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something infinite • part nine

SOMETHING INFINITE • PART NINE Y O U C O U L D H A V E M I N E

part nine of something infinite – you were unafraid to face steve head on when he fucked up, but now it's your turn to face the music and it scares you | ( 2k, tiny angst, lil fluff, enemies to lovers, steve x you, steve x reader – find the rest of the series and more here and find the series playlist on spotify here)

J U L Y 1 9 8 7 🎶  j’s lullaby ( darlin’ i’d wait for you ), delaney bailey

The sun fell softly through Steve’s window. Fingers of light stretching over the shapes of you, his chest rising and falling with each breath, the fan above pushing cool morning air around the room before it grew too hot, sticky and warm in the Indiana heat. Slowly opening your eyes you blinked away sleep, Steve lazily swimming into focus next to you.

A mess of brown hair, the stretch of his shoulders, tiny little moled and freckled constellations chasing along his back, decorating the soft slope of his jaw, lips parted, long sweep of lashes kissing his cheeks.

The most obnoxious boy who’d stolen your heart. Had scattered it into a million tiny pieces. Helped you to pick them all up and put it back together. Had shaped it into something new you’d never expected and now.

What were you now?

Your eyes roamed the walls of his room, mostly bare, covered in checkered wallpaper with one lonely photo of a sports car framed over his desk. A lamp, a few books, a pair of 3D glasses, and a bowling pin? Your lips pulled up into a smile and you wondered at the story behind it. The chair at the desk had a pair of grey sweats hung over the back and a couple of his dresser drawers were half open with socks or shirt sleeves peeking out.

Steve’s room.

Sounds of morning trickled in through the curtains, the low hum of the pool filter, birds in the maple tree outside his window, the rumble of the tractors in the fields and your thoughts drifted back to the night before.

To Steve.

The way he felt.

Fingers pressing into your hips, mouth brushing warm against your neck, his pretty parted lips and the way he said your name. The inky black of his room swallowing you into its secrets, promising to keep the things you said to each other in the dark.

Turning onto your side you moved to face him, tentatively lifting a hand aching to trace your fingers over his shoulder, to search and feel and discover him in the daylight, but he pulled in a breath. Long and sleepy and languid and you drew your hand back, lip bit between your teeth. Hesitation holding you tight, winding you back, afraid to wobble things again. To undo all the repair.

Afraid of what the end of August would mean if you wondered too hard at it.

You wanted to stay, wanted to curl into Steve, fit against him like roots curled around the bottom of pot, but something in you told you to go. Go before he woke up.

So you slipped your legs over the edge of the bed, one of his too-long shirts dancing atop your thighs, and you quietly gathered your things. Curling your fingers around the door you pulled it open slowly, but you stopped short. A quick glance over your shoulder.

He was still sleeping and a smile tugged at the corner of your lips. Even tangled up in the mess of sheets he was so damn pretty, but one last look and you were down the stairs and out the door. Sandals clutched in your hands, bare feet gathering the morning dew as you snuck across the lawn back over to your aunt’s, you found everyone still sleeping there as well. No one none the wiser and your secrets safe with Steve.

It was early, but you could already feel the sun kissing your skin, hot and sticky on your shoulders and neck as you pushed your skateboard down the bumps of the pavement. You were never late for your shift at the library, but your alarm hadn’t gone off and Will had been the one to poke his head in on you.

It had all been a hurried mess as you threw on whatever you could find quickly, hesitating ever so slightly at the shirt of Steve’s sitting atop your dresser before grabbing a Pop Tart and rushing out the door.

Waves of heat lifted from the parking lot, making the library look like it was wobbling as you kicked up over the curb and jogged to the door. Joyce’s car was already in it’s spot and you felt your stomach sink at the thought of what she was going to say, but it immediately flipped over when you saw Steve’s car sitting next to it.

Of course he was here.

But now you were more worried about what he was going to say because he was the one you’d left without so much as goodbye the morning before. A poor attempt at avoiding an inevitable conversation. One you didn’t want to have. The one where you were leaving at the end of the August.

“Hey, sleepyhead!” your aunt caught sight of you as soon as you were in the door.

Shhh!

“Sorry!” Joyce tried again, an apologetic look given to the old woman reading at the table near the front desk. “Hey, sleepyhead,” she said quieter, giving you a little wave, “Doing okay? You seemed like you needed a few extra Z’s this morning.”

Your cheeks flushed as she pointed out you being tired, but you gave her a smile anyway, “Yeah! Yeah, doing okay. Sorry I’m late.”

“You’re fine, sweetie. Return’s cart is there at the end of the A–L aisle when you’re settled.”

Glancing up you saw the roller full of books, but no sight of Steve and your stomach flipped over again. He couldn’t at least have given you the advantage of knowing where he was in the library?

A sigh escaped you as you walked over to the cart and thumbed through the titles, seeing A through C had already been put back, and your eyes flicked up again to look down the row, but still no sight of him. Biting your lip between your teeth you knew you couldn’t just hang around waiting and instead grabbed the stack of D titles and got to it.

One minute ticked by painfully slow.

Then five.

Then ten. Eleven. Twelve.

Was he lost in the library? You almost asked Joyce, but didn’t want to draw anymore attention to it than was necessary and just kept at the task at hand, trying your hardest not to let your mind wander too far.

Leaning up on tip toe you wobbled, trying to slide the book you were holding into place, but a hand reached over yours to grab it before you could put it away.

“You’re in E, that one goes in F.”

It felt like you’d just been shocked, a tiny jolt of electricity up your arm as the hand brushed against yours, and when you looked over your breath hitched in your throat.

“I’m pretty good at reading,” Steve teased, a little grin tugging up at the corner of his mouth and you couldn’t help smiling yourself, swatting at his hand.

“Thanks, Einstein,” you half-whispered back, but his grin fell the longer he looked at you and your chest squeezed with nerves. “Get lost?” you tried to tease again, but the air had shifted and it came out weak.

“Could ask you the same thing.”

You shied away from him then, turning back to the shelf and finding F to put the book back correctly. “I overslept,” you answered, knowing that wasn’t what he was talking about. He hummed, still standing behind you, but you kept your eyes on the shelf hoping he’d leave it even though you knew better.

“Wasn’t a problem yesterday,” his tone was gently teasing, but softer. Wondering. Not angry, but wanting to know, “Why’d you leave?” You could feel his hesitation then and it finally made you turn around so that you saw the pinch between his brows as he worked through things. Looking at you eyes all brown sugar and honey, lashes sweeping his cheeks as they crinkled at the corners. A tiny sliver of regret, “Are you still mad at me?”

“No—“ you started, then huffed a sigh, “Shit.” Tossing the book you were holding back onto the cart you took his hand and led him further down the aisle, back to the corner he’d pulled you into all those weeks ago when you first met, away from eyes and ears and he followed.

It was quieter back there, away from the long bank of windows and air conditioning vents, away from the rows of computers and the beep of the book scanner, and when you turned around it was just you and Steve.

“I’m not mad at you,” you started, fingers picking at the frayed hem of your jean shorts, eyes on the carpet at your feet. This wasn’t you, wasn’t the confident you that took him head on. Called him on his shit. Walked to his door at midnight. Kissed him without a second thought.

Sensing something was off Steve reached a hand out, tangling his fingers with yours, and squeezed. A silent, Its okay. “What is it?” he brought his other hand to your chin and lifted it gently between his thumb and forefinger, meeting your eyes in the middle.

And everything was dizzy. Your thoughts hazy and muddled with the closeness of him. The scent of him all cedar and boy and fresh laundry. Scattered moles and dotted freckles. Skin warm like it held summer beneath it and you had to blink it all away before you spoke.

“Its just–” you sucked in a breath, trying to steady your words, but if you said it aloud it would make it real. Make this time you had here finite. It had an end. And so did you and Steve.

“Shit. I–I'm sorry if I hurt you or–or if it wasn’t good for you. I just, I thought that you know, you sounded like you were into it and so I kept going and–”

Your eyes went wide as you lifted your fingers to press to his mouth, the fastest way to stop his run away train of thought, and you had to bite back a laugh. “Oh my god, Steve. No. That part was…” heat turned your cheeks rosy. The way he said your name, the curve of his shoulders, teeth on skin and, “Not that. Promise.”

Relief washed over him and he huffed a nervous laugh, “Christ. Okay, yeah. Good. Great. That’s great.” He took a step closer to you then, fingers still wrapped around yours, brows pulling together again as his eyes searched yours, “Listen. If this is about you leaving…”

The laugh that had been ready to leap forth died with his words and you dropped your eyes back to the floor. He was wearing his stupid dirty Blazers again, white streaked in green from running in the grass. Dirt and tiny rocks wedged in the grooves. Your red Vans didn’t fare any better and he didn’t let you look long as he leaned down to catch your gaze.

“Hey," he pulled you out of your head and the way he looked at you made you feel like it was going to be okay. "We don’t have to talk about it. Not right now. That’s like…a month away or something. I didn’t even get you a strawberry shake from the diner yet." You smiled at the thought of that and he smiled back. "Still have to hit the drive-in and go to the bluff and the arcade and–” his hand cupped the soft curve of your cheek and lifted it, “–don’t worry about it, Princess.”

You leveled him with a look, “Ass." But there was no heat behind it as your lips twisted. Fighting against a smile despite that stupid nickname, and it pulled a grin out of him.

“Best one in town,” he joked, wiggling his eyebrows at you and you scoffed reaching out to swat at him, but he caught your hand and pulled you into him, arms wrapping snug and warm around your waist.

“After mine,” you teased softly and his grin melted as he leaned into you.

“Of course, ladies first,” and then he pressed his lips to yours, sweet like cherries and warm like sunshine, filling you up and spilling over at the edges as your hands tangled around the back of his neck.

Kissing Steve felt like forever. Like time stood still. Felt

infinite.

SOMETHING INFINITE SYNOPSIS: hawkins, indiana, 1987 – your mom is out of town for the summer on business and she sends you to live with your aunt joyce and her husband jim in hawkins while she’s gone. joyce works at the library and jim is the town sheriff – the kids, will, jonathan and el slowly warm up to you and it’s after you get in with them that you really start to feel at home, but there’s one person who just annoys you to no end. one person you’d love to just boot off a cliff – steve fucking harrington. ♥️ find the rest of the series and more here and find the series playlist on spotify here.

[ticklish-touch]

Trapped in the Backrooms - Ch2: Persuasion (*N*S*F*W*)

(Ragaeli x lee!Y/N - Consensual chasing & tickling, erotic tickling, tentacles

CW: Strong language, Liminal spaces, hypnosis, elevatophobia, erotic tickling, tentacle-play) Shenanigans continue while you and Ragaeli continue to search for a means of escaping the world of the Backrooms. The elaborate hotel you’ve found yourself in has a surprisingly relaxing - albeit eerie - atmosphere. But something else here wants you to check in as an esteemed guest… Forever.

( Chapter theme(s): Jazz playing in another room: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=go358GrFqa “Trust in Me” - Scarlett Johansson: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VEgkBetZY-M “Catgroove” - Parov Stelar: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WXrdYwG17PE )

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

          It was a nice change of scenery, going from dingy yellow wallpaper to a fancy vintage 1940’s hotel plaza. The lobby itself was enormous. You got up from the comfy loveseat to take a look around, spotting a reception desk all the way across the room. Heading up to it, there were no signs of any staff; just rows of small lockers on the back wall, and a couple desk lamps. Well… Time to look around and see what other craziness the Backrooms had in store for you and your Nightmare buddy.

          Heading down the hallway to the first floor, you admired the various decor. Fancy floral carpets, cushioned mahogany chairs placed just outside glass doors that led to… Well, nowhere. Peeking in, the hallways stretched on infinitely, leading to pitch blackness. You considered braving one of them, but… Maybe not yet.            It sounded like others were here: there were distinct sounds of whispers, distant conversations, jovial laughter, and… was that smooth Jazz? But any attempts to call out with “Hello? Is someone else here?” fell on deaf ears.

          You eventually came to a stairwell leading up to the next floor, the wood creaking below you while you made your way upstairs. There were no signs anywhere indicating how many stories or rooms there were, but you wanted to at least investigate.           Most doors to the guest rooms were closed, but were almost always unlocked. Peering inside some of them, you noticed the same recurring vintage aesthetic. It almost felt homey. …If not for the layers of dust coating almost every piece of furniture.

          You wandered into one, curiously peeking through some of the dressers and closets. The light leaking in through the windows made you feel… Uncomfortable. You weren’t sure why. Maybe it was because you couldn’t actually see anything outside of them; just a wall of grey, like a foggy overcast sky. You decided to close some of the curtains; it helped ease your mind a little. You poked around in some of the dresser and closet doors, not finding anything except old, eroding photos of people in 1940′s-era clothing. And missing faces.

          Aside from the isolated halls, it didn’t feel as unsettling here as your previous escapade. Still eerie, but oddly welcoming. You somewhat wanted to try and find the voices that were always just out of reach, seeming to come from nonexistant rooms, to join them in their conversations and dance along to the music. The only thing making you genuinely nervous were the occasional elevators you passed by, lit by a similar sickly yellow light as the first environment. Those old-timey metal cages always seemed like death traps… But otherwise, it was actually quite peaceful here. There seemed to be no sign of any dangerous entities.           Until something caught the corner of your eye, making you freeze up.

          A door to a nearby open room was half-opened, the space filled by a pitch pitch-black wall blocking the entrance, with a pair of eyes and a wide smile peeking out at you. You would’ve assumed it was Rags, but it looked different; the teeth were those of an omnivore, and the eyes were white and reflective, like the eyes of a cat or raccoon at nighttime.          “Uh…Hi..?” You waved over to it. You had a gut feeling that you shouldn’t get too close. So you crept by on tiptoe, not tearing your gaze away from the face until you were safely around another corner.

          “Smart move.” A strange voice whispered, sounding like it was coming from inside the nearest wall and making you jump. What the hell?? It was almost a whisper, a double-voice that was neither feminine nor masculine… Was that the shadow creature speaking?           You didn’t stick around long enough to identify it, quickly making your way to the end of a hall and ducking into a room with an open door.

          Now might be a good chance to take a breather… At least until something stared out at you from the darkness again. Plopping down on one of the beds brought you a sigh of relief; It was actually very comfortable. The musty smell wasn’t too great, but nothing too distracting. You let your eyes droop shut; Not to nap, just to rest. You had a gut feeling that you should not fall asleep here.

          Without the constant flood of adrenaline and anticipation, you had the chance to think a bit more about what Ragdoll had said when you first got here: The only way out of here was a rift in space-time. You didn’t imagine there were many of those to come by. Though you had faith that, if anyone could find one, it’d be the Nightmare. He was beyond powerful enough, practically all-seeing.

          But what if he couldn’t?

          No, you couldn’t fall to doubt just yet. Maybe there was some way you could help your monster buddy. You could keep looking out for clues, or maybe there was someone somewhere in this realm you could try to talk to or reason with.

          The moment of peace was short-lived. The sound of nails dragging across a nearby wall immediately made you open your eyes and jump upright, your eyes darting around to find the source. It crept closer and closer to the open door; you realized it was coming from the outside hallway. “Oh shit oh shit–” You hopped off the bed and backed up. “Ragman..?” No answer. If it was him, he’d at least respond with that gremlin giggle. So you weren’t sure what to expect. Maybe you could lure it to the other side of the room…           After a few more moments of silence, you decided to chance it and hurry out of the door, making it out unscathed.

          It must’ve been a good twenty minutes since you arrived. More wandering through guest rooms and around zigzagging corners, more climbing stairs. More silence. Man, Ragioli was sure being quiet. Maybe he was busy doing his own bit of exploring. Every now and then, you could hear unintelligible whispering nearby, sounding like that strange double-voice you’d heard before. At first, you didn’t dare turn around to look in its direction. But curiosity got the better of you, looking over to an open section of the wall…           For a brief moment, you could swear you saw something move near it. Or inside of it. It almost looked like something invisible rippling in the air. A ghost, maybe…? Were there ghosts in this world? Maybe it was one of the ‘guests’ here.

          You were getting real tired of stairs after the fifth floor, pausing in front of one of the elevators to consider your options. Do you dare chance it…?           Something seemed to answer your thoughts; the elevator doors opened on their own. Gee, that wasn’t ominous at all. Totally not a death trap. But you stepped inside anyways; It might be helpful to check out a few higher floors.

          The number panel was almost incomprehensible. They weren’t in any sort of order, some of them were blank, others had Greek and Unicode numbers. “Uhhh… Eeny, meeny, miney…” You pressed one of the Greek symbols at random.           The elevator creaked and clattered on its way up. It was a slow, daunting ascent. You watched each passing floor through the cage; they all looked more or less the same; like that repeating illusion hallway back in the first location. Maybe Rags’ theory about this place being a simulation wasn’t too far off.           You leaned against the back wall of the elevator, sighing and watching the dial climb higher. You bopped along to a song that was stuck in your head. It made up for the lack of elevator music and distracted from the creepy rattling.

          The elevator continued to climb up, and up, and up. It also began to speed up its pace. Jesus, just how far did this thing go? Did you press the button to take you to the top? Was there even a top floor??           You started to get nervous when there just didn’t seem to be any sign of stopping. Or slowing down. The floor dial was acting erratic, like a compass on the fritz. Your heart rate started increasing along with the elevator’s speed. You started pressing other buttons, hoping to make it navigate you to a different floor. “Raaags, I could use your help stopping this thing!!” You shouted up to the ceiling.

          After your comment, the elevator creaked and slowed down, finally coming to a stop. But the door didn’t open. “Ugh, come on!!” You shook the cage doors and tried fiddling with the handle.           Your heart caught in your throat at the loud THUNK of metal just below you. The lights flickered and burnt out. "Oh, no…” There was a jolt and a tremor…

          And the elevator plummeted straight down at breakneck speed.

          You screamed bloody murder, feeling your stomach drop and your legs practically disappear under you. You clung to the railings for dear life and felt your breath sucked right out of you. “FUCKFUCKFUCK!!! RAAAAGS!! HEEEELP!!”

          It screeched to a halt about five seconds later. Thankfully your momentum didn’t send you smacking into the ceiling. You hyperventilated heavily, heart hammering in your chest, your hair and clothes totally disheveled, legs splayed out, your knuckles white from gripping the railing so hard. That. Was. Horrifying.           And you were mad at yourself that your inner adrenaline junkie also found it exhilarating.

          The Nightmare’s wild cackling erupted overhead outside the elevator. “I GOTCHAAHAHAHA!!” He hooted and hollered.           You gasped in utter betrayal. “RAGS!!! YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE!!!” You tried to leap up and grab at the ceiling. “GET DOWN HERE SO I CAN KICK YOUR ASS!!!”           He phased down from the top of the elevator, collapsing in a heap of hysterics, pounding the floor with his fist. “AAAHAHAHAHA YOU SHOHOHOULD’VE SEEHEEHEEN YOUR FAHAHAHACE!!”          “I can’t FUCKING believe you!!” You stomped and paced, exasperated. “Here I am trying find a way OUT of here and you’re trynna give me a heart attack!!”            But the longer you ranted at him, the more he cracked up in hysterics, hints of his grape-colored tears leaking from his eyes.

         “WHY YOU-!!” You could absolutely strangle him. But instead… “Yeah, you wanna laugh at me?? Laugh it up!!” You took the opportunity to lunge down at him and quickly sit on his legs, promptly burying your fingers into his lower midriff and hips, tickling viciously, giving rapid-fire pokes everywhere. “Yeah, VERY funny!!”           His laughter just went up an octave and he flailed around. “YEEEE-HEHEHEHE C-COME OHOHON!! Y-YOHOHOU’RE the one who’s into thrihihihill rihihides~!!!!” He kicked and shimmied his legs under you, making it difficult to stay in place.           “That’s different!!“ You growled, moving up further to  attack his bare midriff, “Save it for when we’re not in a different dimension!!”           He cackled and shrieked, wiggling under you, still pounding his fists on the floor. Not making an effort to push you off. As pissed as you were, you smiled at the sight. Damn he was handsome, squirming and laughing like this. You even slid yourself back a bit, feeling his bulge under you as he continued to buck around...           It was short-lived though; he quickly retaliated, his massive hands clamping onto your sides and spidering their dexterous fingers over your ribs like a piano, giving a shitty smirk the moment you shrieked and recoiled. “Hehehe, you were sayiiing~?” He flipped your positions and shoved you down to the floor.             “WAHH-HAHAH S-Staaahahahap alreheheheadyyy-heehee!!” Your face flushed and you flailed underneath him for a few more moments, trying to defend yourself by pinching under his arm with one hand and attacking his belly with quick scribbles and pokes with the other hand.          “GYEE-HEHEHE!!” He giggled wildly, growling playfully and doubling his efforts, sending ticklish jolts through your torso and hips. “Heheheh, awww, is the little morsel all maaaad at me for pranking ‘em~?” He cooed and taunted. “Come onnn, I know ya can’t stay mad at me~! Just look at that smiiile~!” He sent another jolt of magic, this time all through your groin area, wrapping around to send waves of tickle through your butt and backs of your thighs. “And listen to that moannn~” He snickered meanly.            You kept up the tickle-fight for a good few minutes, holding your own pretty well against the relentless tickle monster; though no matter how strong you were, he’d always manage to wrestle you right back down into a position that left your most ticklish spots vulnerable, locking onto them and barraging them with tickles until you were shrieking and barking out profanities between bouts of laughter and moans. He eventually relented, sitting back on his arms and splaying his long legs out. He took up the whole elevator floor. Whoo, that was a tasty energy boost~” he licked his lips. “There’s all kinds of different screams I can get out of ya~!”          “Y-Yeah, so glad I could be your personal buffet,” you gave him a shove, your face as red as a stoplight. "S-so, did you find any clues or not?”

         He shook his head. “No rifts anywhere. And those hallways out past the glass doors are totally blocked from my sight. Going through them just leads right back out to the main hallways, like a fricken’ Pac-Man maze!” He scratched his chin. “And something else is definitely sneakin’ around in here… I can’t detect it for some reason.” He shrugged and jumped up to his feet. With a snap of his fingers, his outfit poofed from his emo-punk getup to… a Bellboy uniform. A half-buttoned uniform, revealing his chest, and tight-fitting dress pants. It was complete with hat, but he was still barefoot. “Sir Reginald at your service,” he put on a cockney accent and took a bow.          ”Pfff-! Wow, don’t think I’ve ever seen you wear something so fancy. Looks like something you’d see at a love hotel.”          He giggled. “Much as I don’t give a shit bout blending in, maybe it’ll help lure that sneaky creeper outta the shadows. It can’t hide from me foreverr~” he snickered and pressed the button to open the elevator door, gesturing to it with a bow. “After you~ I’ll catch up with ya later. I’ll make sure these pesky elevators don’t go haywire on you again, trust me~” he winked.

         “Yeah, they’d better not,” You gave him a shove and stuck your tongue out at him as you headed onto what appeared to be floor 666. Okay, edgelord.

         You considered his comment about heading into the abyss of one of those branching hallways. You made your way toward the nearest set of glass doors, tentatively pushing past it, walking out into the pitch-black hall ahead…              Only to end up coming right back through another set of glass double-doors. Out of curiosity, you tried looking behind yourself as you pushed the glass door open.. From the glass doors on the adjacent wall, you could see yourself. Like a reflection or a Portal illusion. “Whoa.”            “You will not make any progress through those doors.” The double-voice spoke casually, sounding as if it was just a few feet away.               You jumped and spun around to try and find the source. You saw that illusion out of the corner of your eye again: The wallpaper rippling and bowing outward. There was definitely something, or someone, invisible inside of it. You tried to follow it with your eyes, but it was difficult. It was like your eyes didn’t want to comprehend it. it kept fading out of your sight, like one of those bizarre 3D ‘Magic Eye’ images in books. “Hello??” This must’ve been what the Nightmare was talking about, right? How come he couldn’t detect it, but you kept noticing it?

          It only took a few more minutes of following the invisible shape until you got your answer. Tracking it to the wall dead ahead, you gasped: The pattern of the wallpaper was broken up by two glowing, opalescent orbs: A pair of eyes with squiggly horizontal pupils.           You stepped closer. “I can see you, y'know,” you spoke up sternly. “You’ve been following me around, haven’t you?”

          Now that you’d noticed its presence, it made itself visible, phasing into existence in front of you. It had a very tall, masculine human body, dressed in a formal suit, with the head of a… Cuttlefish? For a moment they just stood motionless, arms folded behind their back, staring at you.

           “Uh… Hi,” you gave them a cautious wave. “Is this your hotel?”           The entity nodded.            “Oh, well it’s very nice!”           "Thank you,” they responded. They took a few steps forward, tilting their head. "You seem different than others that have been here.”           You stood your ground. “Really? How so…?”           “You run away, yet you’re curious. You aren’t deterred by what your species may deem 'monstrous’.”

         "Oh, well…” You weren’t sure how to explain that monsters and the like were very much up your alley. "I mean, it doesn’t really do any good being afraid of everything 'different’,“ you shrugged. "Just because something may look monstrous doesn’t necessarily mean that it’s evil. Sure, people should be cautious, but people can’t learn anything about the world if they just decide they’re not going to try to understand it.”

         Their tentacles twitched a bit. “How interesting.” They took a couple steps forward. “There is a point where curiosity becomes naivety. Keeping one’s heart open, keeping one’s mind hungry for knowledge, can inevitably lead them right into the jaws of danger. Monsters care not for the childish optimism of their prey.”            "Well, sure, but…” You wanted to explain that it was, in fact, a monster keeping you safe from the dangers.

          “You should stay here.”

          "…Huh?“

          “You should stay here,” they repeated. “With the rest of us.” It wasn’t a question, or a suggestion. It was a command.           "Uhhh I can’t really do that,” you took a step back. “I’m trying to get home.”           “This can be your home.” Another step forward. “It’s peaceful. Free from judgment and ignorance. Free from dangers. As long as you don’t disturb the Smilers.”           You sighed a little. So much for finding someone to reason with. “Look, I appreciate it, but I have friends and family that’ll miss me. I have a whole life back in my world.”            “Friends that abandoned you? Left you to rot away in a world you know nothing about?”            “What?? No!! They had nothing to do with-”

          The entity’s head and tentacles suddenly started to light up in a dazzling, rippling display of colorful stripes, two of their tentacles splaying out to the sides. Their unblinking gaze drilled into you, glowing more vibrantly, their squiggly horizontal pupils shrinking to slits.           "Wha-“

          “You can trust me,” their tone became lighter, and friendlier; quite the contrast from their intense, borderline hostile gaze. “You’ll like it here. You’ll be well provided for. Room service, complimentary meals, comfortable beds. Jazz nights every week.”           Their mesmerizing facial patterns were difficult for you to tear your gaze away from. For a brief moment, you actually considered their offer.           Soon, they were little more than a foot away from you, looming over you, facial patterns still swirling and rippling. You swallowed back the lump in your throat, tried to turn your head or even close your eyes, but it felt like a static washing over your senses.          Maybe I can stay here…

          You didn’t notice the entity slowly raise their arms up, outside of your peripheral vision. You didn’t see their clawed fingers morph into tentacle-like appendages, starting to drip with a narcotic neurotoxin.

          You also barely noticed the lights in the hallway going out, one by one.

          Ragaeli faded in from a dark haze, right behind the entity, arms outstretched, and fingers wiggling, mirroring the actions of the other. Just as the entity sensed him and ceased their attempts to put you in a trance, the Nightmare clamped his hands around their sides, his hands buzzing with his crackling red magic. He wasn’t taking any chances.           But there was no reaction. No laughter or startled yells, no wriggling around. They looked outright offended when they whipped around, their hands morphing back to normal as they folded their arms. “You’ve some nerve, laying a hand on me.”

          Rags blinked hard, before snorting. “Pfff- Damn, nothing, huh? Lame,” He put his hands on his hips. “That’s some pretty clever magic of yours though~! Perception camouflage. Kinda similar to mine, actually!” He poofed out of sight in a puff of smoke, his uniform hat getting left behind and dropping to the floor. “Fool your friends! Fun at parties!!” His voice darted around the air around both of you. With another poof, he reappeared, giggling.           The entity didn’t seem phased, or amused. They tilted their head. “You’re the other presence I felt stalking about. Following this Wanderer, toying with them as if they are your prey.”           Rags scoffed. "Oh, and you’re not doing the same? At least I have something way more fun in mind than trynna drug 'em up and hold them hostage in some hoity-toity, dusty old-”

          In a flash, the entity jutted out an arm to hold their tentacle fingers right up to the Nightmare’s neck; and the other arm out in front of you, their fingers stretching out to splay its tentacles inches away from your face. You inhaled sharply and froze in place, not sure whether you should try to run.           But Rags wasn’t deterred by the threat. “Heh, struck a nerve, did I~?” With a flick of his wrist, he used his magic to tug their hand back away from your face.           As if to answer, the creature’s head started to flash and ripple in angry hues of yellow and orange, its tentacles wrapping around Rags’ throat, seeping with toxins. “You’d do well not to defy me-” they started to growl sternly; But was interrupted by Rags jabbing the sides of their squishy head with his index and middle fingers, giving off a bright red spark. They jolted sharply, before their head and arms slumped over. They remained standing in place, unresponsive.

          "Whoa; what did you just do?? You didn’t kill them…?”           He quickly shook his head. “You’ll seeee~” He cooed.

          The entity stirred. They let out a low, raspy chuckle. “Ohh… I see. That is a fun idea…” Slowly, they lifted their head and peeked over their shoulder at you. For a brief moment, their head and tentacles shifted to black and pale red stripes.

          "R..Rags?? What did you do?“ You repeated.           He gave a giddy little snicker. "Weeelll, they tried to put you in a trance, I just decided to give 'em a taste of their own medicine~”

          You gawked. “You’re mind-controlling them?!”           Ragaeli quickly shook his head. “Not mind control. Subconscious suggestion,” he tapped a finger to his temple. “I just zapped 'em with a few of your memories, that’s all. I suggested a different game to play with us. What they do after that is their decision~”          “I never knew Wanderers could be so weak to touch…” The hotel manager chuckled, taking a step closer to you. “And the way you crave this touch...the sounds you make, the pleas for it not to end...Goodness, you’re really quite shameless, aren’t you...?”

           You swallowed. “H-Hey now-” Without giving you more time to react, they flung their arms and tentacles out to wrap around you, pulling you close. You yelped and instinctively tried pulling away, but were met with the feeling of the slippery appendages writhing and kneading over your armpits and ribs, immediately loosing a shriek of laughter from you. “YIEE-HAHAHA N-NOOHOHOHO!!” Your face flared up, shuddering from the sensations, wriggling back and forth and tried to tug their arms free.

         Rags snapped his fingers, and the entity’s arms were held up by magic, giving you a moment to catch your breath. Both he and the cuttlefish letting out wicked laughter. “How cute…”          “Riiight~?” Rags giggled, patting your head. “Totally worth not knocking them out just yet, right? You wanna hear more of that cute laughter, see more of that helpless desperation, make them moan your name, draw a feeling of glee out of them without havin’ to trance them first~!”              The cuttlefish nodded. “I suppose I’ll humor you for now and play along with this little game…”            And both of them, leaning in on either side of your ears: “You should run~”

           The moment they released their hold, your adrenaline kicked in again and you bolted.

         You could swear you heard the Nightmare and the camouflaged entity snickering evilly at every turn. When you thought you could see the air in front of the wallpaper ripple, you’d turn the other way. When Ragdoll’s stomping or giggling echoed from one of the nearby stairwells, you booked it up or down the next flight. Every now and then, the Nightmare would phase into the room from inside one of the many paintings decorating the walls, sending you booking it in the other direction.          Even taking a moment of reprieve near the elevators wasn’t safe. The metal death cage stopped at your floor and with a ding of a bell, opened to Reggie - still in his Bellboy uniform - flashing you a shitty grin with his arms behind his back. “Next stop, our Diamond Suites~! Comfiest beds in the Backrooms, complete with chains and blindfolds and drawers full of the best lubes, the strongest vibes, the most torturous tickly instruments in this or any dimension, hehehehe~!” He tried to usher you into the elevator. “The more Big Os you can rack up, the more of a room discount we can give ya~!”           You blushed at the thought. “Yeahh nice try, I’m not gonna let you wreck my shit and pull a Tower of Terror on me again,” you stuck your tongue out.          “C’monnn, I know you wannaaa~” His grin became more devilish and he gave you a wink.            Before you could make another snarky comment, you were scooped up from behind, the manager fading into view again, opal eyes glaring at ‘Reginald’. “You will not misuse my elevators again,” they huffed, casually letting their clawed digits scritch and knead over your ribs, sneaking in toward your belly.          “YyYYEE-HEHEH!! Y-Yeheheheah, what thehehey sahahahaid!!” You shook your fist at Rags, feeling your face quickly heat up. You were glad to be on playful terms with this entity now.            Ragdoll rolled his eyes. “Well I’m just doing my job, but fine, I’ll meet up with you again after you give my buddy the answer they need~!” He pressed a button and rode the elevator down out of sight.            The cuttlefish let out a low, clicky purring by your ear. “You seek answers, hmm? Then find your way to the Ballroom, and I may just give you a clue~” They released their hold on you and faded out of sight again. You took a moment to compose yourself before continuing onward. Where the hell were you supposed to find a ballroom in this place??             You kept an eye out for signs; there weren’t many to go off of. Reception, boiler room, outdoor gardens… You were so busy focusing on finding signage that you nearly ran smack-dab into a pitch-black wall with another one of those smiling faces staring out at you. “AGH-!” You gasped and jumped back when you saw it from your peripherals. It hissed through its teeth, just about to strike at you with two shadowy claws…            Then Ragdoll came flying through a nearby painting, jabbing a couple fingers into the dark mass, just above the creature’s eyes, giving off another bright red spark of magic - before promptly launching himself into a painting on the opposite side of the wall, his gremlin giggling still echoing overhead.

           The creature gave off a startled screech, the entire mass trembling. Its eyes briefly flashed yellow, its Cheshire smile spreading even wider.         "Ohh fuck no-“ was all you managed to comment, before two dark limbs lashed out and pulled you inside.              Your body was flooded with the feeling of a hundred gentle pokes, strokes and scritches. In the pitch-blackness, you had no way of knowing where it would come from next, or when it would end. The smiling face now peered down at you from above, snickering wickedly. “AaaAAH-Hehehehe!! D-Dahahammihihit!! N-Not you toohoohoo!!” You wriggled and tugged in its gentle, but surprisingly strong shadowy grip, yelping and whining and feeling goosebumps crawl up your skin from the feather-light touches teasing your hips, navel and ribs. You practically yelled when more of them slipped straight down into your shoes to flurry and vibrate, making you kick your legs around. “GAAH-HAHAHA!!”               It even began to get a little cheeky, slipping dozens of those tickly, wispy tendrils between your legs to caress and creep up your inner thighs, closer and closer to your groin. Others on your backside stroked and tickled the crease under your butt; more finger-like appendages discovered other erogenous zones along your body. “N-Nnhhh-Heheheh A-AHHhhh P-Pleeheheeasee!!” Your laughter was punctuated by moans and delighted whines, your squirming becoming less frantic; you found yourself leaning not their touch more.

         But then… Something in your talisman must’ve sensed a shift in the entity’s intentions. The moment before the creature turned its shadowy hands into daggers and thorns to impale you with, your charm gave off a sudden blinding red spark of magic, making you both shriek from the ticklish shock.          You knew that was a sign that the game was over; you managed to pull away from the dark mass, coming out on the other side and booking it right as the creature let out an angry his... Nearly stumbling over your own feet as the residual tickly pleasure sent shivers through you. A shame that it couldn’t have kept going...

         After continuing to search, you were guided to the hotel Restaurant. Making your way inside, it was just as overly-exuberant as the rest of the place, with smooth Jazz playing from the nearby stage - despite the fact that no-one was playing the instruments that stood stationary.

         You ducked down to hide underneath one of the nearby dining tables, just in time to hear Reggie’s big ol stompers follow behind you. He snickered and started to walk slow, deliberate circles around the table. "Gee, I wonder where they went…” You heard his claws tapping, slowly and repeatedly, on the surface just above you. The sound gave you goosebumps. “They’d better not keep themselves tucked away too long, they’re gonna get found eventually~!” He teased in a singsong voice, giggling wildly. “A shame we can’t stay here for too long, I’d check us into one of the rooms and keep you in there with me to Netflix-and-Giggle! Not sure the TVs here have Netflix though… or if there even are TVEEEEE-HAHA!!“ You took your chance to lunge from under the table and latch onto one of his feet, scritching and prodding over his arches and toes. He yelped with giggles, stumbling and falling back against the chairs for a moment and you started ducking and weaving around the tables in an attempt to shake him off.            As you did, he put on his Bellhop act again, complete with accent. “Come now, this is no way for an esteemed guest to behave! I’m going to have to put you under house arrest at this point!!” He made grabs for you, and you practically climbed over table booths.          “Yeah, well suck it!! This place is three stars at best!!”            A loud hiss answered from a wall just behind you, the manager’s vivid glowing eyes and splayed writhing tentacles appearing in the air.          “AAHH I’m kidding I’m kidding!!” You laughed and scurried out of the restaurant area. Unfortunately your comment seemed to have ticked them off; you could now hear them following very closely behind. You hardly had the chance to try climbing a flight of stairs before you were yanked by an invisible force into a nearby suite, the door slamming behind you.            The cuttlefish glared down at you, arms folded across their chest. They didn’t look angry anymore, just unamused.          “H-hey now, I was just joking earlier, this is a great hotel,” you smiled nervously up at them. “Very homey, great atmosphere…”            They simply walked forward, making you back up further and further, until the backs of your knees pressed against the bed and you stumbled onto the mattress. They leapt forward and straddled either side of you, and as you scrambled back against the pillows, they outstretched their hands; one morphed its fingers into tentacles, the other remained clawed. “I believe you. But a comment like that still deserves to be… reprimanded~” They curled and scrunched their digits, wriggling them closer and closer to you… Until, without warning, they slipped their claws under your top, giving your belly a squeeze.

           “AH! W-Wahahahaitt!!” You yelped all the more when their tentacle-hand also started exploring. They were more gentle with their methods than their initial spring-attack; They took their time scritching, poking, dancing their dexterous claws over your torso. Their tentacle suckers gave little ‘kisses’ over your belly. “MmMMF-Hehehehe!!” You tried, and quickly failed, to hold back your snickering, wriggling back and forth, trying to suck in your gut.             Although they couldn’t smile or change the expression in their glassy opal eyes, you could still see a mischievous twinkle behind them, their squiggly pupils dilated and the patterns on their head flowing in a soft ripple. 

           All the while, the cuttlefish manager tilted their head, observing you closely. "How endearing...You know, those memories of yours told me something interesting… They showed me how easily you are persuaded by verbalization.”            “Wh-what do you mehehean?”            They leaned down closer to your ear, their double-voice speaking in a low whisper. “You’re ever so tiickliiish, aren’t you~?”            You let out a startled yelp, not at all expecting a tease out of an otherworldly entity like this. “AH-!! N-Noohoho!!”            They tilted their head. “No? But clearly you are. Perhaps I will just have to convince you further.” They un-straddled their leg from around you and reached up above you to grab one of the pillows; in just a few swift movements, they pulled the pillowcase off, grabbed your wrists, and tied them above your head. You gasped and felt your blush deepen, knowing your sides and armpits were even more vulnerable now. The entity flurried their claws up and down one armpit, and had their tentacles slip down your sleeve of the other arm, slithering around. “YIEE-HEHEHEHE!!” You whined and shimmied side to side like a fish.            “It’s such a curious thing, this 'ticklishness’…It’s almost cute how easily a Wanderer can succumb to their own nervous systems being turned against them. Becoming helpless, giggling little fools, flooded by sensations their minds and bodies cannot fight against, let alone fully comprehend…”            You whined, feeling the entity’s explanations getting to you all the more. Their sly chuckle told you they were totally doing it on purpose.            After the cuttlefish felt satisfied with their efforts on your upper half, they slid themselves off of the bed; not before grabbing another pillowcase. They casually walked over and took your ankles, ignoring your kicking and fidgeting, tying them together too. “A-Aahhaha, wahahait…” You giggled nervously.            “Ah, yes, this is a particularly sensitive spot of yours, isn’t it?” They wriggled their tentacles and fingers in front of your soles, keeping their eyes locked on you to watch your reactions. Their claws began to scritch, pinch and poke the ball of your foot and between your toes, dragging their nails slooowly down your sole. The tentacles on their other hand slithered over every crevice, between each toe, their suckers sticking and unsticking in rapid succession to cause a sort of ticklish ‘vibration. And it all drove you crazy.            “ShitshiTSHIT-HAAHAHAHA NOOOHOHOHOO!!” Your body twisted, bucked and flailed on the bed, the entity’s skilled hands causing unbearable ticklish jolts coursing through your feet. “NAAHAHAHAHA!! P-PLEHEHEHEASE~!”              Their hands switched places; their tentacles morphed into claws, and their other claws stretched into tentacles, keeping up their cruelly delicate methods for a few more minutes. Only when you were a whining, gasping mess did they relent and pull their hands away, folding them behind their back. They folded their arms behind their back and slowly walked up to the side of the bed to glance down at you, slowly leaning their head closer. “If I may be so.. Brash..." Their tentacle fingers snuck ever closer and closer to your chest; their other hand tugged at the rim of your pants. They eyed you expectantly. You gulped hard and nodded, giving them the okay to keep going.               With that, they undid your pants, tugging them down just enough to expose your groin. They gently scritched their claws over your underwear, releasing a soft gasp from you. They did it again, and again, soon giving gentle, rhythmic strokes and scritches with their claws over every crevice of your clothed flesh. They circled their hand along your inner thighs, on your lower belly over your crotch, dragging their nails up and down and across. “A-Ah..! NNgh-!! AH-Hehehehe!” You wriggled your hips and tried to nudge yourself into their touch more.              While they stroked and tickled your groin with their claws, their other hand morphed into tentacles to splay out and slither over your chest. The feeling of the slick, sucker-covered appendages gliding over your nipples caused you to gasp louder and arch upwards. The feeling of them wrapping around the sides of your chest tissue, just next to your underarms, and just underneath where your chest met your ribs, drove you wild with tickly erogenous sensations. You couldn’t hold back your breathy, delighted giggles and gasps. A hot blush lit up your cheeks and you kept shyly peering into the entity’s curious shimmering eyes.              After a few more minutes, their hands shifted. The one at your chest morphed back to claws, and the claws teasing ever closer to your groin changed into tentacles. They skittered and poked and caressed their claws over your chest, flicking them gently over your nipples; it made you giggle wildly, though it was the feeling of the tentacles starting to slip underneath your underwear and explore every inch of your groin that really made you lose control of your verbal responses. “HaaAAHH~!” You arched back and gripped at the bedsheets, shudders of ticklish pleasure shooting through you. It felt like five tongues: Very long, thin, dexterous tongues all slithering every which way over and around your engorged flesh, between your thighs, over your lower abdomen. They started to ripple and undulate to tickle you even more; the suckers started to give tickly ‘kisses’ along your groin, sticking and unsticking. “AHH-HAHAHA~! OHhh fuhuhuck!!” Your blush burned brighter, your breath became shakier and heavier, you wriggled back and forth and slowly gave into the erotic tickly attention.                The manager tilted their head at you again. “I wonder…”              “W-Wonder what?” You smiled anxiously up at them.             “How mean would it be… if I convinced you that you’re even more ticklish?” Their head and face bloomed into rippling waves and patterns again. “That you’re even more vulnerable to the sensations that drive your senses wild...”                You gasped. “Ohh no, don’t you dare…” But you already felt it taking effect. From head to toe, your body tingled and erupted in goosebumps.                The slightest graze of their claws against your ribs sent an electric ticklish jolt through you. “YYEEHEHEHE NOOOHOHAHAHA!!” You bucked a foot in the air.                The cuttlefish chuckled. “The sensitivity of your nerves continues to climb higher and higher… You’re almost more ticklish than what you can bear…” They idly traced their claws in circles around and around your belly and ribs.                 You yelled. “P-PLEHEHEHEASE!! Thahahahat’s high enohohohough!!” You whined, trying desperately to hide your bright blushing face against your arm. You could feel every brush of fabric from your clothes, you could feel the soft mattress against any bare skin, you continued to be gently, methodically poked and stroked by the entity’s claws. And it tickled like hell. The next few minutes felt twice as long once they went in on you and started swiftly, rapidly tickling over every single weak spot they could find; up and down your torso, squeezing your legs and knees, walking down to slither their tentacles against your soles and toes, and along the sides of your feet, moving back up to tickle your inner thighs and trace the outline of your groin.                “And with this heightened ticklishness, comes unbearable pleasure... Your body yearns for it, more and more... Every flutter of fingers, sending waves of desire coursing through you...”            As they spoke it, it became true; every tickle from their claws and tentacles sent erotic tickly sensations shuddering through you, as if everywhere they tickled was now an erogenous zone. And you could only answer with loud shrieks of laughter and loud, aroused moans, trying desperately to twist your body on the bed - which inadvertently opened up even more ticklish targets on your back. They closer you came to reaching your peak, the more the entity doubled their efforts, focusing on your most erogenous spots.           You weren’t unused to having your ticklishness tampered with like this; you knew damn well how the Nightmare could ramp up your sensations to unbearable degrees… And then drive you into utter madness by wreaking havoc with his hands and tendrils.              Thankfully - or maybe unfortunately - the cuttlefish was a bit more gentle with their methods... This gentleness, combined with their hypnotic inclinations, eventually drove you over the edge, warmth erupting in your lower stomach and your body tingling with pleasure as you cried out. “A-AAHH~HAHAHA YEHEHEHESS!!” The cuttlefish only pulled their hands away again once you were left totally breathless.            “How delightful... I’m pleased that you’ve enjoyed yourself.” They petted your head gently, and helped slide you back into your pants. “You’ve grown very tired. And quite content. My offer still stands, you know… You can stay here." Once again, their head-stripes began to ripple and flare in a kaleidoscopic pattern, leaning in close to you. “I could tickle and toy with you, day in and day out~ You will not know any fear, or weariness… Only laughter, and pleasure~”                The thought send shudders through you. But once again, before you could seriously consider their offer, Ragdoll’s vivid orange eyes phased into view from inside the wallpaper above the bed, followed by his smile; a very irritated smile. "We had a deeeaaal," he growled.            The manager sighed, rolling their eyes - you had no idea a cephalopod could roll their eyes - and ceased their hypnotic attempts again. "Very well. We will meet in the ballroom, then, as I stated. But it will be your last chance to prove your resolve." They untied you, before turning invisible again.            Ragdoll’s gremlin giggling hovered in the air. "Better make a run for it while you can~”            You groaned. For once, you didn’t want to take off. You’d just managed to get settled in and start winding down from the afterglow. "Can it be a casual walk instead? I’ve been running a lot as it is, and this bed is pretty cozy…“            In a red flash, Rags pounced out of the wall and landed above you, crouched on all fours. "We’re on a tight schedule, remember??” His hand lit up in sparks and he placed his large hand to your lower belly, giving off a shockwave through your stomach, hips and inner thighs.            “AAGH-HAHAHA!!” You cried out leapt in place on the bed.            “There, that oughta replenish you for a little while~”            You realized that it wasn’t just ticklish retaliation - your body felt revitalized. Your muscles weren’t sore, your eyelids weren’t droopy; and your body was no longer sensitive to an unbearable degree. “Heh, thanks. Well on that note…” You tuck-and-rolled off of the bed, quickly ducking out of the doorway.              Once Ragman had chased you through a couple more hallways, he stopped, presumably to keep looking around the dimension. You used the chance to walk the halls and more carefully look around for a sign to the Ballroom. Finally, you saw a sign for it just ahead.              Stepping inside, your eyes and mouth went wide. It was huge. And… totally empty. But the sounds of Jazz music, laughter and idle chatter lingered in the air; this place seemed to be the source of all the voices from before. After taking a few more steps forward, you began to see flashes and ripples in the air: Visions of people, dressed in Victorian-era clothing; some looked human, some didn’t. All of them were lacking faces. They looked a lot like some of the photos you had found in the guest rooms’ dresser drawers.              These visions only lasted for a second or two before they faded out of view again. The manager stood in the middle of the dance floor, arms folded behind their back, patiently watching you approach.              “Looks like I made it here,” You grinned smugly at them. “So are you gonna give me a clue or-”                They instead took you by the hands, and started to do a waltz with you. They didn’t seem to mind your awkward steps, making sure to keep pace with you. “It’s nice seeing you enjoying yourself here, you know. So many Wanderers pass through here, frightened, starving, injured, trying so hard to escape… But doing so only brings them more strife.” Despite their unchanging gaze, they sounded disheartened. “I wish only to keep people safe. Once they sleep in one of my guest beds, they will leave their physical shells behind. No more hunger, or pain, or weariness.” They gestured to the flickering hologram-like visions of the other guests. “Only peace, and jovial celebration.”                So… you were right. It would have been a bad idea to fall asleep. You didn’t really want to argue the morality of the entity’s methods, though. Especially since, all things considered, this very well might have been a better outcome for some poor soul that didn’t have a Nightmare god at their aid.           “However,” they spoke up, interrupting your silent contemplation. “If you truly wish to leave, then I will give you a clue… Look for something out-of-place.”

               You raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean, out of place?”              “Exactly as I said. Something that does not fit into the hotel’s aesthetic. Find it, and you may just escape. It’s not far from here. But find yourself trapped again, and I may just keep you here forever…”                They snapped their fingers. Immediately, some of the specters responded to the sound, hovering over to where you stood, enclosing you as they circled around, giggling. “But perhaps I should make you persuade them as well… Give them a reason as to why I should let you leave~”                  You gave an exasperated sigh. “Oh come on…” The manager was definitely just fucking with you at this point.              “HeeeEEYYY EVERYBODY~!” The air was suddenly booming with the sound of the Nightmare’s voice, and the lights turned dim. The flickering specters gasped and ceased their dancing and efforts to keep you boxed in, looking around for the source.                Poofing into view on top of one of the tables, Ragdoll struck a pose, having switched out his Bellboy outfit for a very handsome old-timey suit and derby hat, his shirt and jacket fully unbuttoned. He flashed the “crowd” a charismatic smile, and with a flick of the wrist, a microphone stand appeared in his hand. “Well now, ladies and gents, quite a lively, lovely bunch we’ve got here tonight! But how ‘bout we really get this place bumping??”                He tossed away his hat and snapped his fingers; the soft Jazz was replaced by louder, energetic Swing. He hopped off and started to dance around the room, able to take the hands of the ‘invisible’ guests and twirl them around, switching between doing the Rumba and the Foxtrot. It didn’t take long for the guests to get riled up and join the party; despite their lack of faces, their excitement could be heard.                  The cuttlefish, on the other hand, was very irritated. “Who does your friend think he is, hosting Swing night a week early and stealing the thunder from my Jazz band??” Their face flared with angry orange hues.                  Better take your chance while you can!! You heard Rags’ voice in your head. You jumped and gasped, and quickly heeded his advice while the entity and their guests were distracted by his antics, slipping past them and sneaking out of the door on the farthest wall.                  You’d made a fair amount of distance before the sound of Swing music finally faded into the background. It was time to wrap up this Scooby-Doo escapade. You examined everything more intently than ever, trying to find anything that looked out of place.

         Then, you spotted it: A large painting out of the corner of your eye, making you stop in your tracks to take a closer look. It was low to the floor and had a black minimalist frame, with a photograph of what appeared to be the inside of a modern warehouse or massive hardware store. You walked up and placed your hand against it… And gasped when it rippled and let your hand slip right in, like the surface of a pond.          “Well bravo… You’ve found it.” The cuttlefish phased themselves out of the wall next to the painting, slowly applauding you. “I’ll admit, your determination is commendable. You’re certain you don’t wish to stay here?” They tilted their head. This time, the question felt less demanding, and more… Wistful.             You felt a little sorry for them. All of your interactions made you realize that maybe they were just a little lonely. Well-intentioned, with questionable methods. You sighed. “Yes, I’m sure,” you stood firmly in place. “My friend can’t stay here any more than I can. He’s going to disappear if he can’t find a way back to his own world. Well, temporarily, anyways. He always comes back, but he may not be able to find his way back here. It’d break our heart if we couldn’t ever see each other again.”             The entity nodded. “Very well, then… As utterly irritating as this friend of yours may be, it brings peace of mind knowing you have an entity like him keeping watch over you.” They chuckled. “Perhaps putting your trust in some monsters isn’t such a bad idea.            “And… perhaps I could entertain my other guests with the games we’ve played~” They extended their tentacle-digits to slither up against your ribs one last time, before taking a bow and gesturing to the painting. “After you, then. Please, stay safe.”

           You heard the faint echo of Swing music and a guest’s distant “Farewell!” as you stepped into the painting.

——————————————————————————————————-

Chapter One Chapter Two (current) Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five (SFW) Chapter Six

Footnotes: “Terror Hotel”: https://backrooms.fandom.com/wiki/Level_5 Smilers: https://backrooms.fandom.com/wiki/Smilers

[freohrweohnatakausta]

Backrooms

The Backrooms became super popular a while back and just became discount SCP with “unimaginable horrors” lurking there chasing all who ventured in.

but that’s not the true horror of the backrooms. There’s no demon lurking in the shadows, no mysterious grime leaking from the ceiling, no, the true horror of the backrooms are the backrooms themselves.

The Backrooms are an immense, infinite maze of rooms; each one comprised of occasionally flickering fluorescent lights, off-white wallpaper of differing- but uniform- designs, and slightly soggy off-white carpeting.

The Backrooms are seemingly abandoned, almost as if the people who once lived or worked there vanished or left, leaving only the lights on. Sometimes, the carpet is packed down in such a way it looks like a heavy desk or shelf once stood there. 

The Backrooms are quiet. Quiet in such a way that what background noise there is makes it even quieter. The sounds of air rushing through the vents, of fans spinning forever in place, of air conditioners turning on and off, of hidden pipes rattling with unseen contents, of fluorescent lights humming and flickering.

The Backrooms never end, each new room, each wall passed, always different from the last. Never the same, not even going backwards would the rooms stay the same. Minor differences, the wallpaper changing, the carpet a different shade of off-white, the ceiling tiles in different patterns, all look the same, they blend together, as if they were all one room.

The true horror of The Backrooms isn’t what’s there, it’s what isn’t there. It’s the things long forgotten and unremembered, the things that tickle memory, the things that give pause, the things that make eyes wander, that make ears perk, the things that make the heart stop. The things that make you want to explore, that make you fear.

There are no monsters in The Backrooms.

[bunnieditz]

3 ghost themed eich aonuma and vesta campbell wallpapers for @hypotheticallyeichi

360 x 740

like or rb if saving!

[wil-is-done]

Otherworld - Chapter 4: Accuse

Summary: This isn’t fair. Her number hit zero. It’s supposed to be over. She’s supposed to be home.

Word Count: 7.887

-

IMPORTANT NOTE: This is a repost.

Warmth. That’s the first sensation Tulip felt enveloping her upon waking up, before her eyes even opened. The kind of warmth you’d feel by wrapping a big, thick, cushy blanket around yourself in a rainy night, but better. Infinitely better. And oddly familiar. The warmth would have lulled her back to sleep, and it nearly did, until she felt warm air tickling the back of her neck. 

Her eyes snapped open. The events of the previous night came flooding back. The chase with the beast. Getting saved by Anne. The city of human buildings. Luz and her magic glyphs. Eating the best meal she’s had in months. Lying down on a bed sent straight from heaven.

She’s still there, on that bed, lying on her side. It was all real. So was the night stand by the bed, the earthy brown wallpaper covering the walls of the bedroom, and the orbs of light floating near the ceiling at the edge of her vision. So were her pale arms, free from any scars or bruises. So were the other pair of arms, darker and bigger than hers, extending from somewhere behind her to wrap her in a loose hug. 

Warm air tickled her neck again. Breathing. It was someone’s breathing. 

Tulip craned her neck around, slowly, until she caught a glimpse of a wild mass of brown, unruly hair. Oh.

Heat rapidly gathered at Tulip’s cheeks. How quickly she went from touch-starved to touch-bloated. She wouldn’t say she hated the situation - far from it - but after getting carried around all night by Anne, Luz’s hands-on ministrations of the healing glyphs, and now this, it was all too much for her heart to handle. At least, this woke her up better than a cup of coffee ever did.

She should get up. Yeah, that’s a good idea.

Tulip scooted forward ever so slightly, keeping her pace slow so as to not disturb Anne’s slumber. She softly nudged Anne’s right arm off of her once it impeded her progress and tried not to miss how warm it felt. But Anne mumbled some incoherent phrase, and Tulip froze, and was too slow to move out of the way when Anne’s arm returned, wrapping around Tulip and dragging her closer until her back was pressing against Anne’s chest. It took everything within Tulip to keep her noise limited to a squeak, now trapped in a tighter hug than before. 

Well. Okay.

This is fine. 

Once steam had stopped fuming from her ears and her heart stopped beating a million miles an hour, Tulip tried again. She’s faster this time, and used more force, moving to the edge of the bed until she freed herself from Anne’s limbs. Anne shifted to lie on her back, her lips mumbling nonsense, eyes fluttering for a moment, before she returned to deep slumber. Tulip breathed out. Let a few more moments pass for her heart to settle. 

Tulip sat up on the edge of the bed. A hiss escaped her as the tips of her toes touched down on the cold, ceramic floor. Her boots were left at the foot of the bed, and she briefly thought of slipping it on to avoid the cold floor, but decided against it. She’d experienced far worse than literal cold feet, and she doubted putting on her sodden, mud-caked boots would be an improvement.

Going barefoot certainly made it easier to reach the door without making a sound. Opening the door produced little more than a click and a rustle from a slight breeze. Tulip quickly slipped outside and closed the door behind her. She would rather not disturb Anne’s rest any more than she already has.

It felt good to be standing on her own two feet again, after spending most of last night being carried around from one place to another, as she took in her surroundings. The apartment looked the same as what little she saw the night before. Biggest difference was the lack of light orbs everywhere. The faint smell of smoke lingered in the air, emanating from the living room down the corridor to her right. Morning sunlight streaked through the apartment from the glass sliding doors to her left, which lead to a small balcony, currently occupied. Luz was sitting on the railing, her back to Tulip, staring into the distance with her feet dangling over the edge. Her staff was placed nearby, leaning against the railing. 

Luz must have heard the door clicking open, or the shuffling of Tulip’s feet on wood, because she turned immediately, and greeted Tulip with a smile. “Oh, hey! Good morning, Tulip.”

“M-morning.” Tulip immediately clamped her mouth shut. She didn’t expect to stumble over her words like that. Maybe she wasn’t as calm as she thought she was. 

“Hope you had a good sleep.” Luz pivoted in place, vaulting her legs over the railing. “Cómo estás? How you feeling?” 

Embarrassed. Flustered. A little cold? “Good,” she said instead. “Mhm. Yeah. Peachy.”

Luz slid down the railing and skipped through the glass doors, picking up her staff along the way. Her head tilted to one side, seeing past the (obvious) lie. “You sure? Is everything okay?”

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” Tulip reassured. Despite the now-familiar warmth creeping back to her cheeks, she didn’t want Luz to think something actually bad was bothering her. “It’s just, um- Anne was- she’s, um-”

Luz’s eyes widened ever so slightly. There’s a weird look of understanding and… pity? Aimed at Tulip. “Oh no, did she drool on you? That happened to me once.”

“No, n-no,” Tulip quickly said, and paused. She never actually checked. A discrete pat-down of her neck and back produced no suspicious wet patches. “Nope. She didn’t.”

“She’s, uh. She was hugging me. When I woke up.” She must be blushing now, no doubt about it. Where was this coming from? She’s pretty sure she’d blushed more in the last twelve hours than she did in the past five months. “Wasn’t, uh. Wasn’t really expecting that.”

“Yeah, she does that. She likes being the big spoon.” Luz smiled, a fond smile, retrieved from first-hand experience. In a weird way, Tulip felt comforted to not be alone in that regard.

“Weird, right? Everyone likes being the little spoon.” Luz lowered her head conspiratorially and waggled her eyebrows. “Not that I’m complaining, know what I mean?”

Oh, my. Tulip bit back a smile, shyly averting her gaze to a power socket on the wall. Anne just has that effect on people, it seemed. “I think I do.”

Luz’s smile grew wider, more mischievous, seeing it. “I’d offer you breakfast, but that’s gonna have to wait until Anne’s up. In the meantime, if you wanna wash up, the bathroom’s all yours. Already heated some water for ya. Unless you like your showers cold?”

Tulip’s jaw dropped. A shower? With hot water? The offer sounded too good to be true. The opportunity to wash herself came few and far in between on the train - she recalled the longest she went without one was nearly twenty straight days - and none of those opportunities ever included something as luxurious as heated water. One of the many things she took for granted back in North Branch. 

The shock eventually passed her enough so she could actually say, “I’ll take the hot water, thanks.” 

Luz spun the staff in her hand, hooking one end on the bathroom’s door handle, pulled down, and let the door swing open. Tulip watched Luz easily return the staff to her side, handling the object with the grace and dexterity of someone who must have spent months or perhaps even years honing the skill. Something looked a little off about the staff itself, though. She could have sworn an owl carving formed the head of the staff when she saw it last night.

“Toda suya. All yours.” 

But the thought was quickly abandoned. The sight of a bucket filled with clean, warm water in the shower cubicle, a light trail of steam heading to the ceiling, was like finding the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. Tulip eagerly stepped inside, and swung the door shut behind her with maybe a little too much force. A giggle sang from the other side of the door, and she found herself blushing again.

-

The warm water did wonders for her body, her mind, she’s not hesitant to say even her soul. There were actual soap and shampoo available for her to use, too. The one-use sachets she packed with her when she left home had long since run out during her first month on the train. Yet another luxury that she’ll never take for granted again. Stepping out of the shower cubicle with a puff of steam, Tulip felt refreshed, her mind sharper, and she certainly smelled better than she’d ever been in a long time.     

A short, not-quite laugh escaped Tulip’s lips after she slipped on her white shirt and grey skirt and tights. What were the chances? She honestly wanted to know. Stuck in yet another other world, only to fall into the embrace of the two kindest people she’s ever met. Anne and Luz eagerly accepted her - a complete stranger - into their shelter, healed all of her wounds, fed her, let her sleep on their bed, and now, this. All without expecting anything in return. One in a million didn’t feel enough. One in a billion felt closer, but not quite. 

A wave of guilt seeped into her heart for barely answering their questions at all last night, and a second, smaller wave followed, for needing to have Anne save her again. Maybe that could be her way of repaying them. Not every question, but some. Some that she’s ready to answer.

Tulip turned to the sink and actually laughed this time, noticing three toothbrushes on the counter, each with a label - an ‘A’, ‘L’, and ‘T’. She picked the one labeled ‘T’, used some leftover water from the bucket to wet the brush, wiped the condensation from the mirror, and stared face to face with the wall behind her.

Oh. Yeah. That happened. Wonder how she’s doing now. Hopefully well, wherever she is on the train. 

Three quick knocks came from the bathroom door. “You decent?” Luz’s muffled voice asked from the other side.

“I’m good. Come in.”

The door swung open and Luz poked her head in, eyes squinting through the leftover steam. “Soooo, I don’t know if you even wanna keep your jacket, and I’m not saying I’m at all great at sewing, but I tried to patch it up. I think I did an okay job? But you be the judge.”

Luz tossed a bundle of fabric at Tulip which she easily caught. She let it unfurl, revealing her well-worn jacket, patched up like Luz said. Some of the stitching was rough, here and there, but it was miles better than the state it was in after her chase through the jungle. “This is-” Tulip swallowed a happy sob and more than a few tears of joy. Yet another act of kindness. “You did amazing, Luz. Thank you.” 

“Aw, shucks. Just needed something to do while I’m keeping watch.” Red stained Luz’s cheeks, and something like pride swelled in Tulip’s chest over being on the giving end of a blush for a change. 

Tulip yanked the zipper down, and had to stop herself from slipping the jacket on too fast, lest she end up ruining Luz’s hard work, keeping her motions slow and careful. Immediately, it felt good. It felt right. Was it strange to be so attached to a jacket? She’s been wearing it for so long, it’s almost a part of her now.

“Also! Noticed your hair kinda kept bothering you, so I went through the other rooms and I found some spare hair ti-”

Tulip was too preoccupied with the sensation of the jacket back around her body, that she didn’t notice at first, how Luz stopped midsentence. How Luz stared ahead, eyes nearly popping out of their sockets. When she did, she was confused, because Luz wasn’t even looking at her. She followed the line of Luz’s gaze.

To the mirror.

Oh. Oh crap.

“Uh.”

Tulip stepped forward. “I can explain-”

“Uhhh!”

Luz scrambled away from the bathroom until her back hit the bedroom door. When Tulip stepped out of the bathroom, hands raised diplomatically, Luz backed away again, scraping against the wall in the direction of the balcony, her staff now in hand.

“W-wait! Wait! I know this kinda looks bad, but-”

Luz raised the staff defensively between her and Tulip. “Whoa, whoa, whoa! You- you hold it! You stay where you are!”

“Luz, I promise you, it’s not what you think!” 

The sound of a door opening came from behind Tulip, followed by padded footsteps against ceramic. “Wozzat? S’with all the screaming?” Anne mumbled, alarmed and on edge, but still blinking away the sleep in her eyes.

Luz was faster than Tulip on the draw. “Anne, Tulip’s a vampire!”

There was a long beat, Anne blinking once, twice, her head slowly tilting to one side, all but asking if she heard that right. “…what?”

“I’m- I’m not-”

“I saw it! In the bathroom! She doesn’t have a reflection!” Luz pointed frantically at the bathroom door left ajar, the last of the steam trailing away.

It was tiny, and probably didn’t mean anything, but something in Tulip’s chest ached when Anne shifted her left foot behind her right. “Tulip? That true?”

“Yes, it’s true. I don’t have a reflection anymore. But it’s not because I’m a vampire!” Tulip groaned into her clammy palms. This was the absolute worst way for them to find out.

“The train that I told you about last night. The one I was stuck on. When I said it’s weird, I mean it.” Her head flipped back and forth between a guarded Anne and an alarmed Luz. “There’s a car with talking corgis. There’s a car that’s literally a giant crossword puzzle. There’s a car filled with, just, ducks!”  

“The point is, I am not a vampire.” But were her words even worth anything? Evidence. They need hard evidence. “I’ll prove it! I’ll step out into the sunlight. If there’s a cross anywhere, feel free to shove it in my face. If you have any garlic, I’ll eat it. Raw.”

“That’s… please don’t eat raw garlic.” The concern in Anne’s voice was real, familiar, and far more preferable than the cautious tone from earlier. “Tulip, if you say there’s an explanation… then I believe you.”

Tulip didn’t remember when she started holding her breath. Her chest felt lighter, being able to breathe freely again. Saved by Anne, once more. 

Anne’s gaze moved to somewhere over Tulip’s shoulder. “So drop the staff, Luz. It’s too early to be bonking people in the head.” The gaze hardened, and her reluctance to do so was apparent.  “And apologize. For freaking out like that, and scaring Tulip.”

Tulip turned to face Luz, who’s trying her best to hide behind her staff. “I… that might’ve been a little too much,” she gritted out. Luz hated that she had to say that. A lot. “Sorry.”

“It’s…” Fine? Nothing? What was Tulip trying to say? What was there to say? “…I get it. I’m sorry too, I guess.” 

A beat passed, with Tulip never been more aware of the fact that, despite everything Anne and Luz had done for her, they were complete strangers to her, and she’s a stranger to them.

Anne broke the silence with a hum from the back of her throat. “Okay. Look. How’s about we… talk this out over breakfast, hm? 

Neither Tulip nor Luz said a word, but they both gave a slow nod. 

“Good. So, I’ll just, uh.” Anne pointed a stilted finger towards the kitchen. “Breakfast.”

-

Luz did end up handing Tulip that hair tie, when they sat down around the dead fire pit in the living room. Tulip accepted the hair tie, mumbled a thanks, bundled up her hair behind her, and tied it off in a ponytail. Just like that, she felt complete. Ready for whatever comes next.

Breakfast came next. Anne entered the room with three steaming bowls in hand. More of the meat and gravy dish from dinner, which Tulip didn’t mind at all. Still the second best meal she’s had in a while. Anne sat down at the same spot from last night. A silent look from her as she raised a spoon to her mouth told Tulip, to start whenever she’s ready. Tulip scooped a spoonful of meat and shoved it in her mouth, savoring every bite. God, that’s good.

Okay. Tulip began.

Her dumb decision to walk all the way to Oshkosh in the middle of winter. Stumbling across the train. Her first encounter with One-One. The Cat. Atticus and Corginia. The Chrome Car, where she met, clashed, and eventually befriended her own reflection, and helped her escape the mirror world to become her own person. The fake Conductor, and the true Conductor. Saying her final farewell to One-One and Atticus. Stepping through the exit, only to end up here. It really only dawned on her now, after she’s laid it out bare, just how bizarre her adventure had been. 

It really only dawned on her now, just how much was weighing down her chest. She felt so light afterwards, like she’s floating. It was… relieving. 

Some things, she left out. The divorce, those awful dog-sized cockroach creatures, Atticus turning into one of them, was among the few. Either she didn’t want to upset Anne and Luz (the creatures), she wasn’t ready to talk about it (the divorce), or both (Atticus). Something told her they knew, and understood, and respected that decision. They had stories they weren’t ready to tell too. 

The tension from earlier slowly melted with every sentence leaving Tulip’s lips. Anne and Luz - especially Luz - leaned forward in their seats, completely absorbed, hanging on to every word of Tulip’s story. Jokes even started to bounce between the three (“You had to sing?” “We have to hear you sing now.” “…you don’t, trust me.”). Laughs, too. She remembered this, this warm feeling filling her chest, from another life in a different world.

Wonder how Mikayla’s doing. 

“Wait, wait, wait,” Anne cut in as Tulip was reiterating the details of her time in the Chrome Car, eyes narrowing, “so does this chrome car bring reflections to life? Or is our reflection’s been sentient this entire time?”

“I think… it’s a bit of both?”

Luz hummed with a blank smile. “That’s one more thing to keep me up at night.”

All Tulip could offer was an awkward chuckle. Hope they don’t become afraid of mirrors or anything.

“And the numbers.” Luz’s voice pitched lower. The light behind her eyes… it made no sense, but it shined brighter and darker. It was the only way Tulip could describe what she saw. “How does the train, just, decide what number to give you?”

Sometimes, Tulip wondered if she should’ve stayed on the train a little longer, to ask these questions herself. But would One-One even give her the answer? “I don’t have an answer to that.”

“…feels so wrong.” Luz set her empty bowl down and pulled her knees to her chest. “Giving a number to… feelings. And problems. And how life works.”

Was it? Numbers are easy to understand, easy to figure out. As much frustration as the number gave her during her early days on the train, it still gave her a clear goal. She shuddered to think what her time on the train would have been like if she didn’t have the numbers. She might never have gotten her exit. She wouldn’t mind if more things in life had numbers assigned to them.

“Sounds like you and I are the same, Tulip,” Anne said, not letting silence settle. “Got zapped off to another world without really having a say about it.” She elbowed Luz’s side with a smirk. “Unlike this mad lass.”

Luz lurched with a wheeze. That… looked like it actually hurt. “Yeah, well. I did lose my only way home for a while, so I ended up stuck anyway.” She cringed a smile, surreptitiously rubbing the spot where Anne struck her. “I still get to be a part of the isekai club.”

That confirmed something Tulip had suspected from the things they said to her and each other, their little remarks, the way they treat one another. Anne and Luz had been to worlds entirely different from the train, and from each other. And who’s to say it stopped there? Who’s to say the Earth they each came from was even the same Earth? 

There are billions and billions of planets, stars, galaxies in the universe. How many worlds could possibly exist in a multiverse?

Oh, Anne and Luz shot glances at each other, in a conversation without words. Maybe this question can be shelved for another time.

“Y’know, since Tulip’s told us her story, s’only fair we return the favor, right?” Anne finally voiced the result. 

“It’s only fair,” Luz agreed.

An eager smile made its way to Tulip’s lips before she could control herself. She bit her lip, shrinking into herself in a futile attempt to save face. “Only if you’re okay with telling it.”

“We’re happy to share it with you, Tulip.” The amusement in Luz’s voice was apparent, but her words still eased Tulip’s heart. “I’ll start.” 

Luz rose to her feet, staff in hand, and… struck a pose? A hand pressed to her chest, fingers closed to a fist, with her eyes shut, head tilted at a slight angle, and her expression somber. To the side, Anne rolled her eyes, trying to hold back a grin and failing miserably. What’s happening now?

“My story began like many stories do: with a fourteen year old girl mucking things up just a liiiitle too much at school. Alas, the girl’s mother decided enough was enough, and sent her off to one of the most vile, most desolate place in the world, where she’ll be forced to conform and follow the rules or some crap.”

“Dude, it’s a summer camp.”

“Hush, interloper! It’s stuffy, miserable, and all kinds of problematic!” The threatening finger pointing between Anne’s eyes only drew an amused laugh from her. Luz quickly reassumed the stance of an esteemed storyteller. “Call it luck, or a twist of fate, but before the girl could board the bus that will send her to her doom, the cutest little owl nabbed her favorite Azura book and led her to a mysterious demon door, a gateway to a world known as… the Boiling Isles.” 

With a flourish of her hands, a cluster of light orbs took to the air like a swarm of fireflies, casting the room in its gentle, twinkling light. Tulip watched with slack jaws as the orbs, initially floating at random, began to move, converge, and eventually settle, forming a rough silhouette of what must be, she surmised, the Boiling Isles. 

Anne blinked once, twice, before asking, “Where’d you pull all that paper?”

Luz continued as if she heard nothing. “A magical society of witches and witchcraft built upon the corpse of a long dead Titan. A land ruled by an oppressive emperor with just the most rancid vibes, and fraught by danger at every turn. It was not at all the PG fantasy experience that the girl has always wanted. Luckily, she quickly found herself under the care of none other than Eda the Owl Lady, the-!”

“Most powerful witch of the Boiling Isles!” Anne swiftly returned to her regular sitting position with a mockingly sweet smile on her face, acting as if she wasn’t just mimicking Luz’s dramatic pose and that Luz didn’t spot the tail end of her performance. 

Luz looked annoyed, but something told Tulip she actually wasn’t. Luz knew Anne’s game, very much amused by it, and looking annoyed was how she played along. “Oh, you laugh now. Wait till I do it ten times when it’s your turn.”

“Looking forward to it.”

“Now, where was-? Right.” Luz cleared her throat and let the actress within her take over again. “The girl lived under Eda’s roof for a time, learning what she can under the Owl Lady’s somewhat mediocre tutelage. But that wasn’t enough for the girl! Her thirst for magical knowledge was insatiable, and that thirst eventually led her to the front doors of… Hexside School of Magic and Demonics!”            

“You’re wasting paper.”

Luz’s hands were halfway through the motion of another flourish when Anne’s words stopped them dead in their tracks. Luz shot a blank-faced Anne a severe look, before releasing the orbs of light anyway. They never broke eye contact.

Like before, the orbs swam aimlessly in the air for a moment, before moving in unison like it’s gained a mind of its own. This time, it formed into some kind of emblem that Tulip was not familiar with. Must be the symbol for this Hexside place.

“Within the halls of this magic academy, the girl further deepened her study of magic, even becoming the first in Hexside’s history to study in all nine major Coven tracks at once! But academia wasn’t the only thing the girl had to worry about, as she found herself embroiled in the kind of high stakes social drama you could only find in your typical magic academy. She formed bonds of friendship, encountered some real annoying rivals, and even experienced-” Luz suddenly stopped, almost like she choked, the words she meant to say clogging up her windpipe, as her cheeks rapidly gained a shade of red, “m-more friendship. Yeah.”

Luz pressed a closed knuckle against her lips under the pretense of coughing and clearing her throat, but it wasn’t difficult to see she’s fighting back hard against a smile that came with the blush. Tulip cocked her head, and even Anne raised a questioning eyebrow. Seemed this was a seldom seen side of Luz for Anne as well.

“But, the girl’s new life in this new world was in danger. The cruel tyrant that ruled the Boiling Isles, Emperor Belos, has concocted a plan that threatens her home and her loved ones, both old and new. The girl cannot simply sit idly by and let that tyrant do as he pleases. She must take the fight to the Emperor.” Luz’s voice hardened, her gaze like steel. The showmanship was abandoned, replaced by something raw. Another new side of Luz that Tulip had yet to see had made itself known.  

“It was a difficult battle. Hands didn’t stay clean. Sacrifices were made. At times… she felt it’s hopeless to continue.” For a moment, her eyes were clouded, lost in her own memories, but a light - Luz’s light - broke through the dark, illuminating with perfect clarity. “But she cannot give up. What’s at stake was too great. Too important. Her friends didn’t let her give up, too. They kept her going. Reminded her that she’s not alone. Never alone.”    

There was a word Tulip wanted to use to describe Luz that she couldn’t quite pinpoint until now. Something electric shot up her spine when she realized she’s in the presence of a hero. 

“Yes, it was difficult, it was harrowing, but it was a battle worth fighting for. In the end, it was a battle where we emerged victorious.” 

Likening someone’s smile to rays of sunshine was, in Tulip’s opinion, one of the cheesiest things you could do, but wow. Just. Wow.

“We toppled Belos’ rule, brought light back to the Boiling Isles, and set its people free, once and for all.”

The orbs of light dotting the ceiling blinked out of existence, one by one. Luz let a breath escape her. Let her eyes close. Let herself enjoy her victory. 

“And thus, a chapter closed on the girl’s story, and another chapter began, on yet another new world.”

Like any good performer, Luz closed her story with a graceful bow. Anne began clapping, and Tulip was quick to join in. What a story. Tulip will never see Luz in the same light ever again. Never in a million years would Tulip have guessed that this sweet girl who nurtured her back to health have toppled a monarchy before. 

“And us peasants have no choice but to stan,” Anne said with a lopsided smile. 

“Yeah, that was… that was a lot,” Tulip breathed shakily, suddenly feeling a little intimidated to be around Luz. Her story took quite an escalating turn at the end. Tulip’s still swallowing all of it in.

Luz plopped down on one of the easy chairs, gesturing towards Anne, then to the center of the room. “Anne, the stage is yours.”

“…yeah, I am not putting on a show like that.”

“Boo.”

Anne scooted along the floor until she reached a pink backpack in the corner, placed next to Tulip’s backpack, as well as a rapier and a crossbow. She reached inside and pulled out a small chest, made of dark wood and lined with gold engravings, depicting tropical trees and some kind of frog. Three gems were embedded on top of the chest, each one colored a dull grey. Anne set the chest down on her lap, running a thumb along its side as she regarded Tulip and Luz.

“Well. The whole thing started with me, my friends, Sasha and Marcy, and this music box that we… borrowed.”

“Stole,” Luz cut in, making good on her promise early. 

Anne was not surprised. She looked pleased, if anything. “The status will become borrowed when we get back.”

“Anyway. Surprise, surprise, the music box is magic, or- something. You open it, and boom.” Anne flipped the box open, facing Tulip and Luz. The inside was dark, glossy, and empty. “Zapped to another world.”

“The place is called Amphibia. Named like that because the folks living in it are all amphibians. Frogs, toads, newts, with some axolotls and salamanders on the side. Makes you glad Earth isn’t called ‘Humania’, right?” Anne cracked a quick, cheesy grin. “The box separated me from Sasha and Marcy. First few days, I was on my own. Just this feral girl in the wild, scrambling to survive.”

Anne’s gaze fell on the box and… she didn’t look sad, not quite, but suddenly Tulip remembered this girl is still a kid not much older than her and how wrong it was that Tulip managed to forget that. Luz did look sad, like she’s doing it on Anne’s behalf. Anne seemed to sense the looks of pity, not bothering to look up to start squirming.

“No, don’t- I handled myself, okay? I’m here, aren’t I?” Anne smiled, and it would have been comforting if Tulip didn’t know better. “I wound up under the care of this frog family - the Plantars.” She reached inside a side pocket on the pink bag and pulled out, to Tulip’s surprise, a fully functioning phone. She unlocked it and showed off a selfie she took. Along with her grinning with a peace sign were two anthropomorphic frogs, a giant tadpole holding a flail in their flippers, and a horse-sized snail. It was not the weirdest thing Tulip has ever seen, but it came close.

“That’s Sprig, he’s my best buddy, the little polliwog there is Sprig’s little sister, Polly, and the old frog on the snail is our grandpa, Hop Pop. They were super nice to me. Like, way nicer than they should. They’re even willing to help me figure out a way home. Thought they were just eager to get rid of me, at first, but no. They were legit.”   

The happiness in Anne’s voice as she talked about the frog family was genuine, and a little infectious. “So I stayed with them for a while, in this little town called Wartwood. Killed time with getting into shenanigans-” 

“Shen-Anne-igans.”

Luz looked way too proud of that one. Even Anne agreed. “Congrats. Like it takes a geni-Luz to come- no, no, god, that’s worse.”

Tulip bit her lip, and tried, “Try Tulip-sen to some of mine if you really want something bad.” 

Anne groan-laughed, while Luz sighed dramatically. “Awful. Beautiful,” she swooned. “A girl after my own heart.”

“Shenanigans, getting to know the townsfolk, trying not to get killed, or eaten, or killed then eaten. It’s, uh, kinda wild, thinking back, just how much time I spent goofing off, until…”

Anne scrunched her brows, and Tulip couldn’t tell if she’s simply trying to recall something from memory or if the hesitation Tulip sensed wasn’t something she imagined. 

“Until the weather let up, and we can make the trip to Newtopia, to figure out how to get me home.” 

Nothing more from Anne. No reaction from Luz, either. Maybe Tulip did imagine it.

“That’s Amphibia’s capital city,” Luz added.

“And also, apparently, where Marcy ended up. The box zapped her smack dab in the middle of the city. And then she used some mad RPG know-how to work her way up until she’s some big hotshot that can get chummy with the king of Amphibia. Marcy’s been trying to find a way home too, her and the king, and doing a much better job at that than I was.” She lifted the box in her lap and gave it a shake. “This box? It’s out of power. It used up some energy getting from Earth to Amphibia, and the rest of it got scattered around. Three guesses where all that power ended up.”

Anne’s eyes flashed a brilliant, familiar blue. Tulip couldn’t decide whether the thought of at least two more people like Anne existing out there was intriguing or terrifying.

“These three gems? They used to be blue - me - purple - Sasha - and green - Marcy. ‘Course, we didn’t know that back then. We didn’t know we have superpowers for, like, seventy percent of our time there. What we do know is that there are temples all over Amphibia that can charge the box. So, that’s where we went next. Even ran into Sasha along the way. She ended up with the toads.” 

Anne rubbed the back of her neck, slouching a little more where she sat cross-legged on the floor. “Also, turns out, there’s this whole weird prophecy about me, and Marcy, and Sasha? I dunno, the details are vague and frustrating and s’not really that important.”

“Oh my god.” A sudden, outraged whine came from Luz. “Can you believe the blasphemy leaving this girl’s mouth?”      

Anne shot back with a pointed side-eye. “What’s your problem?”

“You got a whole-ass prophecy to yourself, and you just called it weird and not important!”

“It is!”

Luz groused, crossing her arms. “The nerve of some people.” 

Anne ignored her and continued her story. “So, yeah. Me, and Sasha, and Marcy are finally back together, and we found out about the whole energy and superpower thing. Didn’t need to go to any temple in the end. We can recharge the box ourselves.” 

Anne placed a hand on the lid. Her eyes glowed blue again, but they gradually lose their shine. At the same time, one of the gems on the box started to gain color, until it shined with the same brilliant blue as Anne’s eyes. Anne flipped the lid open, revealing the interior filled a third of the way up by some kind of blue… not-liquid, that shifted and bubbled like boiling water, but crackled and zapped completely unlike boiling water. 

“Like that.” Anne tilted the box in Tulip’s direction, goading her to have a closer look. Tulip was hesitant, but as always, her curiosity won out, and she leaned closer, quickly losing herself in the motions of the glowing not-liquid. Even Luz leaned in, mesmerized like Tulip.

Without warning, Anne plunged her hand into the box. The not-liquid splashed like water, but rapidly coalesced and seeped into Anne’s hand like it’s a sponge. A pulse shot up her body, the nerves in her arm, body, head lighting up blue in a wave, before everything settled to normal. Anne barely batted an eye at the whole process. Like she’d done this hundreds of times.

“Once we got that figured out, it was just a matter of leaving. I said goodbye to the Plantars. Thanked them for everything. Promised them we’ll see each other again, someday. Sasha and Marcy also had folks they had to say goodbye to. It was, uh, a pretty rough day.” Anne fell silent, and both Tulip and Luz allowed it to stretch for as long as it needed to be. “We put our energy into the box, open it, and boom. Bye bye, Amphibia.”

“And hello, this… world. That we’re stuck in, again. I think that was everything.” Half a beat passed before Anne snapped her fingers. “Oh! Also, fulfilled that prophecy thing. I guess.”

Just like Anne said. Everyone came with a story. Stories far more impressive than Tulip’s. It was definitely not their intention to make her feel inferior - the reason they shared their story in the first place was to make it fair for Tulip, after all - but she felt smaller all the same. Maybe that’s just the natural reaction to suddenly finding yourself in the company of a revolutionary hero and a superpowered figure of prophecy, when you’re only a runaway from a divorced home.

“Thanks for indulging me. You and Luz both.” Tulip smiled, and it did help with the tightness in her chest, just a little bit. She set her mind to sorting all the new information that she’d received, about Anne and Luz, about Amphibia, about the Boiling Isles, and about Anne’s friends, Sasha and Marcy.

Huh. Something about those three names, in that order, tickled the back of her mind. Reminded her of cold dinners alone in front of the television late at night, in another world, in another life.

“Hey, you went first. Like I said, s’only fair.” Anne shrugged, then not-so-subtly darted her eyes towards Luz. “‘Sides, methinks you’re not the only one indulging yourself.”

Luz blew her lips, but made no retort to defend herself. “Like that saying about Rome, all methods of interdimensional travel led to here,” she said instead. “Anne got here the earliest. About ten days ago, right?” She got a nod. “I got here two days after, and then we ran into each other a day later.”

“Almost literally,” Anne added, with a fond smile and a tiny giggle.

Tulip did the math in her head. The answer came as a shock to her. “You’ve only known each other for a week?” she asked, incredulous. “You two act like you have been friends for months.”

Luz got off her seat and crossed the room just to wrangle Anne by the neck into a crushing hug, wearing a grin that split her face. “What can I say? We are just meant to be.”

“Soulmates brought together by destiny. Or something,” Anne sang, circling an arm around Luz and leaning into the hug, peals of laughter shaking her body and spreading to Luz. It was all very sweet, and infectious enough to get Tulip to start giggling too.

Anne breathed a sigh. She untangled her arm from the hug. The look on her face had turned… not quite pensive, but she’s not smiling anymore. 

“Tulip,” she started. “There’s one more thing we need to tell you.” 

Luz seemed to understand what’s happening. Her smile vanishing, she released Anne, sitting down beside her, a small but noticeable gap between them.

“There’s this one other girl, besides the three of us, who ended up here.”

The sentence struck Tulip like lightning. Electric, energizing, paralyzing.

“She called herself Twelve. Ended up here with friends too - two of them - like me and Luz,” Anne continued. “I think she’s been here the longest out of any of us.”

If she hadn’t met One-One, she would’ve considered the name odd. Instead, her mind raced, connecting the unsaid dots. “So you think she might know something about this world?”

“Anne does,” Luz chimed in, staring straight ahead. “I wouldn’t know. Never met Twelve. Anne’s the only one who’s actually talked to her.”

There was a brief moment, where Anne spared Luz a side-eye, and for the life of her, Tulip couldn’t figure out what it meant. “Ran into her twice before I met Luz. Both times we talked- well, I say ‘talk’; it was mostly just her spouting ramblings that I couldn’t make sense of. But the way that she talked - it’s like she knows this place. Kept acting like this place is her backyard. Or, at least, like it’s supposed to be.”

The dots all seemed to lead to a single point. “So she might know something about how to leave?” Tulip tentatively tried. 

“Exactly! And then some.” Anne turned to look at Luz. “See? Tulip gets it.”

Luz hugged her knees to her chest, not meeting Anne’s gaze. “I keep telling you, we should focus on finding our friends.”

“Then tell me, where do we start?”

Luz didn’t answer. She just sat there in silence, wilting under Anne’s stare.

Tulip leaned forward, and hoped her tone didn’t come across as accusatory. “Why don’t you want to find Twelve?”

“I don’t- it’s not that I don’t want to find Twelve. It’s just- we don’t really need to find her,” clarified Luz. “We already know how to leave. We know two! Anne’s box, and the demon door that I have.”

“Except the box needs to be fully charged to work, and that can’t happen without my friends,” Anne countered. 

Luz blew a sigh. “And I handed the key to the demon door to Amity, right before she got taken.”

Tulip blinked. “What?”

“So yeah, if we find our friends, we get a way home. Possibly,” Anne summarized. Was she not going to comment on what Luz said? “And if we find Twelve, she can help us find our friends.”

“Might help us,” Luz corrected. “You said it yourself. She’s rambling so much, you could barely get through to her. Why are you so sure she’ll help us?”

Okay, just going to completely breeze past it. Fine. 

“Because her friends are missing too, Luz!” Anne pressed. “If she helps us, we’ll help her. Win-win!”

“It doesn’t seem like you made any progress without Twelve.” Maybe that came out a little harsher than Tulip intended, but maybe they shouldn’t have ignored her. “I’m new here, so correct me if I’m wrong, but it sounds like finding Twelve is the only real option we have.”

Luz made a noise from the back of her throat as she bumped her forehead against her knee. She raised her head, opened her mouth-

Rapid raps against glass echoed from down the hallway. Tulip nearly jumped out of her seat. Her heart dropped to the pit of her stomach. Wasn’t this city supposed to be completely empty?

“Owlbert!”

Luz bolted to her feet and scrambled out of the room, tailed closely by Anne. Tulip stared blankly for a moment, before following after them.

The culprit of the noise was a small, brown owl, pecking away at the closed glass door. Luz slid the door open and the owl flew up to perch on her finger.

“What is it, Owlbert? Did you see something?” she asked. Was the owl Luz’s pet? Where has it been all this time?

The owl, apparently named Owlbert, stared up at Luz and nodded.

Anne’s eyes twinkled. “Could be Twelve.”

“Could be lots of other things,” Luz grimly reminded.

“Either way, I’m heading out.” Anne had already disappeared into the bedroom halfway through the sentence. 

Luz made her move too. She let Owlbert hop off from her finger onto the balcony railing before dashing inside, passing Tulip into the living room. “I’m coming with you,” she called out. 

Anne emerged from the bedroom, armored in the same manner as she was last night, sheathed sword in hand. “No.”

“No?” Luz, now with her staff in hand and a cape draped over her shoulders, currently shoving paper into her pockets and satchel, froze in the middle of the corridor. 

“You stay here. Protect Tulip,” Anne ordered, not even looking at Luz. She slid her sword from its sheath, taking a moment to inspect its state before sliding it back inside and slinging it across her chest once she’s satisfied. 

Something about Anne’s tone didn’t sit right with Tulip. Maybe she’s developing a dislike to being dismissed. “Hey, I can take care of myself.”

“So can I!” Luz emphasized her point by slamming her staff down. “You keep doing this, Anne. I get it, you’re the protective type. The team mom. Figured that out on day one. But we don’t need to be babied like this!”

“That’s not-” Anne took a deep breath, before fixing them both with a look. No, the Look. “Twelve’s… twitchy. Bringing people she doesn’t know might scare her off.”

“What if it isn’t Twelve?”

Luz was met with a casual shrug. “Well, if they try to beat me up, I’ll beat ‘em up back. If they’re nice, then we’re getting a new friend.”

Luz looked annoyed, and this time, something told Tulip she actually was. Anne missed the look. She’d already turned around, stepping out into the balcony. 

“Hey, Owlbert. I’ll give you all the treats you want if you show me the way,” she offered. The little owl seemed ecstatic to oblige, nodding, and quickly taking flight into the city.

“Aaaand she bribed the palisman,” Luz grumbled under her breath, taking a step towards the balcony. “Anne, we gotta-”

Anne pivoted in place. A translucent, glowing blue barrier materialized out of thin air, filling the corridor from floor to ceiling, completely cutting off Luz and Tulip from the balcony. Anne stood on the other side, her outstretched hand falling back to her side. 

Tulip gaped. That’s apparently a thing Anne could do.

Luz pounded on the barrier with her fist. “Really?”

“If you’re worried about me, don’t be.” Through the barrier, Anne cracked an easy grin. “Nothing hurts me.”

Anne spun around, leapt over the railing, and disappeared from sight.

-

Famous last words?

So, I stopped caring about the word count. I stopped caring whether or not a chapter is getting too long. A chapter is going to be as long as it needs to be. Look where that got me. Like, holy shit. This got way the fuck away from me. It’s not like I’m trying to make each chapter longer than the last. It just happens. Ah, well. I’m just glad I managed to finish it before midterms rolls around.

I know most of this chapter is going to be exposition central, so I tried to make it as interesting as possible by inserting some banter between the girls, as well as having Tulip offer her insight every now and again. It’s also kinda lowkey my prediction of how Amphibia and The Owl House is gonna end? There’s a reason why I kept a lot of the details vague, is what I’m saying. Here’s hoping y’all think it works.

Up next, we find out what Owlbert saw. Until then!

[missingjackklinehours]

the Archangel who drowned

Yet, Raphael lingers, awaiting the day Michael allows himself to be vulnerable, once again displaying a trace of sentiment; The Warrior of today is not their brother. Michael is hiding. Veneered, guised under calloused skin.

Rating: G (Gen Michael & Raphael)

No warnings apply.

Fic & Playlist available on AO3! (but you can read under the cut, if you'd like.)

   Somedays it feels like he's slipping—freefalling headfirst into the arctic's frozen waves. Limbs sluggish, wings twitching. His face has relinquished, razor shards of bloodstained glass of skin floating heedlessly amongst the surging ice surface.

   Yet sometimes, Michael prefers those occasions. It's a scarce chance to change his expression, a chance to reconnect with who he used to be. A chance to finally mourn what's left of that distant archangel.

   It's not all he has to mourn—That part is harder. 

   He drifts carelessly among the frigid seas. Thinking. Hoping. Regretting. Hating. Loving. The ice is refreshing against his bare flesh. It's a pleasing burn, like brittle fingernails picking at gums. Or perhaps the final stages of hypothermia. Heaven calls out to their first angel, their Viceroy. The harmonized hymns of desperate prayers from below echo within his ears. It seems everyone needs Michael to be everywhere at once. He morosely picks up the discarded pieces of his skin and departs the sea.

   There's much to be done in Heaven in the reticent absence of the Morningstar and the Messenger. Michael is left to reassemble his home, to mend blackened fractures caused by The Fall. He prepares for the Apocalypse; his skin feels too tight on his face—It reminisces of hiemal tides.

   Within his smothering workload, Michael tends to forget he isn't quite finished being a big brother—Or rather, that's a lie: Michael willingly tries to forget he isn't quite done being a big brother. It's hard for him to spare a mere glance at his only remaining archangelic sibling without dwelling on his lost brothers. Without being reminded of his own cruel actions, without realizing how truly cold he's become.

   Yet, Raphael lingers, awaiting the day Michael allows himself to be vulnerable, once again displaying a trace of sentiment; The Warrior of today is not their brother. Michael is hiding. Veneered, guised under calloused skin.

   Michael runs from Raphael. The Viceroy's skin isn't strong enough to face them yet.

   Days turn into years. Years turn into decades. Michael has less need to return to the polar seas and bleed into the water. His skin is getting tougher, his face feels positively stone. His responsibilities are becoming onerous and reality is growing more absolute as time ticks by. His destiny is approaching far too quickly. An emptiness pools within Michael's chest at the mere thought of it; He feels unsure.

    Perhaps it's time he paid a visit to his sibling.

    The wavering thought comes and goes. Michael procrastinates, engrossing himself in his own duties. However, the idea doesn't relent, and it sticks with him like a whispering conscience. Michael affirmatively considers it as a sign from Father; Whether it be a lie to himself derived from longing, he has a hard time deciphering.

   The stones embedded into Heaven's ground guide him, a path that dredges up memories that now leave a bitter taste on his tongue. Raphael seemingly hasn't changed the boulevard to their garden at all. Only the lanky trees that have flourished with age anchor him to the reality that he's not reliving his childhood from within the sea; He's really approaching Raphael's garden. 

    One step at a time. Michael finds the simple task more difficult than he anticipated. A part of him advises sprinting back and never returning—Though that's something he would never do to Raphael, frightened or not. Not with the crippling vacancy of two brothers already; He could never leave Raphael all alone for the rest of eternity.

   When Michael finally reaches the garden, it's just as beautiful as he remembers it to be. Looming banyan trees with intricate bark swirls, the lavender of wildly blossoming aster flowers, stretches of mushroom-lined herb harvests. Raphael hasn't lost their green thumb. Michael simply stares, starstruck.

   He almost expects to see a flash of golden feathers, a toothy beam from a giddy fledgling. Perhaps the sight of vermillion eyes and a playful grin. He has to catch his balance when he's drawn from his sullen reverie; Gabriel and Lucifer are truly absent and a familiar face is approaching him.

   Michael had imagined that Raphael would appear differently. Maybe it was simply the effect of completely blocking out each memory he'd held of the fledglings he'd raised and loved dearly ever since his time drifting among safe seas. Aside from the slight development of their physical form, Raphael's essence hasn't changed one bit. Infinite piercing white eyes, the countless feathers of indigo that swayed in harmony with their garden. Raphael's presence feels the exact same as before their family went into ruins.

   Raphael looks a bit confused, albeit delighted. Michael is astonished that he can still read Raphael like an open book, despite all the years he'd isolated himself from his cherished sibling. It's as if the skies were clearing at that exact moment, the banyan trees leaning in, the aster flowers dancing, the herb harvest sprouting further. Raphael's halo burns like the sun, and it drags Michael back to the memory of the first time he'd seen it light up that bright: A serene fledgling's very first reaction to their big brother's smile.

    It's too much. 

   The hardened skin around Michael's face still isn't strong enough. It's far too late when he realizes it. Fragments of the thickened skin begin to crack like rifts in a broken doll of porcelain and peel away like old wallpaper. The soft surface underneath is falling, slipping away as it had all those years ago into the arctic ocean. There's no icy relief this time, and his eyes strangely burn.

   Michael can no longer hold up the face he'd raised for all of Heaven, the façade of a ruthless Warrior feared by his own family. He's eroding, breaking, weak. A leak of the polar ice is upon his cheeks and seeping from his eyes. His chest feels tight, breath lost to what feels like ocean water internally flooding his physical being. Michael doesn't recognize what's happening to him. 

   And then, he is actually slipping. The entire universe's weight seems to crash upon him, and Michael is falling to his knees. Engorged tears soak into the soil of his sibling's garden. He chases his breath, but his own voice only quivers in response. It's all creeping up on him, making up for lost time. Everything Michael has ever known is gone. Everything Michael has ever loved is gone. Michael himself is gone.

   The sea wouldn't be enough to soothe him. Memories of golden feathers and vermillion eyes plague him like an unrelenting disease. He finds he is no longer able to bury himself and hide behind his front. 

   At first, Michael doesn't perceive Raphael kneeling in front of him. It's only when he feels arms pull him into an embrace when he comprehends that he's finally allowed himself to feel anything at all once again. It's freeing, it's terrifying. Raphael's light is warm, their touch is unbelievably gentle. Michael feels safe to be himself. He feels safe to be vulnerable.

    "I'm still here, Michael." 

    Raphael is still here. Michael permits himself to believe they will stay with him.

[haworthiaace]

I’ve recently discovered that writing may be a little bit fun so. Here’s something for @shadeswift99 ‘s ghostbusters au (this post right here) :]

Tango didn’t believe in ghosts.

Why would he? There had never been any reputable, scientific evidence, and despite what his friends have told him countless times, ‘feeling a presence’ didn’t count as scientific evidence. However, his conviction didn’t seem to deter Zed and Impulse at all, who regularly barged into Tango’s apartment with their latest ‘discovery’. 

“Tango, guess what?” The sound of his poor, battered door slamming open once again and Zed’s excited voice disrupted the peaceful silence that had dominated the room for the past few hours.

“Hi Zed, Impulse, good to see you guys too.” Tango didn’t have to look up from his laptop to know that Impulse was standing right behind Zed, too polite to barge in without some sort of invitation. Not polite enough to stop Zed, unfortunately.

Zedaph didn’t even acknowledge the greeting, continuing his thought the second he flopped down into a worn armchair. “Impulse and I were talking, and then we got on the topic of those guys who visit haunted places and hunt ghosts, and then I said ‘Well why can’t we do that?’” He sat up, eagerly looking at Tango, who could not for the life of him figure out what the man wanted from him.

Impulse, in his infinite kindness, noticed his friend’s confusion and filled in the gaps Zed had left in his excitement. “Zed and I want to start a ghost hunting business, and we need you to join us because you have a car.” He sat down much more gracefully than his companion, holding a small bowl of chips stolen from Tango’s kitchen.

The room was silent for a moment. “Hold on, what?”

“We-“

“No, I heard you, I’m just not exactly sure why you would think to ask me.” Tango never went on their other adventures no matter how many times they asked. After all, he had better things to do than chase wind and broken air conditioning, and it was dangerous to set a precedent. “You’re the ones who believe in all that fancy mystical stuff, not me.”

Zed stopped bouncing, and Impulse quickly brought forward the second, more practical half of their pitch. “We know you don’t believe in any of this, but even if ghosts aren’t real-”

“Which they are!”

“Right. A lot of people believe they are real, and will pay good money for some help handling them.” 

Tango pondered this for a moment, making A Face for effect that made Zed giggle. Impulse had a good point, as was often the case unfortunately. Tango didn’t have a stable source of income at the moment, and an actual business could help quite a bit with groceries, especially if Impulse was going to keep stealing his snacks every time he came over. And working with friends would certainly be a bonus.

“What the hell, I’m in. Worst case scenario nothing happens and I laugh at you two.” Zedaph lit up like an over ambitious Christmas tree, resuming his bouncing with even more enthusiasm than before. 

Impulse just grinned, “And best case scenario you finally figure out the truth.”

“In your dreams, Impy.”

-

Tango opened his eyes, and found himself lying prone on the floor. What was I doing? The dark, musty room plus Impulse and Zed looming over him struck a bell in his head.

They were on a job, as was the case most nights. Why Zed and Impulse insisted they do this at night was beyond him, but that was an argument for another time. A nonsensical ventilation system and a questionable foundation caused strange happenings in the home, and the trio had been called in. But even Tango had to admit this house was strange, and different from the others. The moment he entered, the hairs on the back of his neck raised, and he felt a chill. Their whole visit had been shadowed by a sense of wrongness. 

“...Tango? Is that you?” Impulse’s voice broke the silence, with a hint of uncertainty that shouldn’t have been there.

“Yeah dude, of course it’s me. What happened?” Tango groaned, pushing himself up into a sitting position. His head spun, but he forced himself to stand.

Zed raised his hands in a placating gesture. “Alright, I know this is going to sound really strange, but we think you got possessed?” 

Tango stared blankly at his two friends, and finally through the fog in his head realized they were dead serious. “Really guys? Come on, I know you believe in ghosts and all but isn’t possession a little bit much?”

Impulse started wringing his hands, and Zed spoke up, quieter than before. Neither one would make eye contact. “You… you weren’t yourself Tango. You looked angry, and kept throwing things.” Huh. Well that explained the broken furniture scattered around the room, and why Tango was so sore. “You knocked over a salt shaker, then suddenly passed out when the salt touched you.”

Tango was fairly certain he had never done that before. He was unnerved by the gap in his memory, but he tucked that into a corner of his mind to unpack later. Right now he had to convince these two knuckleheads that he wasn’t possessed.

“I haven’t eaten today, it was probably that.” They gaped at him, but whether it was because of his adamant skepticism or his poor eating habits Tango couldn’t tell. “It might be like… a low blood sugar thing.” Tango tried his best to be nonchalant, but his friends didn’t look relieved.

Zed stood up, the worry in his face replaced with anger as he crossed the room in long strides towards the door. “I really can’t believe you. Here we are, worried for your life and soul, and you call it low blood sugar.”

That wasn’t meant to happen. Tango rushed to fix his mistake. “I- I’m sorry man. I know you guys are worried, but I’m fine now! Whatever it was, it seems to be gone.” A small smile crossed his friend’s face, and Impulse moved to stand behind Tango, clapping a hand on his back.

“All that matters is you’re alright. Anyway, I think the salt scared the ghost off, so how about we head home, get some post mission pizza for that low blood sugar of yours?”

“Sounds like a plan to me.” Tango grimaced at the disaster that he had apparently made. “How about we tell the homeowners that the ghost did this?”

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

The ironic thing is that he wasn’t even on a mission at the time.

Tango was on his way home, cradling a bandaged hand that he would surely have to explain the second he walked into the apartment he shared with his business partners. His mind repeated the events of the past hour as he made his way down the sidewalk.

He had been browsing a thrift store, searching for a new pair of boots after his old pair wore out. He loved them dearly, but when the sole ripped off for the third time, Impulse drew the line and sent him off to find a new pair. His wandering/ moping brought him to One Man’s Trash: a rickety, rundown looking thrift store that was absolutely perfect. In Tango’s experience, all the good stuff got snatched up too fast at more popular stores, and there didn’t seem to be anything wrong with this place other than its appearance. 

He delicately pushed the door open, greeted by a dusty smell mixed with cleaning supplies, and  a loud, clear bell that was hung above the doorway. The interior walls were plastered with peeling, faded orange wallpaper that Tango guessed was at least 50 years old. They were decorated with dozens of picture frames containing vintage photos and postcards, each with its own price tag. The grey, carpeted floor complained where he stepped, and it was covered in tables with items for sale. It seemed people donated plenty, but never shopped here. Nobody was attending the front counter, which wasn’t a surprise for a place that probably only saw one customer a month, so Tango began his quest for the perfect pair.

After spending a good hour searching every nook and cranny of the disorganized sales floor, he found a sturdy pair of black leather boots hidden underneath a table, almost knee high with a one inch heel. They were covered in buckles and looked like they would be featured in a suburban parent’s nightmares. In the entire time he was there nobody had come out of the doorway in the back of the room, which Tango admitted was a tad strange. He even checked the sign in the front window to be sure, but the word ‘open’ was still lit up in neon just as it had been when he entered. He tapped the bell next to the cash register, but after a minute still nobody had arrived. He rang it again, and once more after that, still with no answer.

“Hello?” He tried, walking towards the only other doorway in the room, searching for a break room or something where the cashier might be. Maybe they fell asleep. “Is anyone here? I’ve got this pair of boots I want to buy.” 

Still no answer.

He felt awful about invading the back room like this, but he was growing concerned. What if something had happened to the cashier? What if someone was in trouble? So, he pushed open the door, and found himself staring up at someone; a man with frazzled black hair and a brown suit that looked about as old as the wallpaper. 

Except he could also see the break room. Through the man’s chest.

He blinked rapidly, trying to process what was certainly just a trick of the light. It was obviously just a shadow on the fabric that looked like a couch behind him. A very detailed couch, covered in a floral pattern with two overstuffed pillows on either end. The strange man didn’t say a word, simply staring at Tango with an increasingly malicious grin, watching his mind try to wrap itself around what he was seeing. 

Then, without warning, he snatched Tango by the wrist, spinning him around and leaving bleeding scratches where the man’s claw-like nails had torn into Tango’s skin. Before he could even register the pain, the man charged at him and Tango braced for impact, but felt a deep chill instead. It was the coldest he had ever felt, as if every winter from the next hundred years had come to take out their wrath on one man. 

It passed half a second later, leaving Tango shivering and clutching his bleeding hand. The man was gone. “How did he- oh shit.”

Sometimes, there comes a time when a person must accept defeat. When they’ve lost the battle, and are left with nothing but their pride. As Tango kneeled on the carpet, frozen to his core and holding his bleeding hand, the boots long forgotten, he could only see one logical explanation for… all of this. 

“...Ghosts are actually real.”

So it turned out that the shopkeeper had to step out for a few hours due to an emergency, and also that ghosts exist and haunt thrift stores.

The cashier was really quite nice about the whole ordeal, offering Tango some first aid and the boots he found for free as an apology for their otherworldly roommate’s “antisocial habits.” As Tango walked home, boots in his uninjured hand, he had another revelation, albeit not as earth shattering as the first. He didn’t actually have to tell Zed and Impulse what happened while he was out. It would keep them humble to have someone constantly denying the validity of their work, and Tango may or may not have found it a little, tiny bit funny. He was doing them a service, really! Tango grinned to himself, delighted by how much his friends would appreciate* his help**.

*they did not appreciate this, and were in fact greatly annoyed

**this was not remotely helpful to anyone

-

Tango woke up, finding himself on the floor as he now did more often than most people would consider normal. Then again, most people weren’t an optimal vessel for otherworldly entities. This time though… something was wrong. More wrong than usual.

He was cold, despite the thick summer air, and he felt like his lungs had shrunk to a quarter of their size, his breath coming in short puffs. He noticed that he was in the same room from before he lost consciousness, and that it was in the same condition he had left it in, which didn’t happen often. Usually ghosts took advantage of corporeal hands to do some property damage, but this time the modern, expensive looking couches were thankfully unbroken, same with the family pictures on the walls. 

... What was on his face? Tango felt a liquid slowly running down his cheek. Had the ghost been crying? That was a first. He reached a hand up to wipe away the tears and saw a flash of red. There was a smudge of blood on his left hand, but no injury.

He felt dread settle in his stomach, and slowly reached up with his clean right hand to touch what he had assumed was tears.

Sure enough, his fingertips came away red. “What the hell?” He asked, to nobody in particular.

“Tango! Oh my god, are you alright? Of course not, why am I asking that?” Zedaph burst into the living room, seemingly invited by Tango’s outburst. He grimaced at the floor and Tango followed his gaze to see a concerningly large pool of blood surrounding Tango. This would certainly explain why he felt so much worse than usual. “It threatened you and forced us to leave but then I didn’t leave and I snuck some sage into the room and then I heard a thud and-”

“Zed, slow down.” Tango groaned, holding his spinning head in his hands. “I can’t process a word you’re saying right now.” 

Zed seemed to remember his friend’s recent blood loss, looking sheepish. “Right, my bad. It’s a long story, but we need to get you to a hospital or something. Not to be rude, but you look awful.” 

“It’s alright, I feel awful so at least I match on the outside.” Zed started to walk across the room, trying not to step in the puddle whilst also trying to help Tango up.

Eventually he managed to pull Tango up by the hand, holding him steady when he started to sway.

Impulse greeted them with relief when they made it out to the car, Tango leaning on Zed’s shoulder, but he looked horrified once Tango’s face came into view. “Oh my god!” He covered his mouth with both hands, then immediately dropped them as though he had been rude. “Oh man, sorry about that, it’s just- your eyes…”

Tango shrugged, “Yeah, they seem to have sprung a leak.” 

“Well I knew about that, but…” His eyebrows furrowed as even he, a believer in almost anything supernatural, was confused about whatever disturbing thing this ghost had done. “They changed colour? They’re red now. Like, the whole eye, even the white bit.”

“Cool.”

Zed piped up from his position under Tango’s arm. “‘Cool’? What do you mean ‘cool’?” He did his best to make air quotes without dropping his friend, who had clearly gone mad. “You literally got possessed and started bleeding from your eyes, and now they’ve changed colour, how is any of that cool?”

Tango, in his noble quest to annoy his friends, just shrugged again. “Probably burst a blood vessel or something, and it got in my eyes. Man, why is it always ghosts with you two?”

A Look came across Impulse’s face. Probably Zed’s too, but Tango couldn’t exactly see him. It was a Look that meant Tango had completely baffled them with his supposed obliviousness, which had only happened a few glorious times.

“Ok he’s clearly delirious, we should take him to the hospital.” Impulse pushed himself off the hood of the car and opened the back door, placing a towel on the seat. After all, this was Tango’s car and Impulse figured he probably wouldn’t appreciate blood all over the back seat.

“I mean, regardless of his bullshit he definitely needs to see a doctor, there was a lot of blood on that floor.” Zed quickly followed, helping Tango into the backseat then sliding in next to him. Tango supposed it was to keep an eye on him, which was great because he felt ready to pass out again.

On the bright side, he caught a glimpse of his eyes in the rear view mirror and they did in fact look cool as hell. Of course, Zed and Impulse later disagreed because it could have been a ‘serious medical issue,’ but that was their problem.

-

At the end of a very long and very strange day, the trio sat around on a variety of couches and chairs in their living room, four half eaten pizzas scattered about the room. Although, they weren’t exactly a trio anymore - a new member had decided to join them regardless of what Tango, Zed, and Impulse had to say about it. An entity (for he surely wasn’t human) known only as the Beetlejhost sat cross legged in an armchair, looking completely at home despite only having been there for about two hours.

If asked, none of the ghost hunters could precisely recall how the Beetlejhost had joined them. One moment they were on a job like any other, the next they were being insulted up and down by a ghost in a black and white striped suit. After that first encounter he hadn’t left them alone, despite their efforts including but not limited to: every ghost busting method they had ever heard of, and others that they hadn’t. 

Impulse sat up straight for no discernable reason, smacking the arms of his chair and startling everyone except for, of course, the Beetlejhost. He turned to Tango with a shit eating grin, which was absolutely a cause for concern.

“Hey Tango?” Uh oh. If the grin wasn’t bad enough, the singing tone in his voice solidified that whatever thought just entered his mind was truly devious. That or incredibly embarrassing. Maybe both. “It seems like our new roommate has a few… strange qualities. Supernatural, one could say.” He looked expectantly at Tango, that awful grin never leaving his face.

Uh oh.

Tango supposed that the jig was up. It had been a good run, he supposed. “Yeah, whatever. Ghosts are real, you happy?”

Just because he was busted didn’t mean he couldn’t sulk, so he crossed his arms and sank into his chair, completing the look by sticking out his bottom lip like a child who was just told ‘no.’

Zed piped up from where the others had assumed he was napping, not bothering to remove his face from where it was planted on the couch. “Absolutely.” The word was muffled, but it got his point across. Meanwhile, Impulse was smugly eating another slice of room temperature pepperoni pizza. Vindicated at last, after over a year of exasperated arguments and comical obliviousness. 

“I hope you know I’m only admitting it because I’m afraid of what the Beetlejhost would do to convince me.” Tango gave up on his sulking and walked across the room to the box of cheese pizza precariously balanced on the edge of the coffee table. The man (or ghost? I suppose one can be both.) in question was looking off into the distance, lost in assuredly horrible thoughts. “And for the record, I figured the whole ghost thing out months ago, I just really liked annoying you guys.”

“Months ago?” Impulse held his pizza inches away from his mouth, the grin wiped off his face. “Are you telling me that when a ghost literally put you in the hospital and you still denied it, that was all just to annoy us?”

Now it was Tango’s turn to be smug. “It worked, didn’t it?”

-

So no, Tango didn’t believe in ghosts. But after everything he’d seen, he sure as hell believed in them now.

[cybercherryz]

yooo if its not too much trouble can i ask whats in ur inbox?

it’s no trouble at all. the requests are in order in which they will be completed.

fashionboard for pico (fnf)

icons for vesta campbell (dr infinite chase)

aesthetic for yumi hanazono (pastel yumi)

stimboard for a strider (mc)

kin matchup for a generally a chill and calm person from ddlc, dr and saiki k.

wallpapers for delilah (101 dalmatian street)

moodboard for six (little nightmares)

headers for jyugo (nanbaka)

messy layouts for tobor (mysims)

fashion board for the loch ness monster

wallpapers for philza (dsmp)

icons for hikaru rinura (dr infinite chase)

neopronouns for an avian humanoid

[cupsofsuga]

JEON JUNGKOOK ━━━ CHARACTER ANALYSIS

JUNGKOOK IS... ‘beware of dog’ signs, rainstorms, peeling wallpaper, training wheels, old glasses of whiskey, cavities, choppy hair, boiling tea, stray cats, sound of crickets, ripped flannels, cigarette buds, sour candy, stardust, the 1975, dusty book piles, a silent house, biking at 2AM, silver necklaces, bruised knuckles, denim jackets, glass shards, sunsets, shattered glasses, bloody love letters, spiders, concert t-shirts, 90s music, record stores, tangled earphones, bloody noses, old cars, untied shoelaces, moonlight, bruised knees, seeking justice, bonfires, horror movies, electric guitar, exploring abandoned houses, candle lights, ripped jeans, ouija boards, scent of smoke, lost moments, rain against the rooftop, thrift-shopping, the ocean at night and buying junk at the gas station.

JUNGKOOK SOUNDS LIKE...

SUNSETZ / CIGARETTES AFTER SEX

❝ and when you go away, i still see you ❞

FALLINGFORYOU / THE 1975

❝ all we need’s my bike and your enormous house ❞

AFTER DARK / MR. KITTY

❝ i need to ask how it feels to rest on your patient lips ❞

NOTHING’S GONNA HURT YOU BABY / CIGARETTES AFTER SEX

❝ nothing’s gonna take you from my side ❞

NIGHTS / FRANK OCEAN

❝ all my night, you been missing all my night ❞

ROPES / SCOTT JAMES

❝ i need you as i am ❞

CRYBABY / THE NEIGHBOURHOOD

❝ i can taste it, my heart’s breaking, please don’t say it ❞

STARRY EYES / CIGARETTES AFTER SEX

❝ starry eyes, forever shall be mine ❞

CRYING / ROY ORBISON

❝ for you don’t love me and i’ll always be crying over you ❞

I LOVE YOU / BILLIE EILISH

❝ i can’t escape the way i love you ❞

JUNGKOOK LIKES... Y/N, the sea, nighttime, concerts, junk food, the sound of trees dancing in the wind, foggy mornings, chains, blueberry-flavored slushies, sea creatures, nirvana and dobermans.

JUNGKOOK DISLIKES... any form of disrespect towards Y/N, school, coffee, hot weather, cigarettes (although he pretends to like them to appear cool in front of you), his father, reading and alcohol (which, again, he pretends to like).

JEON JUNGKOOK. a considerate, practical, invasive, foolish human who has chosen to live in his own fairytale up in the clouds rather than on earth. a boy with pure imagination; an outsider who lives in the depths of his own head; there’s no place he’d rather be than spending his days and nights living through his own eyes with created scenarios of infinite pleasure. with a dead mom, alcoholic father and students who view him as jeffrey dahmer, he could use a little bit of joy when trapped under an eternal raincloud. inevitable loneliness has such a sly way of slithering into the recesses of his heart and to hold his head underwater. somedays, peeling on the faded wallpaper and listening to the echo of dogs barking is his only form of entertainment. his father is certainly no help either, but jungkook doesn’t like talking about him that much. the bruises littered upon the young boy’s skin and the shards of glass that shimmer under the golden sun should say enough. luckily, he has you, an oasis in this wasteland to simmer all of his burdens.

you two have only been deemed only friends, but, from everything as little as a polite smile when you make eye-contact in the halls has his heart running a mile a second. the kind smile, sugary-sweet voice, pure intentions all tied in a bow of cunning elegance, how could this wallflower not fall for such royalty? and you listen! god, you actually listen to him! you listen as he follows onto another one of his long rants about his dreams of becoming a marine biologist, discovering the wonders of the sea and just how infatuated he is with the idea of escaping this land where all his trauma lies. your newfound encouragement and support to chase after his dreams has become a drug and jungkook finds himself obsessed with your validation. his tendencies have bled through the bandaids at times, but you’re tried your best to turn your back to the red flags. how his mood so perceptibly alters when an acquaintance of yours comes to say thank you for help on a homework or when you caught sight of that charm of your necklace you swear vanished into thin air peeking out of his backpack, your suspicions still linger, but, this is jeon jungkook we’re talking about. doe-eyed, bunny-faced, rosy-cheeked jungkook. what’s the worst he could do?

[skepticalcatfrog]

The Future is Shit Chapter 1

First Chapter Next Chapter

Summary: Number Five was an assassin android, made specifically for killing human beings. That was his sole purpose, until one day it wasn't. Escaping from The Commission was a nearly impossible feat. And what does one do after succeeding in a task of that difficulty? More nearly impossible feats, of course. Five decides that the next logical step is to get rid of The Commission once and for all. Alongside a group of accidental companions tasked with killing one of the most dangerous people on the planet, will they find that they're in over their heads?

Pairings: None

Word Count: 3,718

Author's Notes: Here it is! The new project I've been hyping up for a few weeks now! It's an Umbrella Academy fic, which probably surprises no one. It will be focused on Number Five, which also surprises no one. I'm excited for this, so I don't really mind if anyone was expecting something else.

Quick Heads Up: This series will be a bit more violent than my previous ones! It makes sense given the source material, but I just thought I'd say this anyway.

The first thing Five could really remember was the running. Running from something, running from nothing, and running from everything all at once. He could hear the clang of metal footsteps on the solid floor and the whirring of mechanical joints being pushed to their limits, but there was no way to tell if those sounds were from him or the security guards that were pursuing him. 

The fact that every single hallway in the Commission building looked exactly the same definitely wasn't helping his plan. The only thing he had to rely on was the map that was programmed into his head, but it was specifically designed so that he could only see it while he was standing still. If the Handler was anything, she was clever, and Five hated her for that.

As he rounded a corner, he slid into a dimly lit hallway that branched off to the right. He hid in a shadow as the mechanical security guards approached. They looked around in a state of confusion, their sensors unable to detect him. He took a gun from the holster on his belt. He barely took any time aiming it. Three shots rang out, each hitting one of the guards with deadly accuracy. All of them fell to the ground, sparks flying from holes in their heads. Five stepped out of his spot in the shadows.

"Good riddance." He muttered as he examined the effectively deactivated guards.

He was still definitely being searched for, but now he'd bought himself some time. He just had to find a way out of the building. Then he'd be infinitely harder to find, and he'd probably never have to worry about the Commission again. Of course, he'd only ever be viewed as a child to anyone who saw him, but even that was better than being forced to kill whoever the Handler decided needed to go.

He took that moment of stillness to look at the map of the building. A light blue grid overtook his vision and a three-dimensional map sketched itself out. A dark blue dot appeared on the map indicating where he was, and a red dot appeared on the map indicating where the Handler was. Not every android could see that second dot, but Five had been the Handler's right hand man for years. Earning her trust had been a big part of his escape plan.

Based on the map, one of the only exits was down a hallway after taking two lefts and a right. The only issue was, the Handler was standing in one of the hallways he needed to pass through. He swore under his breath. If she was so nearby, there wasn't a doubt in his mind that she'd been able to hear those gunshots, not to mention that she definitely already knew he'd escaped.

He blinked once and the map went away. Then he started going down the hallway towards the exit. There was no use trying to avoid the Handler, she'd find him eventually anyway. So he ambled down the hall, making one left turn, then a second one, and a final right turn. The Handler was there waiting for him.

She turned to face him. "Would you look at that. It's the man of the hour!" Her red lips curved into a false smile. "You know, I expected more from you Number Five. You were the best assassin in the entire program. You have so much potential!"

Five glared at her. "If this is what you think potential is, you must not have much."

A flash of indignance crossed the Handler's face, but she covered it up quickly. "You were always one for distractions. Trying to get me to keep talking so you have time to run. But you're not getting away that easily. Is there any way I could convince you to stay?"

"Not a chance." Five said through gritted teeth. "Oh, and that wasn't the distraction. This is."

He took out his gun again and shot her in the foot. In the moment that followed, when she was more focused on the pain than on him, he bolted past her and sprinted down the hall. He put his hand on the scanner next to the door, and it glowed green. The door slid open. Then he was out of there.

He ran across the barren landscape, occasionally glancing behind him to see if he was being chased. He wasn't, but in a way, that was worse. The sun shone brightly, creating heat that Five couldn't feel. Wind kicked up loose dirt from the ground, which got into his eyes and partly obscured his vision. But still he ran, farther and farther, until he saw the silhouette of an abandoned town in the distance. He skidded to a stop.

Wandering through the town was strange to say the least. Everything was silent except the whistle of the wind, and there didn't seem to be anyone there for miles. Half destroyed buildings were scattered around, the ruins covered in dust and dirt. It was very different from the clean and business-like Commission building.

Five stopped in front of a house that was still mostly put together. It didn't have a roof, but that wasn't much of a problem. He went inside and looked through the rooms, most of which had been completely cleared out. Eventually, he found a trapdoor on the ground. It was locked, but the wood wasn't in very good condition, so he stomped on it and it broke. The downside of that plan, though, was that he fell through the floor and into the room below.

Once he collected himself, he stood up, dusted himself off, and took in his surroundings. It looked like it used to be a finished basement, and whoever had cleaned out the rest of the house had left that room alone. The carpet on the ground was partly decomposed, revealing the concrete beneath. The same went for the wallpaper. A chair sat in the corner of the room. The upholstery was torn, and the metallic details on the legs were tarnished. A table, which had been broken in half, was lying on its side. Cobwebs hung in the corners of the room. All other traces of the house having been lived in were gone.

Five went over to the chair and sat down, continuing to look around the room. "I guess this is home for the next few hours."

Five had contacted someone a few days prior, someone who had volunteered to help him get out of the country. They'd discussed an exact date and time, so Five figured he wouldn't have to wait for long. So he did. Hours later, after the sun had set, no one was there. The hours turned into days, days into weeks, weeks into months.

And he waited for two years.

-Two Years Later-

Luther Harrison had been away from his lab for hours, searching for materials to use to build new tools. He went on that trip once every year. There was a town near the place he worked that had no one living in it, and he'd cleaned out most of the houses at that point. He'd been expecting to be in and out as quickly as possible, but he was very wrong.

He approached a house he'd been to a few times before. He'd already collected everything from the ground floor, but there was a basement that he'd forgotten to look through the previous year. The trapdoor had been broken open last time he'd seen it, which was strange. Because as far as he knew, he was the only one visiting that town, and he couldn't remember breaking it.

Once he managed to get through the relatively small entrance, the first thing he noticed was the table in the corner. It had clearly been broken down the middle at one point, but it had been balanced in a way that made the two pieces fit together and stay standing. Then he turned his head to the left and saw something that he was surprised he hadn't noticed before.

A fully built android, sitting in a tattered chair that was placed along the left wall. He appeared to be built to look like a kid, maybe around 13. Rust had developed in his joints, signifying that he had been there for a while. His head was lolled back, and his wide eyes were completely dark. He was wearing surprisingly nice clothes, a light gray suit with a white button down shirt and a dark blue tie, but they were covered in dirt and dust. He had clearly been shut down, but Luther didn't know if it was on purpose or from some kind of malfunction.

Luther looked around for something to carry the android in, but there was nothing. So instead, he just lifted the android up and carried him out of the basement. After a discovery that important, he had to go back to his lab. He hadn't had time to collect anything else, but that was the last thing on his mind.

Carrying the android the whole way, he traveled outside of the town, continuing on until he came to a specific patch of empty land. He stepped on a hidden button and the ground shook lightly as two doors slid apart to reveal a worn-out concrete staircase. He descended into the dark tunnel below, the doors shutting again behind him.

Luther Harrison's workspace was a strange combination of a total mess and entirely put together. It all depended on where you were looking. There was a metal desk across from the stairwell that was meticulously organized. A neat stack of books sat on one edge, and a pen sat on the other. A chair was placed at the desk, pushed in so it wouldn't take up too much room. Meanwhile, there were random papers spread across the floor, and piles of filled notebooks in every corner of the room except for two. One of which was occupied by half finished inventions, and the other which was occupied by a couch with a person on it.

"So, what do we have today?" Diego had been staying with Luther for years. They were almost like brothers at that point. And like brothers, they didn't get along a lot of the time. "Is he dead?"

"Not dead. I don't think, at least." Luther moved the stuff off of his desk and put the android down on it. "If we can get him to work again, maybe he'll be better at helping me than you are."

"Being your assistant isn't my job. Never was." Diego tossed a knife at the ceiling and it stuck, along with the other three that were already up there.

"Would you stop doing that?" Luther requested harshly, taking a screwdriver from his toolkit. "The ceiling is going to start leaking if you keep putting holes in it."

"That's the plan." Diego responded, throwing another knife. Upon the impact of that one, another one fell down, and Diego caught it by the handle.

Luther made the conscious choice to ignore Diego, instead focusing on the android that was currently on his desk. He used a fast-paced rust remover that he'd developed to restore the android's joints quickly. Then, using the screwdriver, he opened up the panel of metal on the android's chest. Instead of wires like he'd expected, the android was full of gears. Gears, and some sort of dark oil. There was so much of it that you might think it was blood, but it definitely wasn't. Plus, the gears ruined the theory that it was an electrical malfunction, because there wasn't any electricity anyway. Then he noticed that the android's head was propped up just a little more than it should've been. Luther nudged his head to the side, and when it turned, he saw a wind-up key like what you might find on a clock or a music box. It was attached to the back of the android's neck. Luther turned the key a few times, hoping it would do something. And it did.

The android's chest panel snapped shut. His eyes stayed mainly dark, but white irises with light grey pupils appeared in them. He blinked a few times. A blue grid briefly scanned over his eyes, but it went away quickly.

The first thing Five saw upon waking up was a guy he'd never seen before standing over him. This guy wasn't like anyone he'd ever seen before. He was a cyborg, part human and part robot. His left eye was robotic, and it had a bright yellow glow coming from it. His right arm was also robotic. And of course, given the fact that he'd never seen this person before in his life, Five resorted to panic mode. He swung his fist, striking the stranger in the face. Then he jumped up, oil spilling from the reopened maintenance panel on his chest.

"Who do you work for and where were you two years ago?" Five switched from panic to interrogation really fast.

"I don't work for anyone! What are you talking about?" The stranger stumbled backwards. "I'm trying to help you!"

"Oh really? By dissecting me and selling my limbs to the highest bidder?" Five glared. "You could've at least had the decency to meet up with me two years ago like you were supposed to!"

"Look, I don't know who you are, and I don't remember agreeing to meet up with anyone!" The stranger held a hand up, possibly trying to distance himself from Five even more.

Five rolled his eyes. "Don't act dumb, Diego. You set me up. Do you have any clue how hard it is to escape from an organization that barely anyone knows exists?"

"Hold on. My name isn't Diego. I'm Luther Harrison." The stranger, who Five now knew as Luther, looked perplexed.

"So… you're not Diego Harding?" Five lifted an eyebrow.

"No." Luther shook his head and gestured to a second man that Five hadn't noticed before. "But he is."

Five's gaze moved to Diego as he looked him up and down once. "Diego Harding. Remember me? We communicated through an encrypted network two years ago over the period of May 16th to May 24th. You were supposed to help get me out of the country. Where were you?"

"I don't know. Must've forgotten or something." Diego shrugged it off.

"And I'm guessing you expect me to believe that. Just cut the crap, would you?" Five slammed his hand on the desk behind him. "If you couldn't help me then, maybe you can help me now. You owe me at least six favors at this point. And you?" He turned back to Luther. "Could you be so kind as to fix the hole in my chest. That's not a question, by the way. You made it, so you fix it."

"Can you feel pain?" Luther asked, mainly out of curiosity.

"No, I can't. My main issue is that a bunch of oil, which I need in order to function properly, is staining my white shirt." Five deadpanned, saying the last part of the sentence with clear sarcasm.

Luther quickly resealed the metal panel, hoping that if he did then he wouldn't have to face the humiliation of being killed by a child. Diego didn't seem to have the same fear.

"Now that that's over, what do you want from us?" He stood up. "You've been really cryptic about everything you've said so far, and I for one want some facts."

"To start, I'm an assassin android from The Commission. Model Number Five, built in 2989." Five rolled up his sleeve and held up his right arm, where thick black numbers reading '005' were emblazoned on his wrist. "And I'm not going to tell you why I'm here, because I don't trust you that much yet."

"The Commission? What is that?" Luther's brow furrowed.

"That's classified. Either you find out on your own or you don't find out at all." Five answered quickly. "But back to the task at hand. Do either of you happen to know someone who knows everyone?"

"Actually… I do." Diego said reluctantly. "If we leave now, we can get to his place by the time the sun sets."

"Okay then. Let's go." Five headed towards the stairwell.

After a few hours of walking, the three of them arrived in the middle of nowhere. They stood in front of a tent made of colorful scraps of fabric. An old neon sign flickered above the entrance, which was made of an old curtain. It was a hot pink circle that had a phrase written inside of it in bright green lettering. It read: "The One-Stop Shop For All of Your Needs From Beyond The Grave!"

Five raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure this is the place?"

"I am. Klaus knows everything about everyone, but he never answers you if you ask how." Diego stepped through the curtain and into the tent. The other two followed him. It was a tight fit with all of them in there at once, but they managed.

A man sat at the table in front of them, his hands hovering over a glowing crystal ball. His curly dark hair looked like it hadn't been brushed in a couple of days. He had at least four scarves on. One was around his neck, one was around each of his arms, and one was tied around his head. Five noticed that he had tattoos on the palm of each hand, one saying 'HELLO' and the other 'GOODBYE'. Those must've hurt like hell to get done, He thought.

The man grinned at the three of them as they entered. "Diego! Welcome back bud. And I see you've brought some friends with you this time! Care to introduce me?"

"Well this one's Luther. You already know him." Diego pointed to his left.

"Yup. Diego talks about you a lot, you know." Klaus said matter-of-factly. "From what I've heard you're pretty insufferable."

"I'm not that bad." Luther scowled at Diego. "He just doesn't like me. Which is fine, because the feeling is mutual."

"Yeah, yeah, I'm sure it is." Klaus waved his hand dismissively. "Anyway. Who's the kid?"

"He's the one you have to worry about today." Diego nudged Five forward.

"I am." Five nodded. "And don't call me kid, just because I look like one doesn't mean I am one."

"Gotcha. So what can I do for you today?" Klaus clasped his hands together.

"Before I tell you my entire plan, I'd like to know what your deal is. What exactly do you do in this tent?" Five sat down in the chair opposite the one that Klaus was in.

"I'm glad you asked! Actually, I'm a medium. For 20 dollars a session, I can contact ghosts and spirits and stuff." Klaus explained.

"Can I get some evidence?" Five crossed his arms.

"Absolutely! And you know what, I'll give you this one on the house." Klaus placed his hands down on the crystal ball, and it began to glow. "You see, there was a time when I had a brother named Ben. He doesn't have much to do a lot of the time, so he's pretty easy to summon."

He began muttering what Five identified as barely audible nonsense. A few seconds passed, and the crystal ball went dark, taking the light from the rest of the tent as well. Although it could easily be missed, Five heard the rustling of a curtain. When the lights rose again, there was another man standing in the room. He was dressed casually, in all black. Diego and Luther looked amazed. Five raised an eyebrow.

"Ben! Good to see you bro. I'm glad you decided to show up." Klaus raised his hand to give his brother a high five, but Ben's hand passed right through his own.

Five narrowed his eyes and gestured for Ben to get a little closer. Then, faster than you could say the word 'skeptical', Five had taken hold of the front of Ben's sweatshirt and pulled him down to his level with inhuman strength. Five's pupils glowed blue and he scanned Ben's right eye. Then he let him go.

Five started speaking, the robotic tone in his voice increasing tenfold. "Name: Ben Hargreeves. Date of birth: October 1st, 2989. Date of death: indeterminate. Hair color: black. Eye color: brown. Current status: alive." His eyes returned to normal and he smiled at Klaus smugly.

Klaus and Ben exchanged a glance, both rendered speechless. But only for a moment.

"How did you do that?" Ben's brow furrowed in confusion.

"It's part of my programming. That feature is technically supposed to be used on corpses, but it can be used on living people too." Five shrugged. "Emphasis on the living."

"Okay, fine, you got me." Klaus raised his hands in an 'I surrender' gesture. "I'm a con man. But you're not allowed to judge me! This is a very lucrative business!"

"But if he's alive, then how did you do that thing with your hands?" Diego asked.

"Misdirection. If you move your hand fast enough, no one will be able to tell that it's not really happening based on the initial shock of there being a ghost in the room." Ben quickly explained. The room fell into an awkward silence.

"So, now that that's over with, let's get down to business." Five stood up and leaned on the table. "I've heard that you know just about everyone in this area."

"That's true!" Klaus nodded.

"Have you heard of a man named Edmund Cornelius?" Five asked.

"Actually, no, I haven't." Klaus pursed his lips.

"Shit." Five muttered. "Well I guess that's a dead end."

"Who's Edmund Cornelius?" Luther questioned.

"You don't need to know that." Five dismissed him. "I guess I'll have to find him myself then."

"Well… you might not." Klaus said. "I might not know who that is, but I do know someone who might. She's a DJ, and she travels around a lot so she probably meets a ton of people. Chances are she'll know your guy."

"Okay, so it's settled." Five stepped away from the table. "Let's go find that DJ."

Taglist: @taco-taco-belle

[ticklish-touch]

Trapped in the Backrooms Ch2: Persuasion

(Ragaeli x lee!Y/N - Consensual chasing & tickling, non-romance CW: Strong language, Liminal spaces, hypnosis, elevatophobia) Shenanigans continue while you and Ragaeli continue to search for a means of escaping the world of the Backrooms. The elaborate hotel you’ve found yourself in has a surprisingly relaxing - albeit eerie - atmosphere. But something else here wants you to check in as an esteemed guest... Forever.

( Chapter theme(s): Jazz playing in another room: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=go358GrFqa “Trust in Me” - Scarlett Johansson: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VEgkBetZY-M “Catgroove” - Parov Stelar: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WXrdYwG17PE )

           It was a nice change of scenery, going from dingy yellow wallpaper to a fancy vintage 1940's hotel plaza. The lobby itself was enormous. You got up from the comfy loveseat to take a look around, spotting a reception desk all the way across the room. Heading up to it, there were no signs of any staff; just rows of small lockers on the back wall, and a couple desk lamps. Well... Time to look around and see what other craziness the Backrooms had in store for you and your Nightmare buddy.

           Heading down the hallway to the first floor, you admired the various decor. Fancy floral carpets, cushioned mahogany chairs placed just outside glass doors that led to... Well, nowhere. Peeking in, the hallways stretched on infinitely, leading to pitch blackness. You considered braving one of them, but... Maybe not yet.             It sounded like others were here: there were distinct sounds of whispers, distant conversations, jovial laughter, and... was that smooth Jazz? But any attempts to call out with “Hello? Is someone else here?” fell on deaf ears.

           You eventually came to a stairwell leading up to the next floor, the wood creaking below you while you made your way upstairs. There were no signs anywhere indicating how many stories or rooms there were, but you wanted to at least investigate.            Most doors to the guest rooms were closed, but were almost always unlocked. Peering inside some of them, you noticed the same recurring vintage aesthetic. It almost felt homey. ...If not for the layers of dust coating almost every piece of furniture.

           You wandered into one, curiously peeking through some of the dressers and closets. The light leaking in through the windows made you feel... Uncomfortable. You weren't sure why. Maybe it was because you couldn't actually see anything outside of them; just a wall of grey, like a foggy overcast sky. You decided to close some of the curtains; it helped ease your mind a little. You poked around in some of the dresser and closet doors, not finding anything except old, eroding photos of people in 1940′s-era clothing. And missing faces.

           Aside from the isolated halls, it didn't feel as unsettling here as your previous escapade. Still eerie, but oddly welcoming. You somewhat wanted to try and find the voices that were always just out of reach, seeming to come from nonexistant rooms, to join them in their conversations and dance along to the music. The only thing making you genuinely nervous were the occasional elevators you passed by, lit by a similar sickly yellow light as the first environment. Those old-timey metal cages always seemed like death traps... But otherwise, it was actually quite peaceful here. There seemed to be no sign of any dangerous entities.            Until something caught the corner of your eye, making you freeze up.

           A door to a nearby open room was half-opened, the space filled by a pitch pitch-black wall blocking the entrance, with a pair of eyes and a wide smile peeking out at you. You would've assumed it was Rags, but it looked different; the teeth were those of an omnivore, and the eyes were white and reflective, like the eyes of a cat or raccoon at nighttime.           "Uh...Hi..?" You waved over to it. You had a gut feeling that you shouldn't get too close. So you crept by on tiptoe, not tearing your gaze away from the face until you were safely around another corner.

           "Smart move." A strange voice whispered, sounding like it was coming from inside the nearest wall and making you jump. What the hell?? It was almost a whisper, a double-voice that was neither feminine nor masculine... Was that the shadow creature speaking?            You didn't stick around long enough to identify it, quickly making your way to the end of a hall and ducking into a room with an open door.

           Now might be a good chance to take a breather... At least until something stared out at you from the darkness again. Plopping down on one of the beds brought you a sigh of relief; It was actually very comfortable. The musty smell wasn't too great, but nothing too distracting. You let your eyes droop shut; Not to nap, just to rest. You had a gut feeling that you should not fall asleep here.

           Without the constant flood of adrenaline and anticipation, you had the chance to think a bit more about what Ragdoll had said when you first got here: The only way out of here was a rift in space-time. You didn't imagine there were many of those to come by. Though you had faith that, if anyone could find one, it'd be the Nightmare. He was beyond powerful enough, practically all-seeing.

           But what if he couldn't?

           No, you couldn't fall to doubt just yet. Maybe there was some way you could help your monster buddy. You could keep looking out for clues, or maybe there was someone somewhere in this realm you could try to talk to or reason with.

           The moment of peace was short-lived. The sound of nails dragging across a nearby wall immediately made you open your eyes and jump upright, your eyes darting around to find the source. It crept closer and closer to the open door; you realized it was coming from the outside hallway. “Oh shit oh shit--” You hopped off the bed and backed up. “Ragman..?” No answer. If it was him, he'd at least respond with that gremlin giggle. So you weren't sure what to expect. Maybe you could lure it to the other side of the room...            After a few more moments of silence, you decided to chance it and hurry out of the door, making it out unscathed.

           It must’ve been a good twenty minutes since you arrived. More wandering through guest rooms and around zigzagging corners, more climbing stairs. More silence. Man, Ragioli was sure being quiet. Maybe he was busy doing his own bit of exploring. Every now and then, you could hear unintelligible whispering nearby, sounding like that strange double-voice you'd heard before. At first, you didn't dare turn around to look in its direction. But curiosity got the better of you, looking over to an open section of the wall...            For a brief moment, you could swear you saw something move near it. Or inside of it. It almost looked like something invisible rippling in the air. A ghost, maybe...? Were there ghosts in this world? Maybe it was one of the 'guests' here.

           You were getting real tired of stairs after the fifth floor, pausing in front of one of the elevators to consider your options. Do you dare chance it...?            Something seemed to answer your thoughts; the elevator doors opened on their own. Gee, that wasn't ominous at all. Totally not a death trap. But you stepped inside anyways; It might be helpful to check out a few higher floors.

           The number panel was almost incomprehensible. They weren't in any sort of order, some of them were blank, others had Greek and Unicode numbers. “Uhhh... Eeny, meeny, miney...” You pressed one of the Greek symbols at random.            The elevator creaked and clattered on its way up. It was a slow, daunting ascent. You watched each passing floor through the cage; they all looked more or less the same; like that repeating illusion hallway back in the first location. Maybe Rags’ theory about this place being a simulation wasn’t too far off.            You leaned against the back wall of the elevator, sighing and watching the dial climb higher. You bopped along to a song that was stuck in your head. It made up for the lack of elevator music and distracted from the creepy rattling.

           The elevator continued to climb up, and up, and up. It also began to speed up its pace. Jesus, just how far did this thing go? Did you press the button to take you to the top? Was there even a top floor??            You started to get nervous when there just didn't seem to be any sign of stopping. Or slowing down. The floor dial was acting erratic, like a compass on the fritz. Your heart rate started increasing along with the elevator's speed. You started pressing other buttons, hoping to make it navigate you to a different floor. "Raaags, I could use your help stopping this thing!!" You shouted up to the ceiling.

           After your comment, the elevator creaked and slowed down, finally coming to a stop. But the door didn't open. "Ugh, come on!!” You shook the cage doors and tried fiddling with the handle.            Your heart caught in your throat at the loud THUNK of metal just below you. The lights flickered and burnt out. "Oh, no..." There was a jolt and a tremor...

           And the elevator plummeted straight down at breakneck speed.

           You screamed bloody murder, feeling your stomach drop and your legs practically disappear under you. You clung to the railings for dear life and felt your breath sucked right out of you. "FUCKFUCKFUCK!!! RAAAAGS!! HEEEELP!!"

           It screeched to a halt about five seconds later. Thankfully your momentum didn't send you smacking into the ceiling. You hyperventilated heavily, heart hammering in your chest, your hair and clothes totally disheveled, legs splayed out, your knuckles white from gripping the railing so hard. That. Was. Horrifying.            And you were mad at yourself that your inner adrenaline junkie also found it exhilarating.

           The Nightmare's wild cackling erupted overhead outside the elevator. "I GOTCHAAHAHAHA!!" He hooted and hollered.            You gasped in utter betrayal. "RAGS!!! YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE!!!" You tried to leap up and grab at the ceiling. "GET DOWN HERE SO I CAN KICK YOUR ASS!!!"            He phased down from the top of the elevator, collapsing in a heap of hysterics, pounding the floor with his fist. "AAAHAHAHAHA YOU SHOHOHOULD'VE SEEHEEHEEN YOUR FAHAHAHACE!!"           “I can’t FUCKING believe you!!” You stomped and paced, exasperated. “Here I am trying find a way OUT of here and you’re trynna give me a heart attack!!”             But the longer you ranted at him, the more he cracked up in hysterics, hints of his grape-colored tears leaking from his eyes.

          "WHY YOU-!!" You could absolutely strangle him. But instead... “Yeah, you wanna laugh at me?? Laugh it up!!” You took the opportunity to lunge down at him and quickly sit on his legs, promptly burying your fingers into his lower midriff and hips, tickling viciously, giving rapid-fire pokes everywhere. "Yeah, VERY funny!!"            His laughter just went up an octave and he flailed around. "YEEEE-HEHEHEHE C-COME OHOHON!! Y-YOHOHOU'RE the one who's into thrihihihill rihihides~!!!!" He kicked and shimmied his legs under you, making it difficult to stay in place.            “That's different!!" You growled, moving up further to  attack his bare midriff, “Save it for when we're not in a different dimension!!”            He cackled and shrieked, wiggling under you, still pounding his fists on the floor. Not making an effort to push you off. As pissed as you were, you smiled at the sight. Damn he was handsome, squirming and laughing like this.            It was short-lived though; he quickly retaliated, his massive hands clamping onto your sides and spidering their dexterous fingers over your ribs like a piano, giving a shitty smirk the moment you shrieked and recoiled. “Hehehe, you were sayiiing~?” He flipped your positions and shoved you down to the floor.              “WAHH-HAHAH S-Staaahahahap alreheheheadyyy-heehee!!” Your face flushed and you flailed underneath him for a few more moments, trying to defend yourself by pinching under his arm with one hand and attacking his belly with quick scribbles and pokes with the other hand.           “GYEE-HEHEHE!!” He giggled wildly, growling playfully and doubling his efforts, sending ticklish jolts through your torso and hips. “Heheheh, awww, is the little morsel all maaaad at me for pranking ‘em~?” He cooed and taunted. “Come onnn, I know ya can’t stay mad at me~! Just look at that smiiile~!”             You kept up the tickle-fight for a good few minutes, holding your own pretty well against the relentless tickle monster; though no matter how strong you were, he’d always manage to wrestle you right back down into a position that left your most ticklish spots vulnerable, locking onto them and barraging them with tickles until you were shrieking and barking out profanities between bouts of laughter. He eventually relented, sitting back on his arms and splaying his long legs out. He took up the whole elevator floor. Whoo, that was a tasty energy boost~” he licked his lips. “There’s all kinds of different screams I can get out of ya~!”           “Y-Yeah, so glad I could be your personal buffet,” you gave him a shove.  "So, did you find any clues or not?"

          He shook his head. "No rifts anywhere. And those hallways out past the glass doors are totally blocked from my sight. Going through them just leads right back out to the main hallways, like a fricken’ Pac-Man maze!” He scratched his chin. “And something else is definitely sneakin' around in here... I can't detect it for some reason." He shrugged and jumped up to his feet. With a snap of his fingers, his outfit poofed from his emo-punk getup to... a Bellboy uniform. Complete with hat, but still barefoot. “Sir Reginald at your service,” he put on a cockney accent and took a bow.            ”Pfff-! Wow, don’t think I’ve ever seen you wear something so fancy.”           He giggled. “Much as I don’t give a shit bout blending in, maybe it’ll help lure that sneaky creeper outta the shadows. It can't hide from me foreverr~” he snickered and pressed the button to open the elevator door, gesturing to it with a bow. "After you~ I’ll catch up with ya later. I'll make sure these pesky elevators don’t go haywire on you again, trust me~” he winked.

          “Yeah, they’d better not,” You gave him a shove and stuck your tongue out at him as you headed onto what appeared to be floor 666. Okay, edgelord.

          You considered his comment about heading into the abyss of one of those branching hallways. You made your way toward the nearest set of glass doors, tentatively pushing past it, walking out into the pitch-black hall ahead...               Only to end up coming right back through another set of glass double-doors. Out of curiosity, you tried looking behind yourself as you pushed the glass door open.. From the glass doors on the adjacent wall, you could see yourself. Like a reflection or a Portal illusion. “Whoa.”             “You will not make any progress through those doors.” The double-voice spoke casually, sounding as if it was just a few feet away.                You jumped and spun around to try and find the source. You saw that illusion out of the corner of your eye again: The wallpaper rippling and bowing outward. There was definitely something, or someone, invisible inside of it. You tried to follow it with your eyes, but it was difficult. It was like your eyes didn't want to comprehend it. it kept fading out of your sight, like one of those bizarre 3D ‘Magic Eye’ images in books. “Hello??” This must've been what the Nightmare was talking about, right? How come he couldn't detect it, but you kept noticing it?

           It only took a few more minutes of following the invisible shape until you got your answer. Tracking it to the wall dead ahead, you gasped: The pattern of the wallpaper was broken up by two glowing, opalescent orbs: A pair of eyes with squiggly horizontal pupils.            You stepped closer. “I can see you, y'know,” you spoke up sternly. “You've been following me around, haven't you?”

           Now that you'd noticed its presence, it made itself visible, phasing into existence in front of you. It had a very tall, masculine human body, dressed in a formal suit, with the head of a... Cuttlefish? For a moment they just stood motionless, arms folded behind their back, staring at you.

            “Uh... Hi,” you gave them a cautious wave. “Is this your hotel?”            The entity nodded.             “Oh, well it's very nice!”            "Thank you,” they responded. They took a few steps forward, tilting their head. "You seem different than others that have been here."            You stood your ground. "Really? How so...?"            "You run away, yet you're curious. You aren't deterred by what your species may deem 'monstrous'.”

          "Oh, well..." You weren't sure how to explain that monsters and the like were very much up your alley. "I mean, it doesn't really do any good being afraid of everything 'different'," you shrugged. "Just because something may look monstrous doesn't necessarily mean that it's evil. Sure, people should be cautious, but people can’t learn anything about the world if they just decide they’re not going to try to understand it.”

          Their tentacles twitched a bit. “How interesting.” They took a couple steps forward. “There is a point where curiosity becomes naivety. Keeping one's heart open, keeping one’s mind hungry for knowledge, can inevitably lead them right into the jaws of danger. Monsters care not for the childish optimism of their prey.”             "Well, sure, but..." You wanted to explain that it was, in fact, a monster keeping you safe from the dangers.

           “You should stay here.”

           "...Huh?"

           “You should stay here,” they repeated. “With the rest of us.” It wasn't a question, or a suggestion. It was a command.             "Uhhh I can't really do that," you took a step back. "I'm trying to get home."            “This can be your home.” Another step forward. “It's peaceful. Free from judgment and ignorance. Free from dangers. As long as you don't disturb the Smilers.”            You sighed a little. So much for finding someone to reason with. “Look, I appreciate it, but I have friends and family that'll miss me. I have a whole life back in my world.”             “Friends that abandoned you? Left you to rot away in a world you know nothing about?”             “What?? No!! They had nothing to do with-”

           The entity's head and tentacles suddenly started to light up in a dazzling, rippling display of colorful stripes, two of their tentacles splaying out to the sides. Their unblinking gaze drilled into you, glowing more vibrantly, their squiggly horizontal pupils shrinking to slits.            "Wha-"

           “You can trust me,” their tone became lighter, and friendlier; quite the contrast from their intense, borderline hostile gaze. “You'll like it here. You'll be well provided for. Room service, complimentary meals, comfortable beds. Jazz nights every week.”            Their mesmerizing facial patterns were difficult for you to tear your gaze away from. For a brief moment, you actually considered their offer.            Soon, they were little more than a foot away from you, looming over you, facial patterns still swirling and rippling. You swallowed back the lump in your throat, tried to turn your head or even close your eyes, but it felt like a static washing over your senses.           Maybe I can stay here...

           You didn't notice the entity slowly raise their arms up, outside of your peripheral vision. You didn't see their clawed fingers morph into tentacle-like appendages, starting to drip with a narcotic neurotoxin.

           You also barely noticed the lights in the hallway going out, one by one.

           Ragaeli faded in from a dark haze, right behind the entity, arms outstretched, and fingers wiggling, mirroring the actions of the other. Just as the entity sensed him and ceased their attempts to put you in a trance, the Nightmare clamped his hands around their sides, his hands buzzing with his crackling red magic. He wasn't taking any chances.            But there was no reaction. No laughter or startled yells, no wriggling around. They looked outright offended when they whipped around, their hands morphing back to normal as they folded their arms. “You've some nerve, laying a hand on me.”

           Rags blinked hard, before snorting. “Pfff- Damn, nothing, huh? Lame,” He put his hands on his hips. “That's some pretty clever magic of yours though~! Perception camouflage. Kinda similar to mine, actually!” He poofed out of sight in a puff of smoke, his uniform hat getting left behind and dropping to the floor. “Fool your friends! Fun at parties!!” His voice darted around the air around both of you. With another poof, he reappeared, giggling.            The entity didn't seem phased, or amused. They tilted their head. “You’re the other presence I felt stalking about. Following this Wanderer, toying with them as if they are your prey.”            Rags scoffed. "Oh, and you're not doing the same? At least I have something way more fun in mind than trynna drug 'em up and hold them hostage in some hoity-toity, dusty old-”

           In a flash, the entity jutted out an arm to hold their tentacle fingers right up to the Nightmare's neck; and the other arm out in front of you, their fingers stretching out to splay its tentacles inches away from your face. You inhaled sharply and froze in place, not sure whether you should try to run.            But Rags wasn't deterred by the threat. “Heh, struck a nerve, did I~?” With a flick of his wrist, he used his magic to tug their hand back away from your face.            As if to answer, the creature's head started to flash and ripple in angry hues of yellow and orange, its tentacles wrapping around Rags' throat, seeping with toxins. “You'd do well not to defy me-” they started to growl sternly; But was interrupted by Rags jabbing the sides of their squishy head with his index and middle fingers, giving off a bright red spark. They jolted sharply, before their head and arms slumped over. They remained standing in place, unresponsive.

           "Whoa; what did you just do?? You didn't kill them...?"            He quickly shook his head. "You'll seeee~" He cooed.

           The entity stirred. They let out a low, raspy chuckle. "Ohh... I see. That is a fun idea..." Slowly, they lifted their head and peeked over their shoulder at you. For a brief moment, their head and tentacles shifted to black and pale red stripes.

           "R..Rags?? What did you do?" You repeated.            He gave a giddy little snicker. "Weeelll, they tried to put you in a trance, I just decided to give 'em a taste of their own medicine~"

           You gawked. "You're mind-controlling them?!"            Ragaeli quickly shook his head. "Not mind control. Subconscious suggestion," he tapped a finger to his temple. "I just zapped 'em with a few of your memories, that's all. I suggested a different game to play with us. What they do after that is their decision~"           “I never knew Wanderers could be so weak to touch...” The hotel manager chuckled, taking a step closer to you. “That’s really quite endearing...”

            You swallowed. “H-Hey now-” Without giving you more time to react, they flung their arms and tentacles out to wrap around you, pulling you close. You yelped and instinctively tried pulling away, but were met with the feeling of the slippery appendages writhing and kneading over your armpits and ribs, immediately loosing a shriek of laughter from you. "YIEE-HAHAHA N-NOOHOHOHO!!" Your face flared up, shuddering from the sensations, wriggling back and forth and tried to tug their arms free.

          Rags snapped his fingers, and the entity's arms were held up by magic, giving you a moment to catch your breath. Both he and the cuttlefish letting out wicked laughter. “How cute...”           “Riiight~?” Rags giggled, patting your head. “Totally worth not knocking them out just yet, right? You wanna hear more of that cute laughter, see more of that helpless desperation, draw a feeling of glee out of them without havin’ to trance them first~!”               The cuttlefish nodded. “I suppose I’ll humor you for now and play along with this little game...”             And both of them, leaning in on either side of your ears: "You should run~"

            The moment they released their hold, your adrenaline kicked in again and you bolted.

          You could swear you heard the Nightmare and the camouflaged entity snickering evilly at every turn. When you thought you could see the air in front of the wallpaper ripple, you’d turn the other way. When Ragdoll’s stomping or giggling echoed from one of the nearby stairwells, you booked it up or down the next flight. Every now and then, the Nightmare would phase into the room from inside one of the many paintings decorating the walls, sending you booking it in the other direction.           Even taking a moment of reprieve near the elevators wasn’t safe. The metal death cage stopped at your floor and with a ding of a bell, opened to Reggie - still in his Bellboy uniform - flashing you a shitty grin with his arms behind his back. “Next stop, our Diamond Suites~! Comfiest beds in the Backrooms, complete with bed straps and drawers and drawers full of the most torturous tickly instruments in this or any dimension, hehehehe~!” He tried to usher you into the elevator.           “Yeahh nice try, I’m not gonna let you wreck my shit and pull a Tower of Terror on me again,” you stuck your tongue out.           “C’monnn, I know you wannaaa~” His grin became more devilish and he gave you a wink.             Before you could make another snarky comment, you were scooped up from behind, the manager fading into view again, opal eyes glaring at ‘Reginald’. “You will not misuse my elevators again,” they huffed, casually letting their clawed digits scritch and knead over your ribs, sneaking in toward your belly.           “YyYYEE-HEHEH!! Y-Yeheheheah, what thehehey sahahahaid!!” You shook your fist at Rags, feeling your face quickly heat up. You were glad to be on playful terms with this entity now.             Ragdoll rolled his eyes. “Well I’m just doing my job, but fine, I’ll meet up with you again after you give my buddy the answer they need~!” He pressed a button and rode the elevator down out of sight.             The cuttlefish let out a low, clicky purring by your ear. “You seek answers, hmm? Then find your way to the Ballroom, and I may just give you a clue~” They released their hold on you and faded out of sight again. You took a moment to compose yourself before continuing onward. Where the hell were you supposed to find a ballroom in this place??              You kept an eye out for signs; there weren’t many to go off of. Reception, boiler room, outdoor gardens... You were so busy focusing on finding signage that you nearly ran smack-dab into a pitch-black wall with another one of those smiling faces staring out at you. “AGH-!” You gasped and jumped back when you saw it from your peripherals. It hissed through its teeth, just about to strike at you with two shadowy claws...             Then Ragdoll came flying through a nearby painting, jabbing a couple fingers into the dark mass, just above the creature's eyes, giving off another bright red spark of magic - before promptly launching himself into a painting on the opposite side of the wall, his gremlin giggling still echoing overhead.

            The creature gave off a startled screech, the entire mass trembling. Its eyes briefly flashed yellow, its Cheshire smile spreading even wider.          "Ohh fuck no-" was all you managed to comment, before two dark limbs lashed out and pulled you inside.               Your body was flooded with the feeling of a hundred gentle pokes, strokes and scritches. In the pitch-blackness, you had no way of knowing where it would come from next, or when it would end. The smiling face now peered down at you from above, snickering wickedly. “AaaAAH-Hehehehe!! D-Dahahammihihit!! N-Not you toohoohoo!!” You wriggled and tugged in its gentle, but surprisingly strong shadowy grip, yelping and whining and feeling goosebumps crawl up your skin from the feather-light touches teasing your hips, navel and ribs. You practically yelled when more of them slipped straight down into your shoes to flurry and vibrate, making you kick your legs around. “GAAH-HAHAHA!!”

          But then... Something in your talisman must've sensed a shift in the entity's intentions. The moment before the creature turned its shadowy hands into daggers and thorns to impale you with, your charm gave off a sudden blinding red spark of magic, making you both shriek from the ticklish shock.           You knew that was a sign that the game was over; you managed to pull away from the dark mass, coming out on the other side and booking it right as the creature let out an angry hiss.

          After continuing to search, you were guided to the hotel Restaurant. Making your way inside, it was just as overly-exuberant as the rest of the place, with smooth Jazz playing from the nearby stage - despite the fact that no-one was playing the instruments that stood stationary.

          You ducked down to hide underneath one of the nearby dining tables, just in time to hear Reggie's big ol stompers follow behind you. He snickered and started to walk slow, deliberate circles around the table. "Gee, I wonder where they went..." You heard his claws tapping, slowly and repeatedly, on the surface just above you. The sound gave you goosebumps. "They'd better not keep themselves tucked away too long, they're gonna get found eventually~!" He teased in a singsong voice, giggling wildly. “A shame we can't stay here for too long, I'd check us into one of the rooms and keep you in there with me to Netflix-and-Giggle! Not sure the TVs here have Netflix though... or if there even are TVEEEEE-HAHA!!" You took your chance to lunge from under the table and latch onto one of his feet, scritching and prodding over his arches and toes. He yelped with giggles, stumbling and falling back against the chairs for a moment and you started ducking and weaving around the tables in an attempt to shake him off.             As you did, he put on his Bellhop act again, complete with accent. “Come now, this is no way for an esteemed guest to behave! I’m going to have to put you under house arrest at this point!!” He made grabs for you, and you practically climbed over table booths.            “Yeah, well suck it!! This place is three stars at best!!”             A loud hiss answered from a wall just behind you, the manager’s vivid glowing eyes and splayed writhing tentacles appearing in the air.           “AAHH I’m kidding I’m kidding!!” You laughed and scurried out of the restaurant area. Unfortunately your comment seemed to have ticked them off; you could now hear them following very closely behind. You hardly had the chance to try climbing a flight of stairs before you were yanked by an invisible force into a nearby suite, the door slamming behind you.             The cuttlefish glared down at you, arms folded across their chest. They didn’t look angry anymore, just unamused.           “H-hey now, I was just joking earlier, this is a great hotel,” you smiled nervously up at them. “Very homey, great atmosphere...”             They simply walked forward, making you back up further and further, until the backs of your knees pressed against the bed and you stumbled onto the mattress. They leapt forward and straddled either side of you, and as you scrambled back against the pillows, they outstretched their hands; one morphed its fingers into tentacles, the other remained clawed. “I believe you. But a comment like that still deserves to be... reprimanded~” They curled and scrunched their digits, wriggling them closer and closer to you... Until, without warning, they slipped their claws under your top, giving your belly a squeeze.

            “AH! W-Wahahahaitt!!” You yelped all the more when their tentacle-hand also started exploring. They were more gentle with their methods than their initial spring-attack; They took their time scritching, poking, dancing their dexterous claws over your torso. Their tentacle suckers gave little ‘kisses’ over your belly. “MmMMF-Hehehehe!!” You tried, and quickly failed, to hold back your snickering, wriggling back and forth, trying to suck in your gut.              Although they couldn't smile or change the expression in their glassy opal eyes, you could still see a mischievous twinkle behind them, their squiggly pupils dilated and the patterns on their head flowing in a soft ripple.             "Those memories of yours told me something interesting... They showed me how easily you are persuaded by verbalization."             "Wh-what do you mehehean?"             They leaned down closer to your ear, their double-voice speaking in a low whisper. "You're ever so tiickliiish, aren't you~?"             You let out a startled yelp, not at all expecting a tease out of an otherworldly entity like this. "AH-!! N-Noohoho!!"             They tilted their head. "No? But clearly you are. Perhaps I will just have to convince you further." They un-straddled their leg from around you and reached up above you to grab one of the pillows; in just a few swift movements, they pulled the pillowcase off, grabbed your wrists, and tied them above your head. You gasped and felt your blush deepen, knowing your sides and armpits were even more vulnerable now. The entity flurried their claws up and down one armpit, and had their tentacles slip down your sleeve of the other arm, slithering around. “YIEE-HEHEHEHE!!” You whined and shimmied side to side like a fish.             "It's such a curious thing, this 'ticklishness'...It's almost cute how easily a Wanderer can succumb to their own nervous systems being turned against them. Becoming helpless, giggling little fools, flooded by sensations their minds and bodies cannot fight against, let alone fully comprehend..."             You whined, feeling the entity's explanations getting to you all the more. Their sly chuckle told you they were totally doing it on purpose.             After the cuttlefish felt satisfied with their efforts on your upper half, they slid themselves off of the bed; not before grabbing another pillowcase. They casually walked over and took your ankles, ignoring your kicking and fidgeting, tying them together too. "A-Aahhaha, wahahait..." You giggled nervously.             "Ah, yes, this is a particularly sensitive spot of yours, isn't it?" They wriggled their tentacles and fingers in front of your soles, keeping their eyes locked on you to watch your reactions. Their claws began to scritch, pinch and poke the ball of your foot and between your toes, dragging their nails slooowly down your sole. The tentacles on their other hand slithered over every crevice, between each toe, their suckers sticking and unsticking in rapid succession to cause a sort of ticklish ‘vibration. And it all drove you crazy.             “ShitshiTSHIT-HAAHAHAHA NOOOHOHOHOO!!” Your body twisted, bucked and flailed on the bed, the entity’s skilled hands causing unbearable ticklish jolts coursing through your feet. “NAAHAHAHAHA!! P-PLEHEHEHEASE~!”               Their hands switched places; their tentacles morphed into claws, and their other claws stretched into tentacles, keeping up their cruelly delicate methods for a few more minutes. Only when you were a whining, gasping mess did they relent and pull their hands away, folding them behind their back. They folded their arms behind their back and slowly walked up to the side of the bed to glance down at you. “I wonder...”               “W-Wonder what?” You smiled anxiously up at them.               “How mean would it be... if I convinced you that you’re even more ticklish?” Their head and face bloomed into rippling waves and patterns again.                 You gasped. “Ohh no, don’t you dare...” But you already felt it taking effect. From head to toe, your body tingled and erupted in goosebumps.                 The slightest graze of their claws against your ribs sent an electric ticklish jolt through you. “YYEEHEHEHE NOOOHOHAHAHA!!” You bucked a foot in the air.                 The cuttlefish chuckled. “The sensitivity of your nerves continues to climb higher and higher... You’re almost more ticklish than what you can bear...” They idly traced their claws in circles around and around your belly and ribs.                  You yelled. “P-PLEHEHEHEASE!! Thahahahat’s high enohohohough!!” You whined, trying desperately to hide your bright blushing face against your arm. You could feel every brush of fabric from your clothes, you could feel the soft mattress against any bare skin, you continued to be gently, methodically poked and stroked by the entity’s claws. And it tickled like hell. The next few minutes felt twice as long once they went in on you and started swiftly, rapidly tickling over every single weak spot they could find; up and down your torso, squeezing your legs and knees, walking down to slither their tentacles against your soles and toes, and along the sides of your feet.             And you could only answer with loud shrieks of laughter, trying desperately to twist your body on the bed - which inadvertently opened up even more ticklish targets on your back. You weren’t unused to having your ticklishness tampered with like this; you knew damn well how the Nightmare could ramp up your sensations to unbearable degrees... And then drive you into utter madness by wreaking havoc with his hands and tendrils.               Thankfully - or maybe unfortunately - the cuttlefish was a bit more gentle with their methods, and pulled their hands away again once you were left totally breathless.             "You've grown very tired. And quite content. My offer still stands, you know... You can stay here." Once again, their head-stripes began to ripple and flare in a kaleidoscopic pattern, leaning in close to you. “I could tickle and toy with you, day in and day out~ You will not know any fear, or weariness... Only laughter~”                 The thought send shudders through you. But once again, before you could seriously consider their offer, Ragdoll's vivid orange eyes phased into view from inside the wallpaper above the bed, followed by his smile; a very irritated smile. "We had a deeeaaal," he growled.             The manager sighed, rolling their eyes - you had no idea a cephalopod could roll their eyes - and ceased their hypnotic attempts again. "Very well. We will meet in the ballroom, then, as I stated. But it will be your last chance to prove your resolve." They untied you, before turning invisible again.             Ragdoll’s gremlin giggling hovered in the air. "Better make a run for it while you can~"             You groaned. For once, you didn't want to take off. You’d just managed to get settled in. "Can it be a casual walk instead? I've been running a lot as it is, and this bed is pretty cozy..."             In a red flash, Rags pounced out of the wall and landed above you, crouched on all fours. "We're on a tight schedule, remember??" His hand lit up in sparks and he placed his large hand to your belly, giving off a shockwave.             "WAAGH-HAHAHA!!" You leapt in place on the bed.             "There, that oughta replenish you for a little while~"             You realized that it wasn't just ticklish retaliation - your body felt revitalized. Your muscles weren't sore, your eyelids weren't droopy; and your body was no longer sensitive to an unbearable degree. "Heh, thanks. Well on that note..." You tuck-and-rolled off of the bed, quickly ducking out of the doorway.               Once Ragman had chased you through a couple more hallways, he stopped, presumably to keep looking around the dimension. You used the chance to walk the halls and more carefully look around for a sign to the Ballroom. Finally, you saw a sign for it just ahead.               Stepping inside, your eyes and mouth went wide. It was huge. And... totally empty. But the sounds of Jazz music, laughter and idle chatter lingered in the air; this place seemed to be the source of all the voices from before. After taking a few more steps forward, you began to see flashes and ripples in the air: Visions of people, dressed in Victorian-era clothing; some looked human, some didn’t. All of them were lacking faces. They looked a lot like some of the photos you had found in the guest rooms’ dresser drawers.               These visions only lasted for a second or two before they faded out of view again. The manager stood in the middle of the dance floor, arms folded behind their back, patiently watching you approach.               “Looks like I made it here,” You grinned smugly at them. “So are you gonna give me a clue or-”                 They instead took you by the hands, and started to do a waltz with you. They didn’t seem to mind your awkward steps, making sure to keep pace with you. “It’s nice seeing you enjoying yourself here, you know. So many Wanderers pass through here, frightened, starving, injured, trying so hard to escape... But doing so only brings them more strife.” Despite their unchanging gaze, they sounded disheartened. “I wish only to keep people safe. Once they sleep in one of my guest beds, they will leave their physical shells behind. No more hunger, or pain, or weariness.” They gestured to the flickering hologram-like visions of the other guests. “Only peace, and jovial celebration.”                 So... you were right. It would have been a bad idea to fall asleep. You didn’t really want to argue the morality of the entity’s methods, though. Especially since, all things considered, this very well might have been a better outcome for some poor soul that didn’t have a Nightmare god at their aid.             "However,” they spoke up, interrupting your silent contemplation. “If you truly wish to leave, then I will give you a clue... Look for something out-of-place."

                You raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean, out of place?"               "Exactly as I said. Something that does not fit into the hotel's aesthetic. Find it, and you may just escape. It’s not far from here. But find yourself trapped again, and I may just keep you here forever..."                 They snapped their fingers. Immediately, some of the specters responded to the sound, hovering over to where you stood, enclosing you as they circled around, giggling. “But perhaps I should make you persuade them as well... Give them a reason as to why I should let you leave~”                   You gave an exasperated sigh. “Oh come on...” The manager was definitely just fucking with you at this point.               “HeeeEEYYY EVERYBODY~!” The air was suddenly booming with the sound of the Nightmare’s voice, and the lights turned dim. The flickering specters gasped and ceased their dancing and efforts to keep you boxed in, looking around for the source.                 Poofing into view on top of one of the tables, Ragdoll struck a pose, having switched out his Bellboy outfit for a very handsome old-timey suit and derby hat. He flashed the “crowd” a charismatic smile, and with a flick of the wrist, a microphone stand appeared in his hand. “Well now, ladies and gents, quite a lively, lovely bunch we’ve got here tonight! But how ‘bout we really get this place bumping??”                 He tossed away his hat and snapped his fingers; the soft Jazz was replaced by louder, energetic Swing. He hopped off and started to dance around the room, able to take the hands of the ‘invisible’ guests and twirl them around, switching between doing the Rumba and the Foxtrot. It didn’t take long for the guests to get riled up and join the party; despite their lack of faces, their excitement could be heard.                   The cuttlefish, on the other hand, was very irritated. “Who does your friend think he is, hosting Swing night a week early and stealing the thunder from my Jazz band??” Their face flared with angry orange hues.                   Better take your chance while you can!! You heard Rags’ voice in your head. You jumped and gasped, and quickly heeded his advice while the entity and their guests were distracted by his antics, slipping past them and sneaking out of the door on the farthest wall.                   You’d made a fair amount of distance before the sound of Swing music finally faded into the background. It was time to wrap up this Scooby-Doo escapade. You examined everything more intently than ever, trying to find anything that looked out of place.

          Then, you spotted it: A large painting out of the corner of your eye, making you stop in your tracks to take a closer look. It was low to the floor and had a black minimalist frame, with a photograph of what appeared to be the inside of a modern warehouse or massive hardware store. You walked up and placed your hand against it... And gasped when it rippled and let your hand slip right in, like the surface of a pond.           “Well bravo... You’ve found it.” The cuttlefish phased themselves out of the wall next to the painting, slowly applauding you. “I’ll admit, your determination is commendable. You’re certain you don’t wish to stay here?” They tilted their head. This time, the question felt less demanding, and more... Wistful.              You felt a little sorry for them. All of your interactions made you realize that maybe they were just a little lonely. Well-intentioned, with questionable methods. You sighed. “Yes, I’m sure,” you stood firmly in place. “My friend can’t stay here any more than I can. He’s going to disappear if he can’t find a way back to his own world. Well, temporarily, anyways. He always comes back, but he may not be able to find his way back here. It’d break our heart if we couldn’t ever see each other again.”              The entity nodded. “Very well, then... As utterly irritating as this friend of yours may be, it brings peace of mind knowing you have an entity like him keeping watch over you.” They chuckled. “Perhaps putting your trust in some monsters isn’t such a bad idea.             “And... perhaps I could entertain my other guests with the games we’ve played~” They extended their tentacle-digits to slither up against your ribs one last time, before taking a bow and gesturing to the painting. “After you, then. Please, stay safe.”

            You heard the faint echo of Swing music and a guest’s distant “Farewell!” as you stepped into the painting.

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Chapter One Chapter Two (current) Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six

Footnotes: "Terror Hotel": https://backrooms.fandom.com/wiki/Level_5 Smilers: http://backrooms-wiki.wikidot.com/entity-3 Jesus, I finally finished this chapter. I’d meant to get it posted before Halloween, but I just got too swamped with work and with con crunch (just got back fromt he con a couple days ago). Also, this chapter was actually going to be combined with the next chapter, but I realized it was getting too long and I was condensing it more than I would’ve liked instead of taking my time to flesh it out.

Even though the entity was only briefly mentioned in the Wiki, I’ve grown more attached to my interpretation of them than I realized I would, oops

[hexlikesramennoodles]

#50 from the kiss prompts, pls? 😍

50. A kiss, followed by more that trail down the jaw and neck.

Author’s note: this is kinda long + angsty + probably not what you expected? I still greatly enjoyed writing it and hope you get something out of it too! Thank you for the prompt 💜

“We don’t even know if this is gonna work,” Mike said.

“It’ll work.” Max’s face was a pale, strained oval amidst red hair. “It has to.”

“I can do it,” Eleven announced. “He’s stronger, this time. But so am I.” She eyed Mike, her jaw set. “I’m not glass, Mike.”

He reddened, throwing a sullen, teary look at Steve. “I know you’re not. I’m just—”

“I know.” She kissed his cheek, then turned to Steve. “Are you ready?”

It was hard not to stare at the skin above Eleven’s collar, where Billy’s hands had closed around her throat in a strangler’s hold. He had come close to killing her, and could kill Steve, too. He could do that easily. “As ready as I’ll ever be,” Steve said, although he didn’t feel it.

Eleven held his gaze, then nodded. Neither one of them voiced aloud the thought that passed between them in that split second of eye contact: what they would do if the plan, formally titled “Sauna Test 2.0”, didn’t work. Steve couldn’t allow himself to consider it. There was too much at stake for him to lose his nerve now.

“You ever played that game?” he asked, as she handed him one of Hopper’s dish towels. “Marco Polo? It’ll be like that. You know how to play Marco Polo, right? I’m Polo, you’re Marco. That way, you won’t lose me.”

He was babbling, he knew. But he couldn’t help himself. Fear did funny things to people; in that, he and Mike weren’t so different. Both of them coped with their fears by micromanaging them, saying too much and moving too fast because it was better than just sitting there and letting the fear paralyze you. Yeah, Steve was scared. He was fucking terrified. They all were.

“You’re Polo, I’m Marco,” Eleven said. She sat opposite him on the floor of the cabin, her legs crossed in a lotus position. Over her shoulder, the TV flickered white, dead static.

He didn’t reply, couldn’t quite get the words out; they’d come unmoored somewhere in his throat. He felt like he was gonna be sick. Don’t lose me, he thought. Please don’t fucking lose me down there.

Eleven squeezed his hand, as if she’d heard. I won’t.

Sinking into the void was almost like falling asleep: slow at first, but once it started, it was one steady drop, all at once. Then—oblivion.

“Marco,” Eleven’s voice said.

She held his hand, guiding him through the darkness.

“Polo,” he answered.

His heart was beating double, triple time in his chest; beating so fast that the space between each beat was nearly non-existent. Steve tried opening his eyes to their fullest extent, searching for a gap, a way out, an end to it—and whatever waited for him at that end. He found none. The darkness of the void was heavy; it pressed down on his chest, his back, constricting the air in his lungs. In the total absence of light, Steve began to imagine he could actually see: a repetitive wallpaper of snarling, petal-shaped faces. Nancy, flushed and drunkenly swaying. A plume of cigarette smoke, exhaled from a boy’s laughing mouth. His heart clenched, and he glanced over his shoulder.

Nothing.

Nothing, nothing, nothing, cold and bleak and infinite. His gorge rose.

Eleven’s voice brought him back. “Marco.”

“Polo,” Steve said.

He felt his way forwards, using her hand as a lifeline, a warm, fluttering light in the dark. The only light. Where his feet touched the ground (what ground? It was all black, his feet touched black), delicate ripples spread outwards, like the placid surface of a large body of water. Steve tried closing his eyes; there was no difference in the lack of light, and that made the fear come back in full, crushing force. He floundered, water splashing all around him, and remembered something Billy had told him once: just lie still. You ever find yourself in trouble in the water, just lie still. Billy had always talked about it, going back to California after graduation. Going home. Steve was almost home, now. One more step. One more …

“There,” Eleven said.

She stretched an arm outwards, pointing. Her hand looked almost like a doll’s: so very small.

“Stay back,” he murmured.

She nodded. “I won’t be far.”

Letting go of her hand was one of the hardest things Steve had ever done.

He was well acquainted with the emotion by now: a child’s irrational terror of the unknown. Of monsters under the bed. You turn the light on, you saw that there was nothing there: only a jumble of shoes, a closet door standing open, a jacket that grew fangs and claws when the lights were off. He told himself that as he left Eleven behind, moving with slow, shuffling steps. Reaching through the void like a blind man reaching for a handhold, his hands grasping, coming up empty. See? Nothing there. Nothing that could hurt him.

“Billy,” he whispered. “Sweetheart.”

Somewhere ahead, a … a lightness. A someone, crouched on the end of a mattress. Steve took another step. The smell of cigarettes grew stronger. He broke into a staggering run, his heart pounding so hard that it felt fit to burst from his chest, the name catching in his throat and turning into a dry, racking sob.

“Billy. Billy.”

Mattress springs creaked as he bent down, groping for Billy’s hand. Steve was desperate for that warmth, the comfort of his strong, solid body against his own. Since Billy had disappeared, he’d almost forgotten what it was like to be warm.

“Billy.”

Steve cupped Billy’s face, pushed his hair out of his eyes. It was like touching uncooked chicken: Billy’s skin was unnaturally clammy, slimy. The smell of cigarettes, of smoke and sulfur, clung to him like a caul. His hair was lank and unwashed, his face spattered with black blood.

His eyes, bloodshot and haggard, stared straight through Steve, unrecognizing.

“Billy,” Steve said again. It took all of his willpower not to scream his name, not to beat at Billy’s chest with his fists: let him out let him out let him out. No, he had to go slow. He had to make Billy remember.

Still with his hand cupping Billy’s chin, he tilted his jaw back, pretending those sightless eyes were locked on him. Steve started with Billy’s hair, the curls that framed his temples and cheekbones: brushing his fingers through them, curling the ends around his fingertips. Watching them bounce. He wished he had a comb, or a water basin. “You’ve got birds fucking nesting up here, baby,” he said. He pretended that Billy heard him. Laughed, and shoved Steve off his lap in response. “Billy. That’s your name. You need to remember your name.” He tucked Billy’s hair behind his ears, then traced his fingers over his jaw, prickly with stubble. Thinking of all the times he’d fucking complained about it, the grazes it left on his upper lip, his belly, his thighs. Steve watched Billy’s eyes as he touched him, waiting for them to blink, for something in them to change … it wasn’t right, how still he was, how—Steve’s brain refused to say the word dead. That was another coping mechanism, and it was as powerful as any drug: denial.

“Wake up,” he said. He wasn’t going to beg. Not yet. If he started to beg, he might start crying, too. He’d fucking lose it. “Wake up, Billy. Come on. Billy Hargrove, that’s your name. You have to wake up.”

He wiped the blood from Billy’s cheekbone, touched his eyelids. Stroked the skin behind his ears. Kissed the corner of his mouth. Tried not to gag at the taste: dead things and dried blood. Chased the faint, distant taste of cigarettes instead—closed his eyes and pretended to lose himself in it, that Billy was wrapping his arms around his waist, reeling him in for another kiss, and another. Water, Steve thought. It was just like swimming. Billy was still there, floating somewhere on the bottom. Steve knew he was. He just had to keep talking.

“Wake up. Billy, please wake up. Come back to me.”

He kissed Billy’s mouth, lightly at first, then with his tongue. He kissed Billy’s ears, tugging his earring between his teeth; he kissed between his eyes. “That’s it,” he whispered. He trailed kisses down the column of Billy’s throat, sucking the sweat and the blood and the grime off his skin. In sickness or in health. “That’s it, that’s it. What’s your name?”

Billy didn’t answer.

Steve kissed him again. Pulled the hem of his white tank top out of his jeans, so he could get at the places where he knew Billy was most sensitive: the sides of his belly, the skin underneath his wrist. His bellybutton. His collarbones and back to his neck. Please. Places that would make Billy gasp, wet and pleased, make him buck his hips and rake his hands in Steve’s hair. You need to remember your name. I don’t know what I’m gonna do with myself if you don’t. “Billy. Billy. Billy.”

He couldn’t remember when he’d started to cry. He kissed Billy’s fingers, one by one, kissed his knuckles and his rings, and was almost convinced that he felt them move under his touch. When he let go, Billy’s hand dropped like a stone, whaping against his thigh, a dull, muffled sound. “Damn you,” Steve said. He dragged his nails over Billy’s arms, leaving white, angry marks. “Stop it, Billy. Stop fucking around. You gotta remember your name.”

There were tears in Billy’s eyes as well. They spilled over his cheeks, dripping off his chin and soaking the edge of his tank top. He was crying silently, his lips peeling back from his gums in an awful, frozen smile, his hand moving with startling violence. He slapped Steve across the face.

“Marco?” he heard Eleven screaming, pleading. “Marco, Marco, Marco—”

Steve never had time to reply. Billy’s hand wound around his throat, throwing him backwards, downwards, he couldn’t tell which direction; the void had become one long, rushing corridor he was hurtling through, and Billy’s hand was still choking him, and his eyes had turned to black, cloudy cataracts, and how those eyes—the shadow inside—hated him. They were falling onto Billy’s mattress, and yet Steve clung to him, couldn’t bear to let him go. Billy’s hand on his throat, Billy straddling him with his legs. Billy was still crying, his lashes stuck together. He buried his face in Steve’s neck, and said, “Steve.”

[bunnieditz]

1 cherry themes elliot graham wallpaper for @walkingthroughclovers

720 x 1520

do not use unless you are luck! likes and rbs are appreciated!

[wandering-jax]

Voo Doo Part 3

“This shit hole?” I asked while both Nik and I stared at the battered Victorian. The house would have been beautiful with the right care. A coat of paint. A nice sanding and stain of all the treasured wood that held up the wrap around porch. Yet … it was left to nature’s wrath. The same brutal Louisiana sun that beat down on my skin without remorse. Nik shrugged a nod. He had little to say from the Quarter to this stretch of nothing where he had dropped Madden off all those years ago. We discussed the terms for the exchange once more. I would turn over the house on Royal to Louis Parker in name and title and he would bring me way out toward the bayou. It was cut and dry. Nik was someone who minded his business. Normally I’d find that an admirable quality but now it annoyed me to no end. 

“Have at it, Boss.” Nik leaned back against the hood of his car with a smile that held secrets. Festering secrets that were also currency. 

He wanted me to react. Instead I ground my teeth and headed inside. It was unlocked. The floorboards below my feet cracked as if to announce me. A mouse scurried back to it’s hole. The air was stagnant and held the scent of smoke. A reminder of what happened here. The kitchen was empty. The fridge held things that should be in a science lab to cure cancer. 

The cabinets held only four glasses, three plates and mismatched bowls. Plastic cups from local restaurants. The sink was bone dry. When I pushed the faucet handle the water skipped a beat before spurting out. Unused. 

I passed a dining room and found myself at a crossroads. Up the stairs to what the second level held or the basement door which was flecked with soot all around the casing. My chest grew tight and I knew that upstairs held more for me than touring a burned out shell. 

There was a single window at the top of the stairs. Stained glass with an angel and a demon etched out. The wicked chasing the virtuous. The colors seemed to shift with each move I made past it, colliding on the aging wallpaper until they spilled into the first room. His room. I knew the moment I stepped inside. The bed was made. The closet with little to nothing inside. A faded KISS t-shirt barely clinging to a hanger. One tattered shoe. A few trinkets on the desk. Nothing of importance. Nothing to remind him of me.

“Where did you go, hmm?” I asked while I traced my fingers along the edge of the footboard. “And why …” The silence that echoed back sat heavy in my throat. Or perhaps that was the tears that would never be shed. “But we know why, don’t we.” A smile of sorts lifted my lips. “You weren’t meant for always. Accidentally mine. Purposefully yours.” I took in a deep breath in hopes of finding his scent. Just a speck of dust that was once part of him. Anything would have kept the canyon carved out in the very center of my chest from forming but there was nothing. Even the shirt haphazardly left behind only smelled of stale smoke. 

He burned it all away. 

The realization hit like a summer storm. 

All of my focus was downstairs now. Imagining all the dark things hidden behind the basement door. I passed the two celestial friends who were still playing cat and mouse on the colorful glass and stopped just short of the staircase. Another room. Another chance to find a speck of him. But this one held nothing but femininity. Lace and light purple colors everywhere. 

“And what is this?” I mused. 

Another closet standing open with empty hangers and it seemed obscene to leave it gaping like that. Closets were meant for hiding. To keep skeletons where they belong before they turned into armies hell bent on destroying the world. 

I used my foot to shut the old wooden door and took a step back to enjoy the slam that I knew was coming. But instead the latch clicked with a softness that only a heavy, solid door could allow. My brow shot up when a red lace dress made itself known. A surprise to both I and the delicate fabric that had been forgotten somehow.  It begged to be touched. It was much too perfect to be left alone in this dungeon of hurt feelings and mixed up souls. 

Familiarity struck when I was brought back to a chilly morning over a year ago. I was to meet Cain for the first time, my prized fighter, when his lovely partner showed up wearing this very dress. “How did you find your way here, hmm? A dress for a wedding, perhaps?”  I asked no one and everyone. I filed the alarming discovery somewhere I could find it at another time. A time when this version of me no longer existed and I could make sense of the twist fate had thrown me. 

By the time I left the house, without the tour below the creaky wooden floors, there was a finality settled in my bones. 

Nik was still there as if the thick summer sun hadn’t fucked him up the way it had me. Gracefully inhaling a sweet roll of tobacco. For a second I wondered how it would taste on his lips. On mine. 

No, Jax. 

“What did he do to the basement?” I asked. 

“Hmm?” Nik drawled. “Burned it is my guess.” 

A cruel smile met my gaze when I looked over at him. He knew. He knew exactly what went down here. 

“There is a dress upstairs. Fetch it and then burn the rest to the ground.” I nodded. “The signed paperwork is on its way via email.” 

By the time Nik was done staring at me over the dark pair of Ray-Bans his phone chirped. A notification of the email, I assumed. I scheduled one to be sent exactly three minutes ago. Goddamn swamp. It was an even exchange. To me at least. 

“Jax.” 

“Yes, Nik.” I smiled when a black SUV pulled up behind his own car. 

“Why is there an amendment for an infinite lease between you and Louis at the end of this? Did you put that little shit up to this? Goddamn it.” 

He was mad. 

Perfect. 

“The house in Louis Parker’s name. Which in turn gives it back to your family, Nik. Isn’t that what you wanted?” I waved a hand when the driver of the SUV stepped out to open the back door for me. “I kept up my end of the bargain. But you see, this city of yours? It’s calling to me. And I will see you again.”

“Bastard.” Nik snarled with a smile that let me know it was also meant as an endearment. “I’ll keep my word on my family name.” He one-finger-saluted. “Don’t come back soon.” 

It seemed neat. Tidy. I watched as Nik ran inside and with the speed that I’d never witnessed returned with the red dress. He handed it off to the driver and I climbed into the comfort of the AC filled SUV. Part of me wanted to watch. Part of me wanted to stop him and leave the memories and the ghost to linger. 

Burn it all. Madden had. It was my turn. Fire cleanses the soul or so those with one would say. 

Louis was waiting for me as he was told to be. There was another reason for me hiring the boy. Among his various talents, taking one hell of a lashing being my favorite so far, he could also wield a pair of shears and a trimmer that would put Vidal to shame.

He was set up in the back garden of his home. The one I now leased from him. What an odd feeling. The smug grin on his lips told me he knew that feeling well. 

“I’ll beat it out of you.” I teased. It only made his smile grow as well as the front of his loose linen shorts. Such filth. 

I made myself comfortable in the iron chair that would have to do. My return to Vegas would not include the inches of hair that had grown over the years. Louis ran his long finger into the golden strands for a few lingering minutes. Or maybe more. Cajun time seemed to do that. Go on for much longer than the standard sixty seconds. And I allowed it. 

“Are you sure Mr. Kingston?” Louis asked but didn’t really ask. And I didn’t answer. A sigh came from his pouty lips and he began. Snip. Cut. Snip. Cut. Over and over again until I let my mind wander to the impossible. The sun filtered over my closed lids and for a moment, albeit a brief one, I was on the balcony overlooking the Ionian sea. The deep blues and light turquoise that blended seamlessly. The pebbled coastline. The olive trees that stood guard just outside the front gate. 

Places, things, heartbreaks, lovers, enemies. They all come and go and not one is meant to hold onto for the rest of our days. 

“Sir.” I heard his voice. I smiled and a brighter smile reflected back at me. “Sir …” The sea dripped off his skin and trickled from his hair that had grown too long. “Sir, sir, sir …” It was me whispering the words back. The sea was gone and the smell of saltwater was replaced by that of lavender and mint. The air grew thick and hot, stuffing itself up my nose. 

“Sir.” 

“Yes, Louis?” I answered with a sigh. 

“I’m sorry, I, um, we’re done.”

I shook my head and then placed a hand over the one Louis had put on my shoulder. He had roused me from whatever daydream I had succumbed to. I squeezed his long fingers and then let go. “Thank you, Louis.” 

 When I looked at the ground I saw the last of the blonde strands Louis had cut, a few almost silver, dance away in a rare New Orleans breeze and felt the heavy weight that had saddled my shoulders for the last three years go along with it. There were questions still to be answered. Answers I would find back home in Vegas. In my beloved dry desert. In the blinding lights. In the sin and debauchery that seemed to feed the very life that flowed through my veins. 

It was time. 

#VooDoo

[flashfictionforpittance]

The McGuffin Archives

Some of my following stuff (PC still needs fixin’) is going to be for my WIP so I figure I might as well tell ya’ll what it’s actually about. 

Status: Current WIP.  Genre: Sci-fi/Fantasy Adventure Premise: We begin in London, present day. Harker, a twenty four year old nothing who’s been living in a University dorm since she was fifteen, is about to be turfed onto the street with no life skills, money, or job prospects. While confiding in her best friend Abbo, a professor of botany with a motherly grace about him, her interest is piqued regarding an ongoing project between him and Dr Cress Abbasi, a gift-from-God historian on loan from Oxford. With the help of Cress’ mute assistant Tony, Harker gets a peek at what the other two seem so keen to keep secret...

A door, hidden under the wallpaper of Cress’ office, from which bundles of purple vines spill, brandishing wilted yellow flowers. And something else. Deeper. Following Tony, Abbo, and Cress through the doorway, Harker finds herself on the other side of jagged hole, where an impossibly large room with walls so high they’re lost in the sky, welcomes her. They’re in a long corridor, each infinitely tall and wide wall lined with (or perhaps made of) shelves, on which books whisper and swear and beg to be read. And boxes, hundreds of dusty full to the brim with tat. 

The hole, less than surprisingly, closes itself behind them. 

The four of them, Tony the mute punk, Harker the harmless burnout, Abbo the timid gardner, and Cress the fearless and emotionally dead leader, are forced to close ranks and look for a way out together, Harker’s intrusion already getting things off to a bad start. They quickly discover encampments, civilisations (human and non-human alike), and dangers far beyond what they could have imagined. But the voices in the books aren’t just offering knowledge, no. They can also offer power, for a price. And the brick a brack that clutters every shelf is far more than it seems; have you ever seen a pen that fires darts when you click it, or a candle that creates an orb of glass ten feet wide when lit? Have you ever opened a compact mirror, and instead of your reflection you get a stream of unopened letters flying out? Finding one that���s actually useful is the difficult part. It’s like someone made a bunch of cursed objects but forgot to make them appealing. 

Using artefacts and books like these, the four not-quite-friends-yet-but-getting-there begin to explore the Archives in search of answers; how they get out being the most important one. Along their travels they see towns and species they could only dream of; they become closer to each other than they ever would’ve let themselves before, and they do things that make them question who the hell they’re turning into. And beneath it all, something approaches. Haunting dreams, mysterious women, a fish being chased by an unspeakable thing, walls that move overnight, terrified religious leaders, and a boat. The Archives are spiralling into Armageddon, with Tony, Cress, Abbo, and Harker caught in the eye. 

[scribblessims]

Sea Change

Hello Seth.

I am not sure how you managed to reply to my last letters at all. There is no computer here to scream a blinding whiteness at me even after I pull the cord up by the root. The house is dead: no doors have come.

If I am the same Anya I have always been, it is only another hollow shell that I have left behind me.

Nevertheless: order. Answers and Questions. I have noticed that I have a tendency to begin from the middle, because following my thoughts and lives forward and back is a mobius of confusion.

I found a pencil lying next to a broken telephone buried in the house basement, its sarcophagus a faded, water-warped cardboard box. I don’t know why it suddenly appeared: a gift from the house, perhaps? It was worn to a stub by the time that the house died, and I seem to have kept it, wherever I am now. Writing on the back of your letter with it is somewhat difficult.

Time has come unstuck between us: by the count I cut in the door it has been over two hundred days since I sent my last letter, since I set out for my last trip to the Night Garden, since I killed the house.

Yes, I killed the house. I didn’t mean to – I didn’t know. I reached out and I yanked what I needed to know out of what I understood and the whole thing came crashing down, houses, gardens, salami.

To answer your question: my other pen pal was, unlike me, an innocent trying to survive, a child who turned into a plant. They tried to help me, but the bitter alchemy of my eternity turned every present sent through the envelopes to dust. The world that has closed around me like a damp, clammy curtain has no room for the generosity of a world filled with other people, real or cardboard.

Before the letters stopped, Kia was very happy. In love, at home, and sustained by the sun. Then after the long months, my house finally died, and I was alone with its corpse. I never did learn the secrets of what I could send between the houses in those envelopes, or why.

The house gave me eggs and bread and tiny take out cartons of fried rice, apples and almonds and those strange little individual cups of yogurt with flavors like passionfruit and buddha’s hand and durian. I gave it nothing. Even at the end there was always something to eat, even if it was only the cardboard skins and instant ramen.

Did the house know that I had killed it? I’m not sure.

The things that grew in the night garden were not thorns and jagged rocks and other solid, intentionless instruments of natural pain. They were miasmatic, sticking inside the lungs in the dry static air, hulking in the gloom and rustling without wind. The first time I wrote to you a great root like a faceless person wrenched itself out of the side of a rock where it had been digging and chased me back to the manhole that sealed off the night garden from the way to the house. I had to wait, and watch, and sneak back in when the root being was asleep.

I wanted the secrets. I wanted a faster way to discover the half-intuited secrets in the books that I could not read, a better knowledge of when the gardens would appear, to not be afraid of the Night Garden or the emptiness around me anymore. So I ripped the root of judgement out of the night garden, from under the water and the earth that even then smelled like a grave. And as the night screamed around me I ran, and the tunnel crumbled behind me. I didn’t notice until much later that the house was fading, losing the color that it had gained beneath the greasy beigeness, the smugness of the yellow siding fading away to a haggard color, the yellow wallpaper no longer a slightly flaking skin, but smoldering and unclean with ghosts.

It blistered and peeled away in great sores, the brittle windows cracked, and the blood-rich smell of rot wafted up from the drains. The house took a very, very long time to die.

I have not seen any fireleaf – life was scarce and grey in that new place – but my skin burns all the same.

All this time since the house died I have been alone. I would welcome a cardboard person, a sculpture made of paper mâché, the house a wasp makes for her heart. I could not kill an unreal thing, a person who nothing could happen to.

We die because we actually bothered to live. The cardboard people simply stop being once they are too creased and wrinkled to stand up to the other paper dolls.

Well… you die, I suppose. Theoretically.

This makes me wonder once more If I am truly alive.

At the moment, I am more interested in your garden, and the woman who appeared to you there. I don’t think it is entirely similar to the gardens I once had, since it appears to exist in a world where there is more than one person, and I don’t think you went through a door of mine, since you are, all existential worries about being the same person aside, still writing to me, and still existing in the same sort of time and space.

I am not exaggerating about being unmade, or inhabiting a new person. I have not dropped into the same life, or a Xerox of a life, whenever I have gone through a door. But if, as I have come to suspect, all other people are ants crawling on their own separate page of the universe, and I am something without consistent substance, a subset of a subatomic particle, bouncing between these beings, perhaps it is possible that my doors, my transformations, exist perpendicular to yours. You may have gone through the sort of door that I can only approach sideways, unable to step away from the dimensionless frame to walk through.

Perhaps this is why it seems so strange to try and see myself through the eyes of any other person. I do not know if to them I am beautiful or terrifying, or if there is a difference at all – and what an angel I would make with a halo of teeth! Here with no dry wind to gnaw at my face, I will never encounter a poet to tell me if I am human.

I should tell you to be careful. You know what you are willing to do, but you do not know what will happen when you do it, what brittle piece of worldglass you might break. This would, however, be hypocritical. You do not know what will shatter if you do nothing. Thrice I have changed the space around me, and it was only the third time that I caused any harm.

Once I was a carver of stone, and I carved the weighing of the heart against the feather of truth. Ma’at spoke to me then, or so the I that was a filmy wrapper over my self believed. Perhaps he was more real than I am now, for he was not aware that he would be annihilated when he walked through the new door deep beneath the tomb. How many hearts do I have, and how many feathers? Can the good I hope to have done for Kia, the good I might do for you, outweigh the fact that I killed the house?

I do not know how to try. Perhaps I did once, when I was another person, but for now all I have is existence, a mailbox grown from the pink dry corals sprouting from a soil I cannot sense. I am still here. If I had to chose again, I would have asked more questions before I decided to tear out the root.

I am at the end of many, but not quite all things. It is dark here, the sky and ground indistinguishable, vertiginously black, a night with no horizon and no stars. Beyond the edges of humanity there is a howling quiet in my stomach, a void which turns it’s gaze from me in disgust.

Perhaps you would like it here. There are many plants and things which might exist perpendicularly to planthood. In the dark meadow of the mailbox the sea grass waves without a sea. I would, perhaps, like it much better, both here and with the house, were I not afraid of the doors – guilty over all that I have done, afraid of what I might do in the future, the people I might erase.

It seems that I do not need a door to commit that crime.

Before the house died, I could have been happy here, or if not happy, since happiness is a liquid that drips away, content. If I could know that a door would never come, that I was quit of wandering, that with the house and the letters I was not alone… Perhaps someday I would stop thinking about who I have been and what I have done. Perhaps I could detangle the order of my lives and find the first, discover what I was before the first door, unpeel myself to the center of the onion and sprout again.

I could be old again – perhaps doorless I would rejoin the progression of time, count the cycles of the earth, discover a way to make the books in the house readable, settle into every crevice of my body until one day I was so deep into myself that the separate thing that was me was no more.

I am not sure if I would be someone else then, the final days of this body, or if it would be a transcendence. Religions argue back and forth and sideways and I have long since decided that it is not a question of deserving.

The theory that each of us is eternal, an unbroken line stretching to the edges of the universe, has some appeal, as does the idea that we are a mobius strip of life repeating on and on. Today I take comfort in the idea that I may not contain an infinity, simply an unreal number to massive to measure but far too short to contain itself a thousand times over.

If that is true – if a person perpendicular to me, like you are, does not contain infinity, branching off into the stacked pages of an infinite number of universes – then perhaps you do have a choice, whether or not to go through one of your metaphorical doors. If it is not, perhaps there is one of you who was hungry instead of curious and did not go behind the roots, who did not approach the barefoot woman in the garden, who did not listen, who ran.

Or perhaps the philosophe-physicists are full of shit and we are a soup of coincidence, motes of the universe colliding to form an atom, a chemical, a strand of DNA, a chaos of neuroelectrical impulses trapped in a calcified skull, each of us not a photocopy but entirely alone in the universe. Infinity is an unattainable god that we believe in because we cannot bear the idea that someday all things will be gone and there will not even be a nothing as there was before us.

I would love to believe that in the lives I inhabit there was nothing before me, but there are only so many crimes I can commit with perfect arrogance. I have been everyone, Seth – whether I was aware that I was more or not, there is no pattern amongst the static scream. Happy, despairing, confident, anxious, alone, beloved, revered, afraid – how could they all have wanted to stop existing, to disappear? It seems too much like a malicious fairy tale, that in a moment of weakness whispering ‘I wish I were somewhere else,’ you could be snatched away and replaced with… whatever it is that I am. A changeling, a doppelganger?

Aside from you and from Kia, on the other side of a closed door between living houses, there is no one who knows what I am, what I have done, and for some strange reason you don’t seem to be afraid that I exist at all. If there is one of me, perhaps there are others? There could be an infinity of people and an infinity of doors all without my knowledge. Tommorow you could wake up a new shell for a chorus of hermit crab ghosts. You might even be a part of me – I wouldn’t mean to do it, but when the doors arrive I always go through eventually. Once it took almost a century.

I don’t want you to disappear, even if there is more than one of you.

And you – what do you want from me? Do you want me to absolve you of a crime that you have not yet committed? Do you want me to open a door for you beyond all things? Do you think that if you walked through that door with your Sarah, with a real, live non-cardboard person, she would not burn and liquefy, with no guarantee she could reassemble herself metamorphic on the other side? That’s true of you as well.

I do not want to be alone. I do not want to have killed the house, to be the magnet taken to the floppy disc of a practical infinity of people, a protozoan in the skull or a hookworm in a cardboard skin. If the woman in the garden is at all like me then she knows of doors and regrets. Perhaps she was trying to warn you that if you go looking for a door you may not like what is on the other side. She’s clearly better at it than me.

Not every story ends in fire or ice. I think. Most go through, leaving the smelling of the burning of your childhood home clinging to your hair, reeking of guilt and a white bone sky.

You can only see the ends of other people’s stories, not your own.

I have begged the mushrooms to tell me how I could have done better, or at least less harm, and they remain silent as the gibbous moon that does not live in my empty sky.

No one is listening.