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rubydubydoo122 · 16 days

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Jason gets de-aged because I've seen fics of Tim or Dick being de-aged, and Bruce losing his memory, but no one has realized the potential for angst if you de-age Jason.

When Jason woke up to the familiar ceiling of the batcave, feeling… whole.

He remembered everything.

He remembered dying, crawling out of his grave, and jumping out of the Lazarus Pit. He remembered the moment Talia showed him pictures of Tim as Robin, he remembered planting the bomb under the Batmobile. He remembered every single thing that happened in the past five years.

And he remembered things from before. Things he had forgotten due to the blunt force head trauma. He had forgotten about the nights they would spend in the library after Jason had a nightmare. He had forgotten about the moments he had with Dick where they would team up against Bruce, like real brothers. He had forgotten about most of the good moments he had while living at the manor. At his home. And they were really good memories.

He didn’t know whether to cry in relief or guilt or mourning, because that was just another thing to add to the list of things that the Joker took away from him. The memories of all the good things.

He covered his face with his arm and he could tell by the size and weight of it that he was back to normal.

Back to being the Red Hood. The real lone-wolf vigilante in Gotham because he had burned bridges with anyone who had cared about him. What a fucking asshole.

“Jay, Lad, you’re awake.” He heard the squeak of the chair that they kept in the medbay, “How are you feeling?”

He didn’t lift his arm up to look at Bruce. Fuck, Jason had collapsed in front of his grave. He probably given Bruce an aneurysm. A week ago, he would’ve laughed, but now… he just felt guilty. “I'm sorry.” He meant that for a million different things. He’s sorry for trying to kill half of the family. He’s sorry for digging up Bruce’s trauma. He’s sorry for believing that Bruce didn’t love him.

“Jason, I’m sorry—“

“Bruce. I know we have a lot to talk about, but can you give me, like… a couple minutes to sort out my brain?”

The chair squeaked again, but Bruce didn’t say anything.

Jason sat up to look at Bruce, who was sitting in the chair, stunned. “Sorry, I just thought you would be… more upset.”

“I am upset.” Because even though he was lost in a tornado of emotions he could tell that upset was one of the major fronts.

“I didn’t mean to make it seem like I cared about the younger version of you more than—“

“That’s not why I’m upset.” Maybe a week ago, but not really right now. “I’m more upset that all of you made the collective decision to keep my death from me.” He paused looking for the right words, “I— younger me really thought I made it. I thought I got to perform in the school musical, open acceptance letters, I thought I got to walk across the stage and move into a dorm.” He felt his eyes burn in shame as he looked down at his hands. The hands that were once stained in Tim’s blood. The hands that once held a gun aimed at Damian, “I thought I would’ve been a good older brother, and you all just let me believe that. And I get it,” he looked back up at the stalactites hanging from the ceiling, “telling 15 year old me that, despite everything, I still didn’t make it, it would’ve been hard, but it was worse to realize that I never really got those things.” He took a deep breath, “I’m not angry at you. Not anymore. And there’s more we need to talk about, but I think I’m going to need to sleep on some things before we do.”

Jason looked back at Bruce, and he doesn’t think he’s ever seen Bruce this… vulnerable. “Yes. Ok. Yeah, take as much time as you need.” But Bruce took Jason’s hands in his, “Just- know that I’m proud of you. For all that you’ve been through, and all that you’ve overcome, you still have a good heart. You have always had a good heart.”

“I love you, Dad. And I see now how much you love me too.”

Jason found Dick in his room. He doesn’t know what possessed him to come to Dick first— he was planning on sitting in the library, bawling his eyes out, and then talk with Bruce about whatever he wanted to talk about. Yet here he was, standing in Dicks doorway, feeling like he was 13 again, wondering if Dicks “I’m always here to talk if you need to,” was real.

Turns out, everyone in the manor, besides Bruce and Alfred, were already there.

They were all curled up in some way against Dick. Damian under his right arm, Tim under his left. Cass was curled around Tim, but had her head resting on Dicks shoulder, and Duke was laying perpendicularly across Dicks legs, though he was clutching Zitka tightly in his arms.

There was also part of him that felt kind of left out. Realizing how close everyone was except for him. And he knew that was his fault. He had burned the bridges before he could even try to cross them. Now all he could do was gaze at the city from across the river.

No.

He’s been building a new bridge. Getting closer and closer to the city. To this family. He wouldn’t mess it up again. Because the 12 year old kid who jacked the Batmobiles tires deserved a home. The 13 year old kid who had been in the middle of a custody tug of war deserved a family. The 15 year old who ran away from home desperate to find a mother deserves love.

“Jason!” Dick shot up, effectively ruining the cuddle pile, and drawing attention to him lurking at the doorway. Though, he wouldn’t be surprised if Cass already knew he was there.

There was a collective look of relief throughout the group, even from Damian. Of all people.

He shoved the knot that was in his stomach down and opted for a laugh, “I have fought valiantly, and I have reclaimed puberty from the wicked witch of the west.”

He was almost knocked over by everyone coming in for a group hug.

“You little lying bastard.” He felt Duke's hand swat the back of his head, “man, it took us a whole hour to figure out that none of us knew where you were. Dick was about to kick down your door when Bruce came up with the key.”

Of all the old memories that Jason had gotten back, Bruce had never intruded on Jason’s space without him wanting to. He didn’t even think he had a key. So why…

“And then, Bruce brought you back unconscious. We thought you were gonna die again, but then you magically poofed back into your giant ass self, and—“

“Breathe!” Because he knew Tim would keep rambling, “and I just woke up, give me a minute.” Because he was expecting just Dick to be in his room. Not everyone. And as much as he cares for the whole entourage, he doesn’t think he has the energy to.. stay strong for them. He just wanted his big brother. Dick was his big brother first.

And thank god for Cass’s people reading skills, because she cupped Jason’s cheek and offered him a small smile, “Might be big again, but you’re our little brother.” She glanced to Dick, and then guided Tim, Duke and Damian out of the room, closing the door behind her.

Jason suddenly felt like he was still 15. Like he hadn’t been changed back. Like he was transported back in time to before everything had become so messy.

Dick studied his face, “What’s wrong?” He patted the space next to him on his bed. Just like that time Jason had gone to Titans Tower after Bruce had said he wasn’t Jason’s father.

He sat down next to Dick, and then scooted down, so that he could comfortably rest his head on his chest. He could feel his face twitch, holding back the knot in his stomach that had risen into his throat.

How could he have forgotten how much Dick cared? Maybe he wasn’t around that much, but he cared . He cared so much .

He felt his expression crumple and fall. How could he have forgotten how much Dick tried?

Dick rubbed little circles into his back, as Jason muffled his sons into his shirt. Just like he had done when Jason wasn’t able to help Gloria Stanson. A couple nights before he left for space. He didn’t ask, or push, just waited.

“I- I remember everything . I used to only be able to remember the bad. Now I remember…all the good too.” He stared at the tree outside of the window they used to climb together, “I remember now that even though you weren’t here often, you were a good brother. You were a really good brother. And I feel like shit for thinking you’ve always hated me, because—“

“Jason, can I be honest with you?” Dick dabbed at the tears that had fallen from Jason’s face. “I kind of assumed. When you wouldn’t get an inside joke, or when I would bring up something, and you would just stare blankly. I never felt offended when you didn't know, just upset with myself that I didn’t make more time, because maybe then certain memories would stick.” He traced the scar on Jason’s temple, “and I think a lot about how you were the one who reminded me how to love freely.”

Jason looked up to make eye contact with Dick, “I was wondering how you went from angry at Bruce and the world to adopting the kids Bruce adopted.”

Dick chuckled, “I passed the angry child mantle down to you too. It comes with the post-Robin era.” He continued to trace the scar, “but seriously. Bruce having the emotional competency of a turnip while I was growing up really affected the way I connected with people. Then you came along, this kid, who despite having nothing but the clothes on his back, still loved with his whole heart. You were a lot like my parents in that sense. You turned Robin into a legacy, and I couldn’t think of a better person to have done that.”

Jason turned away, “Fuck you. You’re making me cry.” They stayed like that in silence for a bit. “I, uh, found my old phone. And I listened to a bunch of the voicemails.”

He felt Dick tense up for a moment, “Oh?”

“You were Batman? Like I knew you were Batman with Damian, but I didn’t realize you were also Batman with Tim.”

He felt Dick relax under him, “That was not the direction I expected you to take.”

“I’m prioritizing.”

“Yeah, I was. It was only for a couple months, but I hated every moment of it then. Alfred was in England, and Bruce was training to get his strength up. I guess the good part was Tim. That was when we really got close. I think that was when I actually started to see him as my little brother.” Dick paused, “Though, if you’re bringing this up as a Segway to why make Damian Robin if you and Tim already had the Batman/Robin thing in the past, I did it because I saw Tim as an equal when it came to vigilantism. The Batman and Robin dynamic wouldn’t work with us.”

“Yeah… that makes sense.” Jason paused, “you killed the Joker?”

“Yeah.” Dick rested his head on top of Jason’s, “and just so you know, Bruce also came close right after he killed you. Close to the point where Clark had to stop him.”

“I never really wanted Bruce to kill the Joker. I just wanted him to prove he cared. If he had given me a hug, I probably would’ve stopped everything. I gotta tell him that.” He sat up, “Bro, Bruce said he was proud of me. I think he’s still following that mission to keep me happy.”

Dick snorted, “How do you know about that?”

“I snooped.” He shrugged and put his head back on Dicks chest, “I think we should make one for how Bruce should take care of all of us. And then make one for Tim to eat three meals a day and get at least five hours of sleep per day.”

“But, seriously, we probably do.” He felt Dick start to fiddle with one of the bat charms in his hair as they fell back into silence. “Talia?”

Jason didn’t say anything.

“You don’t have to tell me anything that you don’t want to, but I’m here if you want to talk about it.” Dick let out a breath, “You… listened to the voicemails, you know I… I won’t judge.”

Jason nodded and reached out to stroke Zitkas trunk, “I know I’m your… little brother, but you can talk to me too if you want to. It won’t change how I see you.”

Dick moved Zitka so she was closer to both of them, “yeah I know.”

Jason sighed, “I… I didn’t know how old I was until your birthday back in March. I simultaneously felt too old but too young. For everything.”

“Yeah. Yeah. I get that.”

There was a long stretch of silence. It was the first time in a while that both of them had a heart to heart. It was the first time in a long time since they had an understanding between each other.

“Is it bad? That I still see her as a mother?”

“Sheila?”

“Well, yeah, I guess,” because even after the betrayal, he still knew she did it because she didn’t really have any other choice, “but I was talking about Talia.”

“Oh.” He heard Dicks jaw click.

“So yeah?”

“No, it's not that.” Dick gave it some thought. Choosing his words carefully, “I mean, she took care of you when no one else did, so it makes sense, but…every adult figure in your life has let you down in some way, and you deserve so much better than that.”

Jason thought about it for a minute. His papi had turned to a life of crime, his mami fell victim to heroin. Sheila had chosen her own life and reputation over Jason, and Talia kinda just… took Jason in to score points with Bruce.

Bruce… Bruce could never fully be his dad. Not anymore. Not with all the bad blood. Not when Batman would always be more important. “It’s, uh, I guess it’s too late now, but I’ll never regret the three years I spent calling this manor my home. They were probably the best years of my life.” He pressed at a vein on Dicks hand. “Alfred and Bruce were good for me, though. They just… didn’t expect me to come back, which is understandable, but that was when I needed them the most.” He pulled Zitka in close, “Sometimes, I wonder what things would’ve been like if Bruce had found me instead of Talia.”

“I wonder that all the time too.” Dick continued to rub circles into Jason’s back, “You know, you’ll always be my little brother. My first little sibling. No matter how far apart we grow from each other, or if you annoy the shit out of me, You’ll always have a home in my heart. I promise.”

Jason stayed quiet while he basked in the comfort of his older brother for a while. Soaking in the feeling, making up for the years lost without it. “I love you too.”

After Jason was done talking to Dick he went straight to the kitchen. For one, he was hungry, because magic sucks, and he also felt the need to do something. Specifically, bake a strawberry cake. Because of course he had forgotten about his tradition with Alfred. Even during his past Birthday he had spent in Gotham, he didn’t— he didn’t even celebrate at all. He remembered it was his birthday, he just didn’t know how many candles to put on the cake.

Jason just wanted to do this with Alfred. Like old times. Of course, Alfred was still out getting the groceries, and it felt like he’d been out for years, but nonetheless, he was a grown man allowed in the kitchen. So he started getting out the ingredients for the cake.

Except they did not have any strawberries. Which put a real stickler in Jason’s plan because the fresh strawberries were the best part. They added a burst of tartness with each bit and balanced out the sweetness of the buttercream.

Just then Alfred came through the kitchen with a brown paper bag. He looked from Jason to the countertop that had a neat array of ingredients and then back to Jason with a smile. Alfred set down the bag and reached into it. “I suppose we had the same idea, my boy.” He pulled out two boxes of the fancy strawberries he always got. “You’re going to have to double the recipe.” Alfred pulled out two more boxes.

“Alright, Alfred.” Jason smiled back, and exchanged the bowl he’d originally taken out for a bigger one. Even though Alfred was working on dinner and Jason was working on the cake, they fell back into their old rhythm.

One by one his siblings started filing in. First Cass, who nabbed a strawberry. Then Damian, who Jason may or may not have discretely gotten flour on his face, making him look absolutely adorable. And while Jason was pouring the batter into the pan Duke, Tim, walked in, so he had given them the bowl and spoon to clean off.

He got started on the buttercream, slowly adding the strawberry compote that he’d made before he’d made the batter, when a finger made its way into the bowl, and then swiped his nose.

He swatted at Dick when he tried to get another dollop to taste, “Nope. Nuh uh. Getchur fingers away from my buttercream.”

“Come on! Duke and Tim got to lick the batter!”

“And I was going to give this spatula to you, but if you're being impatient, it’s going to Cass.”

Dick huffed and rounded the counter, sitting on the chair next to Cass.

Tim and Damian were bickering, and Duke was adding comments that seemed to be egging on both sides. The subtle agent of chaos.

Jason took the cake out of the oven and put it on a rack to cool. He made his way back to Alfred, who had just put the stove on simmer, and held his hand, “Thank you, Alfred.”

“Whatever for, my boy?”

Jason observed everyone in the room. Cass ruffling Tim’s hair, and Duke finally cracking. Dick wiping the flour off of Damian’s face while he huffed about not tolerating this childish behavior. Bruce leaning against the doorframe to the kitchen with a fond smile on his face. “Wishing for this. For Bruce to have people to live for. For wishing for me back.”

Alfred smiled and looked at Jason, “I always assumed it was you who made it happen. Using your magic to put everyone in a place to meet eventually before coming back to us yourself. And I am so so grateful that you did.”

And Jason knew Alfred meant it. Because it was Alfred. It was Alfred who loved them all so much that they were all just as much his kids as they were Bruce’s. Bruce might’ve built this family, but Alfred held it steady.

Jason rested his head on Alfred’s shoulder. “You mean so much to me, Alfred.”

Alfred brought a hand up to cup Jason’s cheek, “However much I mean to you, I can assure you, you mean infinitely more to me.”

And Jason knew that. He picked his head up to look at Alfred, and gave him a smirk, “Does this mean I’m your favorite?”

Alfred raised his eyebrows, “I care for you all equally.”

Jason could feel himself grin from ear to ear, because yup. He was definitely Alfred’s favorite, “Don’t worry. I won’t tell anyone.”

He went back over to the cake and started frosting it, casting another look at everyone in the room. He made eye contact with Bruce and offered him a smile, and he returned it.

If someone had asked Jason a week ago if he considered these people his family he probably would have shot them in the face. He’d been so afraid his entire life that the home he’d founded would never be permanent. He had thought in the past five years he had lost the love he had gained. He thought it had all died along with him. Except it hadn’t. It had grown so much bigger and was waiting to engulf him back into the fold. Jason was finally ready to walk back into it.

The door opened, and Stephanie Brown slid across the wood and used Bruce to stop her momentum, “Guess who’s ready to collect blackmail consisting of Sunshine–” She paused and caught sight of him, “Jason! You’re a giant again.” She huffed, “I was going to convince little you that I was your favorite.”

“Blondie, you scared little me.” He held up the piping bag with the strawberry compote, “Quick, what should I write on the cake.”

Steph walked over and punched his shoulder, “ I lived, Bitches! All caps. ‘X’s to dot the ‘I’s.”

“You do know your don’t dot capital ‘I’s right?” Jason looked over to Alfred for permission.

“Well, Master Jason, You did live. Let the bitches know.”

The whole room erupted into howls of laughter, as Jason grinned and piped the words onto the cake, “Hell yeah, I lived Bitches.”

#jason todd #batman #batfam #dc comics #red hood #dick grayson #tim drake #bruce wayne #damian wayne #duke thomas #cassandra cain #stephanie brown

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jakowskis · 7 months

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torchwood resources

just some stuff i've accumulated during this fixation :) hope it proves handy :D

ianto's-desktop (livejournal) - archived most of the things found on the torchwood website during season 1 and season 2; the only thing missing is the videos. / note: click the headers of the posts to see the full thing, or some stuff with appear incomplete. took me a sec to figure out, lol

speaking of the website...

season 1 website (archive.org)

season 2 website (archive.org) - unlike the s1 website, the bulk of the s2 site's content is pretty inaccessible through the wayback machine (at least for me; maybe i'm doing something wrong), so thank g-d for ianto's desktop

there's also a good amount of rebloggable site content in this person's tumblr tag.

season 1 declassified (youtube)

season 2 declassified (youtube)

season 1 commentaries (mega.nz)

torchwood books (google drive) - gonna be honest, i haven't tried to download any of these myself

border princes audiobook (read by eve) + all of the radio plays (archive.org)

torchwood magazines (beta.reddit) - download links for all of them! p fuckin kewl

torchwood official yearbook (archive.org)

herecomesthedrums (youtube) - account that started posting before the show came out and is chock full of promos, trailers, interviews... some real fun goodies in there

torchwood: up close (youtube) - handful of bts videos with the cast + crew

season 1 unreleased tracks (soundcloud) - the end of days ones hrhghgh

out of time unreleased tracks (soundcloud) - i absolutely adore the music in this ep so i was so happy when i found these

the torchwood fanpop - this has sooooooo much content like i scrolled for a loooooong time and never reached the bottom. lotta stuff i hadn't seen before, too. there's fun hd promo pics, pics of the cast, and a lot of extremely early 2010s edits, graphics, and fanvids. / note: i also had this page bookmarked + it's got different content than the main page so i'll link it

aaand under the cut i'm gonna dump some silly stuff i've collected of the cast. but yeah, there ya go :-)

gally 2015: zip files of someone's pictures of eve, naoko, and burn (livejournal)

gally 2015: someone's account of the torchwood panels + meeting the cast (everyone was there but gareth!) - naoko & burn's solo panels / autograph table chats + barrowman photo-op + the naoko&burn&eve group panel / barrowman solo panel + burn&eve joint panel

dragon con 2013 (flickr) - i found two albums: this one, and this one, which has torchwood cast images on the first and second pages.

burn at chicago tardis 2012 (flickr) - ehehe 2012-2013 burn gorman w his classy little outfits my beloved. this is just hq pictures of that event. burn's in a bunch at the top and some at the end of the second page

the hub 2009 (flickr) - some kind of torchwood event. gareth, burn, eve, kai, and tom are all there. i dunno

hvff 2018: 'insights from the whole cast'

hvff 2018: video of everybody goofing off (twitter)

gareth endorsing owandy teehee (twitter) - this is getting dumped here bc im gay

sigh. (blogspot) - pics from that one fuckin 08 panel where gareth & john made out like 5 times + gareth took his jeans off for some reason. i don't even go here but i feel like this is unfortunately historically relevant. also the fujoshis in the comments are really funny

incomplete but sizable lists of cons gareth's been to and john's been to, in case anyone wants to dig around for photos/footage of any of these. the other cast members (excluding burn, for some reason) all have pages on this site as well, but theirs are super incomplete so i won't bother linking

#torchwood #mine #txt #torchwood posting #might update w more #ohhhh internet archive my beloved #... ngl i am hoarding some other stuff. but woohoo this means i can delete one of my laptop folders hehehee

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maraschinomerry · 10 months

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hi lovely, adore your writing <3 i was wondering if i could get a lucy x fem!reader where lucy thinks she’s jealous of the reader cause she always thinks the readers so pretty and it’s just a lot of pining and everyone’s trying to make lucy realise she’s in love, and then one day she sees someone flirting with r and is like oh i’m not jealous i’m gay and just a lot of fluff and things thank yoy so much <3333

Chance Encounters

Pairings: Lucy Carlyle x fem!reader

Content: oblivious flirting, pining, self-esteem issues, kissing

A/N: what a way to get back into writing, this is one of my longest fics yet! Thanks for being so patient with me, hope you enjoy it 💙

Word count: 3.8k

Taglist: @neewtmas @marinalor @ettadear @honey-with-tea (let me know if you want adding or removing!)

Lucy flopped into her seat with a stack of books and a dejected huff. "Do Fittes have a secret beauty quota for new hires or something?"

Lockwood and George both began speaking at the same time from the other side of the table - Lockwood to assure her that she'd be a shoe-in if that were the case, George to protest that Kipps would never have been hired.

The team were in the British Archives researching a particularly tough case, when Kipps and his crew strolled in with their newest member. If Lucy had thought Kat was pretty, this new girl was on a whole other level. Girls like that always got the best jobs, the most attention from boys, all the perks. It just wasn't fair.

You kept close, tucked behind Kipps' shoulder, as your team strode with far more confidence than you through the maze of shelves. You'd only joined Fittes a week ago and were still getting used to all the rules, both written and unwritten. Kat had at least warned you in advance about the odds of running into Lockwood & Co, how fierce the rivalry was between their leader and yours.

"Ah, Tony," Kipps said ahead of you, and you almost ran into him with how little you'd been concentrating.

Whatever you'd been expecting the members of the infamous agency to be like, this wasn't it. The one scowling most intensely at your colleague must be Lockwood, not the older man you'd pictured but a thin, smartly dressed teenager with bags under his eyes almost as dark as his hair. He was only accompanied by two other people, a curly haired boy who was only visible down to his glasses over the top of an enormous stack of books, and a pretty brunette girl who hadn't taken her eyes off you from the moment you walked in. Her gaze was unwavering and unreadable, and you had to resist the urge to squirm.

You tuned back in. Kipps was speaking again. "Allow me to introduce (name), one of the most prestigious agents the country has to offer." It would have been embarrassing enough had he just called you prestigious, but the way he emphasised it made you wonder if it was some kind of dig at them. You tried to shrink further behind him, cheeks growing warm.

"I'm Lucy Carlyle," the girl suddenly blurted. Her eyes widened as though she was surprised by her own actions. The boys also looked at her, a little stunned. "I mean," she fumbled, "obviously just call me Lucy. This is Lockwood and George."

Learning her name finally made it click where you'd heard of the other agency. "Oh, you solved the Annabel Ward case! I remember seeing it on the news, you're amazing!"

Kipps elbowed you without subtlety, but you didn't miss the way Lucy's face changed. It was only brief, but there was a flicker of pride and something like awe.

"I was going to say the same to you!" Clearly she hadn't noticed Kipps' reaction, nor the unusual look her boss was shooting her. "I'd give anything to have been there when you fought that Rawbones, it sounded so impressive."

"Well," Lockwood chipped in at last, "when you get fed up of Kipps you know where to find us to exchange stories and advice." The flash of a glare he shot your boss was sharp as a rapier, but he smiled warmly at you.

You returned the smile. "Either way, I'm sure we'll run into each other again." Lucy met your eyes again, but where before she'd stared intensely, now she quickly averted her gaze. Odd. Kipps led you away before you could address the matter further.

—

Nearly two months went by without so much as a glimpse of Lockwood & Co. Part of you wondered whether Kipps was intentionally avoiding them, but you knew that was irrational - even he couldn't predict their movements all the time.

This proved true one Saturday afternoon, when you were sent on a last-minute errand to Satchell's. Your team was out of flares, Kat had said, and Fittes wouldn't get an official restock until Monday. Armed with your rapier, a wad of petty cash, and firm instructions not to return empty handed, you hailed a cab across town. It was a pleasant enough day, but you didn't much feel like walking. Best to get the supplies and get back to whichever task Kipps no doubt had lined up for you next.

Kipps wasn't a bad team leader, not by any stretch of the imagination. He was fair, mucking in on tasks and never asking anyone to do something he wouldn't be willing to do himself, and caring enough to always check in after a case. Nonetheless, it was clear this rivalry with the other agency had had an impact on him and made him so desperate to push himself, and by extension his team, to higher and higher standards. Frankly, it was a little exhausting.

You were so caught up in your thoughts that you didn't realise you were running on autopilot until you reached for the handle to Satchell's door and another hand came to rest over yours. A streak of blue appeared in the corner of your eye, and you looked up to see a familiar brunette.

"Lucy, hi!"

The other girl jumped a little. "Oh, (name) I'm so sorry, I was in my own world there." You waved the apology away with your free hand, glancing briefly at the other under hers. She noticed, following your gaze, and quickly snatched hers back with a nervous chuckle. No longer at risk of accidentally smacking her with the door, you opened it and gestured for her to go ahead. She stepped in, reaching back to hold it open from within for you.

Inside was a maze of weaponry. Shelves upon shelves of neat packaging stamped with the Satchell's logo; you recognised many of them, of course, salt bombs and Greek fire and lavender water, but there didn't seem to be much logic to how they were laid out. Turning one corner brought you face to face with floor-to-ceiling silver-glass. Where did you start?

You'd frozen on the spot, and Lucy was a little way ahead of you before she faltered. She must have realised you were no longer behind her.

"Everything okay?"

You nodded unconvincingly. "Fine, I just… haven't actually been in here before."

"Oh, it's easy enough to find your way around once you know. They sort of organise by intensity so you can't get someone popping in the door and making off with an armful of bomb flares." You both giggled at the thought. "But, um, I can show you around a bit if you know what you're looking for?"

You felt your smile ignite, but she continued hurriedly without noticing. "Only if you want, I mean, the staff are super helpful here and they probably know more than me. Not that you can't figure it out on your own, you seem like one of those cool independent types so-"

Finally, you cut her off with a gentle hand on her arm. She stopped talking instantly, like you'd managed to find a secret 'off' switch, and actually looked as though she'd short-circuited entirely. Cautiously, shyly, you slid your hand down and through until your arm was linked with hers. 'Off' no longer pressed, she sprung back to life with a fierce blush.

As Lucy led you round the shop, she chatted away about the different types of defences on offer. She’d taken you to the flares you were looking for first, of course, but when you made no move to leave she took you along to gather her own supplies. She’d seemed so jittery at first, you almost worried she was uncomfortable having you there, but the more she spoke about her experience making her own salt bombs and the run-in she had with a bunch of ghostly monks and a bomb flare, the more confident she became. Something about seeing her so in her element helped you to relax as well. It broke the ice.

“So what’s it like at Lockwood and Co?” you asked eventually. You’d been curious about the other agency ever since that first meeting - nothing about them had been expected, and you wondered if maybe the impression Kipps had given was more biased than you thought.

Lucy glanced at you, arm deep in a shelf stocked to the brim with vials of lavender water (they stock from the back, she’d advised, so the fresh ones are the hardest to reach). She hadn’t expected the question, but the answer came naturally. “Great, actually. I came to London hoping to get in with one of the big agencies like Fittes, but I didn’t have any of the right papers so I ended up there as sort of a last resort. It was difficult to get used to at first, they’re not exactly by-the-book as you’ve probably heard from Kipps, but now I wouldn’t trade it for anything. Lockwood and George are like family.”

The final part hit you like a ton of bricks. That was what you’d felt missing in your team. They were all good people and had quickly grown to be your friends, but they didn’t feel like family. Fittes didn’t feel like home. And here was this girl, who before today had barely had a full conversation with you, guiding you round the shop like it was nothing and telling you how this funny little agency was just that. Home. A weight you didn’t even realise you’d been carrying shifted, working its way up from the pit in your stomach to your chest where it settled, resolute yet comforting.

You realised you were now the one staring when Lucy waved a fistful of vials at you. “I think that’s me sorted,” she nodded to the smartly dressed man at the till. You picked up your basket of flares from the ground, wrapping your other hand around the wad of cash in your pocket, and followed her lead.

—

The rosy hues of evening were beginning to drift across the sky when the two of you emerged onto the high street. You hadn’t realised how long it had been; Kipps would be wondering where you were. The weight in your chest and the smile on your face told you that you didn’t much care. Now that the temperature had dropped a couple of degrees it was much more pleasant, and a gentle breeze ruffled your hair, carrying a soft floral scent. There were no flowers nearby, and you wondered whether it came from the girl beside you. It was lovely, whatever it was.

“Thanks again Lucy, I’d still be lost in the first set of shelves if it wasn’t for you.” The laugh that got from her was as fresh as the breeze, and you couldn’t help but smile wider. It gave you the courage to continue and ask, “Could I walk you home?”

Lucy frowned, and you worried it was too forward. You’ve only met her twice, for goodness sake. “Isn’t Fittes the other way? I don’t want to drag you all the way across town for no reason.”

That was hopeful - she wasn’t concerned about your intentions but for your wellbeing. “I don’t really want to head back just yet,” you admitted. “Besides, you’ve got more bags than me, the least I can do is give you a hand after all your help in there.” She tried to protest, but you held out a hand and with some reluctance she handed one over until you had two each. “There’s something I need to ask Lockwood too, so…”

This was turning out to be a day full of surprises, because you couldn’t possibly have predicted what Lucy said next. “Oh, he’s single, if that’s what you want to know.”

All the breath in your chest rushed out at once, the weight pressing hard on your lungs. “What?”

Your shock was mirrored on her face. “I just… after you were both talking about meeting again in the Archives… and since he’s a bit of a charmer and you’re gorgeous, I figured-” The words died in her her throat as the blush returned, this time reaching up to the tip of her ears and down past the collar of her playsuit.

You fought to keep your smile from breaking into a full-blown grin. The poor girl looked like she wanted nothing more than for the pavement to open up and swallow her whole, and while it was so tempting to tease her a little and see how far that blush could spread you resisted. Plenty of time for that, if you’d read things right. For now, you gave a light chuckle. “Thanks, but I don’t think I’ve been charmed by him.” You tried your best to give the right amount of emphasis on the fact it wasn’t by him, but it didn’t seem to help. Maybe you’d misunderstood. You hoped not. Maybe she was just embarrassed and not thinking about it properly. At any rate, she didn’t shy away when you tucked in close for the walk back.

—

Lucy paced anxiously through the library. George was curled in one of the armchairs with a comic; you and Lockwood were away in the living room, discussing goodness knows what. She hadn’t dared to ask any further on the walk home. She’d eventually plucked up the nerve to talk to you again after what she’d said (why on earth had she said it in the first place, she wondered) and found you to be so easy to talk to. You’d told her about life at Fittes, she’d told you about life in Portland Row. It sounded fun, chaotic at times but in a good way.

“Will you please sit down before you wear a hole in the carpet,” George groaned. Lucy sighed dramatically, but obeyed and slumped into the other chair. The lamplight cast unusual shadows across her face - it was well into the evening now, curfew had descended, so clearly whatever you had to discuss was of vital importance or you’d have gone back to Fittes by now.

“What do you think they’re talking about?”

George didn’t look up. “I really couldn’t say, I don’t know her well enough.”

“Exactly, and Lockwood doesn’t know her very well either, so if she is trying to ask him out then-”

“Whoa whoa whoa,” George interrupted, dropping his comic with uncharacteristic urgency. “You really think that’s why she’s here?” He studied Lucy for a moment - the way she kept glancing at the door like she expected them to walk in hand in hand, the way her index finger tapped rapidly where her hand rested on the arm of the chair, the way her lip wasn’t curled with disgust or outrage but quivering with upset. “Oh my god, you’re jealous!”

Lucy rolled her eyes. “Obviously I’m jealous, George. I know what it’s like with girls like her, they’re always one step ahead or one move beyond me. Just because they’re pretty it means they get everything.”

George’s comic was thoroughly neglected now, this was far more interesting. He had his suspicions about why she was reacting like this, but knew her well enough that he couldn’t just come out and say them or she’d deny it. She had to realise for herself. “Riiight, you’re jealous that she gets Lockwood and you don’t.”

Her nose wrinkled, the first confirmation of his theory. “Ew, no. He’s like my brother. I just don’t think it’s fair, is all. She’s been so sweet all day but as soon as there’s a better option I fade into the background again.”

Second and third confirmation: Lucy thought you were sweet (and he remembered she’d said pretty before, a fourth point on the tally) and, whether she realised it or not, had just called herself an option. George was getting more certain by the minute. God, as much as it hurt seeing her think so low of herself, he had to admit it was amusing trying to make her see that perhaps the ‘better option’ was the person you’d gushed over and pointedly said you hoped to see again and whose arm you’d been hanging off the whole afternoon, not the person you’d barely said five words to. “Got it, so you’re just jealous on principle, not of her specifically.”

“Right!” she said confidently.

“And it's nothing to do with you having feelings?”

“Right,” she said less confidently.

George didn’t say another word, just pushed himself up from the armchair and left the room.

Five minutes later, he returned with Lockwood in tow. The taller boy didn’t fully enter the library, just leaned round the door with an excitable twinkle in his eye.

“Ah, Luce, I was just about to give (name) a demonstration of the training area, if you want to come and help? I’m not sure her mind’s really on training at the moment.” He raised an eyebrow suggestively, but Lucy only looked more disappointed than ever.

George grumbled under his breath, low enough that Lucy wouldn’t hear. “Is that your best attempt at acting coy?”

“Coy?” Lockwood hissed back. “I thought I was helping her realise that (name)’s crush isn’t on me, it’s on h-” A sharp elbow in his side cut him off. He returned to normal volume. “Anyway, she’s also going to stay over tonight, if you’re okay sharing your bed? Or I can always put her in-”

Lucy shot up. “No, no, I can share.” Her gaze flickered to George, who gave her a triumphantly smug grin. “And don’t worry about the training, I’ll go with her.” Lockwood matched the other boy’s grin, and ducked out again.

George made his way back to the armchair, Lucy’s eyes following him the whole way. Her expression was a conflicted mess - irritation at proving him right, amazement at her newly discovered feelings, worry and hope all blended together.

“So you were jealous that she might like Lockwood, but not for the reason you thought?” he asked gently. It wasn’t you she was jealous of, seeming to get his attention, but him for getting yours.

She shook her head, tears beginning to well as her lower lip wobbled. “Okay fine, you win, I have feelings! Still doesn’t change the fact she went straight for him. She doesn't like me the way… the way I like her.”

There was no more amusement to be had from this, and it broke George’s heart to see one of his closest friends so upset. He stood and pulled her into a hug, feeling her sniffle into his shoulder. “You know it was you she was talking to when she said about running into us again, right?” Lucy pulled back and looked at him incredulously, puffy cheeks bearing the telltale streaks of tears. She reached up and wiped them away vigorously with her cuffs. “And when Lockwood said she’s too distracted to train it’s not because she’s flirting with him, it’s because she didn’t shut up about you the whole time she was asking to join the agency.” Immediately, Lucy stopped scrubbing at her face. In fact, she stopped crying all together.

“She what?”

“Something about you showing her how much she was missing having a family, and she wants to be part of yours. And she has a bag of flares which technically she’s now stolen from Kipps to sweeten the deal, if you’ll have her. Lockwood said it’s your call.”

Lucy’s frantic rubbing resumed, trying to erase any evidence of her crying even as she hastily made her way to the door. George called after her, “Does this mean you finally acknowledge that I’m always right?” He laughed at the chain of expletives he got in response.

—

You were alone in the basement, admiring the collection of rapiers and trying not to overthink what was taking Lockwood so long, when Lucy came barrelling down the stairs. She skidded to a halt in front of you, breathing heavily and as flushed as she had been earlier.

“You were flirting with me?!” she gasped.

“I… yes?”

“Why didn’t you say so?”

“That’s generally how flirting works, love.” Her face grew redder at the pet name. “You only just realised?”

She cast her eyes upwards. “George helped. I thought you were just being nice to get to Lockwood.”

“I told you it wasn’t him I was charmed by.” You wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her close. She folded willingly into you, burying her incredibly warm face in the front of your blouse. The heat sparked something in your chest.

“You didn’t say it like that!” she whined.

“Well you know what I just realised?”

“What?”

“How cute you are when you’re flustered.”

“Really?” Her hands ran slowly down your back, coming to rest on your waist, and her eyes met yours before gliding down to your lips.

“No, of course not - I realised in the Archives.”

She smiled shyly, melting your heart even more. “I can’t believe you think I’m cute.”

You dragged her even closer, reaching up to boop her nose which made her scrunch her whole face up in the most adorable way. Your hand continued to the back of her neck, gently bringing her face towards yours. Perhaps you could make her even more flustered.

Lucy had other ideas. Her hands on your waist gripped tightly as she bounced up to meet you, lips soft and sweet yet firm and passionate. Her intensity took your breath away, and you felt your knees buckle. She held you strong, backing you up against the wall for support. You gasped a little into the kiss, trying to regain some air, and she did the same when your hand wound its way into her hair. When you both ran out of ways to breathe, you broke apart, but her hand found yours and yours never left her waist.

“Kipps is going to be absolutely fuming when he hears about all this,” she murmured with a grin.

“Oh trust me, I can’t wait to tell him myself. I quit, I’ve joined a better agency, and I get to be with one of the most amazing agents - one of the most amazing people - I've ever met.”

“I could say the same.” She puffed up her chest, pulled a face and lowered her voice in a silly impression of your now-former boss. “Allow me to introduce (name), one of the most prestigious agents in the country and my girlfriend… if you want to be?” Her voice returned to normal and she bit her lip nervously.

“There’s nothing I’d want more,” you smiled as you leant in to kiss her again.

#lockwood & co x reader #lucy carlyle x reader #lucy carlyle #fem!reader #save lockwood and co #lockwood & co fic

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blood-choke · 7 months

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Thanks for saying the bit about butch being identity more than presentation. I'm aware it is, like I'm not dumb, but I never feel like I show the fact that I'm butch enough, even if I'm soft butch. Like wearing androgynous clothes means fuck all in modern day since women's fashion is androgynous at a base line currently, plus I have very long hair and tend to keep my nails somewhat long so my identity doesn't show at all and it makes me constantly feel like I'm appropriating the label. But like if I were cis, I'd probably take testosterone for a bit like she/her Lea did; that idea is super enticing. As is I like being trans because it gives some masculinity to my physicality. If it were the past where women wore dresses, I'd definitely wear men's clothes (probably mixed with some parts of women's stuff). Just modern day doesn't let me visibly defy social norms as much as I want. My leather jacket and boots just isn't enough to show my identity.

Sorry for the ranble. Just made me feel way better, seeing confirmation that it's largely identity. Even if I don't have anyone to truly express it with.

you're welcome!

it was definitely something i had to unlearn; especially now with so much of lesbian bar culture having been pushed out and forgotten, a lot of younger people just.. don't know what these words mean, and when i was their age, butch and lesbian both were Bad Words that you never said at all except to demean someone.

reading older lesbian literature helped me overcome that and learning about all of the people that came before us; both about butches and femmes. digging through archives and putting myself into butch/femme spaces online has been hugely beneficial to me. i used to feel the same & like i could never "claim the label" because i didn't look a certain way, but that's just simply not true.

and this is especially not true for lesbians and other women who are already having other labels forced upon them by society; for not being white, for not being skinny, for not being hyper feminine, for not being cis, etc.

one of the things that made it really click for me was picture archives, specifically these kinds of pictures:

(pride, nyc, 1977 by meryl meisler)

this one is nancy tucker & her partner, and the two of them would switch shirts throughout the march. (1970 by kay tobin lahusen)

you can see how similar butches and femmes can look, and this is also what i mean when i say femmes are just as sanitized in popular media. butch and femme can be adjectives, but they are also nouns, they are genders and they are roles that people fill within lesbian relationships and within their community; how they move through the world, interact with society and how they interact with other lesbians and other women romantically and sexually.

this quote is one of my favorites:

“Butch is a trickster gender—and so, in a similar way, is femme. Lesbian gender expressions do not emulate heteropatriarchy, they subvert it. Femme removes femininity from the discursive shadow of masculinity and thereby strips from it any connotation of subordination or inferiority. Butch takes markers of “masculinity” and divests them of their association with maleness or manhood. Butchness works against the gender binary—the masculine/feminine paradigm—and reclaims for women the full breadth of possibilities when it comes to gender expression.”

— Caroline Narby, “On My Butchness”

#anyways. i'll get off my soapbox lmfao #im reluctant sometimes to discuss this stuff outside of lesbian circles just cus it very quickly devolves into like....#silly goofy 'let women be feminine' kind of takes #which is simply not something we need to say. women are Forced to be feminine #so when i talk abt it publicly i do tend to focus on the gender nonconformity part #and like i said earlier thats why i chose to lock the mc into a specific presentation #but femmes are just as gnc as butches too #it's complicated. and it's more than just how they look #ask #and-the-wind-i-know-its-cold

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rnoonpie · 4 months

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i lost my 12 year old cat last night very suddenly so i'm quieter than usual; i'm kind of letting my queue run out but i went digging through my archives for posts about him

i hope pictures and videos of him bring you joy like he brought my family for 12 years; he was such a special little sweetheart and i miss him so fucking much

#cw animal death #slice of pie

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escapistfantasymanual · 4 months

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so this fall, I got an ADHD diagnosis and started meds (whooo!!). the biggest benefit to having a diagnosis is a shift in perception. I've always been self-critical; now, I find I'm better able to give myself grace and the room to try new things.

might do a post later listing some of the life changes I've made in the last few months and rating how effective (or ineffective) they've been, BUT what I'm interested in right now is tracking my efforts to get an organization system in place, primarily for papers/files, of which I have a LOT.

this is all going to amount to mostly talking aloud, but oh, well. this is a thing I'm doing for me - if you're reading this, welcome, glad to have you along for the ride!

body of this post is below the read-more.

so, this is what I've got going as of December 22, 2023. I'm about a week into this project.

bold and italicized = a collection/group of papers n' stuff

BOLD AND ALL CAPS = a category in my overall system

semi-comprehensively, clockwise from the top-ish right: the brown paper bag is for tossing recyclable material into. stuff that needs to be shredded goes in a different location, out-of-frame. metal file box with a handle to the right and slightly behind is for IMPORTANT DOCUMENTS (medical/insurance, financial, car stuff, career, and education). papers in front of it will go inside once I review 'em.

moving down to the bottom right: the pile with a red legal-size folder and pink album is PERSONAL ARCHIVE stuff, specifically the bulkier objects. white papers in front of the file bin are stuff I need to take action on before filing away, probably in the IMPORTANT DOCUMENTS metal file box. the big clear file bin is for PERSONAL ARCHIVE materials, and is waiting to be filled. the medium clear bin and green metal box contain extra office SUPPLIES, to be consolidated and whittled down a bit.

(some stuff on the bed, not going to worry about that right now)

the gray archival box (a gift from a former internship supervisor!) is for PERSONAL ARCHIVE stuff, mainly photos and newspaper clippings. those are in front of it, along with papers to archive.

above that, we've got a mini-binder on top of extra folders and notebooks I'll most likely keep on hand somewhere as SUPPLIES. then the small clear bin and stack of notebooks above, to the left of the yellow file tower, are a bit tricky. they're creative notebooks I've kept over the years - most filled, some partially. I want to eventually invest in a quality archival box for them, preferably fire- and waterproof. I'd love to have them in a place where I can quickly flip through them, but as it stands, I don't dig into them very often. they can probably be kept in a STORAGE area. (another alternative is to digitize them. it'd be too much work, I think - something to consider later. for sure there are additional notebooks in a shoe box outside the frame of this picture that I want to transcribe.)

and then there's a blue hanging folder with papers that eventually need to go into one of two binders that are in the OUTPUT & QUICK REFERENCE part of my overall system, which I'll discuss later. (sometimes you know you just don't have the brain-space yet to start filing/discarding a set of papers. for me, success at this stage of the project is just grouping like things. I know where 'xyz set of papers' is. I know where it'll eventually go. I can come back to it in multiple passes when I have the capacity, and I can task-switch to another group if I get bored or tired.) the rest in this picture - the bookshelf, the bench - is also stuff to worry about later.

(edit: oh also the brown recipe card box, it's got letters and photographs to archive or get rid of)

that's the current status. more to come about what's next, the thought processes/~emotional journey~, and hopefully the end results.

#ADHD #organization #I'm a nerd #bean's ADHD field notes #(I'll either add to this post or will make separate ones and update this with part links #haven't decided yet)

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whatawonderfulexistence--blog · 1 year

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Dances In The Moonlight (Falk Maria Schlegel x GN! Reader) - Part X

WARNINGS: Discussion of ritualistic practices, we celebrating the summer solstice in this one babyyy, Falk being sweet and cute per usual, let me know if I missed any, this took me a couple days to write so I can't remember all of it.

Also, I'm starting a tag list, if you would like to be notified when I post shoot me a message!

Part IX - Part XI

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

You hesitantly followed Falk into the ritual room, the door letting out a haunting creek as it slowly closed behind you. "I thought you said I wasn't allowed in here?"

He chuckles, "well there isn't much of a secret to keep anymore, is there?" You return his playful grin, he did have a point. Your footsteps echoed in the empty room. "Besides, there's something I want to show you." His warm hands landed on your waist as he lifted you from the floor and into his seat around the table. He headed to a chest in the corner of the room, digging through the contents. You pushed all the way back, your feet now barely peeking out over the edge. Falk's gaze lands on you as you make yourself comfortable in his ceremonial chair, a chuckle escaping his lips as he approaches. "You look very cute up there, meine Maus." He stands before you, carefully unwrapping the crimson cloth he held in his hand. You gasped at the relic, a gorgeous ceremonial headpiece that was adorned with the finest jewels and perfectly bleached bones. "Roel found this stored away in the archives the other day, it was my mother's."

"It's beautiful." You ducked your head down to get a closer look at it. You felt it would've been disrespectful to try and pick it up. "What was it for?"

"She wore this the day she married my father." He smiles fondly. "I'll have to dig up the pictures, I think you'll enjoy them."

"Where are your parents now?" You approached the question carefully. You had never heard Falk talk about his family before, but you would be lying if you said you weren't curious.

"Retired peacefully in the mountains." He gives you a knowing smirk, he expected you to think something horrible had happened. "My father is somewhat of a recluse, as I'm sure you can imagine." You share a laugh. He carefully picks up the headpiece, setting it gently on your head. "I want you to hold onto this."

"I'm flattered, really, but why?" He takes your hands in his.

"It's a promise. A promise to keep you safe, to love you to the best of my ability, to never let anything hurt you." He brings your knuckles to his lips. "You're very special to me, I don't want you to ever forget that." He caresses your cheek, looking deeply into your eyes. Your lip quivered as you felt tears prick against your lashes. You saw the briefest flash of panic in his eyes as he thought he did something to upset you.

"Falk… I love you." Tears slid down your cheeks, you rested your forehead against his, the cool metal encasing one of the many crystals of the headpiece digging into your skin slightly.

"I love you too, Schatz." He cups your cheeks in his hands, delicately wiping away your tears." You both jumped at the sound of the door opening.

"There you are!" Attila lets out an exasperated sigh. "We're going to be late, you need to get ready." He noticed you had been crying. "(Y/N), what did he do? I'll kill him, I'll make it look like an accident." You can't help but laugh.

"Happy tears, I'm fine Father Attila, don't worry." Falk helps you down from your seat, carefully removing and rewrapping the headpiece.

"(Y/N), just call me Attila. You're Falk's seelenbindung, I think we can be a little more casual." He laughs. You muttered the word to yourself, Falk chuckling at your confusion.

"I'll explain later, come on, you're coming too." You pushed your fingers through his as he hurried through the halls. "I'm sorry this is happening on such short notice, I forgot we had to go to this today."

"Where are we going?" You watched as he digs through his closet in a panic. You hear him make a triumphant sound as he produces two ceremonial robes from his wardrobe.

"To celebrate the summer solstice. Here, put this on." You held up your arms as he dropped the robe over your head, the fabric pooling at your feet. You watched as Falk put on his own ceremonial robe, one that looked incredibly similar to the one he gave you, just missing a few embellishments. "Remind me, I have to take you for a consultation for your own robe." You rushed out the door behind him, he explained as the two of you headed down to his car. "You being my Seelenbindung means it's encouraged that you attend events with me. You get your own ceremonial robe, which you will have a hand in personalizing however you like."

"Question." You interrupt his rambling.

"Answer." He responds quickly.

"What does Zeelin-" You don't even attempt to finish the word, knowing you were just going to butcher it

"Seelenbindung?" You nod. "It means soul tie, it's kind of our version of a soulmate." You let out a surprised yelp as his car jerked forward.

"I take it this is an older robe." You had so many questions. What events would you be attending with him? Was there any type of initiation ceremony you had to go through? How should you design your robe?

"Yes it is." He chuckles. You ran your fingers over the intricate embroidery, soft golden thread against a stark black background. The robe he was currently wearing wasn't much different. If anything it was more ornate. Beading worked effortlessly into the stitches of the embroidery that were laid in a somehow even more complex pattern. His robe was also lined with a deep maroon silk that peeked out from his billowing sleeves as he moved. You jumped as a horn blared next to you, looking out the driver's side window you saw a car starting to pass you. You bursted out laughing at the sight of Matthew's face pressed against the glass. Falk shakes his head with a smirk. "Also, I know having to rush was probably stressful, but you'll have fun. We just need to get there before sundown." You pulled into a dirt lot that was packed with cars, the rest of the members of the high clergy waiting on your arrival. You walked down a long winding footpath through the woods until you came across a clearing. Much like the dinner you had intended in the past, the sight before you was nothing like you expected it to be. A small group of creatures you didn't recognize were working on setting up for a bonfire, the longer you looked around you realized you being fully human you were more than likely the minority in this situation.

"You look shocked." You jump at Charles' voice being right next to your ear. He chuckles at your amazed expression. "This is one of the few places they can safely remove any glamor magic, so don't be scared by all the horns and sharp teeth." You nod, trying your hardest not to stare. You remained glued to Falk's side as he made his rounds through other attendees. You watch a man approach the two of you, adorned in papal robes and… skeleton paint? Falk's eyes light up at the sight of him, the two exchanging a hug.

"Eh, and who might this be? This must be your seelenbindung." He smiles warmly at you, shaking your hand.

"That they are, Papa, this is (Y/N). Schatz, this is Papa Emeritus IV, he's a very good friend of our church." He gives you a polite nod. "We heard you and your Prime Mover are expecting, congratulations!"

"Thank you, we're all very excited. You'll have to stop by sometime, take your amoré on a stroll through Primo's garden, sí?" Falk chuckles, nodding his head.

"I promise, we'll stop by soon. We've been a little preoccupied."

"Yes, of course, I'm sure that last super moon complicated things." Papa's eyes flash down to you for the briefest of moments, almost as if he wasn't sure he should be discussing this in front of you.

"It did, but it wasn't anything we couldn't handle." He wraps his arm around your shoulder. "If you'll excuse us." You politely make your way over to the rest of the high clergy, the celebration of the Summer Solstice starting anytime now. "He's the head of the Satanic Temple across town." You and Falk nestled down with the rest of the high clergy as you watched the sun set over the horizon. He reached out and took your hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. Cheers rang out through the crowd as the last dying light disappeared. Falk pulled up the hood of your ceremonial robe, quietly instructing you to kneel in the dirt just as he was. You copy his instructions carefully, taking the chance to glance around only to see the rest of the crowd around you all doing the same thing. Hushed murmurs of Latin phrases you didn't recognize danced in the air, a noticeably magical shift in energy with every syllable that was uttered. The bonfire roared to life as the collective prayer ceased.

You were amazed at the sight before you. Despite everyone's different backgrounds, faiths, species, it was unmistakable. This was one big family. Outcasts that had all found each other and made something wonderful out of it. "Falk, this is incredible." You whisper to him.

"I told you you'd have fun." He playfully nudges your shoulder. You decided to sit and watch the festivities around you for a while. Conversations buzzed in every corner of the clearing, ceremonial robes discarded, drinks were shared, the smell of the food that was being prepared made your mouth water. "You know, you can get up and join them." He gives you an encouraging smile, nodding in the direction of the crowd around the bonfire.

"Oh, I don't really feel like it's my place to join." You say nervously. He takes your hand, bringing your knuckles to his lips.

"Schatz, it's alright, everyone here is a friend. I'm sure they'll welcome you in with open arms." You nod, letting him drag you into the festivities. You watched from the sidelines at first. Beautiful humans and creatures alike chanting and dancing around the flame.

"What are they saying?" You ask Falk quietly.

"They're asking for good harvests and fortune, the dance is kind of like an offering." You nod, watching the figures swirl in the hot orange glow. "Come on." He tugs you in the direction of the bonfire, never letting go of your hand as he prompts you to dance along with him. In no time you found yourself laughing, moving your body in whatever way felt natural as you circled the inferno. Once you had sufficiently worn yourself out the two of you collapsed side by side in the soft grass on the outskirt of the clearing. "It's nice to see you enjoying yourself." His warm hand caresses your cheek. You leaned over, lips pressed firmly to his. He lets out a pleased hum, arm circling around your waist as you let your head fall into his chest. A small smile formed on your lips. You listened to his heartbeat, fingers ghosting over the lines of his tattoos. In that moment with him you truly felt at home.

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

Tag List: @ramblingoak @the-hole-in-terzos-shoe @jumpcauseimfroggy @mustluvecho @rabidghoul @kissingghouls @copiousloverofcopia @moss-the-moth @littlegirlsdontplaynice @vampghoulette @angellayercake (I think that everyone if I missed you let me know)

#if you like ghost youll probably like this #falk fan fiction #falk maria schlegel powerwolf #falk maria schlegel x reader #falk x reader #falk powerwolf #falk maria schlegel #powerwolf x reader #powerwolf band #powerwolf #x reader #fan fic writing #fan fiction #fanfic #my writing

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rabbivole · 3 days

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i made a video of avbar1 with a longer clip but this website can't post video anymore so the tab crashed. which is funny given that roadtrip has succeeded on its last ~4 video upload coinflips. i'll put it on youtube unlisted tomorrow or something

anyway man i need to talk to somebody who knows more than me about what state tfc is in. because it's clearly not the ~2004 executable in some small and subtle ways, so i FEEL like they've changed it, but i don't know how. they've been doing small patches over the last decade or so, mostly security fixes, but i don't see anything larger than that. it's weird shit like 'i'm not sure it's calculating visleaf culling like it used to, because i can now see this area through the skybox that i know wasn't visible when i was a kid'

anyway hey, that archive has a house i submitted to a community neighborhood christmas map, look

got a satellite dish on the treehouse (for internet) and a christmas light texture i painstakingly edited in paint shop pro. not animated. i think i figured that out later but it was even more of a pain in the ass in goldsource than it is now

made those present textures in paint shop pro too. a fish tank with no fish (but it bubbles sometimes). and the most fucked up brush star i've ever seen in my life. look, times were different then, i didn't know about things like 'vertex grid alignment' and making models to go in your map was something only the truly cool kids knew how to do

got a glass of water by the bed. important. i have always been weirdly hung up on small details like this, apparently

and... whatever this sink situation is here. i had to take a minute and put myself into my precocious child brain and remember that, well, a treehouse wouldn't have plumbing, so in my swiss family robinson dreams i'll just put a water cooler in my treehouse. i thought about this stuff way too much as a kid. you can also turn a stove on and climb into it and die instantly. the fridge opens but there's no fridge light. smh

based on the modified date on the bsp, i think i would've been 11 here. there's a sign out front with my old [very explicitly feminine-gendered] username on it which i made a choice not to take a picture of and i can't really explain why. i have more or less posted my legal birth name and have no particular animosity towards that but this feels more invasive somehow. possibly because there's a very real chance you could dig up my Sonic Krazy Kult-ass posts. because i was posting on the internet when i was like, 9. although [TWO DECADES OF MASS INTERNET DEVELOPMENT] later that's no longer abnormal

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gaviicreates · 10 months

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Journeys in Amigurumi (Bingo Roll 1)

Spoiler: This was a challenge!

For my first roll of the bingo card, I got "make an amigurumi" - and as someone who is most comfortable with flat 2D projects with little sewing, I knew this one would really be taking me out of my comfort zone. I'm not happy when I have to sew, and I am incredibly not happy when I have to attempt embroidery.

I may not do a full blog post for each bingo roll, but as this is so completely new to me and a large part of this bingo is the journey, here we go!

For full disclosure, I've made ONE amigurumi project before this, and I haven't picked up the technique once since. So before we dive in - have a quick picture of where I started 12 years ago.

I had to dig some really old photo archives for this one.

This lil' guy was made to be a warbler for my fandom at the time. I am sure he was based off a pattern, but it's unlikely I'll be able to find it now. I also don't think I know where this lil birb is anymore; he's gotten lost in the shuffle of moving a few times since.

Step 1: Research

Research - Before even choosing a pattern to begin this challenge, I wanted to first understand more about amigurumi, so I took to Youtube, which is my usual place to learn all things.

For my intro to amigurumi, I started with a few channels:

LePetitSaint Crochet, especially this Amigurumi fundamentals playlist; olliehollycrochet, especially this beginner tutorial video; For inspiration, I've also found Skein Spider

There are quite a few amigurumi channels out there - these are just a few that I enjoyed across my youtube dashboard.

The next step of research was finding a pattern, and I feel as though this is the part of the rabbit hole I am going to ADORE continuing to explore.

Step 2: Practice

Before I started "the" project, I wanted to first get a sense of the tension and play around with a project. Just something small. In effort to avoid buying more materials, I took to stash busting some of my scrap cotton. For the test piece, I found the pattern Octobuddy by the blog, Sweet Softies.

As someone with already pretty tight tension, working with a smaller hook took some getting used to, but I liked the way this pattern was written - he's an adorable little Octopus, but it also helped me get used to the shaping and stuffing process. I used household cotton balls since poly-fil isn't the type of thing I just have on hand. I did end up buying some for the final project.

This was a good exercise for me, as I started to feel comfortable with the actual crochet and using a tighter gauge. As I was sewing the eyes, I ended up pulling the cotton up or not being able to push the needle through. He was a bit overstuffed, or maybe I tried to assemble out of order, or maybe it's just my lack of sewing experience striking again.

Beyond that, the hardest part was in fact the the embroidery of the eyes, and his are quite... something. I was not originally going for the wink, but as the two sides became less uniform, I decided to lean into it. They still turned out pretty shoddy, and I can NOT stand doing this. I told myself never again, but for another spoiler... I did it again.

My Octobuddy might still be a bit overstuffed, but he's super squishy and relaxing to squeeze, just like a stress ball, the perfect size for my palm. So he's been hanging with me at my work desk.

Step 3: Do the thing

I won't say I was ready for the next thing, per se, but I also wasn't getting anywhere just looking at the cool things that could be made with this technique. So why not jump right in?

For my actual pattern selection, I chose "Hubble" by Projectarian, available on ravelry. I love me an aquatic creature, and it called to me that not only was this pattern free, it also came with a beginner friendly pdf, quick reference, and an entire selection of written tips for the new-to-amigurumi crafter.

Squid time!

Again, I wanted to use up scraps, so my first challenge with this pattern was adjusting it for the yarn weight I had on hand to use. As a result, the eyes were made with a way too tight tension. The pattern called for some crochet for the sleeping pupil lines, but there was no way I was going to get my hook in there. For the second time, I took up a sewing needle and attempted embroidery. This time turned out a bit better than the Octopus. I adore how soft he looks with the brown cotton yarn I decided to use when I couldn't find black.

At some point in attaching the legs and tentacles, I did lose track of where I was - but that was on me since I got lazy with the stitch markers. It was so close to the end, I was able to wing it to decrease the final row and stitch up the center. Before then, I added a bit more poly-fil.

I chose not to add pom-poms at the end of the legs for the same reason as I didn't add tassels to the blanket I made. Being a mom of three dogs makes you super aware of the types of things the furbabies will get into. You should've seen their faces when I brought home the poly-fil.

But I'm ranting away and you haven't even seen him yet!!

Step 4: Finished Object!

Body: Hobbii Rainbow Cotton 8/4 - Rosewood, 3.5mm Eyes: Hobbii Rainbow Glitter Gold 8/4 - Natural White, Hobbii Rainbow Cotton 8/4 - Light Brown, 2.00mm Legs and Tentacles: Hobbii Rainbow Cotton 8/4 - Rosewood, 3.25mm Pattern: Hubble the Squid by Projectarian I call him Hubblet since I made him so small. Sleeeepy squid baby.

Make an Amigurumi✔️

#gavii makes stuff #amigurumi #crochet bingo fill #crochet #crocheting #yarn crafts #stuffies

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msookyspooky · 2 years

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Terrible Trilogy

Part 19

wordcount: 9000

Gale moved along the busy street on a mission; straight to the Studio Archives. She marched with purpose to the door, ready to open it and get to the bottom of this…Locked.

"Oh shit." She hissed under her breath as she knocked on the door before she tried looking through the glass. "Hello?"

'Well shit…Guess it wouldn't be the first time.' She thought to herself as she looked around before digging in her purse for a credit card to swipe.

"HEY-"

Gale jumped with a gasp, turning around to come face to face with her dramatic, very ANNOYING doppelganger.

"Jeez." Jennifer mumbled while Gale glared at her.

"What the hell are you doing?" Gale demanded as the younger woman scrunched her face at her.

"Being Gale Weathers. What the hell are you doing?"

Gale leaned forward and hissed out. "I AM Gale Weathers."

"Hey, this is how I see it. I have no house, no bodyguard, no movie and I'm being stalked." She ranted matter of factly. "Because someone wants to kill me? No, because someone wants to kill you. So now, starting now, I go where you go. That way, if someone wants to kill me, I'll be with you and since they really want to kill you they won't kill me. They'll kill you." She tilted her head. "Make sense?"

Gale blinked with a dumbfounded look. "NONE."

Jennifer gave a tilt of her head. "You know, in the movies, I play you as being much smarter."

"And a sane person!" Gale gave with a sarcastic smile. "For you; That must be quite a stretch."

Jennifer gave a forced smile that faded as soon as it came. "That's funny." Jennifer's eyes darted to the door, whispering to Gale. "Need to get in that building?"

Gale stared at her a moment before nodding. "Yeah."

"There a story in that building?"

Gale huffed. "Maybe."

Jennifer ripped out a Sunrise Studios keycard from her pocketbook with a smirk. "Gale Weathers would find a way."

She went right past Gale's face to slide it. The light turned green as the door unlocked to give them access. Gale rolled her eyes with a sneer at the fact the Stab cast, that included Jennifer, had access cards and she didn't.

"Bitch." She grumbled under her breath as Jennifer opened the door. Gale was hot on her heels, rushing to the open door first. "Alright, wait! Just-" She held up a finger to Jennifer in warning before going in.

"Don't tell me what to do." Jennifer retorted before shutting the door behind them both.

Gale zoned out as Jennifer talked all the way down the stairs, making remarks here and there as her eyes scanned for any sign of life. Both women turned towards a coughing down the hall, glancing at one another before going.

Gale instantly got in front to do the talking. She wasn't about to let some media darling steal her spotlight.

She reached into her purse as she spoke. "Um, excuse me. I'm Gale Weathers and I'm here researching for the police-" She smacked a photo of a 20 something year old Maureen onto the desk. "This photo. It was taken at this studio. Her name is Maureen Prescott. Back then it was probably Maureen Roberts."

The older woman filed her nails while giving them both a bored expression. Gale stopped to look at her with raised brows once she truly looked at the woman. "Hey, are you-"

"No." She cut her off.

Jennifer's mouth hung open with wide eyes. "But you look just like-"

"Like her?" She gestured to a picture of Carrie Fisher on the wall. "I've been hearing it all my life."

"It's uncanny..." Jennifer gave in astonishment at the woman that was a complete look alike.

She sighed as she finished filing her nails. "I was up for Princess Leia. I was this close. " She gestured with her fingers as she got out a cigarette. "So who gets it? The one that sleeps with George Lucas."

Gale saw how closed off she was and knew she had to get back in her good graces fast. "I'm sorry I didn't mean to bring up a-a sore subject."

The woman gave a wry smile. "Sure you didn't. None of them did." She took a long drag from her cigarette before speaking. "So, how can I help you? Or do you want me to tell you who you look like?"

Gale quirked a small smirk at the catty remark. "How about some information on Maureen Roberts?"

The woman looked uninterested. "I don't work for the cops, Sweetie. I work for the Studio."

Gale tilted her head with a hum as she reached into her purse. "Really? Well. Would you work for…The President?" Gale slid her a 50 dollar bill. She felt smug until she saw the raised brow the woman gave her and the disbelieving scoff from Jennifer.

The woman smiled and slid it back over. "The President…Of the Studio."

Jennifer huffed over at Gale. "God, 50 dollars? Who are you? A reporter for Woodsboro High?"

Gale felt her jaw tick at the arrogant tone in Jennifer's voice. A 50 usually worked…She did have to make out with that one security guard but that was early in her career. Just the name GALE WEATHERS used to have people in awe…But after that broadcasted lawsuit, her name felt tarnished now and here in the city of the Stars; she was a nobody…She hated this shit.

Jennifer plucked off a gold ring and smacked it onto the desk over the picture. "It's worth two grand…So. Are you going to help Gale Weathers or not?"

The desk clerk eyed it with interest as Gale was forced to eat crow yet again by this young starlet that had made her entire personality around copying her and possibly doing it better. Between Jennifer and YN this entire time, she felt pushed in a corner. She couldn't even talk to Dewey without resentment between you two coming up eventually. Gale felt…Out of her depth.

The woman nodded with a sly smirk, pocketing the ring with her cigarette dangling between her two fingers. She got up and urged them to follow her. They were led to the back where rows and rows of filing cabinets lined down the halls.

They went past the newest cabinet.

"Which ones would have the actors in Stab?"

The clerk shrugged. "Depends. We go by actors, not movies. But I can tell you at least a few names new to this job are in the cabinet next to where you're standing."

Gale glanced over to it and stopped them. Jennifer rolled her eyes. "Are we not on limited time here?"

Gale was irked that punching her in the face the night before didn't hinder her at all from copping an attitude…It was like talking to an annoying kid sister copying her older sister and Gale didn't like it.

"In a minute. I want to look at some names…"

Gale had this weird feeling. A feeling someone on Stab could be doing this. In fact, all the leads pointed to it. She wasn't about to tell Jennifer so she could steal the spotlight yet again for Gale's idea. It only made sense to get as much on them as she could. She opened the door with the help of the clerk.

The clerk gave her a look. "I don't have all day."

Gale nodded and thumbed through files, most of them unfamiliar names of newbies in the industry. She found Angelina Tylers file, skimming through it to see nothing out of the ordinary. She lived in a small town Gale recognized as one near Woodsboro. Probably even went to rival basketball and football games with Woodsboro kids as their opponents.

'Interesting.' Gale thought. It was definitely a bit strange her going to a school so close to Woodsboro High but other than that wasn't anything too bizarre. Gale almost gave up, about to close the cabinet and look at Maureen's file…Until she got to one file name that perked her interest.

She tilted her head, remembering the cops mentioning the name vaguely as playing Stu. "...Dennis…Rafkin." She mumbled under her breath while Jennifer was way up ahead, arms folded impatiently and the Clerk leaned against a wall smoking.

Gale opened the folder and almost dropped it. Flashbacks of that face hit her like a ton of bricks. He looked…He looked identical to Stu Macher. It wasn't like he didn't have a unique face. Billy Loomis was easily dismissed as just another pretty face but Stu Macher had an unique look about him. She got flashbacks of that night, him holding his blood stained abdomen with a deranged grin. Spit and blood on his chin as his eyes bore into her and Billy came towards her as she clicked the gun.

Flashbacks to Windsor College where he stood with piercings and blonde fluffy hair. Hands up as Halie McDaniels held a gun to his back…'Tim' was a bullshit lie. That kid was Stu Macher. She knew it, YN knew it, she knew YN knew it and YN sued her for something she obviously had more of a hand in then what she led on. Gale was certain she was involved and hiding something…Seeing the photo. That same cocky grin on his face…The photo…Dark hair, less piercings than Tim but more than Stu, and a lot more filled out than an 18 year old kid….But still…The resemblance.

It made her stomach sink. On one hand, if she's right, she could make headlines and clear her name. Dewey would realize she wasn't the bad guy here and his precious YN wasn't so innocent…On the other hand, if this was Stu…If Stu Macher returned…The implication of that nut job being behind this scared her.

"Hey!"

Gale jumped out of her skin, the folder falling onto the ground as Jennifer came up to her. "What are you doing? You wanna find Maureen's file or not?"

"L-Look!...Look-" Gale picked it up and furiously pointed at the picture.

Jennifer scrunched her face. "Yeah? He's the guy that plays Stu in the flashback. He's a sleazeball too. As if he could actually have a chance with THIS." Jennifer rolled her eyes as she gestured to herself.

Gale's eyes bulged. "He's playing Stu Macher! Seriously? Don't you get it?"

Jennifer narrowed her eyes. "Yes? Your point?"

"He looks!-"

"Shocker; Like Stu Macher. God, get a clue already! It's Hollywood, lookalikes are part of the job. You're not in your little neck of the woods anymore." Jennifer jerked her head towards the clerk.

The Carrie Fisher looking clerk took a drag of her cigarette and called out to them meters away. "Come on or I'm going back to my desk and locking the gate."

Jennifer gave Gale a look before walking away. Gale sighed to herself…She felt like a fool, of course they were going to get someone to look like Stu. But…Something…Something about the eyes. The eyes of this 'Dennis' were so damn familiar…Too familiar. Something felt off about him more than just the uncanny resemblance to the deranged teen he was playing.

She flinched when she thought she heard a noise near the lockers at the end of the hall. She put the folder back, not closing the door as she crept over to the source of the noise. She was never one to hide away from something suspicious until she felt a hand on her arm.

"Come on, Old Gale!" Jennifer dragged her and Gale instantly snapped out of Detective mode at the name.

"I KNOW you didn't just call me old."

"It's a term referring to you being the original. Stop being touchy."

"Yeah? Want to hear a term I have for you?"

Gale Jennifer argued as they both made their way down the hall of files to the clerk…

Gale hesitated as she swore she heard something again…Without thinking, she grabbed the file and tucked it into her purse while no one was looking. Something was off about it and she was bound to figure it out.

There was an unseen figure, hiding, having snuck down after they did. Eavesdropping while staying hidden. He clenched his fist and silently gritted his teeth in frustration as he watched her walk away with what he just knew was his file. He cursed under his breath, waiting till they had their backs turned down the hall before rushing out of there.

He raced up the stairs before slowly walking out, trying no to look suspicious.

He eased himself towards the wall before rounding the corner of the building when a group of Astronauts walked by.

"Well?" Billy asked with a raised brow, eyes darting around himself constantly.

"Gale Weathers has it. She knows man, I know she does!" Stu hissed before throwing a silent tantrum. Punching the air with a growl before grabbing his short hair.

Billy sneered at him while grabbing his arm to jerk him in towards the studio's back door. "That's just fucking perfect!"

"What do we do,man? Do we?-" He made a slicing motion over his throat.

Billy softly groaned in annoyance, looking stressed before licking his lips and staring at Stu. "Alright, alright!...We'll figure it out. Right now, we need to find YN. She'll be alone like an idiot, knowing her. Perfect for the killer to strike…We finish this once and for all."

Stu nodded. "I'm itching for it. The sooner we end this shit, the better."

—————————————————––———

You stood at the sink in the bathroom until you heard something in the bathroom stall. It had become second nature to be mindful of your surroundings. What happened at Woodsboro, Windsor, the stalker, the endless pranks, now this.

At first you sighed to yourself, looking in the mirror at your own tired eyes staring back at you. "Come on, YN." You whispered.

But then…You heard something again, something in the stall creaking. Your face scrunched as you ever so slowly turned around and lowered yourself to crouch down. Your eyes narrowed when you saw black boots getting up on top of the toilet in the stall.

You stood back up and clawed into your pocket for the can of mace clipped to your belt you took out from your purse. Now, you were glad you did instead of digging for it. You stalked towards the stall, acting like you were walking past it before kicking it open near the handle as hard as you could. You got ready to aim at whoever was stalking you when a woman yelped and things clattered to the floor.

You recognized Angelina as she was hunkered against the wall on top of the toilet as you sheepishly snapped your mace shut again.

"...Angelina?" You slowly enunciated, you had to think a moment before her name came to you.

Her face lit up when she saw you. "Oh. My God!…Yes! I'm Angelina Tyler, I'm Sidney in the flashback and Jenna they're introducing as the final girl this time since uh...Well, I mean…I'm not…I was." She mumbled awkwardly. She ran a hand over her head and got off the toilet. " Wow, I'm so embarrassed. I didn't even realize last night who you were at Jennifer's party. I mean, YN! The original YN! I can't believe it, I mean, you're one of the only true friends Sidney had left in her last moments. The stories you probably have, the secret girl talks, the memories!-"

The entire time you were glancing down at what fell from her hands…Your heart stopped as you saw a Ghostface Mask on the bathroom floor near her feet as well as a red cellphone.

You bent down to pick it up as Angelina stammered. "I- I thought…Well if there's no movie, no one would care if I took some souvenirs!" She reasoned as you picked up the mask and ran your thumb over the material… "Souvenirs?" You retorted with a skeptical stare.

The last time you held one was when you hid in the closet that night 5 years ago.

Angelina continued to talk as you looked back up at her with the mask in your hand. You both stood up as she gave you a sad smile. "I may never win another role, so these may be my only memories, you know, of Hollywood." She stuttered as you stared back at her. "I-I know it's weird, cause it's your life and your friends lives and all, but…I wanted to make you proud, YN. I wanted to make Sidney proud. It's not right how they had that one actress portray you and I didn't want them doing it again to Sidney. Even how Tom was talking about her. Well, I guess we shouldn't speak badly about the dead is all…I really wanted to do her justice…I actually think Sidney was a much more interesting character than Jenna is; for what it's worth." She looked at you earnestly. A catch in her voice and a sad smile on her face.

You couldn't help frowning at that before handing her the mask back. You noticed how she looked relatively fine despite everything you all went through last night. No visible marks on her. "O-Oh um…Well, I'm sure you would have done a good job."

Angelina smiled with disbelief. "Wow just…The real YN. I wish I could have talked to you more last night. I wish…" She hesitated before swallowing and forcing her smile. "I wish it would have worked out."

She shrugged with a sad smile. "Are you going to Roman's birthday tonight? It's at John Milton's house. Maybe we could…Catch up? Talk more, I have so many questions."

You shook your head. "No, I'm not. Sorry."

She forced a smile and nodded. "That's a shame…Well, I'm glad I got to talk to you one last time."

You licked your lips and looked down as she walked past you…Something about her just felt off to you. The way she looked at you, her boots, her phone and mask on the floor, her barely having any marks from the explosion unlike everyone else involved.

You chalked it up to paranoia as you glanced down to see her hairbrush on the bathroom floor. You quickly picked it up and called after her as she went out the other side door leading to Stage 16.

"Hey!" You scoffed and went through the door, expecting her to just be right there but she wasn't. "Hello?...Angelina!" You moved a curtain and went down a small set of stairs in the dark building, going to the lightsource. You hadn't been to this area of the studio the last two times you were here, not really. You looked on in awe as you walked through a small opening to see an exact replica of the Prescott house.

You definitely didn't expect that.

Your eyes widened as you turned to see you just came out of a replica of Stu's front porch. Just to glance around and see Kenny and Gale's news van beside Dewey's old patrol car. It was a crude mashup of Sidney and Stu's yards. You stepped off the porch, looking up to see the beautiful stained glass in Stu's old Victorian home his family owned, now completely ruined by the fire that night. It was a giant blast from the past you weren't prepared for.

You were sure your yard and house would have been included if you hadn't sued them to make sure your character was never tarnished in these movies ever again. Maybe even James house or Casey's but they seemed to be focusing on Sidney. You weren't sure if this was some kind of prequel to what happened or if they needed Sidney's character for something else? In all honesty, you were glad their plan was to make a new imaginary character named Jenna or whatever. You wanted your friend's memory to be left in peace from this franchise just like yours that you had to fight to keep away from these money hungry Hollywood types.

You glanced over to a tiny field with a dark backdrop. A bunch of blood around a sheet. You stared at it long and hard before creeping up towards it. It was no mistake it was supposed to be James. The police report…Hearing him that night, screaming your name in ungodly pain. It made you grimace. You bent down, hesitating for just a second before you ripped the sheet off. The hairbrush still in your hand as a weapon just to see it was a sack filled with sand to look like a body.

You released a heavy breath and placed the sheet back over the sack. "Jesus, get a hold of yourself…It's a prop." You grumbled.

You crouched there for a few seconds. You used to think James had it all coming to him. Now? He had something coming to him, for sure, but not like he did…Especially since the ones that did it were so, SO much worse. You rolled your lips before mumbling under your breath. "James…I kind of wish we would have never dated. Actually, I really wish we wouldn't have. Bet you're wishing we never did too, all things considering…" You deadpanned.

In life, he'd actually get a chuckle out of that. He had a dark, fucked up sense of humor. Especially if you didn't find it funny. That just made it extra hilarious to him…Too bad he was over his head; he just wasn't as 'bad' as he thought he was. Not compared to Billy and Stu, at least.

You sighed a moment before standing back up. Looking around yourself as you move away from the gorey field to your other surroundings. Angelina's brush leaving your mind.

You crept closer to Sidney's makeshift home, curiosity getting the better of you. You stopped to see Stu's garage door. You stood there a moment, eyes wide and eyebrows up with a pained expression. The image of Tatum's body hanging from that cat door permanently sealed into your mind. You had so many nightmares about it. For months after her death, you couldn't even think of her without the image popping into your head…Then the memory of you spitting in Stu's face and trying to hit him after he acted like her death was nothing. Right after Billy kissed you as you were blissfully unaware he had just killed her. They killed your best friend, they knew they would from the start, they lied to you…And they didn't care. They still don't care! The idea they could see her body hanging, neck twisted with blood dripping down her hand without any reaction made you sick. They knew her longer than you did, Stu was dating her and didn't give a single fuck about her body so maimed.

You didn't want to know where or if they had a scene with Sidney's body or Stu's living room. You just didn't want to go there again.

You sucked in a breath and forced yourself to go to Sidney's front porch right next to the makeshift garage.

You walked in through the cheap replica door and was surprised to not see her entryway to her grand home she lived in. Instead, it was a rendition of Sidney's room. You looked around at the posters, mostly correct probably thanks to Dewey and Randy's input as tech advisors. You saw cassettes and clothes…And even a newer version of her stuffed tiger she slept with on her bed. You looked around, memories of sitting on the bed the one or two times you did come over.

You frowned as you pressed your lips together and shook it off. The innocence you all had forever gone and your memories and photos being all you had left. You subconsciously held Sidney's locket as you sat on the bed.

Sidney's voice ringing out in your head at a specific memory when you spent the night with her and Tatum for the last time. "Think we'll still be friends even after graduation when we have to start adulting? Even if you ever move from Woodsboro or something?"

You finished the memory outloud to yourself. "Of course we will…"

You jerked when you heard something outside the set. You got up and looked out of what was supposed to be Sidney's bedroom window. You looked around the relatively dark set to see nothing. You swallowed, feeling the need to get back to Dewey outside when suddenly a door shut behind you.

You slowly turned around, fear stricken as you stared in shock…That door wasn't closed before.

You got out your mace, it was faster than getting your gun as you went to the door. Besides, you couldn't have that gun on Studio property so the less you showed it off, the better. You went to the door, mace in hand. You went to open her bedroom door before looking at the closet door conveniently behind you. You whipped around and jerked it open, mace ready just for nothing to be there but clothes.

You opened it fully to stop the other door as a barrier before looking out the door you swore closed on you…Nothing. You left it like that and slowly walked backwards, you knew something was wrong. You had no choice but to back up to the window, breath shaky and grip tightening on the mace as you swore the door moved.

You readied yourself before releasing an ear piercing scream as glass shattered behind you and a ghastly figure slammed through the window to grab you. They dragged you backwards out of the room faster than you had time to react. Both of you smashed onto the ground onto a picnic table for the crew as they struggled to raise their knife at you. You grappled them, fight or flight mode kicking in the survival training you knew as you forced their arm down with your legs before cocking a fist back and punching them. It only provided you enough time to get up and run as they were barely fazed by it. They tried to slash your ankle as you jumped over the knife and grabbed some things off a table to hurl at that.

They were blocking your exit, you had no choice but to run into the house again from a different door that led to the porch again.

"DEWEY!....RANDY!" You screeched, complete terror in your voice. You had to fight them last night and the idea of facing them again scared you to death. You didn't even have time to get your gun until you could hide, you knew they were just right behind you. You had to go and slam the door shut, entering the set of the house again. Locking it as a trembling sob escaped you.

You jerked the curtain, looking around before a door slammed open inside and you released a scream. The Ghostface killer ran towards you with a knife above their head. You ducked right when it pierced the door and you ran as fast as you could up the stairs. You grabbed any props you could to throw down the stairs at the killer after you. Finally you rolled a table filled with heavy props down the stairs. They blocked it but it gave you enough time to run as you went through a door and gasped, grasping the door frame in this labyrinth of a house. It dropped down 10 feet to another part of the set with a bedroom below. You steadied yourself before an idea came to you. You grabbed the door and quickly climbed to the inside wall where the foundation boards stuck out. You waited till the killer opened it, knowing you went that way before you grabbed their costume and yanked them forward. They lost their balance, unlucky for you, falling onto the bed below.

You swung back over, out of breath and trying to keep your balance when you saw them jump from the bed and run to a door downstairs to get back up to you.

You ran to the staircase to see where they were. Common sense told you that they'd be there trying to get you but who knew in this crazy, makeshift home they built. You couldn't go downstairs without the fear of them catching you…You were trapped. You sucked in a breath and released a cry for help. Calling Dewey's name to come save you.

"Psst…YN, I'm in here." You heard a female voice through your sobs. You looked up to where the voice was coming from, thinking it might be Angelina trying to help. You still had your mace in hand as you crept to the room. You went to reach for your gun but the voice sounded again. "Over here…I'll protect you."

You scrunch your face with tears down your cheeks as you crept over to wherever the voice was coming from. You paused, bent down and quietly got your gun before opening the door as you tried to stifle the sobs wanting to escape you.

"Yes, come here to the bedroom…" The voice mumbled. The minute you stepped inside, you saw a scene you didn't expect. Police tape you had to move as you saw fake blood splatter the walls and the pillows. Neil and Maureen's picture on a nightstand with Sidney in between them. Broken everything caked in blood. You sucked in a shaky breath as you saw the white sheet with blood all over it surrounded by crime scene lines on the ground…This…This was it. This was what gave Sidney nightmares. What shaped her into a reclusive and fearful girl after that night. This is what happened months before you moved to Woodsboro, what Billy and Stu were capable of even before they met you…It made the idea you knew a 'softer' side of them ridiculous when you saw the carnage that laid before you.

You shook your head, gun shaking in your hand knowing poor Sidney had to stumble upon this at one time. You whipped the gun to the nearest door when the voice sounded again.

"I lied, YN. I can't protect you at all. You don't deserve to be protected! No one protected me!...You didn't protect Sidney."

You shook your head, looking around the room for wherever the voice was coming from.

"You let my daughter die!" The shrill voice you realized must have been imitating Maureen Prescott rang out in the room.

You gazed at the blood everywhere, the ruined home, the sheer sadistic rage Billy and Stu did to this woman as tears streamed down your face. All the words they said about Maureen. "She was a slutbag whore spreading her shit all over town like she was Sharon Stone…" Billy spat in disgust. "Let's face it Sidney, your mother was no Sharon Stone!" Stu gleefully exclaimed without an ounce of empathy as Sidney stared at them both while you just watched.

Putting a scene to the story. Knowing they were taunting Sidney that night over doing this to her mother…All for cheating? It made you physically ill. You didn't know if they were telling the truth or not over sexually assualting her that night and honestly it didn't matter! This…This made Sidney and Tatum's death look mild. It was probably how James or Casey and Steve's deaths were…The two you shared a room with right now; They were monsters. This scene proved to you they were always monsters…Billy was right and you were wrong; They really were acting all those years and you really didn't know them. They were NEVER anyone's friend. You thought you'd puke if it wasn't for the fear that took over you.

You heard Dewey's voice outside. "YN, where are you?!"

"YN?!" You heard a different voice from outside, you couldn't tell who it was but you didn't give a shit at this point.

You didn't hesitate to run to the window to yell for help. Screaming to the point your vocal chords scratched. You shouldn't have turned your back but the fear was clouding any judgment as you were desperate for help.

"DEWEY!...DEWEY! Help me!" The last words cut off into a shaky cry.

"YN…"

You heard the voice behind you… You turned around to see the bloody sheet rise up and take a form. "Come here. You can take my daughter's place!" The arms reached out and you aimed your gun and shot them…Just for it to not faze them at all. You shot again and again just for them to keep coming. You shot one more time, missing and hitting the wood of the house. The figure rushed you from under that bloody sheet as you shot at them, arms outstretched as you screamed and toppled out of the second story window. Rolling off the roof and crashing hard onto the ground. You had a hold of your gun the entire time, refusing to let go of the one thing you thought could save you. You forced yourself up, gun aimed at a figure you expected to be in the window just to see no one there.

You lowered your gun and stared up at it, tears in your eyes and terror on your face as the lights to the set flipped on. Dewey called your name, rushing over to you ahead of the cops.

"YN?! Are you okay? What happened?" He exclaimed as he held your shoulders as you gripped onto him.

"T-The killer! Dewey, he's in the house, he's upstairs!"

Dewey looked at the house as he helped you stand up and gently pried your gun from your shaky hands. He held you close to him as you clung to him. Cops went into the house upon Detective Wallace's orders.

Dewey frowned deeply. "YN, you weren't supposed to go in that house. It's all set up for a murder scene of Mrs. Prescott. I'm sorry you had to see that."

You released a shaky sob as you looked up at him. "N-no, Dewey! He's in there, I swear…I swear!"

Dewey nodded and held you close to him as the cops searched the house. You saw Angelina and another guy came around the side. And Mark ran past them straight to you.

Suddenly, Randy came around the other side of the back of the house, out of breath. Closest to where the killer could have vanished from.

"YN? YN, what happened? I heard screaming!" He came towards you and Dewey eyed him.

"Where did you come from, Randy?"

Wallace yelled no one was up there down to Mark. There was no way!...You and Dewey stared at Randy. Tears streamed down your face as you shook your head at the thought running through your mind.

"What?" Randy gave you a bewildered look right when Mark intercepted, shoving him against the porch. "Hey! What the hell?!-"

"Shut it! Why did you come from the side of the house like that? Huh?! Where were you while YN was being attacked?"

" I- I was getting stuff from my locker, it's a way to get to the backroom I heard screaming!...She was attacked?!" He looked over at you as you clung to Dewey. "YN, are you okay?" Randy squawked out as he was forced against the wall as Mark glanced over at you and Dewey.

The other cops continued to search the house as you trembled against Dewey, locking eyes with Randy…You didn't know what to believe anymore.

————————————–———–—––———

You all stood outside of the studio as Angelina was found and questioned by Wallace a few feet away and Randy was questioned in front of you by Mark.

Mark wore a pair of aviator shades as he leaned on his car to talk to Randy while another cop stood beside him; ready in case Randy tried to bolt.

"So you're telling me you just went to your locker to get a cassette tape-"

"It's long breaks in between shifts. I pass the time with it!" Randy exclaimed with annoyance.

"Right…But care to explain to me, Mr. Meeks, how you didn't hear YN until my partner arrived?"

Randy huffed with a distressed look on his face. "I'm clear on the other side of the building; I came as fast as I could. I'm not exactly the roadrunner after my incident 3 years ago." He looked at you with pleading eyes. "You guys can't actually think I did this! I would never hurt YN!"

Mark gave him a dry smile. "Yeah. I'm sure all the other Ghostface killers told her the same thing."

Randy glared at Mark and got a little too close while yelling at him. "Listen here, Detective. She's my best friend, alright? I'd never do this! I wasn't the only one in the building either! What about Angelina?! Or Tyson?! Huh?! Where were they during all of this?! Or even you-"

Mark pushed him back against the car when Randy got too close. You saw Randy's Adam's apple bob with a harsh swallow as Mark glared him down, hand still pressing him into the side of the car.

"That…Is for my partner to find out. How about you answer my questions like why you chose to go off alone or how you just so happen to not hear her screaming for help?!"

"I-I-" He stammered, eyeing you as you just frowned and stood next to Dewey. Mark let go of him and Randy slowly shook his head. "I'm telling you…I needed a cassette from my locker. I didn't hear YN till I got halfway back here and that just so happened to be when you all got there. That's it!" He looked at you with pleading eyes. "YN, please. You gotta believe me, I'm begging you."

You sucked in a shaky breath as you held yourself. Dewey rubbed your back with a sad look on his face. You looked back up at Randy as Mark watched you.

"...Randy…I believe you." You mumbled, not nearly as convincing as you tried.

Randy stared at you as Mark rubbed his nose and stood up fully.

"No one else saw anything but YN, Kincaid. You can't lock someone up for that. Especially someone with disabilities that backs up his case." Dewey added.

Randy threw up a hand. "Thank you, ex deputy Riley."

Dewey cringed to himself. "And YN didn't see the guy behind the mask and no one else was around. Same as last night. "

Your expression faltered. "Are you...You don't think I imagined it, do you?" You asked with a crack in your voice.

"No! No, but no one else saw anything but you." Randy gave. "We're just stating the obvious right now so the Detective here doesn't get jail happy with me…No one ever, ever survives in horror movies once in a jail cell; it's a death trap!"

Dewey cringed. "And…YN, it was a murder scene. A very triggering murder scene with props…And I found you sleeping in your clothes. I'm starting to worry about you." He offered hesitantly.

Randy shrugged. "I mean, lack of sleep does shit. I thought I saw Pinhead in my mirror after going 3 days without sleep during college." He hurried up and saved himself as you shot him a dirty glare. "I'm just saying! I got a little weirded out myself seeing them film the flashback at Sidney's house! I'm not saying you didn't see something but-"

Mark eyed you and it felt like Windsor again.

You gritted your teeth and clenched your fist. "I cannot fucking beileve you people right now! I was not dreaming, I wasn't hallucinating, I am not crazy; he was there!" You pointed to the studio as your voice raised in anger. "He was there in Woodsboro!"

Mark gave you a look. "That's not Woodsboro, YN."

You rolled your head back with an annoyed groan. "You know what I mean! He was THERE. He or She or whoever this is…Did we not all almost blow up last night?!" You scoffed. "No, I get it. No one saw me attacked last night, they didn't see me attacked today so clearly the freak living in isolation just lost it!"

"No one is directly saying that, YN! We're just trying to get to the bottom of this playing a fucked up game of 'guess who?' here." Randy argued.

"But you're both thinking it! What is it going to take for all of you to realize I'm not some fragile basket case?! You both don't even know the half of it just-" You closed your moth and gritted your teeth in frustration.

Mark eyed you. "...Alright, I think it's best if I take you back to the station. We can get a safe house and-"

You remembered Billy and Stu and instantly refused. "No."

Mark raised a brow behind his shades. "No? Miss YN, I need a witness report-"

"And with due respect, I think you can do that here, Detective. "

"I need a written report."

"I'm not going to a police station to spend the night where either the killer will be there to trap me or they'll just wait till I leave."

Randy tsked. "She's got a point."

Mark gave an irritated look to Randy before gently grabbing your shoulder. "Can we talk?...Alone?" He pointed at the cop "Watch them." as he pulled you off to the side far away from anyone listening.

Mark leaned against the wall looking down at you. "Why are you being so stubborn about this? You'd think you'd want safety from the police."

"Yeah, cause it's clearly protected me so much in the past."

Mark ran a hand over his hair and took off his shades. His piercing blue eyes staring down at you as he whispered. "...What are you so afraid of? Other than this killer. Whatever it is you need to tell us...You need to tell me."

You looked away. "Nothing! This is…This is just bringing back bad memories. That's all. No one believes me, being chased down and almost killed…Maybe I'm scared of me? Ever think of that? Maybe I really am going crazy like everyone says and the killer is using it against me or I'm making a huge mistake!" You swallowed, eyes burning as Mark frowned.

"A mistake?"

You gathered yourself with a heavy sigh. "...Coming here….Not that I had a-a choice but…Still." You mumbled, trying to save yourself.

Mark paused, looking at you before he placed a hand on your shoulder. "Hey, you're not crazy. I've seen crazy, you're not crazy or imagining any of this. All we're doing is trying to get to the bottom of this and sometimes that can come off like no one's on your side. I'm just playing the logical Detective role. So how about I level with you as Mark instead of Detective Kincaid?.…Whoever this is, we'll get them if it's the last thing I do. But I really think it's a good idea to come with me to the station until we can find a safe house or something for you. It's for your safety, YN. Whatever it takes to keep you safe."

You gave a downward smile that faded. "Detective, that never works. The killer will get me before you have a chance to help."

"You don't know that! You don't-" He took a heavy inhale through his nose. "Fine. If you're going to be stubborn…At least I know you have weapons to use."

You looked surprised as he gave you a scolding look. "But I question your aim. There's 22 bullet shells lodged in the ceiling of the set. What were you shooting at? Casper?"

Your face scrunched in confusion. "What?? That's impossible! I aimed and shot right at them. I'm a damn good shot and I know I shot them."

"Then why was there no blood?"

You faltered, truly puzzled at that. "I…I don't know." You looked back at him. "Look! I know how bad this looks, okay?! Sleep deprived, traumatized woman that is surrounded by reminders of the worst time in her life while a killer is after her and all her friends. Okay, I know! But I know I'm not crazy and I shot at the killer…People are dead, are they not?!"

"Yes and I'm just trying not to have any more." Mark nodded to himself. "A gun you're not supposed to have on these grounds isn't going to always work so…Here."

You looked surprised when he took out a small flip phone from his pocket. "What is this?"

"A burner phone till we can recover yours. We found pieces but the base is missing…Riley suggested it." He saved with a slight cough while glancing down at his shoes.

"And you bought this with your money?...For me?"

He looked back up at you and gave you a charming smile. "Yes, believe it or not, not everyone is a bad guy trying to kill you. I know it's better to think that but...There are people that truly want to help you."

You smiled softly as he continued speaking. "It's okay to ask for help, YN. Especially if you're in danger. This way, if you feel unsafe, you can call me. I'm on speed dial number 1. Along with Randy, Dewey and Gale's numbers…I think in that order."

You eyed him leaning his tall frame against the wall. You smiled softly. "Thank you. I really appreciate it….So, you're number 1 huh?"

He cocked a toothy grin your way with a chuckle as he looked back down, a tint to his cheeks. "God, that was arrogant, wasn't it?"

"No…A bit presumptuous of you I guess." You smiled as you looked down at it. "And you'll be able to listen to my calls too, I presume?"

He scoffed with a smirk. "It's not bugged, Miss YN."

You huffed. "Suurree…So, you won't hear me and Randy probably arguing about this later because he's mad at me for accusing him and I'm a little peeved at him and Dewey acting like I'm seeing shit. Or even my family calling and me having to explain the last few days of absolute Hell I've dealt with. Or more personal stuff like what movie I'm planning on seeing if I live or what places I'm going to if I live-"

"Or on a much lighter, optimistic note; what's your favorite flower? Maybe…Favorite candy?...Ideal place to go for an evening after we nab this bastard?" Mark commented, glancing at you through his lashes with a small smile.

You felt your face heat as you bit your inner cheek to prevent the giant, goofy grin that wanted to make its way to your face. "Are you…Are you asking me this to find the killer that just attacked me or?-"

His smirk dropped as he straightened himself. "Wow…Sorry, you're right. That's inappropriate."

You shifted in place with a slight shrug. Trying to find the words before they shyly came out. It wasn't everyday a very attractive slightly older Detective that you had so much chemistry with asked you out. "Well…Maybe I'd spend an evening with you at the shooting range just to prove I'm a good shot…Maybe even better than LAPD's top Detectives."

Mark gave you a hearty chuckle, his entire face lit up at that. "I would gladly take you up on the offer, Miss YN. Annnndd I'm looking forward to you calling me Mark."

"Only when it's solved, Detective. Then you can call me by my first name only. No more Miss YN like I'm in school or something. "

He looked back at you, his smile fading. "...Are you sure I can't convince you to just come back to the station?"

"Is it a law?"

"Not necessarily."

"Then no, and if you try to force me and something happens to my friends while I'm a sitting duck? I'll never forgive you or the LAPD…But are you going to be there? Just in case I change my mind?"

"Absolutely. And remember my number is in that phone…Call anytime you need me. Even just to talk."

You nodded as Mark put his shades back on.

Mark reluctantly led you back to Dewey and Randy before heading out. You could tell he wanted to stay or to find some law to have an excuse for you to go with him against your will but decided it was best if he let you make the choice.

Once he left, you started walking and Randy and Dewey followed after you.

"Guys, No-" You had to stop, terrified they'd get too close to your car and therefore Stu and Billy.

Randy gave you an exasperated groan, taking it as an angry gesture on your part. "YN, can't we just talk? I didn't do this, okay?! I would never, ever hurt you…You know that." He whined out the last part, getting closer to you. You stayed put even if every single fear you'd pushed aside resurfaced…If anyone other Sidney herself would hate you for the truth. It was Randy and Dewey.

Dewey added in. "YN, come on. The way Randy came was technically a short cut we've all used…I'm just sorry I wasn't there for you."

"Dewey-"

"No, I keep failing at this. I swore to keep you safe and you got attacked twice in two days. When you went missing last night after you told Tom off and Randy left too I assumed he could watch you. I shouldn't have assumed! That was my job-"

You whipped your head towards Randy with wide eyes. "...What?...Wait, what?!"

Randy gave Dewey a glare before looking at you. "YN, you went out and after a minute or so I looked for you to talk you into ignoring Tom before going back in to look for you there. I didn't think you went to the fucking woods! Then Stone showed up stabbed in the back and I looked for you through the house during the fucking chaos that was last night!...That's it!"

The strength of the killer and Randy being able to pick you up easily, him knowing the set after a few days he was here, his love for horror, how much he loved Sidney and the betrayal he would feel if he found out you were hiding her killers, now him missing twice when you were attacked. Yes he was hindered from his body but…What if it was a lie? What if he was more able bodied than he told you or acted? How far would he be willing to go if he found out within the last 3 years the giant secret that you allowed Billy and Stu to get away?

"YN?"

You shook your head and walked away. You didn't know what to think. You never ever wanted to think it was Randy, ever! But...It was too coincidental.

"YN!" He sounded desperate, just like Billy did on that sidewalk 5 years ago.

You turned around with a pained look on your face. "Don't follow me; Neither one of you!...Please. I'm sorry, I really am, but...If you want me, call me. "You gestured to your phone still in your hand. "Kincaid can give you this new number or I'll call you."

"YN, wait!-" Dewey urged. "When did you get a phone?"

"Kincaid got it for me. He said you suggested it. Doesn't matter, better yet, I'll call you. "

Dewey went to say something but Randy interrupted him. "Are you kidding me, YN? I'm not a fucking killer! How can I possibly be the killer?!"

You shook your head at Randy. "Randy...I just need time to myself. I was attacked for godsakes."

"Which is why you don't need to be alone, damn it!" Randy fumed.

You wanted to stay. You want to stay with the only two people that you thought made sense but right now nothing was making sense. Billy and Stu were lurking somewhere and the sooner you got out of here, the better.

"YN! YN, please don't do this!" Randy yelled after you as felt your throat burn and you hurried to your car. You heard Randy arguing with Dewey as you left.

"Why the hell did you say it like that?! You made me look like I slipped out just in time for her to be attacked!"

"I'm sorry it slipped!"

You ran the rest of the way, trying to distance yourself. You didn't have to unlock it, you left it unlocked for Billy and Stu.

You got in your car a long ways away from Randy or Dewey as you slammed your hand on the steering wheel with a pained, frustrated yell. Your worst nightmare possibly being true, that whether you liked it or not, Randy was a suspect now.

You wanted so, so, so badly to not suspect Randy but there were too many coincidences. Thus killer was personal and knew EVERYTHING from that night. If it wasn't Randy then it was Billy and Stu...Or...Or-

You rested your head on the wheel, sniffling before someone touched your shoulder. You jerked back to see it was Billy and Stu in the backseat.

"Guys, I-"

"We know. " Billy interrupted you. "We headed back once the Detective left."

Stu gestured to a note in his hand as he leaned against the seat. "Looks like your playmate left a note. It was in the car when we got here...Also looks like your 'use poor Stu as bait' plan didn't worth either."

You hesitated before reaching for it, unfolding it to see the message.

'You're all going to die.'

"...Real original." You mumbled in disgust.

#scream #stu macher #billy loomis #my writing #scream fanfiction #yn fanfic #she her yn #my stories #fanfic #ghostface #scream 3 #terrible trilogy

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