#(i could go on hour long rants about why people fuck up danny boy (and sinéad o'connor does it best (because she actually takes her time)

[dummerjan]

i just came across ai covers on youtube and people are requesting songs in the comments instead of getting enraged and i am further losing hope in humanity and turning to misanthropy

#meins #for a minute i got really excited about henning may singing take me to church :( #i hate people #have you no appreciation for or understanding of art? clearly not. #why would you want to listen to an ai generated song? even if it sounds like your favourite singer it's not them #it has no feelings to meaning to intention. it is empty and soulless #reading the booklet for sinéad o'connor's album of traditional irish and folk songs gave me so much appreciation for her #she wrote a little bit about each song. why she chose it or what it means to her. #it has added so much to my enjoyment of those songs and i think of it whenver i listen to it #they were chosen with intention with love with a deep appreciation for the music and lyrics and there is a story behind it all #it is art and love and human #i see aboslutely no appeal in ai generated 'music' or 'art' #and i hate that i fell for it for a minute #i was sceptical because i had never heard of henning may covering hozier and since it wasn't just 20-60 sec i am certain #i would have heard about it by now #and something was just a little bit... unsatisfying? something was missing which does apply to a lot of cover songs #(i could go on hour long rants about why people fuck up danny boy (and sinéad o'connor does it best (because she actually takes her time) #or trash madonna's version of don't cry for me argentina (again a song ruined for by everybody else but sinéad - once she has sung somethin #i have a hard time enjoying it by anybody else. the parting glass is an exception. hozier's version is phenomenal)) #but! henning may not giving it his all for a cover? unlikely. very unlikely. #anyway this concludes my tuesday night rant. rather here in the tags than some poor person's inbox. #or i would have kept fuming by myself for another hour or two

[seven-oomen]

Hi, Ben!  Hope you had a good day, and are finally getting some rest!  So, did you know there are sites that let you design your own ugly Christmas sweaters?  May I present the one that Peter’s husbands get him for a party?  Except then the jokes on them because he won’t stop wearing it EVERYWHERE (at least I hope the image shows?  It saved in a different format on the site I used for this.)  Also, if you were ever to actually make a shirt of it, I would suggest an image from the reaction GIF you used for the alignment/meta anon.  Because, my god, that smirk.  XD  (Also, they are totally right.  And it is hilarious to me that the two officers of the law are firmly [and accurately] on the neutral side of that axis.  XD )

And I’m still screaming over that latest preview.  He just wants cuddles and ear scritches, Noah!  The saliva will dry, he’s just showing his appreciation for your support.  XD  And oh, yeah I knew he would eventually get better, it was more me trying to decide how quickly I was hoping for it to happen.  My “I want it asap because I hate seeing them in pain” side was warring with my “but nightmare creature cuddles would be adorbs, tho?” side (and they are).  :D  Also, terrible thought brought on by working at my job too long: since I don’t think that form has a tail like a wolf (I don’t really remember noticing one, at least?), do you think that since he can’t wag, he starts doing the wiggle-butt thing like boxers and pits tend to do?  (sorry, the thought occurred to me and I couldn’t make it stop.  XD )

Also, how dare you put the image of Noah and Chris cuddling in the window seat watching the snow fall while the listen to Peter singing ‘Hallelujah’ as he finishes the dishes, in my head?  Or them sitting at the table having coffee and joining him for the choruses?  Or Chris singing along with Tony Bennett or Harry Connick Jr on the local Christmas station?  Or Noah singing along with Chris Cornell’s version of Ave Maria (or doing a damn good impression at least [song is available on Spotify, btw, if you’ve not heard it])?  My body was not meant to hold this level of feral screaming, dude.  XD

For the undecided alignment (that don’t involve spoilers), I would vote LN for Danny and CG for John.  No specific reasons, that’s just what feels right at the moment.  And I’m curious if Noah and the kids have been in the vault at all, because Malia would be able to access it.

And, yes, I am all for mutual body positivity support among the boys.  I remember watching some BTS thing a few years back, and Linden said something about how everyone was “running around without their shirts on, and I just feel kinda old and jiggly”, and my very first thought was “Oh, please.  You may not be I’ve-had-nothing-but-chicken-for-a-week-and-haven’t-had-liquids-in-three-days ripped like the other guys, but in no way will you ever convince me you are actually out of shape in the slightest."  Also, I’m just picturing a scene where Noah accidentally(/on purpose…?) looms over Chris, who just has this moment of "oh, yeah, that’s right, you’re tall now” immediately followed by “well, I am learning a number of new things about myself right now"  XD  On a related note, how do you think he feels about dip kisses after realizing this?  Although, I do hope Noah does not sweep Chris off his feet in quite the same way Chris keeps doing to him.  XD

On an unrelated note, that post about Artoo and Luke about killed me dead.  XD  Artoo’s propensity for shenanigans and Luke’s pervading issues with impulse control is just a complete recipe for hilarious disaster and total ride-or-die besties.  It also reminded me of the post about how Rogue One leads into New Hope and Leia straight up lying right to her dad’s face.  Which, while hysterical, also makes me think about how many posts I see about how Leia is very much her father’s daughter, but almost never see any that point out how much Luke is his mother’s son.  I just have a LOT OF FEELINGS about this, okay?  But I will contain that rant.  XD  (Star Wars has been an on-again-off-again love for me since I was 9.  It’s pretty much a guaranteed way to get an emotional response out of me.  XD )

And I’m glad Mo doesn’t bother the tree or anything, though the box thing is pretty funny.  But he does seem to have that very cat-like tendency to want to completely block you from accessing the keyboard or pin you in place because he’s laying on you and you don’t want to disturb him, so I think he’s catting just fine.  XD  I mean, I have some friends who one of their cats is immune to scruffing (the downside of this is that he’s also almost completely feral still [he was a stray that stayed], and at one point he got a UTI and needed antibiotics.  I’m pretty sure my friend had to get like a falconing glove or something to get his pills in him.  XD )

That America being huge vs Europe being old thing also made me laugh because there was the section about the "long bus ride” that was like two hours, and all I could think about was how often we drove four hours both ways to visit my grandparents, and how in high school we took a trip to Canada, and I don’t remember the exact length of the bus ride up, but I know it was between twenty-three and twenty-eight hours.

And I hope you’re enjoying the Spiderman game, or will when you get to it!  As best I recall, everyone I know who has played it has had nothing but good things to say about it.  And wow, I’m rambling again.  Oh well.  Anyway, hope you’re doing well, and sending lots of good energy for finishing the chapter to your satisfaction (I know the readers certainly don’t mind the longer chapters.  :D )  Take care!  *Hugs!*

Oh my god I am absolutely in love with that sweater. Why is this not a thing XD 

And yeah, they definitely gift Peter a sweater like that, lbr. No other way about it. It definitely backfires when Peter wears it every single year and to everywhere. Including PT meetings and the parent/school board meetings? I forgot the American word for it, in Dutch we call it ouderraad. I know we talked about them before where Peter starts a war with the ‘Karen’ and completely wrecks her. And how all the other moms fall in love with the three DILFS.

But yeah, wears it everywhere and every year XD. 

Noah’s deputies, including Jordan, have definitely snapped pictures and post them on every computer desktop in the station. Including pictures of Noah’s reaction faces of that sweater.

Because you cannot convince me, that a bunch of cops, would not be dicks about this.

Chris is infinitely grateful that he does not have coworkers like that.

And god that is rather good smirk to go with that line XD. And yeah I guess it is funny. But it’s also true and that’s wow... XD 

I did a character alignment test for Peter and came out on CN so that is what I’m going to stick with in any itteration for him. 

As for the wiggle butt thing, he does not have a tail and I already had a very lengthy inner discussion with myself before getting this ask and I can tell you, he does wiggle butt like a boxer in this form. Imagine a fucking beast like that just wiggle butting with happiness. The image is so bizarre that I had to include it in the full moon chapter.

Chris is definitely learning a number of things about himself when he figures out Noah can now loom over him and press him against walls. Also Chris has a thing for being bound or pressed against objects and when Noah figures that one out, well, let’s say Peter certainly doesn’t mind watching those moments.

There’s also a revelation when Chris says; I can easily get out of these handcuffs and Noah translates it too; Good, that means that as long as you don’t try to, you’re consenting to whatever I’m doing to you. Deal? To which Chris, enthusiastically agrees. It’s a very fun game. Peter disagrees because they tend to lock him out during the games with some ash, although he is invited back in after they’re done and then the attention of two Omegas is fully on him. So I suppose he doesn’t mind too much.

Something that is both funny and sweet though is that through Ben, Noah discovers how much he misses having little kids running around. And he has a few moments of; oh god I want another kid realizations in this chapter.

Of course, considering their situation this isn’t the time and Noah more than realizes that. But it gets conversations about the future going for all three of them.

Oh and to answer your question, Malia has not been to the vault, but she and her siblings will get to see it. If that’s with dad or with Derek I haven’t decided yet. But they will end up at the vault in this story. Gotta get Peter’s necklace back.

So far I’ve had a bit of a rough day but by answering this and focusing on headcanons, and that freaking sweater!!!!, I feel a bit better. So thank you my friend, this helped me a lot <3. 

And I agree, Leia is just like her father but Luke is all Padme and people don’t talk about that enough. <3

Lots of Love from me and Mo!

#once upon a time comments #ben says stuff #my convos with anon #B #submission

[thatgirlonstage]

Podcast Challenge 18/4/18

There is a lot today because I stayed home sick from work and I started getting a headache whenever my eyes were open for too long so I ended up just lying on my bed binging podcasts. Mostly Bright Sessions. I want to catch up with Bright Sessions since that actually seems like, in reach lol unlike MBMBAM. Underneath the cut because there is a LOT (although I chipped away at that monster too)

Bolded means I listened to an episode today. Strikethrough means I’m all caught up and waiting for the next episode :)

The Adventure Zone | Alice Isn’t Dead | The Bright Sessions | Can I Pet Your Dog? | Ear Hustle | The Flop House | The McElroy Brothers Will Be in Trolls 2| My Brother, My Brother, and Me | Sawbones | Shmanners | The Thrilling Adventure Hour | Welcome to Night Vale | Within the Wires | Wonderful!

Podcast: My Brother, My Brother, and Me

Episode: 128: Y Tu Hermano Tambien

Time: 1hr 3 min, 140% of goal

Commentary:

Petition to replace statues of racists with bronze statues of Travis McElroy reclining like Cleopatra

Episode: 129: Krumping Across America

Time: 48 min, 107% of goal

Commentary:

That first question about the Craiglist girlfriend, the one who wanted to have sex with a virgin man, that was just... that was so much, man, you can’t start with that, there’s nowhere to go from there.

Episode: 130: Holy Terror

Time: 49 min, 109% of goal

Commentary:

My ex boyfriend actually did have some kind of olfactory issue - it wasn’t that he couldn’t smell ANYTHING, I don’t think, I’m pretty sure his nose was just like extremely desensitized. The only time it had any kind of consequence was when another friend of ours accidentally forgot some boxed restaurant leftovers in his car and he didn’t notice for like two weeks until someone else got in the car and noticed the stench.

Podcast: The Flop House

Episode: #31 - Swing Vote

Time: 59 min, 131% of goal

Commentary:

That Mystery Team thing actually sounds like a fun concept, although why did they say “they have to solve a murder” like that’s not a thing that Nancy Drew/The Hardy Boys ever did like there wasn’t a ton of guts and gore but there were very much dead people in those stories

Episode: Movie Minute #20 - Pool Cleaning

Time: 3 min, 7% of goal

Commentary:

You know I meant to watch Benjamin Button and just never got around to it

Podcast: Shmanners

Episode: Travel: Boats and Planes

Time: 49 min, 109% of goal

Commentary:

I have been on too many planes I find nothing magical about it anymore. I’m sorry, Travis, I appreciate your optimism and the joy you find in life but I’ve flown a minimum of once every six months since I was three months old and I really can’t summon up awe for it anymore.

I really thought they weren’t going to talk about going through security and I was ready to riot because I could do an entire forty-minute episode of my own just ranting about the IDIOTS I’ve encountered who have no idea how to go through security and take like five years figuring it out

Episode: Travel: Trains and Automobiles

Time: 47 min, 104% of goal

Commentary:

Shmanners: drivers ed edition

“There’s no c [in Shmanners]” but there SHOULD BE THOUGH Lemony Snicket taught me this in The Wide Window when I was seven the prefix is “schm” and it honestly really bothers me that they got this wrong

Podcast: The Bright Sessions

Episode: S3E4: Patient #13-A-3 (Chloe)

Time: 25 min, 56% of goal

Commentary:

We finally meet Frank! His voice is not what I was expecting - I think I imagined him sounding older? - but I like it! And Saaaaaaaam I was wondering why Chloe ran out of the room like that

Episode: S3E5: Sam, September 13th

Time: 26 min, 58% of goal

Commentary:

Sam lists all of the questions I want to know the answers to. Also I really enjoy that we get Sam and Joan more as equals and friends now, I really like this dynamic between them.

Episode: S3E6: Caleb, 9/16

Time: 4 min, 9% of goal

Commentary:

That was TOOTH ROTTING I love it

Episode: S3E7: Friday, 9/23/16

Time: 24 min, 53% of goal

Commentary: 

So we can agree that the entire AM should be burnt to the ground except Officer Decker, yes? Yes.

Ooooooh new character, “Rose”

There should definitely be a Danny Phantom crossover where we fuse the AM and the GIW. I do really appreciate that we get to SEE the “evil scary government agent that does experiments on people” from the perspective of some of the people who work there who AREN’T mad scientists, see how they justify it and willingly blind themselves to the moral issues

Shoutout to Sarah for being the real MVP

“My nephew Adam” OH FUCK NO FUCK FUCK FUCK

Episode: S3E8: friday, studio time w/ the gang

Time: 23 min, 51% of goal

Commentary:

Me this entire episode: PROTECT THEM

Hmm so they’ve brought up the Intrusion episode twice, I thought it was like a non-canonical crossover thing but it seem like maybe they’re actually making a thing of it?

Episode: S3E9: Damien, September

Time: 20 min, 44% of goal

Commentary:

Mark yelling at Damien was WILDLY cathartic

Episode: S3E10: September 24th, 2016

Time: 37 min, 82% of goal

Commentary: 

I JUST WANT MARK TO GET HOME AND BE OKAY

Also lol @ Caleb just trying to handle his sex life while everything else is turning into a Bournian government conspiracy around him

Episode: S3E11: Frank

Time: 38 min, 84% of goal

Commentary:

That was... a lot. I sort of guessed at most of it but it was... a lot.

Episode: S3E12: September 30th, 2016

Time: 10 min, 22% of goal

Commentary:

I suppose I ought to feel a little bad for Damien, but I REALLY don’t. Careful what you fucking wish for, you hypocritical douchebag

Episode: S3E13: Patient #13-A-3 (Chloe)

Time: 22 min, 49% of goal

Commentary:

Mark is such a sweet innocent bean and any attempt to make the AM morally grey is belied by the fact that they, without any cause, kidnapped him, locked him in a basement, and experimented on him for years

Episode: S3E14: sunday, after my session

Time: 5 min, 11% of goal

Commentary:

“You’re the struggling artist and I’m the wealthy old lady patron.” Chloe still isn’t my favorite character but I LOVE her and Sam’s friendship so much

Episode: S3E15: Patient #11-A-7 (Caleb)

Time: 26 min, 58% of goal

Commentary:

Caleb: Okay can we stop talking about my sex life and CONCENTRATE ON THE EVIL GOVERNMENT AGENCY THAT KIDNAPS PEOPLE

What is going to happen to him though because I do NOT like where this foreshadowing is going

Episode: S3E16: Patient #14-A-8 (Rose)

Time: 30 min, 67% of goal

Commentary: 

Rose is super cute! Also, oh man, Mark, I just want to give Mark a hug, man.

Episode: S3E17: Telephone 2

Time: 22 min, 49% of goal

Commentary:

Oh yes hearing Wadsworth get her comeuppance by having Adam confront her was AWESOME

Episode: S3E18: Safe House Part I

Time: 24 min, 53% of goal

Commentary: 

“I beat you once in 1998″ peak sibling right there

Frank WHY

Episode: S3E19: Safe House Part II

Time: 55 min, 122% of goal

Commentary:

Caleb, oh honey, oh, no

I just want all of them to be safe and okay GOD. I mean, Damien can die in a hole, but I don’t want Caleb to have KILLED him, he can die in a hole of natural causes. Chloe is not my favorite character but oh hell yes her last bit in this episode was EVERYTHING to me

Total Listening: 11hr 49 min, 1576% of goal

Ahahahaha like I said, literally all I did today was zone out and listen to podcasts

Ah well, no one on this website has a right to judge me for binging anything

#tal listens #mbmbam #the flop house #shmanners #the bright sessions

[spacednp]

Zombies

TW: gore, zombies(is that a trigger?), panic attack (kinda), shitty title

SUMMARY: whats the guidelines 4 dis lmao ima need to fix this later

ADDITIONAL NOTES: the ending is BAD

 the title sucks fuck off i knoww 

yo yo follow the people below (and me cough cough) bc.. Yeet

Beta- @callmekiddo-2 (thank for putting up with my constant grammar errors fam)

Artist- my bro,,, @owlpip (Art links gonna go here when i get them)

WC: 7.3k (really short i knowww)

The sound of rushing water filled the room and the steam from it rose into the air. Small bubbles occasionally flew from the sink, floating away gently, like a peaceful and soft dance. Dan’s hands were covered in suds and began to wrinkle because of the constant stream of hot water embracing them. Dan picked up the last plate and wiped it in a swift motion with his sponge, making a circle of soap that he quickly rinsed off. He set that final dish aside before washing off his own hands and turning the water off. He then grabbed the dish towel and set to work, drying off the dishes. He swabbed the clear droplets of now cold water from each dish, concentration etched onto his face. Once each dish was dried he rushed about the kitchen, putting them all away. He and his flatmate had only been living in that flat for a few weeks and he was still getting used to, well, everything. Due to this, he was sure he had put a few things away wrong. But hey, Phil had asked him to do the dishes, and he did. Kind of.

The padding of footsteps behind him made Dan jump, nearly dropping the rag in his hand. “Fucks sake, Phil,” Dan hissed, throwing his damp rag onto the counter behind him. He came very close to knocking over an unlit candle, “You nearly gave me a heart attack!”

“Whoops,” Phil replied, crossing his arms in the doorway, a smile painted on his face. Dan loved Phil, they were best friends, after all, but Phil was probably the least empathetic person when it came to scaring people. He couldn’t care less. Every once in awhile dan would like to hear a, “Oh, I’m sorry, are you okay?” instead.

“You’re an ass,” Dan muttered, turning back to his abandoned rag to put it away.

“Pfft, you know love me,” Phil said. (what should i do here looks kinda lame)

“I wouldn’t be so sure of that,” Dan responded, trying to not smile. Dan and Phil had been best friends for years, hell, they had pretty much grown up together. After being essentially joined at the hip for almost ten years, the boys were pretty much family. They even started going on family holidays together, calling each other’s mothers’ “Mum” the whole time just to spite the other. The two were as close to brothers as anyone could get without the matching birth certificates.

“Thanks for doing the dishes,” Phil said after a minute.

“No problem, but you’re sweeping tomorrow to repay your debt,” Dan countered.

“What? But it’s your turn,” Phil whined. Dan turned back to Phil and shrugged, the smile that had left Phil’s face set on his own.

“It was your turn to do the dishes,” he pointed out, smile widening.

“Fair enough,” Phil sighed, rolling his eyes a little. He didn’t really think it was fair as sweeping was much harder than washing a few plates, but he didn’t say anything. After all, Dan did have a point and it was Phil’s turn to do the dishes. Phil turned and began to walk away.

“You heading off to bed?” Dan called after him. Phil turned, smiling a little.

“What, you want a goodnight kiss?” Phil teased, laughing lightly at his own joke.

“I don’t, but about eighty percent of the internet would want me to,” Dan joked back, causing both to snicker. The shipping didn’t bother the two anymore. After years of thousands of people reading into their every move, it got kind of dull. Of course they made jokes about it, it came naturally after a while. It was apart of life for them, and everyone made jokes about their life. People made death jokes because it was a part of life, they made sex jokes because it was a part of life, and Dan and Phil made shipping jokes just like that because it was a part of their lives.

“See you in the morning, Danny,” Phil shouted over his shoulder as he walked to his bedroom. Phil never really called Dan by the nickname, unless he was in the teasing mood. Just as an older brother would tease the younger.

Dan looked to the clock to see that it read about midnight, which was the usual time for Phil to turn in for the night. As for Dan, he had a sort of reputation to uphold-stay up on the internet for a few more hours until the blinding light of his laptop screen made his eyes red. Sometimes Phil would join Dan and they’d sit on their couch and occasionally tap the other on the shoulder, pointing to their own screen when they found a post they thought would make the other smile. For whatever reason that made the whole experience way better for Dan. Maybe he liked Phil being there because they were best friends, maybe it was just the presence of another person being sat next to him, or perhaps a tangle of both. Dan wasn’t sure. Whatever it was, Dan enjoyed it very much.

Dan soon retreated into his bedroom as wasn’t comfortable with just standing in the kitchen alone. He unplugged his laptop, glad to see it at full battery, and sat down on his bed. In record time, Tumblr was pulled up and he was scrolling through impressive amounts of shitposts and the occasional problematic rant by some self-righteous teen. He only skimmed through the posts, reblogging the few that made him blow a bit more air out of his nose than usual. Years of being a “full time internet homo” had that effect on him, barely laughing, mostly just exhaling more intensely.

One post on his dash stood out to him. Usually he’d scroll through phanfiction, ignoring the ones that seemed badly written by some 12 year old girl in twenty minute. That seemed to be the majority. However, every once and awhile he’d find one so amusing or highly requested he had to read it. Hell, he even found a few really well written ones that almost could be published or poetry. Naturally, when Dan found something like that he just had to read it. In any case, fanfiction was just writing-sometimes bad or… inappropriate writing, but: writing. It was better than getting high or drunk, so Dan figured he might as well support it, even if there were a few bad and emotionally damaging seeds.

The room was almost pitch black. The only sources of light being Dan’s open Macbook and the light peeking in through Dan’s window with the drawn curtains, caused by the street lamps, head lights, stars and moon of the outside world. It made the whole situation seem way more scandalous than it really was. Of course Dan would clear his search history after reading, and of course he’d deny ever reading the fic, and of course he would die if Phil found out, but that didn’t make it scandalous. Okay, maybe it did, but that was only because Dan made it so scandalous, it could be totally innocent and Dan could be open with his dirty little secret. However, that seemed too easy. Dan didn’t get much excitement in his life, so why not act like the whole reading phanfiction thing was this whole secret that was done behind closed doors and drawn blinds in the dead of night? It wasn’t like he secretly got off to it or anything, it just- he was just curious. That was it.

Well Dan being just “curious” lasted all of five paragraphs into the story. Then, he started to enjoy it. He loved the word choice, the characters (even if he was one of main ones), and even the plot. The whole story was based off of the zombie apocalypse and what would happen. Now, since Dan was such a massive nerd, the story called to him. It was thousands of words long- double digit thousands. However, Dan didn’t mind it at all. In fact, that was another thing he liked about it. If he could ignore the fact that it was he and his best friend’s names’, he could actually picture it being a real young adult novel. The writing was excellent and the pace was just right, he could actually see the characters falling in love. Shamefully, he fell in love with the characters as well. He even caught himself wondering why his Phil wasn’t like the one in the fic. If that was his Phil, of course he could be in love with him, the way the shippers wanted. That hit really close for Dan. He loved Phil, of course he did, but as a brother. The Phil in the story, however, he was different. He was more empathetic without being suffocating, he was strong and still sweet. Dan could see the resemblance to his Phil- wait, what? Dan just ranted in his own head about how great this character was, how he could have a romantic relationship with him, and then compared him to his 100% platonic best friend. That had to be crossing a ton of friendship boundaries, even for he and Phil. They were friends. That was it. But maybe it didn’t have to be… No. That was how it was. Friendship, only friendship. Period.

Dan knew that phanfiction was doing weird things to his brain. He knew he should click out, unfollow the person who put it on his dash, delete his search history and never go back. He didn’t though, he should of, but he didn’t. God, how he should of.

Instead of doing what was right, Dan gave into the alluring temptation. That had to be some kind of a sin, right? Imagine Dan being damned to Hell because he didn’t click out of a phanfiction, that seemed to be a very Dan thing to do. Rather this was true or not, it didn’t prevent Dan from reading the fic, and enjoying it. His bloodshot eyes focused on the brightness of his laptop screen and the black words on it in front of him, the rest of the world a massive blur of grays and streaks of white light shining in. Dan continued to read until the whole world went dark around him and he slipped into the warm embrace of sleep.

Dan awoke in a bed that was not his own, a warm hand on his left arm shaking him. Not wanting to wake up just yet, Dan rolled over onto his right side, away from the hand. Doing so, he was met by a sharp pain in the arm he’d rolled over on, which was luckily his right and non dominant arm. He heard a familiar voice, but it seemed distant and echoey, almost like it was at the opposite end of a tunnel. A long, dark, warm tunnel… Dan found himself drifting back into unconsciousness but was pulled out of it by the calloused hand that was still gripping him whilst shaking. Dan decided because of the the sharp pain burning into his flesh and the constant shaking there was little to no chance of getting back to sleep. The pain confused him because it wasn’t the type of pain you got when you slept wrong, it felt as if it was more of a open wound that could quite possibly be infected. Not that it would even make sense to have a sleeping pain in his arm, as Dan both went to bed and woke up laying on his back. As well as the odd pain, the weight of Dan’s laptop was gone. Had Phil came into his room, found the laptop on Dan’s stomach, and put it away for him? Oh no, had Phil seen what was on the screen? Dan didn’t remember closing the tab.

“Dammit Dan! Don’t you quit on me now!” The voice suddenly came into focus, like a camera. Once fuzzy and blurry, then sharp and clear. He knew that voice, it seemed a little worn though, broken from yelling. It was Phil’s voice.

“M’up, I’m good,” Dan slurred, opening his unfocused eyes trying to sit up. Doing so, the pain intensified, burning so fiercely Dan fell back. “What the fuck?!” Dan shouted.

“You got stabbed, idiot, remember?” Phil said, setting a hand on Dan’s chest to keep him down. When the world came into focus around Dan, he saw that the Phil next to him was not Phil. Or at least it wasn’t his Phil. This Phil’s skin was far too tan, his face was smeared with dirt (or dry blood, but Dan hoped it was just dirt), and his hair was way too long, his roots showing way too much. Dan looked at his pained right arm, seeing a white rag knotted around his slightly larger and more muscular bicep that was stained crimson with what Dan knew was his blood.

“Stabbed? What?” Dan gasped, voice coming out breathy and strained. His breathing quickened and he tucked his hands into fists, ignoring the pain caused in his right arm, digging little crescent moons into his sweating palms. He tried to force himself upright but was held down by Phil’s hand, who was ridiculously strong, so much so it was discomforting.

“Dan, you need to calm down,” Phil sternly said. Dan threw his fists at Phil’s hand, which seemed to be crushing. He just wanted to be alone, wanted to wake up in his room to the sound of Phil- his Phil, waking up obnoxiously loud. He didn’t want to be in this strange place with this strange Phil like some strange phanfiction…wait a minute. Phil’s description, his actions, Dan being stabbed- this was just like that phanfiction he fell asleep reading. But that was impossible, and even the idea of it increased Dan’s panic. He opened his mouth to scream at the weird person who was kind of like Phil, yell at them to go away, bring him back to his home, to his Phil, but nothing came out. His tongue felt too big in his mouth and his saliva felt like thick, dry cotton. He just wanted to go home! He wanted to wake up in his bed, yell at his Phil for waking him up so early, catch his Phil eating his cereal- he wanted it to be a weird dream. How could it be a dream? Dan felt pain, that didn’t happen in dreams, did it? So it wasn’t a dream? Did it mean Dan could never go home?

“Daniel!” Phil’s hand pressed harder on Dan’s chest and somehow brought him back to reality, or whatever it was, kind of. “Breathe Dan, breathe.” Dan was heaving for breath, he tried to listen, tried to breathe, tried to do what Phil said, but it wasn’t working. Dan just wanted everything to stop, please just stop. After a few minutes of struggling for air Dan felt himself start to calm down, the shaking he wasn’t even aware of started to slow, breath came easier, until he was only crying, yet another thing he wasn’t aware he was doing. He wiped his now unclenched hands on his face, trying to rid it of tears. He felt stupid, like an idiot. He’d just cried, like a complete child.

“I’m good,” Dan breathed,  relaxing his head on the pillow under it. He went to bring his hands over his face to cover it but was brutally reminded of his injury in the form of a sting.

Dan had never been one to believe in the supernatural or even religion. He believed facts. Yes, a zombie apocalypse was theoretically possible. It was also something religious, to a sense. No, zombies didn’t carry around bibles and sit in pews on Sundays, that just sounded stupid. However, there was three main things religions tended to have. A higher power, the beginning of time being created in a ‘big bang’ sort of sense, sudden and with no explanation besides before mentioned higher power, and, of course, “The End”, or, in other terms, “The Apocalypse”. In a way, it made sense. Logically, life itself had to have a start. Therefore, it also had to have an end. Who’s to say life doesn’t have to follow the same rules it creates, a beginning and and end, birth and death? However, that theory didn’t explain why Dan was magically sucked into some post apocalyptic universe birthed from the brain of one of his fans. That didn’t make any sense. Dan wished he could make it make sense. When things made sense you weren’t scared of them, you could convince yourself it wasn’t dangerous. Dan didn’t have that luxury.

“I think I need some fresh air,” Dan announced, moving to sit up. He, of course, was blocked by Phil’s hand. It was really starting to get annoying, being pinned down. He felt trapped, caged in like an animal, a beast with no humanity. He felt like Phil didn’t trust him, then again, why should he? Dan wasn’t the person this Phil knew, and deep down he thought Phil would know that. Maybe Dan should just play his part, calm this man a bit. After all, why should both of them feel lost? From reading the phanfic he knew how sickingly codependent this universe’s Dan and Phil were, who was he to rip that apart? After all, Dan knew everything the other Dan knew. They acted quite alike - this universe’s Dan and the real Dan. It made sense, after all, this Dan was based on the real one.

“Good luck finding any,” Phil snorted. Dan had almost forgotten he had spoke, so lost in his own thoughts, trapped in the prison of his mind. Phil lifted his hand off of Dan’s chest and instead used it to help Dan stand, which was a difficult task. Soon Dan was upright and he and Phil were heading to the rotted door decorated with metal locks and deep scratch marks, which were pale in contrast to the dark finish of the door. As they walked Dan noticed the many weapons and cobwebs littering the walls of the cabin, he appreciated them, though he had no idea how to use them. Phil grabbed a machete off the wall, very worn and coated in a brown substance that Dan knew was dried blood. Dan hoped he wouldn’t have to see Phil use it.

No part of Dan protested when Phil walked him out, or when held the door for him, or even when Phil rested his hand on Dan’s lower back. He wished he would have, wished he could have made himself. The truth was that Dan didn’t mind. His stomach didn’t drop, his skin didn’t burn or tingle. If anything, Dan felt safe. Warm. Content. Like what was happening was just… right. Was that insane? None of it was right, he wasn’t where he was supposed to be-not by a long run. He was supposed to be home, in bed, eyes bloodshot from his bright laptop screen. He wasn’t though, and that wasn’t right. It would be nice if it was, it’d be nice if his own kind of paradise wasn’t standing there consumed in the feeling of a man he didn’t know, a man that wasn’t real.

When the two exited the shack Dan woke up in they were engulfed by a forest. Shrubs, moss, and mushrooms littered the floor and above the canopy of the trees were so thick you could only catch a sliver of blue when you angled your head right. It wasn’t what Dan expected at all. He expected a city in ruins, bloody human like creatures digging into the corpses of children. The air, however, was just as he expected it. Thick, hot, smelling of rotting flesh, far from the musky, cool breezes a forest should carry. Dan suddenly remembered why everything was the way it was. In the phanfiction Dan and Phil decided to take shelter away from civilization because the cities… they were just as you’d picture. Gray, covered in a thick layer of crimson blood, only populated by zombies or sick bastards that couldn’t care less about you and only wanted your supplies. Evil place, the world had become.

“Zombies aren’t even the problem anymore,” Phil said, as if he was reading Dan’s thoughts. “Hell, they weren’t even the problem to begin with. People were. People created it and let it out. People… People started this mess…” Phil’s voice trailed off meaningfully. Dan understood what Phil meant, thinking back to the phanfiction. The writer had a bit of a prologue before they wrote the story. It described the beginning of the end, in a sense. It was like most starts to fictional zombie apocalypses, new drug that’s not tested enough creates a sickness. That drug was somehow leaked into the water supply and the world got sick, however, a few were immune. The drug was fought by a mutation in the genes of certain people. That gene was the blue eyes gene, which Dan did carry. Blue eyes was a recessive trait that didn’t show in Dan because of the brown eyes trait (a dominant gene) he also acquired. Phil too had this the blue eyes trait but his did show. However, those infected were given the instinct of spreading the pathogen. The only way they could do so when someone carried the blue eyes trait was via injection of contaminated DNA. Basically, if you carried the blue eye trait you were fine to drink, but it could still get the illness if you got bitten.

In Dan’s peripheral vision he spotted movement. He grabbed at Phil for reasons he couldn’t explain nor did he want to try and understand. Phil seemed unphased by this and just shook Dan off. “I think there’s one,” Dan tried to explain, pointing to where he thought he saw movement. Dan swore he saw concern paint Phil’s features for a split second before it was gone, but it was probably nothing. This version of Phil wasn’t the one Dan knew so well, it was a variation of him, but it wasn’t him. This Phil was made up by some teen girl on her laptop at four in the morning, and Dan couldn’t forget that. No matter how real this Phil seemed, he wasn’t.

Dan didn’t have much more time to fuss over his weird feelings for his friend’s character in some story he was somehow a part of (wow his situation was complicated) because they were joined by a freak of nature. The creature burst from the undergrowth, running towards them with a slight limp, arms outstretched and fingers like the talons of an eagle. The creature was just as you’d imagine a zombie; It’s pale skin was almost green but still carried the gray tint of death. It’s features were hollowed out, reminding Dan of one of those before pictures on an eating disorder recovery story. It’s clothes were torn and blood soaked. Gashes covered it, skin peeling away to show bloody and rotting flesh. Around its mouth there was the trace of its last meal, dried blood and chunks of flesh that didn’t seem to be its own. It’s eyes no longer held the glimmer of life and carried dark bags under them, far worse than the eye bags you got after a few nights of restless sleep. Everything about it was horrible and made Dan do a little sick in his mouth. A scream lodged itself in his throat but stayed there.

Phil stepped into action immediately and Dan wished he could say he didn’t find it ridiculously hot. The way he pushed Dan behind him and raised his machete up made Dan audibly gasp. If he hadn’t been so terrified out of his wits he’d consider it a turn on, which was concerning because this was Phil, Dan’s no homo best friend and roommate. Well, maybe it wasn’t Phil Phil, but still. The zombie ran faster and just when Dan was certain they were dead and Phil had no idea what he was doing, Phil surprised him. He stepped forward (towards the terrifying monster, Dan might add) with his left foot, and used all his strength and sung as he stepped, slicing the zombies head off. The body collapsed and the decapitated head rolled away. Dan was certain he was going to actually vomit.

“You’re bloody insane,” Dan breathed, staring at the open eyes and mouth of the head on the ground a few feet away from him. He felt like it was looking into his soul, and it was terrifying.

“You’re welcome, for you know, saving your life,” Phil said, turning to Dan and glaring at him.

“You’re an arse,” Dan spat, angry at Phil and not really knowing why. He had a point, without him Dan would be zombie food. He should be grateful, so why was he angry?

“Excuse me?” Phil’s eyebrows furthered and it seemed like venom laced his words. “You know what? I don’t even care!” Phil let out a dry and humorless laugh. “You know what the funny thing is? For a minute there, I thought you gave a half of shit about me, looks like I thought wrong, you don’t care about anyone. Not even yourself.” Phil growled, pushing his way past Dans and making his way to the shack.

Dan remembered why this was happening. Why he was angry, why Phil seemed like someone shoved a stick in his butt. In the fic, Dan threw himself in danger, went off without Dan and ended up getting hurt, Phil ended up saving him from getting eaten/infected, but still, a few heated words were shared. Before this, they had a bit of a, well, they slept together. Dan knew from the fic that Phil was felt that made the two more than friends, but the fic Dan didn’t think so. The fic Dan didn’t mean to hurt fic Phil he just didn’t think one night changed anything whereas fic Phil thought it meant everything. The whole thing was a mess and Dan was stuck in the middle of it, it was like if The Walking Dead was a gay soap opera. Shaun of the Dead meets General Hospital meets… gay. As for Dan, “not caring about himself” was probablybecause of when Dan got hurt, he wasn’t careful and overall it was like he didn’t care anymore.

Dan was lost in an ocean of thoughts and of course he was so deep that there were sharks. His senses failed him, he didn’t hear the shuffling of footsteps, couldn’t see what was coming as it was behind him, nor did he smell the putrid stench of rotten flesh and despair nearing him. No, all those senses failed him. However, one did not. The final sense, the one that paints a soft blanket or your lover’s hand, was the one that told him. The boney hand lacking any fat and only covered with a thin layer of peeling skin was what told Dan that he wasn’t alone. It pulled Dan back with remarkable strength for a creature with deteriorating muscles. Maybe a scream found its way through Dan’s mouth, maybe it didn’t. Perhaps it stayed lodged in Dan through, glued there by pure terror. Either way, Dan was pulled back and somehow managed to get himself turned around so he was face to face with husking skin and yellow, sharp teeth. It’s breath smelt of rotting teeth and metallic blood. Dan’s whole body was shaking and he could feel death nearing. He imagined a grim reaper lurking in the bushes near by, scythe in hand and dark cloak on its back.

The world was in slow motion, Dan felt every millisecond pass and felt like he could write an entire novel of each passing moment. Dan watched as its yellow teeth neared him, felt his heart beating out of his chest and shut his eyes tight, waiting for death. Dan wondered if this was the way out of the nightmare he had someone gotten himself in. He had heard of death being the one sure fire way out of any dream, maybe it was the same kind of thing. Maybe he would finally wake up in his own bed. Maybe he would finally be able to go hug his own Phil. Dan doubted he would sleep alone in his bed for weeks after this whole ideal, he’d just sleep with Phil. They used to do that all the time, it was just comforting. Dan was sure Phil wouldn’t mind, why would he? He always enjoyed it just as much as Dan did.

There was a swoosh sound in Dan’s ear and then he felt chunks of something splatter all over him. The grip that once help extra tight on his already hurt arm weakened and then slid off. A violent shudder ran through Dan’s body. He opened his eyes and felt tears run down his cheeks. Phil stood behind the limp body of the zombie that had previously been three seconds away from killing Dan. It didn’t even matter that it wasn’t Dan’s Phil, the real Phil. It didn’t even matter that this whole thing was probably some kind of odd hallucination. None of that mattered, because his eyes were Phil’s eyes and if Dan focused hard enough he could pretend this man in front of him was the same Phil he watched from behind a computer screen as a teenager, the one that ended up being his first and only best friend. So, Dan wrapped his arms tight around Phil’s neck and he cried, but he only cried harder when Phil didn’t smell the same as he should have and when he felt way too broad to be his Phil. Still, Phil dropped his weapon and held Dan close and at least that was comforting. This Phil still wrapped his arms tight around Dan’s waist and let him cry on him. Even if this wasn’t the real Phil, he still shushed Dan and rubbed his lower back and didn’t care that Dan was getting tears and snot all over his shoulder.

“I hate this place,” Dan sobbed, and he didn’t care that Phil wouldn’t know the truth behind his words. He didn’t care. He just wanted to be held and told ‘I know, I know,’ even if it wasn’t true. Even if it was all a lie, it was the only lie Dan would let himself believe, just for now, just until he felt a little better. They were both covered in dirt and blood, but that was okay. It was okay that Dan’s wound opened back up, it was okay that he almost died twice within an hour, it was okay that this Phil was in love with not this Dan but a different one, that was all okay.

“Let’s go inside, yeah?” Phil suggested, slowing the circles that he was rubbing on Dan’s back. Dan nodded into Phil’s shoulder and let Phil pull away and guide Dan inside. Phil sat Dan down on the bed. “I’ve gotta go get my machete, okay? I’ll be right back,” Dan nodded even though Phil was no longer looking at him and was already halfway out the door.

Dan’s heart felt sad. It was like a huge cloud of sad decided to park above his rib cage and just sit there. It was like the days when Dan would just wake up sad. Dan wasn’t depressed or anything, sometimes he just had sad days, and that’s okay. However those days he didn’t have any reason to be sad, but today he had all the reasons to be sad. He missed Phil, his Phil. He wanted to hug him, not this store brand version of him.

“Do you need another hug?” Phil asked, frowning above Dan. Dan didn’t even realize he was back.

“Yes, I need a thousand hugs,” Dan breathed. Phil smiled sadly and sat next to Dan, wrapping an arm around his waist. A few minutes passed before Phil spoke.

“You don’t feel the same way about me as I feel about you, and that’s okay,” Phil paused for a minute and moved Dan over a bit so he had more room to sit. “However, I don’t want you to lie and say you do, I can’t handle that. I’m in love with you, and you’re not in love with me, that’s okay, but please don’t lie to m-”

Dan didn’t know why he did it. But he did it. He cut Phil off by sitting on his lap and forcing their mouths together. He didn’t let Phil pull away or object; when he felt like Phil would try and stop him he kissed harder. He did that until Phil set his hands on Dan’s sides and kissed him back. The kiss tasted dirty and wrong and it made Dan’s heart sad even more, but he still did it. Even after they pulled away and caught their breath, Dan’s heart was sad. So, he kissed Phil again. He knew it was wrong and he was just using Phil, but he didn’t stop. He could tell Phil wanted him, he could tell he loved him, and that felt nice. Dan liked to be wanted and loved. He let Phil’s hands learn their way around his body and he forced his brain and heart away and just acted. He traced his hands all over Phil. He let Phil take off his clothes and he took Phil’s off as well, and he let the thing that started the first argument happen again. He let Phil think Dan felt the same way for him, but one dark truth lurked. This Phil was in love with his Dan and Dan was in love with his Phil. Dan didn’t want to believe it but he knew it was true. He wanted this, but not with this Phil.

The only way Dan could cope with his new realization was to block it out. He let fic Phil have whatever part of Dan he wanted and Dan pretended he loved this man. Because the two Phil’s were completely different people, it only got hard when fic Phil did something that reminded Dan of his Phil. That’s when Dan’s heart would get sad again. Dan would block that out too though, and soon Dan hated himself. He hated how naturally deceiving Phil came to him. He hated how no matter how hard he tried he couldn’t bring himself to look fic Phil in the eye because those eyes reminded him of the real Phil. Slowly self hatred and destruction became a habit. Even though the world was full of actual zombies plagued with a cell destroying disease, Dan still felt that the sick monster was himself. Fic Phil still took care of Dan and saved his life almost daily but sometimes Dan wished he wouldn’t. Maybe if Phil was a little late one time then Dan wouldn’t have to be the one to break his heart, it would just be cruel Mother Nature and another case of star crossed lovers.

Well naturally the one wish that did come true during that whole ordeal was the one involving Dan’s own death. Of course. It wouldn’t of made sense for it to be Dan wanting to wake up or not having one useless arm that always hurt and the second he moved it would begin squirting blood, no, that was just too nice of whatever cruel higher power put Dan in that mess. That angsty God just wanted more drama.

It happened when Dan left the wood rotted shack for a little time away from the mess he’d weaved himself in with Phil. Phil ran up and gave Dan a kiss on the forehead before he left and Dan felt he was going to be sick. Still, he smiled at the gesture and gave Phil a peck on the lips and a muttered “I love you”, still holding back his sick. He’d never really been one for mega sappy relationships and it didn’t make it easier that this whole relationship was lacking any love from his part. He wish he meant the “I love you”, but he felt nothing as he said it, only longing for someone who had aspects of this man but who wasn’t him. Dan quickly got out of that hell house of a shack and walked a bit deeper into the forest than he should have. He stood on the ledge that overlooked a gray city and a lake that looked to be covered in a thick layer of dust. He watched creatures that weren’t quite human limp about and tear apart corpses of what might of been a person that might of had a family. Then again, maybe they were the last one of the family and they wished death upon themselves like Dan did. Even if life beyond this wasn’t life at all, even if he didn’t wake up in his own world with his own Phil, maybe that was okay, at least then he wouldn’t have to lie to anyone. No matter what happened after this, Dan never wanted to lie again. Lying was too much for Dan to handle and it was tearing him apart.

Dan had a bit of Déjà vu when he felt the boney hand grab him, digging into his upper arm. He felt it began to bleed but he did nothing, not even scream. Then it dug into his other arm, the healthy one. That one started to bleed too. He felt crimson liquid drip down his body but he did nothing but shut his eyes and wait for the teeth. They snuck into the part between his neck and shoulders, they ripped through tendons and ligaments. They crunched nerves and punctured veins. Then they were ripped from him and took the chunk of flesh with them. The hands digging into his arms also pulled out of him. He heard familiar slicing and he felt his knees give out, he opened his eyes when he felt arms around him. He swore he was going to be sick. It was Phil, and as always, he saved him. Well, not really. Dan looked at him with glassy eyes and smiled sadly. He felt his resolve fading and he slipped into insanity and sickness.

“Do it,” he croaked. Tears covered Phil’s cheeks and it made Dan ache. Even if he didn’t love this Phil, his eyes were still the same three-colored ones of his flat mate and best friend, and those eyes should never cry. Dan wanted to dry his tears but he couldn’t move his arms, they were in too much pain.

“I can’t,” Phil managed, voice breaking. “I just can’t do it.”

“Please, Phil, it hurts,” Dan said, voice dripping with pain. It was like the worst flu ever mixed with open wounds and bleeding out. Phil nodded once and returned Dan’s sad smile. He got his machete and laid Dan down comfortably on a soft patch of grass.

“I love you,” Phil told Dan as he raised his weapon. He was determined to do it quickly and in one even swipe, that would make Dan suffer less, and that’s all he wanted at this point.

“I love you too,” Dan lied. Or maybe he didn’t. Of course he was grateful for this man, he had saved Dan’s life a few times, but did that equal love? Probably not. Still, Dan wanted the last words Phil heard from him to be that he loved him, even if it was a lie. He needed that, so he would give it to him.

Phil raised his machete and one minute Dan felt all his pain, then for a split second he felt incredibly sharp pain in his neck, and then he felt nothing. For a moment there was black, nothingness, but then Dan was opening his eyes in his room, in London. He felt the familiar weight of his laptop on his lap and he didn’t feel any pain. Dan sighed in relief. He got up to go find Phil, needing him right that moment.

The smell of coffee and the clinking of dishes lead Dan to believe Phil was in the kitchen. As he walked into said kitchen he was aware that his suspicions were indeed correct. Phil stood next the a counter in his pjs, stirring a cup of coffee.

“Good morning, Danny Boy,” Phil said when he saw Dan walk in. He took a minute to go back to making his coffee but then he continued the one-sided conversation. “I read last night that more people are killed by donkeys than plane crashes, isn’t that cool?”

Dan was so happy that Phil said it. It meant it was the real Phil, the Phil that he met in Manchester on the train station so long ago. This was Phil. His Phil. Dan had so many emotions that he didn’t know what to do with them, so he cried. He just burst into sobs right there, a few feet from Phil.

“Dan are you okay? Did a family member of yours get killed by a donkey? Did I just bring back traumatic repressed memories from your childhood?” Phil rambled, and Dan just cried harder. “Can I do anything to make it better?”

Dan nodded once. “Hugs, please,” he requested. Phil nodded and abandoned his coffee to wrap Dan up in his arms. Dan cried harder, happy tears, because this was the Phil he knew. He smelled like coffee, liquorice, and apples. He smelt like Phil. His arms wrapped tightly around Dan’s back and made him feel safe. He felt like he could say anything and it would be perfectly okay, so he said the one thing on his mind. “I love you,”

Phil didn’t say anything back for a long few seconds. It stretched out like an eternity, but he didn’t lessen his grip on Dan and Dan was beyond grateful for that. Only sound in the room was their breathing and Dan was nervous about how heavy his was compared to Phil’s, who kept his composure too well for Dan’s liking. Dan expected Phil to reject him or something. Phil didn’t say anything. It seemed like eons of waiting for something-anything. Finally, Phil responded.

“I love you too,” and Dan’s heart stop and he started over analyzing. Of course Phil loved him, as a friend. Friends say ‘I love you’, right? Was it just he and Phil that never said it? Or maybe they did, Dan’s mind was too fuzzy to recall. Well, there’s really only one way to find out how Phil meant it. Dan somehow managed to loosen Phil’s grip on him enough to push their mouths together. Phil didn’t retaliate for a few seconds and Dan thought he was going to die of embarrassment and waited for Phil to again, do something.

Phil did do something. Dan felt the pressure being returned and he actually thought he was literally going to die. He didn’t though and when they had to pull away to breathe Phil hugged him tighter and Dan was glad that Phil’s breathing was just as heavy as his. As happy as he was, Dan was still kind of worried for the Phil in the phanfiction. What happened to him? When Phil finally let Dan go and Dan looked into his eyes Dan felt guilty again.

“I’ll be right back,” Dan breathed, as if he was scared that if he was too loud what just happened with he and Phil would shatter. Phil didn’t say anything but looked concerned.

Dan hurried back to his room and quickly read the end of the fic and almost threw his laptop across the room. The last line was:

“After Dan and Phil shared their kiss Dan rushed back to see the ending of the story he was trapped in, wanting to know the ending.”

And then it ended. Just like that, an open ending. Everyone hates those and yet authors keep writing them. Over and over again.

The end.

#phanfiction #zombies #ooo spoopy #phan #phandombigbang #phandom big bang

[sterekiseternal]

FBIS Story ch.4

Beginning  || Previous Chapter

“Whoa, Derek. Did I miss some sort of werewolf routine thingy, like a bi-annual shift in the moon on Mars, because I know the full moon is next week so it’s impossible that’s what made you go all rogue werewolf on my bag, and we’ve spent all day in bed and I’ve had you moaning all day, which is so very different from your angry growling even if I can make you growl and moan basically at the same time but that’s different, and my point is, I know I didn’t do anything to make you angry,” Stiles rambles as he takes in the mess next to the couch in the living room.

“Nothing that warrants this at least,” he continues, “and shouldn’t you be more in control anyway?”

The backpack that Stiles had dropped there when they had arrived, having unpacked only as much as he needed, like his toothbrush, lays on its front, zipper wide open and with nearly all its contents strewn about it. He crosses his arms over his threadbare shirt as he turns to Derek, who walks in a moment later, with an unimpressed expression.

“You’re cleaning up after yourself, mister,” Stiles declares, crouching down to reach for the laptop that was still in the backpack. He stops as he notices the busted zipper and groans. “Dude, this was my favorite backpack!”

“Will you stop accusing me of something I didn’t do?” Derek huffs in reply, stepping into place next to him. “If I had gone ‘rogue werewolf’-” he actually makes air quotes as he meets Stiles pouty glare dismissively, “then that backpack would be in shreds.” He opens his mouth again to add on but Stiles interrupts.

“And ‘don’t call me, dude’. I know, I know.” Stiles waves it off. Derek knows he’ll never stop and Stiles knows he’ll never stop complaining.

Stiles also knows Derek has a point, which he kinda hates because he loves being right, and also this is totally not on him. Then again he’s stopped getting too attached to material things because they always end up getting damaged sooner or later so it’s not a big deal and Derek could just admit it. Handing off the backpack for Derek to inspect, he plops down on the couch, legs spread out on it wide and boots up the laptop.

“The only two people in this apartment are me and you - your nose would’ve told us otherwise if not - and you were the one who went to grab new blankets two hours ago so there’s really only one possibility here and it’s you,” he says without looking up.

“Or it was you who broke the zipper and then knocked over the backpack while sleepwalking,” Derek argues.

“I don’t sleep walk anymore so if anyone knocked it over it’s you… And then you kicked it for extra measure just to scatter all my things-”

“Our things, actually,” Derek corrects. He can admit that he can’t be bothered with his own backpack, so he gives Stiles anything he might need. Sometimes they switch off carrying it. Mostly it’s on Stiles though. Which makes sense because most of the things are his anyway.

“Wait, is this payback for me eating half your Ful Mudamas? Because that, while understandable, was totally unnecessary. It’s not like you couldn’t have stopped me from eating it or gotten it back with all your werewolf mojo,” Stiles says.

“Right, because I was going to tackle you and make a scene at a restaurant in the middle of Alexandria.”

Stiles smirks. “That’s why I’m the one who makes the plans. This,” he gestures to the mess between them, “is very weak because you’ll be the one cleaning up in the end. You got nothing out of this…” Stiles doesn’t mind messy, he can work with that, but Derek, on the other hand, likes to have the floors spotless at the very least. And well, a zipper can be fixed if need be. He does also have a spare bag in the closet. It’s important to always be prepared.

Derek rolls his eyes at Stiles. “You’ll know it when I go for payback, and it’ll come when you least expect it,” he declares. He spends some time looking over the backpack, getting close to it to make sure there’s no scent he missed before he figures their previous theory must hold some truth because there’s absolutely nothing else suspicious about the backpack.

After he cleans up, all the while ignoring Stiles’ victorious smirk, he lifts his legs so he can seat himself beneath them on the couch as well.

“No intriguing new reports,” Stiles informs him, eyes darting quickly over the screen. “Just your usual monthly omega scaring a few campers, aaand tiny asshole fairies taking their mischief too far and nearly taking down a whole town. No biggie. No new leads on the long term stuff. They should change the name to Division for the Affairs of the Supernatural because this is just S-A-D.”

“And I thought I was the one who didn’t know how to relax.” There is clear amusement in Derek’s voice and Stiles can tell it’s not directed at his great pun.

“We spent the last two days relaxing. I need something to /do/,” he complains, setting the laptop so he can sigh directly at Derek to show the extent of his misery. “There are so many undocumented supernatural affairs out there that we could search out and help with. We would’ve all appreciated it if someone had helped us out back in the day.”

“What? I’m not enough for you? Getting tired of me already?” Derek asks, referring to the first part of Stiles rant.

“Nuh-uh, this is not the time for a pity party. You know very well that if you just got over here and kissed me I’d be up for doing you in like 3 seconds flat but I just feel like there’s something-”

Derek has been leaning closer to Stiles but they both freeze when their phones beep simultaneously, in a tone that can only indicate one thing. Stiles grins and jumps to his feet. Derek rolls his eyes at him again but he’s right behind Stiles as they change, grab their things and head out to the office.

~

Jackson is waiting for them when they walk in through the front doors and greets them with a gruff, “Took you long enough.” Then he turns on an expensive designer shoe heel - some things never change - and walks away in long, fast strides. Derek watches a sly smile spread on Stiles’ face before he hurries to catch up to Jackson. He slings an arm around his shoulders.

“Hey, buddy. If only you know how much I’ve been /dying/ to talk to you,” Stiles starts. Jackson eyes him warily. “So I can tell you aaaaaall about the absolutely beautiful and amazing sex Derek and I had the last few days. He doesn’t talk much but boy, is he good with his mouth. He can do this thing with his tongue-”

“Stiles!” Jackson outright shouts, shoving Stiles away, who throws his head back with a laugh. They gain more than a few curious looks from around the halls. Derek just shakes his head as he follows behind them. “Unprofessional,” he splutters. “Totally and completely unprofessional. We have a serious matter on our hands.”

Stiles is still laughing to himself, looking to Derek for approval, who just shakes his head fondly.

“Are you sure your vacation is over already?” Jackson asks.

“I missed you too,” Stiles says. “So what’s this code red about? We don’t have many of those. I’m excited! Are you excited? I know Der’s excited, even if he won’t admit it.”

“Lydia said she’s never seen that type of magic before. No one in the department has. We have no clue what it is or where it came from,” Jackson explains, and Stiles can tell from the tone of his voice even he is intrigued. “We don’t know yet what the magic is doing either. We haven’t gotten any reports yet, so you guys are practically going in blind.”

Derek, for one, is frowning at this point, worried about what might happen. If this is some new form of magic, will they be able to figure it out before people get seriously hurt?

Stiles, on the other hand, has a determined twinkle in his eye. “Oh, finally something interesting!”

“Because of the severity of the circumstances, we’re calling in the whole team,” Jackson announces, timing his words with the opening of the gym doors to reveal the pack sans Lydia and Danny. They were both called in earlier for analysis and preparation, and would be the team’s referents here at Headquarters while they went out on the field - along with Jackson who supervised communications and execution of the mission, helping out wherever was necessary.

Erica, Boyd and Isaac wait for Derek and Stiles to join them on the mats, already dressed for training. Quick greetings are exchanged before they all turn to Jackson again.

“You have two, possibly three, days to get ready while we try to track down the exact location of the magical object or being and learn as much about it as we can. So far, there’s not much I can tell you about safety precautions or well, anything about what you’ll need. This isn’t going to be an easy one,” Jackson explains, meeting each of their focused gazes.

“Which is exactly why you called in the best team you have,” Erica says confidently, turning to Stiles for a high five as he supports her statement with a “Fuck, yeah!”

Derek nods. “We’ll start as usual; quick warm up, then divide into teams and practice hand to hand combat- no shifting. Then we’ll do some target practice, with and without firearms, and the faster you impress Stiles with gun power, the sooner you can join me for some shifted fighting.”

“No offense, big guy, but I think you’re the one who could use the most shooting practice,” Stiles interjects, patting his back.

“That’s why you’ll be staying here with me after hours to help.”

Isaac snickers quietly and Stiles shoots a playful glare in his direction. “I guess that’s the burden I have to carry for being such a desirable man.”

Derek has turned to Jackson again. “Keep us updated so we know what to continue with. Especially about the magic, so Stiles can prepare.”

“Of course. Stiles should go talk to Lydia soon either way,” Jackson says.

“Like I said, I’m a desirable man.” Stiles grins.

“So, are we getting started or what?” Boyd asks, clapping his hands together. Always the practical man, straight to the point and driving the team forward.

“You’re on,” Stiles calls and bounces on the balls of his feet.

“We’ll start with the two of us against you three. Call it a proper welcoming,” Derek decides and they split up in the gym, as Jackson heads back out.

“The two of you always sticking together is sickeningly sweet,” Erica coos. “But this time it’s gonna be your downfall.”

Stiles doesn’t know how he ended up being the only human amidst a bunch of werewolves, or why he never does a thing to change that situation. Then again, he holds his own pretty well amongst their speed and strength since he’s mastered the techniques. He is the one left breathing hardest either way though by the time Derek ends the first round, giving them a 3-minute break.

“Werewolves suck,” Stiles announces breathily as Derek and Boyd start one upping each other with push ups after about a minute, and Erica starts stretching and performing various flips. He’s kind of grateful for Isaac - though he’d still never admit it - because he’s the only one who takes use of the break and doesn’t show off.

Thankfully, Stiles totally outdoes them all at the shooting range. They all try but Stiles is a knife throwing expert, and well, he’d found a much easier approach to weapons since he didn’t have claws and fangs to resort to.

All in all, they make a damn good team, but there’s no telling what awaits them outside of the gym and what skills they’re going to need.

What do you think the team will find? What should their next step be? Which approach should they use, or what skill do you think they will need?

Comment or reply to keep the story alive!

#fbis story #chapter 4 #foreverbisterek #fbis in training #fbis #sterekiseternal #eternalsterek #sterek #stiles stilinski #derek hale

[grumpiestgrumpdump]

All the Queen questions, tho

THANKS TUMBLR FOR NOTIFYING ME OF AN ASK FROM A LOVELY PERSON.

>-> Anyways…

Bohemian Rhapsody - What matters to you more than anything in the world?

It’s going to sound cliche, but my friends. My best friends. They not only ground me on my bad days, but help me build a ladder to get back out of the pit. They inspire me in so many ways to create (even if I am terrified to post my writing anywhere and hesitant at best with my art). They know who they are.

Another One Bites The Dust - What one thing would you wipe off the face of the earth?

The whole of the GOP/nazis. I mean… Um.. FUCK MY ANSWER IS GOING TO BE POLITICAL PERIOD SO YEAH.

Under Pressure - How stressed are you currently?

AHAHAHAHAHAAHAAAHHHhhhhooo god. Currently I think my mind is blocking out current stresses over my car. Which I am sure people are tired of seeing me reblog about.

We Will Rock You - What was the last concert you went to?

STEVEN WILSON AT THE VARIETY PLAYHOUSE IN ATLANTA, GEORGIA, BABY!! It was my fifth time seeing him perform, and my third this year alone. Seriously, if you’re into progressive rock or just some damn good music that is well written, produced, and mastered, go listen to him. He’s also done a lot of remixes of classic prog albums by King Crimson, Gentle Giant, and Jethro Tull.

Besides the Grumps/NSP/TWRP, Steven Wilson is my big thing.

Somebody To Love - Are you looking for somebody to love?

Not really. Would it be nice if it happened? Of course, but I’m not going to go looking. I’m pretty damn alright with being single.

We Are The Champions - What achievement are you most proud of?

Living to see thirty despite how much life has thrown at me and dealing with chronic pain. THAT ONE GOT DEEP.

Radio GaGa - What do you think of today’s popular music?

*cracks knuckles* Are you even ready for this rant? I’ll try to keep it short.

I hate it. Absolutely hate it. It’s overproduced, unoriginal, and at times degrading. Nearly everyone uses auto tune over vocal talent (there is a time, place, and level for auto tune). There’s no skill nor heart put into it anymore. It’s all about money, fame, and followers. Are there exceptions? Of course (namely thinking of Florence + The Machine here), as there always are, but the majority of it is just awful.

This is why I listen to things that aren’t inherently “popular” with the masses. A lot of metal, progressive (rock and metal), stoner, psychedelic, and doom. I’ve discovered a lot of bands who deserve so much more than what they have. Am I happy when they get mainstream attention? Of fucking course! Because it means that there is a moment in the constant flood of Gucci and “be beautiful and rich to be awesome” that is different. Is strong enough, even if for a moment, to stand against the flow and say “THERE IS SOMETHING MORE”. This is why I was so fucking excited when “Danny Don’t You Know” blew up, and Cool Patrol stayed at #1 on Billboard as long as it did. Why I lost my shit when Steven Wilson was interviewed by them after To The Bone came out, and they premiered the video for “Song of I”. For one moment, there was something truly original out there, and (maybe) some people saw it and said “this is fucking awesome, what have I been missing out on?”

That wasn’t as short as I thought it might be, but I could wax poetic about the state of the music industry and popular music for hours. Also... That's just my opinion. If you like popular music, have at it. I'm happy you can enjoy something I generally can't, and it does something for you.

I Want To Break Free - If you could move to any part of the world, where would you want to live?

With my platonic life mate in Michigan where she currently lives. She is the Dan to my Arin.

Love Of My Life - Have you ever had your heart broken?

Yep. I spent a whole fucking week listening to Steven Wilson’s “Hand. Cannot. Erase.” album because of it, and sobbing every time I heard “Routine” and “Ancestral”.

Killer Queen - What is your favourite thing about yourself?

My ability to name every Porcupine Tree album in chronological order in under 30 seconds, probably.

The Show Must Go On - What is something you will never give up?

Music. I can’t play a thing, and my vocals aren’t that great since I did some hefty damage to them, but I have an insane appreciation for music. Which is why I write for a music blog.

Crazy Little Thing Called Love - Name some of your favourite musicians.

OH BOY GET READY! I am not going to include NSP or TWRP because those should be a given, honestly.

Steven Wilson (and anything he has done which includes Porcupine Tree, Bass Communion, his solo stuff, and more), Opeth, Storm Corrosion, Diary Of My Misanthropy, Russian Circles, Godspeed You! Black Emperor, Volbeat, Calabrese, Mastodon, Sabaton, Powerwolf, Alestorm, The Sword, Blood Ceremony, Deathbell, URSA, Elder, King Buffalo, Process of Illumination, The Night Flight Orchestra, American Murder Song, Riverside, Lunatic Soul, Marillion, Pink Floyd, Rush, King’s X, Minsk, Night Runner, The Necromancers…

The list could go on for a WHILE. I highly suggest checking some of these guys out. Some of them are smaller bands (like The Necromancers, Elder, King Buffalo, Diary Of My Misanthropy, and Deathbell) I or my friend found on Bandcamp.

Who Wants To Live Forever - If you could be immortal, would you?

No, because I couldn’t handle seeing everyone I love and care for grow old and die.

Fat Bottomed Girls - What are some traits you look for in a partner?

Someone who is understanding and accepting of the fact I deal with chronic pain and demisexual, who clicks with me on many levels (especially music), and… Is awesome? I dunno.

I Want It All - If you could have anything in the world, what would it be?

Right now, a fucking working car. That’d be GREAT.

#not grumps #sharky speaks #SORRY IT IS SO LONG #I WENT ON TWO TANGENTS #I HAVE A LOT OF FEELINGS ABOUT MUSIC YO #Also if any of my followers ever want to talk music #hit me up my peeps #I can suggest music for DAYS #especially of the rock and metal varieties #also my ass should be in bed right now #oopsies oh well #Anonymous