-fi battles, while producer Dan the Automator creates an eerie and dense atmosphere.”)

come on man

nmesh dream sequins is another album i can see him listen to, the cream of the crop for experimental vaporwave (the type of slowing samples in vaporwave was a technique pioneered by dj screw who i think dave would also dig, as it essentially manipulates time and thats Cool). probably likes oneohtrix point never too, an experimental electronic artist who also took inspiration from screw

maybe a bit of biting tongues, one of my favorites. he couldve been led to it going down the eno hole. probably his favorite album being recharge (1989)

as for rock i’m pretty sure dave strikes me as a psychedelic / experimental rock type of dude. so yeah pink floyd is still on the table especially early with syd barrett (the piper at the gates of dawn (1967) and a saucer full of secrets (1968)). but i think he can like later after that (of COURSE he feels drawn to the song ‘time’ lol i bet he’d want to replicate the atmosphere of the song’s beginning in his own stuff). he likes this kinda sound. he i can definitely see him being a ween fan for sure, especially quebec (2003) or their satire art/prog rock album the mollusk (1997) —the latter of which i could see him bonding with jade over DEFINITELY just listen to the titular song — but really the whole discography. or a zappa fan. maybe a dip into metal if its experimental or funky like primus or zillatron (bootsy collins alias)

i have to mention that these are all bands i like to some degree because to know what they sound like and if they fit dave ive had to listen to them lol. but yeah so that could put some bias into it and theres surely more stuff he would listen to i dont know but heres a portion of what i see from where i am

the common denominator between all the music i talked about was that theyre experimental

[kittymaine]

I'll See You In Hell

Summary: The third time Edwin ends up in hell, Charles is there with him.

AN: Written for Dead Boy Ween Day 10, prompt: hell.

This is a little dark, though it does have a happy ending. If there's interest, I'd be down to write a follow-up oneshot about the fallout that happens afterward. Just let me know if you're interested.

Edwin thought that he was done worrying about hell after Port Townsend. Charles had proved he could rescue Edwin even from the bowels of hell, which was a balm for one of the oldest and deepest fears Edwin carried with him. Even more importantly than that, he was now directly in the employ of the Lost & Found department of the afterlife, which he felt meant a certain kind of safety from hell and those there who might still want him.

That was why he didn’t think twice before accepting a job to remove a demon living in and tormenting the inhabitants of an old run down apartment building. He was confident that he and Charles and Crystal were more than a match for the kind of tiny creeping pests that sometimes crawled up from the depths of hell to cause the kind of small horrors that could sustain their kind of paltry evil. It would be barely a day’s work to rid the world of the awful thing and they could pat themselves on the back and consider it a job well done. Or, a job jobbed, as Charles would often say.

Edwin hadn’t considered that the crack the demon had crawled out of might still be open underneath the tons and tons of concrete and rebar that made up the apartment building. He hadn’t considered that something might reach out from the crack and snatch him up as if he was nothing more than a naughty kitten wandering too close to a hawk. And, he certainly hadn’t considered that Charles would be pulled in with him.

He could still remember the look of panic on Charles’ face, as he lunged for Edwin, his strong fingers tangling in the fabric of Edwin’s coat, his teeth bared as he held on and didn’t let go even as they were both yanked backward and downward and into burning flames. After that, Edwin couldn’t remember anything but screaming, his and Charles’ screams mixed together in a horrible cacophony as they were pulled down, down, down, seemingly forever.

When the burning finally stopped, they were both in the dollhouse. Edwin was back in his underclothes and so was Charles. Edwin didn’t understand by what mechanism hell had decided that Charles deserved to be dressed similarly to Edwin, but he hated it in a visceral way he wasn’t altogether familiar with. Charles was dressed in soft flannel sleep pants and a t-shirt with the faded decal of what looked like a children’s cartoon on the front. The t-shirt was so thin and soft it looked like it would rip if someone pulled on it even slightly. The sight of Charles looking at him with terrified eyes, in his pajamas, on the floor of the dollhouse, broke something in Edwin.

He suspected he cried. He suspected he cried rather a lot and rather loudly, considering his only real memories of the next bit of time were Charles shushing him and dragging him along as they began to flee the spider demon that was already hunting them.

Edwin’s memory was a bit funny for a while. He felt the familiar heaviness of his body in hell, something he suspected was a construct that his soul was trapped inside of so long as he resided there, something flesh and blood with nerves and feeling that could only exist within hell itself. But, the feelings of his old hell body felt far away. His fingers tingled, his breath came fast and burning in the tightness of his chest, his legs pumped and his bare feet slapped the dirty concrete floor. But, it didn’t quite feel like it was happening to him.

Charles’ hand was warm in his own, the feeling of him, of the bones in hands shifting when Edwin squeezed them, of his short fingernails digging into the backs of Edwin’s hand, felt like the only real thing in the world for a while.

Until Charles grabbed him hard by the shoulders and shook him, his eyes big and scared, his normally warm brown skin tone washed out to pale gray.

“Edwin, where is the exit?” Charles hissed, the words the first to filter through whatever strange dissociative state he had fallen into.

Edwin shook himself and looked around. So much of the dollhouse looked the same that he couldn’t tell where they were from just the hallway they were currently standing in. It was Edwin’s turn to take Charles’ hand and begin dragging him around corners and creaking doors as he tried to get his bearings. Edwin was confident that once knew where they were in the maze, he could navigate them out. He had spent so long mapping the maze that even thirty years later he could probably do it in his sleep.

But, the more turns he made, the more doors he sneaked through, the more Edwin realized that he had no idea where they were. Hallways that should have turned left, instead turned right or didn’t turn at all. Grime covered windows that were meant to lead him to a different hallway instead left him in cramped closets or empty rooms. Nothing looked the way it was meant to or took him to the place it was meant to take him.

Finally, gasping for breaths that felt like drowning, Edwin had to stop at a crossroads. He turned to Charles, tears already gathering at the corners of his eyes that he didn’t care enough to dash away.

“I don’t know where we are,” he admitted in a faint voice.

“What do you mean?” Charles asked. He reached out with the hand that wasn’t held tightly in Edwin’s to clutch at Edwin’s shirt. Edwin could feel the back of his knuckles against his heaving stomach.

“The maze is different,” Edwin said, the tears starting to fall. “I don’t know where to go. I don’t know-”

“It’s okay,” Charles said, though his eyes were huge and glassy, his fingers trembling where they were still trapped in Edwin’s sweaty hand. “You found the way out of here last time. You’ll do it again.” Charles smiled, but his mouth wobbled and the sight of it only made Edwin gasp harder, his tears falling faster.

“That took seventy years, Charles,” Edwin said, his own voice breaking and falling apart. He could feel his legs shaking. He wasn’t sure if he could run anymore.

“That was then. We’re together this time,” Charles said and his smile solidified. He squeezed Edwin’s fingers in his. “Together, we can do anything.”

Edwin sobbed. Charles was so kind and sweet, his words almost hurt as they sank into the broken glass that it felt the rest of his chest was made of.

“Charles,” he gasped.

He wasn’t sure what he was going to say and they never did find out, because the spider found them then and all they could do was scream for the next few minutes.

---

After the spider got them the first time, it seemed the gloves were off. Edwin wasn’t sure if it was intelligent enough to let them run until they realized there was no escape, but the timing seemed too perfect to mean anything else.

They were caught in the hallway crossroads and torn limb from limb, both he and Charles crushed and killed quickly, only to come back gasping and quaking in each others arms just a few feet away.

Clutching at each other’s hands, they got up and ran away, but they didn’t get far.

They died over and over, crushed, dragged, bitten, and ripped apart, but always together. The spider seemed to realize fairly quickly that if it caught one of them, the other wouldn’t stray far and risk getting separated. It started grabbing one of them and taking its time making its prey scream and beg until it could find the other and repeat the process. For a while, Edwin and Charles got stuck in a loop of one of them dying slowly and regenerating just in time to listen as the other did the same, neither of them free long enough to run and not willing to leave the other behind to save themselves.

It was brutal. Edwin wasn’t sure if being in hell with Charles was better or worse than being there by himself. At least when he was by himself, he didn’t have to listen to the person he loved most in the world suffer and die over and over. But, in between deaths, the comfort and the sensation of touch was such a boon that it almost made up for it.

After what might have been days of dying over and over without respite, Edwin and Charles started to get better at losing the spider in the maze. Edwin was getting the hang of the new maze, muscle memory that had atrophied after years without use coming back in a rush. He dragged Charles around corners and into hiding places just in time to evade their pursuer, but they couldn’t linger anywhere long enough to risk it doubling back and being found. Even if the maze had changed, the spider itself seemed to be he same, and Edwin could anticipate the movements of the horrible thing better than he could those of his own body.

Charles, for his part, got better at staying quiet, at watching the tells of Edwin’s body for sudden turns or stops. It was hard to look at him sometimes, as he got quieter and his clothes dirtier and bloodier, the life draining out of his eyes with every death and near miss. But, Edwin couldn’t focus on that, only on trying to keep them alive for as long as he could. If they could get very good at evading the spider, he could start mapping out the maze again, if only mentally.

While they were hiding, they clung to each other. Edwin suspected that Charles drew as much comfort from their newfound physicality as himself.

As ghosts, they could feel each other more so than they could their physical surroundings or other living people. Ghosts gave off energy and they usually had strong memories or feelings about what they felt like, what their clothing and hair felt like, and some of that could be communicated to other ghosts through touch. Edwin had thought that he had been able to touch Charles before, but being in hell together made him think that he must have forgotten what touching another person felt like.

When Edwin dug his fingers into Charles’ back, crushing him against his chest, he could feel Charles’ shoulder blades flexing beneath his fingertips with each gasping breath. He could feel the humidity of Charles breathing against his neck. He could feel the warmth of his skin where his forehead pressed against his shoulder.

“You smell good,” Charles had whispered to him during one of their short breaks where they could hide, and hold each other, and shake.

Edwin was confused by the statement for a moment. There were smells in the dollhouse, but they were mostly awful. The stench of rotting bodies, of damp concrete, of dusty broken shards of ceramic. He pressed his nose into Charles’ hair and inhaled and he smelled all those things, but there was another smell too. Something warm and alive and human, something that must have been Charles’ smell, the confluence of his skin and sweat and blood coming together into something that belonged only to him.

He had to suppress a sob, the clicking of ceramic doll heads outside their hiding place loud enough to indicate the spider was only a hall or two away, still searching for them.

“You too,” he breathed against Charles’ hair. Charles clutched him tighter. Edwin tried to hold onto that moment, to that memory of some new aspect of Charles discovered only in the pit of despair.

---

Time is strange in hell. Edwin had little to no grasp of time his first time there. He knew he had been in hell a long time, but if he had been pressed to make a guess, he probably would have said that he was there a few years, maybe five at most. Finding out that actually he had been in hell for seventy years had been a shock, one he still wasn’t sure he totally had absorbed. He said it often: seventy years, seventy years, seventy years in hell, in the vain hope that if he said it aloud enough he would start to believe it, let alone understand it.

The second time Edwin was in hell felt much longer. The dollhouse had been the same, but either he had forgotten how to run from the demon chasing him, or the demon was just much more bloodthirsty and enjoyed the chase less, or maybe Edwin just wasn’t trying very hard to get away.

He had died a lot. There had been many times that he had died, woken up in a new body, and then sat crying and shaking until the demon finished with his old body and began to take apart his new one. It had been hard to work up the effort to run, to try and hope for escape after living so long on the surface and being so happy. He thought about how incredibly long seventy years was and about how long he could realistically expect Charles to wait for him. Maybe seventy years for a ghost wasn’t as long as it was for a living human, but Edwin still didn’t really understand why Charles had remained behind with him in the first place. Maybe with Edwin gone, Charles would have no reason to stay on the earthy plane. Maybe in seventy years when Edwin finally crawled out of hell for a second time, Charles would be long gone.

Without Charles to hope for, Edwin found it hard to work up the effort to try and escape. As a result, he died a lot.

His second stint in hell felt like seventy years, even if Edwin realistically knew that it wasn’t that long. Still, he would have guessed he had spent a year, at the least, running and dying and crying. To hear that it had only been hours at the most had been another hard thing to accept.

Edwin tried not to think about hell, once he was out again. Thinking about it only made his waking nightmares worse, which made Charles and Crystal worry about him more. So, it was better not to ponder the experience.

Still, when the office was quiet and Charles and Crystal were away, sometimes he would think about it and wonder about how time in hell passed. Did it really fluctuate wildly between too fast and too slow? Or was it that his own perception became untenable after only a short time under so much stress and pain and with no outside indications of the passage of time? It wasn’t like he could count the days by the rising and falling of the sun. If you could separate the horror of it all from the question itself, it was quite interesting.

This third time, he would have guessed they were there for months. He based that on nothing more than his own gut feeling and the slow deterioration of Charles’ usually optimistic personality to something more brittle and quiet. In reality, it was only three days.

After three days in hell, the spider changed its behavior. Edwin could tell immediately that something was different. He and Charles were running, their slapping footsteps loud in the empty echoing halls, the screeching laughter of the demon behind them drowning out their own loud gasping breaths. It should have caught them many times over. It had an opportunity to smash Charles there, a chance to throw Edwin into the wall at another point, but it didn’t take them.

Edwin had been so distracted by the sudden change in its behavior, that he looked over his shoulder while he ran, trying to find some visual clue as to what it was doing. A rookie mistake, one he was ashamed of making as soon as he felt a doll head crack to splinters under his bare foot and send him crashing to the hard stone floor.

Charles had been running hard enough that Edwin’s hand was ripped out of his when he fell. Charles barely had time to scream his name before the spider was on him.

But, there was another break from routine. Instead of crushing Edwin’s back beneath one of its awful feet or tearing into his flesh with its sharp teeth, it snatched him up, folding its cold arachnoid leg around his back and pressing him tight against his belly while he screamed and struggled to get free. Sometimes, the demon would drag them back to a certain area to kill them, but usually it wasn’t so careful not to hurt them. It could eat them just as easily with a missing leg or a crushed pelvis as not. Something was wrong.

“Charles! Run! Get away!” Edwin screamed, arching his back to try and see his friend.

Charles was hesitating in the center of the hallway, his arms halfway up, his hands clenching around air, likely wishing for his cricket bat more than anything.

“I can’t! Edwin!” Charles shouted.

Then, it was too late. The demon snatched up Charles, tossing him like a rag doll against it’s own body in a hard crack of flesh against porcelain. Charles was pressed roughly against Edwin’s side and then both of them were trapped again with one of the demon’s awful legs pressed like a bar across their back. It held them tight enough that it was hard to catch their breath between the pressure and the jostling of the demon’s running.

“What’s happening?” Charles gasped. So, he noticed the odd behavior too. Clever, as always.

Edwin fisted his free hand in the shoulder of Charles’ shirt and held on tight.

“I don’t know,” he said. He kicked and struggled against the demon, but only managed to cut himself on the sharp edges of the broken porcelain that made up its body.

They didn’t have long to wonder. After only a few seconds of running down the hallways of the dollhouse, the demon passed through wide wooden double doors that Edwin had never seen before and then unceremoniously dropped Edwin and Charles to the floor.

“Thank you. You are dismissed,” an unfamiliar voice said from in front of them. While Edwin gasped for breath against a dusty dirty rug, he heard the click of the demon’s many legs retreating behind him and the bang of the doors swinging shut.

Edwin forced himself to look up and take in his surroundings. He and Charles were in a room he had never seen before. The room had dusty warped wooden floors and wood paneled walls that weren’t in much better condition. There were decorations around the room that would have been at home in his own time, marble busts and heavy carved wooden furniture, but it was all aged and damaged and coated in as much dust as the threadbare stained carpet he was currently laying on. Charles was still face down, shaking and gasping into the old rug. Edwin put a hand between his shoulder blades in a move that was quickly becoming habitual and felt his friend struggle to control his breathing.

Standing over the two of them was an androgynous person dressed in all white that Edwin didn’t recognize. They looked down at him like he was a nasty cockroach they would very much like to crush beneath their boot. The other person in the room was the Night Nurse, looking as coiffed and perfect as usual, though her brow was wrinkled as she looked down at the two boys cowering on the floor at their feet.

“And, here are your two dead boys,” the androgynous person said with a lazy wave toward Charles and Edwin.

Night Nurse dragged her eyes away from them, turning toward the other person with her chin tilted up, a frown still making a little furrow between her eyebrows. “We appreciate your cooperation,” she said curtly.

Turning back to Charles and Edwin, she began to flap her hand at them. “Come, boys. Let’s go,” she said briskly, gesturing behind her.

It was only then that Edwin noticed the pure black rectangle in the shape of a doorway sitting strangely in the center of the room. Hope throbbed to life in him like a stab wound in his chest.

Stumbling, Edwin climbed to his feet, dragging Charles along with him. “Yes,” he breathed, “Thank you.” He held Charles by his hip and upper arm and hustled him toward the door. He didn’t dare glance at the mysterious person in white, though he could feel their eyes on him like a physical touch as he stumbled across the room and through the door.

The second he stepped across the threshold, it was like a film was peeled off his skin. He felt lighter, he felt less. Charles still hung from his arms, but he couldn’t feel his weight, or the warmth of his skin, or the texture of his clothing. Looking at Charles, the answer as to why that was quickly became evident. Gone were the soft pajamas coated in grime. Charles as back in the school uniform he had died in. Looking down, Edwin saw that the same was true for him.

And then Crystal was throwing her arms around both of their necks, crying and burrowing into their shoulders and Charles was throwing his arms around her waist and dissolving into sobs, his tears hidden in her soft brown curls.

Edwin put a hand each on both their backs, because it seemed like the thing to do, but he felt a million miles away. He turned to look back at the doorway they had just walked through, but it was already closing, Night Nurse latching it shut with a decisive click.

She turned to look at him and her face softened, which seemed like something her face shouldn’t be able to do. Edwin stared back at her while his friends cried in his arms. He felt hollowed out and empty. He felt that probably the normal thing to do would be to cry with them, but he was having trouble feeling much of anything at the moment and being a ghost again probably wasn’t helping.

Feeling the eye contact with Night Nurse had become uncomfortable, he turned his head and buried his face into the place where Crystal and Charles’ curls mixed. He breathed them in with lungs that didn’t exist. He pretended he could smell them both, the human smell of them. He tried to imagine what Crystal’s warm butter scent would smell like mixed with Charles’ scent, which he only had memories of because he had been dragged to hell.

He tried to press the thought of their smells into his heart, into its deepest most secret place, to remember if he ever needed it. And, he felt quite certain then that he would one day need it.

[enby-calamity]

Dead boy ween day 2

Charles, Edwin, and Crystal find comfort in each other after Niko’s death.

prompt: Comfort

thanks again @deadboyween

[cookinary]

Hey guys, if you want some music

I've been putting together a playlist of what my AUs' themes would be

I'll be making a list under the cut of which song matches which AU (so don't check it out if you wanna figure it out for yourself!)

Da OG boi: Banana Man - Tally Hall

Android: Robot Rock - Daft Punk

Backrooms: H A L L S - CG5

Basically Villain: Gangsta's Paradise - Coolio

Beyblade: Beyblade Metal Fusion French opening

Brothers in Arms: Turn the Lights Off - Tally Hall

Cartoon: Duck Sauce - Barbra Streisand

Clone: I think I'm a clone now - Weird Al

Cyberpunk: Organic Self - Noisecream

Demon Banana: Demons - Imagine Dragons / Phoenix - ft.Cailin Russo and Chrissy Costanza

Dragon Pilot: Dragon Pilot Hisone to Masotan outro

Escaped Experiment: Monster - dodie

Explosive Personality: MINECRAFT CREEPER RAP - Dan Bull

Ghost: Ghost - Confetti

Godhunter: Godhunter - Aviators

Honey I shrunk the kid: So What - Three Days Grace

It's just a game: Losing My Mind - Mystery Skulls

Mad Guy Dead: MAD RAT HEART from the Mad Rat Dead OST

Mad Switch: Fuck You - Lily Allen

Magic: Dementia - Owl City ft. Mark Hoppus / ROACHES - Luluyam (I picked these songs because Mage is psychotic because of everything he went through)

Mountains: Les bronzés font du ski

Murder Drones: Disassembly Required - Liam Vickers

Mutant: Captive Normal from the Hi-Fi Rush OST (PLEASE CHECK THIS GAME OUT) / I'm My Own Master Now (Platinum Mix) from the Metal Gear Rising: Revengeance OST

Nyankees: meow - lvusm

Pacific Rim: Pacific Rim main theme

Phoenix: Phoenix - Netrum & Halvorsen

Pokemon: The Journey Starts Today - Walk off the Earth

Portal: Who I am - CG5

Post-Apocalypse: Survive - SOARA / Wasteland Outlaw - MAJESTY

Radioactive: Radioactive - Imagine Dragons

Reaper: The Man Comes Around - Johnny Cash

Sailing Seas: The Seven Seas - F-777

Sea Monster: Ocean Man - Ween

Simulation Collapsing: ECHO [Cover] - Alfakyun

Space: Starman - David Bowie

Spare: I Can't Decide - Scissors Sisters

Supers: Speed of Light - Joe Satriani

Swap: Sweet About Me - Gabrielle Cilmi

Tanuki: Heisei era Tanuki War (Spirited Season) from the Pompoko OST

Therianthropy: Wild Slide - Jules Gaia / T-Rex - K.Flay

Time Agent: This Time - PXL

Time God: Temporal Tower from the Pokemon Mystery Dungeon Explorers of Sky OST

Time Loop: Stuck in a Timeloop - Animadrop

Totally Spies: Here We Go - Totally Spies season 1 opening

Turning Red: Pandas Unite/Nobody Like U from the Turning Red OST

Unaware Eldritch God: God - Jake Daniels

Untitled Friend Game: Goose Goose Revolution - TheLivingTombstone

Werewolf: Animal In Me - Solence

Witch Vampire: Happy Halloween Rap ver. - nqrse

Zombie: Macabre Rotting Girl - Kathy-Chan / Stay Alive - FFM ft. Felix Bushe / INFECTED - STARSET

Junkyard King: Junkyard King - Navie D

Rookie Mistake (AU where my sona is present): Idontgivea***k - Rabbit Junk

And EMPIRES by Electric Swing Circus isn't for an AU but I thought it was a good fit for vanilla Ophelia

[yourlegacysnotyourstosee]

Live Levi reaction (to DaP reacting to every pinof #3)

Ok Im almost 6 minutes in and decided I need to write down my thoughts

THE PHULGE????????

Tbh putting a “ph” in front of anything that has to do with dnp is actually peak comedy keep up the good work

I will now be referring to dnp Lore are Phore, thanks for the suggestion

I hate to break it to you Dan, but the reason it’s the most played part of the video is probably because you guys touched.

LADDERS JUMPSCARE

“It’s when you go fast in a plane, and it goes *bomp*” Im obsessed with him

This entire series is just an excuse to answer pinof questions without having to actually do another pinof

THE NACHO FANFIC???????? I actually had to pause and stim to get the gross feeling out (does anyone else do that btw?????? I call it “ick stimming”)

What is the plural of Weenus? Is it Weens? Weenuses? Weeni (pronounced “Ween-eye”)?

Bruh im only like 9 minutes in

New phore drop??????? (Phils grandma is my idol I aspire to be her)

🎵THE INTERNET IS HERE🎵

Dan making the same noise as his past self it’s making me unwell

DANS WHAT NOW????????

The fact that I know they have a proshot of ii but instead they choose to use bootleg footage (also true for The Internet is Here)

Phil forgor the diss track 🥲

Phil doesn’t like bananas so true king

“A Dil doll”

Why are their voices harmonizing on the “yeah boi”

I love Phil ❤️❤️❤️

Not to overanalyze (this entire video is an overanalysisq) but Dan did the Tongue Thing™ after he said “your mum.”

Dan talking about the Phulge AND the Phass in the same video??????

Ngl Truth Bombs was a slay. I got one for Christmas many years ago and it’s still in my room, relatively untouched because I’m scared of using all the papers

WAIT TRUTH BOMBS GOT REBRANDED???????

That’s actually so funny bc I was recently in a production of Mean Girls

“Looks like Margaret Thatcher” has me DEAD

ii being the branding for their second tour was so clever idec

STOP GUILTING ME ABOUT NOT GOING TO INTERACTIVE INTROVERTS I HAD LITERALLY NO MONEY

STOP I HAD NO JOB NO MONEY

Valid reason to end pinof /srs

“I think I am so comfortable around you that like, the brain to mouth connection? There’s no filter” that’s how you know they’re besties (this is literally what’s I’m like around my friends)

I FORGOT THEY SAID THEY WERE GONNA MAKE A TIER LIST

“You might have different opinions, but this is the correct opinion”

[urlsaremeaningless]

collection of funny things people I know have said (part 2)

Feel free to change pronouns as needed <3 have fun! please reblog this if you enjoy it.

whats art without a little bit of OSHA violations

Ten-nessee implies the existence of nine-ssee

Mary-land must have been Mary-sea

While we're still here, whoop his ass too

their new companion Space Turtle, Hero from Space that they picked up after a drunken college party

That’s more of an ask than you think

We will let you fuck the monsters but I’m drawing the line at buildings

If you ignore all the ugly parts, it looks kinda nice

there was definitely gay love in there...somewhere

That’s like asking a beaver the size of his wood

I want to be in a hospital in Canada or France! Oui, oui, ow

Sir, do you know how fast your wheels were gyrating?

your honor, my client is in goblin mode

No mine isn’t a fun fact. It’s about animal abuse.

If an eel isnt just a snake fish then idk what is lol

..................where is the CORN STORE?!

thats like calling the tamborine the shakey wakey or the tuba the blowey blowey

I thought that said turn [name] into a mommy for a sec and I got real concerned for what was happening in this chiles tonight. Doesn’t mummy in retrospect sound less alarming now?

what THE FUCK is HALLOWS OF WEENS?!

He’s not giving the boobs their due diligence

I haven't seen any beer cans in a while and i'm getting concerned

It makes my nostrils feel lemony fresh

Wow, these people don’t know how milkshakes work…. Idk how we’re gonna get the boys to the yard

You’re like high fiving god right now

OSHA violations are like warcrimes for working people

I'm sorry, did you just say the dead baby has charisma?

cannibalism confirmed 13/10

Well, I could throw babies into an incinerator. That would be unforgettable, doesn't mean it's GOOD

[Person A] is the main character but okay [Person B] sure

shit!...i just killed someone

Oh shut the fuck up, no you're fucking not

...so like....is pluto a slave?

Corner cobbler corn cob, that’s where corner cobbler is on the corn cob-corn corner corn cobbler

If Charlie can be short for Charles, then Carly can be short for Carles

If shorten Charles to Chuck, then what can you shorten Carles to?

How do we Othello you?

look man, I'm just saying... who the fuck says 'yeah I want a bar of milky way,' like they're not gonna pick literally any other chocolate

The vibe I get is like you're a fancy butler by day but you have a rave later tonight