#n e ways!! drew this because i wanted a new phone wallpaper..

[temeyes]

when your nonchalant hater, fashionista of a dinosaur isn't photogenic,,,

[waitineedaname]

For the request thing Dirk and Roxy in some supernatural AU if you feeling it! Congrats on the follower count, too, dude!

this took FOREVER to finish simply bc I had Too Many ideas, but I’m super happy with how this turned out

—-

“You know, there’s no evidence that ghosts are real.”

“Mhm.”

“Sure, there’s- fuck,” Dirk paused to avoid tripping over a root cutting across his path before continuing, “There’s plenty of folklore. Anecdotal accounts. But there’s nothing scientific to back it up. If ghosts were real, wouldn’t scientists have caught one to test on yet?”

“That doesn’t sound very humane, though.” Roxy countered, shining their flashlight on another root so Dirk wouldn’t trip. “Testin’ on them, I mean! They’re still people. Shouldn’t they have the same rights and stuff?”

“They’re ghosts. It’s not like they’re going to die again.”

“How do you know? Maybe that’s what we’re testing them for!” Roxy flashed the beam of light onto Dirk’s face briefly, laughing a little when he made a face at them. “Look, would you want a bunch of scientists pokin’ around at your ghost when you die?”

“First of all, when I die, I’m going to be cold, unconscious, and rotting. Or hot, unconscious, and dusty if I get cremated. Either way, I’m not going to be a ghost. But-” He added when he saw Roxy’s silhouette gear up to speak, “If I was a ghost, I would be happy to let scientists do whatever the fuck they want. Test the hell out of my incorporeal form. Go hogwild in the name of science. I don’t give a shit.”

Roxy hummed and shrugged. “I mean, yeah, mood. There’s still gotta be consent forms and shit, though. I’m the one that works in a lab that involves people here. I know my shit.”

“That still doesn’t change my point though.”

“Which was…?”

“That ghosts aren’t real.”

“Ah. Yeah.” Roxy glanced down at the map on their phone, making sure the two of them were still headed in the right direction. “Yeah, they probably aren’t.”

“Then why the fuck are we exploring a haunted house?”

“Because it’s fun, dummy. Get in the spirit of the season! Eat some pumpkins! Wear a sweater! Fuck a ghost!”

“The spirit of the season.” Dirk’s voice was flat as he tried to think of a joke to make off of the obvious pun there before the rest of what Roxy said caught up to him. “Please tell me there won’t be any ghost fucking involved here. I mean, had I known that, I would’ve at least brought a condom. Worn something nice. Put on some cologne.”

“As if.” Roxy laughed. “Do you own any cologne? Axe does not count.”

“No comment.”

“You know, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were nervous, Di Stri.” Roxy teased, giving him a side eye. Dirk’s expression was carefully neutral.

“Good thing you know better. Do I look nervous to you? The answer is hell no. I’m cool as a cucumber riding a private jet ski into the sunset. I don’t get nervous.” His mouth twitched at Roxy’s failure to contain a snort. “No, I’m just not looking forward to freezing my ass off a mile away from where we parked the car in a shitty abandoned building that’s going to give me mesothelioma. Do you want to be the one asking for financial compensation when I get mesothelioma? I don’t think so.”

“You’re such a big baby.” Roxy muttered, laughing softly. “I think we’re here.”

They stepped out into a clearing and shined their flashlights on the decaying building in front of him. It looked so cartoonishly like a haunted house that Dirk almost wanted to laugh. He shivered instead, hugging his jacket tighter around himself. Roxy bounced on their heels beside him and all but bounded up to the crumbling porch. It took some maneuvering to get up the stairs without falling through wood that had seen better days, but it seemed that all of a sudden that they were both staring down the door handle. 

“Do you want to do the honors?” Roxy asked. Dirk almost protested that this wasn’t his idea, why should he do the honors, but there was a telltale waver of anxiety finally catching up to them in Roxy’s voice, so he bit it back. The metal of the handle was cold to the touch, and hinges creaked dramatically when he pulled it open. Dirk did a little flourish with his flashlight and pretending to bow, hoping the humor would sooth Roxy’s nerves. 

“After you.” He said. Roxy giggled a little.

“Oh, wow, such a gentleman. My prince.” They cooed, walking through the doorway. Dirk followed close behind. Yeah, he wasn’t looking forward to anything this haunted house had to offer, but like hell was he going to let Roxy out of his sight.

As soon as they were both inside, the door slammed shut behind them and their flashlights flickered out. Roxy let out a tiny “eep!” and Dirk tensed.

“Dirk?” Roxy called out into the pitch black.

“I’m right here.” They sounded close, and in a moment, he felt Roxy’s hand slip into his. He squeezed it gently. 

“The flashlight batteries are brand new, they shouldn’t be going out like this…” Roxy mumbled, and Dirk heard a noise that sounded a lot like they were thwacking their flashlight on their thigh. “Aha!” The flashlight flickered back to life. After a few seconds of fumbling, Dirk managed to turn his back on too.

The room they illuminated was… surprisingly mundane, all things considered. A moth-eaten couch, a layer of dust thicker than the rug laying in the middle of the floor, peeling wallpaper that had seen better days. It kind of just looked like an abandoned house, nothing particularly out of the ordinary. The only thing that really set it apart was that-

“Jesus, it’s colder than Satan’s left nut in here.” Roxy said, shivering.

“You can say that again.”

“Jesus, it’s colder th-”

“Rox.” Dirk gave them a look, and Roxy giggled nervously again.

“Come on, let’s explore.” They said, tugging him in the direction of one of the doorways. It led them into a modest kitchen, similarly covered in a thick layer of dust. The cabinets were all empty except for one - also empty - box of Bisquick and a startled rat. Dirk most definitely did not shout in surprise when it squeaked at him, and Roxy didn’t laugh so hard they nearly cried, thank you very much.

The laundry room was also empty, and so was the office they poked their heads into, except for a piano that sat against the wall in surprisingly good condition. First floor exhausted, Roxy put a hand on their hip and grinned at Dirk, their confidence bolstered by the lack of spooky happenings beyond the door.

“Ready to go upstairs?”

“There’s no possible way saying ‘no’ will work, will it?”

“Dirk,” Roxy’s expression softened gently, “If you wanna leave, we can.”

“…Nah, I’m good.” Dirk bonked his shoulder against Roxy’s. “If we end up breaking our legs on an unstable set of stairs, though, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Roxy laughed. “You warned me about the stairs, bro.”

“I told you dog.” Dirk added emphatically. Roxy took the lead up the stairs, which creaked uncomfortably underneath them, but otherwise held steady. Atop the landing, only one door was open, albeit only slightly. They pushed it open and found themselves in a tidy bedroom. The bed was neatly made and covered with cobwebs, and the posters on the wall were too dusty and bleached with age to reveal what they originally were. Moonlight trickled in through the open window, painting the room an eerie blue. 

The pair poked around curiously, though Dirk expected it to be just as barren as the rooms downstairs. He stepped closer to the wall to investigate the posters, and his blood ran cold.

“Uh, Roxy?” He called them over, taking a step back from the wall. There was something dripping from it.

“The fuck?” Roxy said at Dirk’s side. “Wait… is that slime?”

“If we get slimered, I’m going to be so fucking mad.” Of all the ways to die, that would definitely be pretty high on Dirk’s list of ‘dumbest ways to beef it.’ The goopy green slime started forming shapes on the wall. 

6 6 6

“Oh, great.” Dirk said, trying to hold back the urge to bolt. “It’s a satanic Slimer.” Roxy frowned next to him, then looked around. They bounced over to the desk and Dirk gave them a bewildered look. “The fuck are you-”

“Aha!” Roxy withdrew a lonesome sharpie from one of the desk drawers and bounded back over to the dripping wall. Before Dirk could stop them, they drew their own dark shapes beside the numbers.

6 9 6 9 6 9

“You have got to be kidding me.” Dirk stared the wall, Roxy grinning at their handiwork. Another set of letters started appearing.

h a h a  n i c e .

Roxy brightened even further and wheeled around to face Dirk. “What do you say? Ready to be paranormal investigators?”

Dirk glanced at where the slime was spelling out w h o  y o u  g o n n a  c a and sighed. “I guess we’re the ghostbusters now. They are us.”

“Fuck yeah!” Roxy cheered.

f u c k  y e a h !

[theimaginesyouneveraskedfor]

Relic ~ 2

Part One

Tags: @omgcupquak3stuff @dora3374

It had been three days since the stranger had abandoned the album at the information desk. He had yet to reappear and you wondered if you had driven him away for good. You should have just left him to his brooding. You hadn’t realized how his presence had grown routine.

Next to the war exhibit, a curtain hung around a newly-placed platform, concealing it from the general public. Your newest section would be there; an interwar display to provide a greater continuity between the World Wars. The Roaring Twenties and Great Depression would have a brighter stage and you were eager to complete the daunting task.

Jennifer, the intern from the local university, worked the information desk and floor as you began your work. You promised she could help you with the earlier decade and so you worked on the thirties stage. You had planned it yourself and gotten easy approval from Holly. A simple recreation of a lower class home, kitchen and a living room with displays to show what the rest of the house would look like and the economics of the time. It would be like walking into another time.

You unrolled the frayed carpet across the ‘living room’ floor, straightening it until your inner perfectionist was content. Next you carefully plied the faded wallpaper, making sure to add tears to expose the boarding behind it. You wanted it to be believable. The kitchen side of the stage would include a stove which sat in your office untouched. It was much too heavy to move on your own.

You were sweating by the time you finished the wallpaper and so you pushed through the curtain into the cool space of the gallery. Jenn was on her first lone tour with a class; she would be on the next floor in the medieval room. You adjusted your hair, some of it slipping across your forehead and nearly exclaimed as a figure drew your attention. The man was back, standing where he always did, staring at the display of war medals.

You thought of approaching him but anxiety held you back. He knew the place well enough, he made it clear he preferred to find his own way. You crossed to the information desk and sat down, logging in to access the pamphlet Holly had approved the day before. She had made a brief appearance in the museum to tell you her thoughts and give her blessing.

After printing out the promotional papers, you sat folding them mundanely, thinking of what you would do next on the stage. It would be better to do most of the work after closing hours so that you did not disturb patrons. You placed the pamphlets in a plastic stand and set them up on the desk, feeling a sense of accomplishment.

You turned back to your emails and read Holly’s daily check-in. You heard a ruffle of paper and looked up, surprised to find the man standing before you, reading the new materials. When he finished, he closed it and folded it in half, slipping it into his coat pocket.

“Your battlefield map has a mistake,” He said, “It’s small but the date on the Azzano campaign is wrong.”

“Oh?” You raised your brows. It was typical this man’s first words would be to tell you a flaw, “I’ll have a look and if it is, I’ll send out for a correction.”

You stood and rounded the desk, crossing to the World War Two section. You found Azzano on the map and took out your phone, taking a photo of the date there. You returned to your desk and searched your archives for a proper date. Sure enough, it was one day off and you’d have to go through the tedious process of having a government-issued map reprinted.

“Looks like you’re right,” You sighed as you opened a new e-mail, “I should have it fixed within the month.”

“Mmm,” He nodded, resting a gloved hand on the desk before quickly rescinding it.

You ceased your typing and looked up at him as he looked around evasively. His hands went to his pockets and then quickly to his sides. His shoulders were straight and his demeanour reminded you of the military. Maybe that was why he was so intrigued by the era.

“Did you want to finish looking at that album?” The question had his blue eyes boring into you.

“Why?” He asked sharply.

“Because I thought it would interest you. It’s my job to help people who like the same thing I do; history,” You were starting grow annoyed by the man, “I have other books and items, if you like. Some I can’t display because of regulations, but I’m sure you can handle it.”

He remained silent a moment, his face playing at thought before the suspicion drained from him. “Thank you, maybe another time,” He adjusted his ball cap.

“Well, if you want to explore a different time, I’m still working on the new thirties display. To be honest, I’ve only just started and could use a little help,” You offered, “I wouldn’t ask you to do it for free either.”

“No, you don’t have to pay me,” He waved his hand at the suggestion, “But...I’ll help.”

“Can you come back at five?” You looked at your watch, “It will be easier then. Not so many people.”

He consider it, almost as if he thought it was a trap. His left hand clenched into a fist as he nodded. “Alright, 1700 hours.”

“Thank you,” You stood, reaching to shake his hand, “Just ask for Y/N.”

He stared at your hand a moment before extending his right, forcing you to switch arms. He took your hand firmly and looked into your eyes staunchly, “James,” He introduced himself before releasing you and turning away, marching towards the door.

James had reappeared as quickly as he had left. You were standing in your open office door when you sensed another presence. You had not even heard him approach. He was eerily stealthy. He looked at you, his blue eyes emboldened by unsaid thoughts. You put on your best smile and greeted him.

“What do you need me to do?” He asked bluntly.

“Oh, um…” You hadn’t expected him to be skilled at small talk but you were disconcerted by his pointed approach, “Here, this is what I’ve been dreading most.” You led him into you office to reveal the stove which had been delivered the day before. It was a replica but heavy nonetheless. “Could you help me with it?”

He nodded and neared the stove, bending before you could react and lifting it in his arms easily. It was barely a strain and you were surprised at how strong he was. He was anything but out of shape but he looked as average as any man. He angled the stove through the door and you followed him out.

“Where am I going?” He asked, looking around the stove.

“Here,” You skirted around him and led him toward the empty platform. You had drawn back the curtains and he climbed onto it swiftly, setting the stove down lightly. “Against this wall.” You began to push on end as he did the same at the other. The stove slid against the wall easily, moving almost with your help.

James’ hand lingered on the stove, his gloved finger tips gliding over the stove door. He examined it with interest, with longing. He pulled away and turned to you, striking a stance like a soldier falling into line. His lips pressed together and his jaw clenched as if he was fighting his thoughts.

“What next?” He asked and you thought for a moment before answering. 

You were starting to think he agreed to this because he needed the distraction from whatever hid behind his tortured eyes. Perhaps the same thing which brought him to the museum everyday to stare at battlefields and regalia.