#it’s making me so mad i could eat the fucking drywall and i can’t tell anybody because they’ll be like ‘ellen go to bed’

[billhaderlovebot]

vampire barry hcs.

@gazebros and i put together our collective genius again and created some self indulgent vampire hcs for our Babey.

after barry leaves the army, he's greeted by fuches.

a very old and very rude vampire who's never quite adapted to modern life as well as he thinks he has.

he turns barry himself, so that barry will have to do what he says. sire bond, and all that.

twilight wasn't lying about the excruciating pain stuff.

barry actually is pretty chill with being a vampire.

he's forgotten a lot of his time as a human, so he doesn't have much to compare it to.

he thinks it's cool that he doesn't have to sleep as much, and he can sleep for actual weeks at a time if he wants to.

the sunlight thing is a bummer.

he doesn't die, or anything, and he's usually okay if it's cloudy, but staying out too long in direct sunlight kinda hurts.

he's okay, apart from the whole, uh, blood sucking part.

he's okay with doing it to survive, but then he finds out what fuches really wants from him.

to kill for the sake of killing.

to get people out of the way.

and he has no choice.

he joins the acting class, he supposes, as an escape.

he hates how easy it is for him to kill.

he hates his own strength.

he's put his foot through the floor more than once while running down the stairs, late to class.

he's torn off the door and broken quite a few light switches, tearing them out of the ceiling.

he hates that he can sink his teeth into a human's throat as easily as if it were butter.

he hates that draining the life from someone is as effortless as it is. second nature.

he needs to be around humans, he finds.

he needs to remember that there's a reason for him being here.

not just to kill.

to live

and experience

and create a new life separate from the one he's forgotten so much about.

and in the acting class, he meets you.

and you're so wonderful.

you make him feel like he's alive.

his heart doesn't beat any longer, but he seems to forget about all that when he's with you.

and apparently, the thing about vampires being hopeless romantics is not a myth, because he falls for you so hard.

it doesn't take you long to figure out he's a vampire, either.

it was small things, really.

he was cold. and sometimes he didn't move for like... a solid hour.

also, um, his complete lack of reflection threw you.

but you were too far in love with him for it to bother you.

"so, were you waiting for me to ask you about your obvious vampirism?"

"huh?"

"barry, you're dead."

"oh. yeah. will you be my girlfriend, by the way?"

"fuck yeah."

the first time he kisses you, he ends up pushing you through the drywall of his apartment.

"holy shit, are you okay?"

"yeah, yeah, fine, i'm just... inside the wall."

"sorry."

"you're a good kisser."

you forget he's a vampire, sometimes.

when he's coming to stay at your house, and you go inside to make coffee or whatever, and notice that he hasn't come in with you.

he's just standing on the doorstep.

all polite and stuff.

just waiting.

in the rain.

"bear?"

"hm?"

"what are you-- oh!"

"yeah, you gotta invite me in."

"shit, sorry. come in."

"it's chill. wanna watch zack galifianakis?"

and then you spend the whole night debunking vampire myths.

it's 3am, and barry is ok because he doesn't need sleep for another few days.

you're sprawled on your bed, and he's running his fingers through your hair, and you're just staring up at him with The Biggest Heart Eyes.

and he knows he would do anything for you.

the human girl he fell in love with.

"your eyes are so beautiful."

that kinda stops him in his tracks.

"are they? i don't know what they look like."

"wait, you- don't you remember?"

"my human life is kinda... fuzzy? like trying to see through dirty water. and it's been about seven years since i've seen my own face. fuches burned all the pictures of me, all my records. took me off the grid."

and you lost your absolute Shit™

because that's fucked up.

because barry is the most beautiful man you've ever seen and he doesn't know what he looks like.

"they're blue. like, the softest blue. and kinda grey, too. and sometimes... when you laugh... you get these little eye crinkles-"

"im in love with you."

"that's the first time you've said that to me, barry."

"well, i am."

barry doesnt care much for how he looks, but he loves the way you describe him. so he lets you continue.

"your hair is brown. really... fluffy looking. i just want to touch it all the time, you really make shit hard for me."

he grins

"and my lips?"

"oh... soft."

"mhm."

and he kisses you so slow and soft and Your Heart Falls Out Of Your Ass.

barry is cold. he doesn't have blood. so. he's cold.

but he does feel it sometimes.

and there's not much he can do about it when he does.

"hi, i can't come to work today because my boyfriend doesn't generate body heat and hasn't slept in two weeks so i need to warm him up."

vampires don't sleep, my ass.

he's always falling asleep on your chest, or with his head in your lap listening to you talk about your day.

he can go without it for a long time, but he loves waking up next to you. he also just loves watching you sleep. listening to your breathing and your heartbeat. the rush of blood.

let's be real, sometimes he finds it hard to not, like, drink your blood.

but one feed and he's good for a couple weeks.

let's address the elephant in the room.

the sex thing.

y'all watch twilight and you're laughing because edward won't have sex with bella.

and barry completely has a straight face.

"no dude i could literally kill you."

"yeah, uh, that's never once stopped you."

breaking the bed Every Other Night.

his heightened senses and vampire awareness means he's So Good at sex.

his attitude to changing you is so relaxed.

he's kinda like. "yeah. if it happens, it happens. you get to be my girlfriend literally forever. that's pretty rad."

"so if you go at it too hard and snap my spine just change me quick."

neck kisses are his Thing.

they're so fucking hot.

vampire neck kisses? that's the dream.

barry can't eat garlic. it makes him sick.

apparently, he gives ZERO FUCKS.

he eats some of your homemade garlic bread and you spend half the night sat on the bathroom floor with him patting his back while he throws it up.

"barry, you stupid bitch."

he tried to drink animal blood once, too.

and again, he threw up.

"babe, i don't care if it's ethical, it's fucking disgusting."

he's always riled up when he comes home from a hit.

you can't be mad at him, because you know he doesn't have a choice.

it's considerably harder and more dangerous trying to calm down a vampire, though, so sometimes you sit there while he smashes things, and wait for him to finish so he can come and cry on you.

the circumstances under which he changes you are not pleasant.

fuches finds out about you. he finds out where barry has been hiding, and he beats you within an inch of your life.

and barry finds you in your apartment and he knows what happened.

you're beaten and broken and bloodied on the ground and he has to stop breathing because he can smell you and he could drain you right there if he doesn't watch himself.

and he's never been bothered about changing you but now it's happening.

now he's faced with your imminent death and he could very well lose you and he freezes up.

your eyes meet his frantically but he's not sure if you know he's there.

he presses a kiss to the corner of your mouth, and he can taste the blood, and it almost pushes him over the edge.

he dips his head down to your neck, and the rush of blood he's become accustomed to is so much weaker.

your breathing is shallow.

"im sorry."

he knows this will hurt.

and it does. he has to take you somewhere, quick. because you scream until the screams don't sound like screams anymore.

he takes you to the same place fuches took him when he turned. it's a bunker, far enough away from anyone to rouse suspicion.

and he holds you to him while you writhe in pain and beg for him to kill you as the venom changes every cell in your body.

he can't do anything about it.

at some point, he doesn't know when,

you stop screaming.

you stop moving and breathing and he's worried that it hasn't worked.

that he's done it wrong.

but the change is visible.

your features are the same, but different.

your skin is as smooth as marble and almost as cold.

the way you move and speak and hold yourself is different.

but you're still you.

and you're alive.

and he kisses the remaining life from you as soon as you sit up.

"hello."

"hey, bear. that fuches guy is a bastard."

"i know."

"no, he really ripped into me."

"i know."

"thanks for not letting me die."

"no problem."

"i love you."

"i love you too."

though barry only has eight years of experience, it's still eight more than you have.

but you adapt to vampire life very easily.

somehow, you find your feet faster than he did.

"i think we should invest in a space heater."

"mhhm."

now that barry doesn't need to hold back, you have to retire to remote cabins for days at a time to fuck. because you don't get tired easily and you're very loud.

desks and walls and bedframes being literally obliterated.

really

at one point the bed falls through the floor

with the two of you on it

and you don't fucking notice.

you keep pretending to move countries to throw fuches off your trail.

it's kinda fun, setting up elaborate scent traps and making him think you're somewhere in europe when you've not actually left the state.

everyone at the acting class begins to wonder why the two of you look so good, but also so washed out.

"they're vampires, im telling you."

"shut the fuck up, man, what if they can hear us?"

y'all are so extra. drinking blood out of capri sun pouches and going out in the sun in huge sunhats and clout goggles.

going as stereotypical cloaked vampires for halloween and spending hours freaking people out in the hall of mirrors.

soft vampire love, guys.

y'all have napped for literal weeks at a time. just holding each other.

you just love each other so much.

let vampires be SOFT.

because you are.

barry just holds your face and looks at you. he's never going to be able to get over how fucking ethereal you are, even his heightened vampire sight can't take it in

"do you think that we're going to be this in love forever?"

"yeah."

"how are you sure?"

"because i can't function without you."

#barry berkman #barry berkman x reader #barry hbo #barry #barry block #barry x reader #vampire #hcs #this is soft

[anastasiaskarsgard]

X marks the spot

Part 5

Mark POV

Midsummer

Warning: little bit of cussing and bullying behavior.

A/n: if you need the earlier chapters search #xmarksthespot2k19. This is the story of Mark after high school. Lots of other people from movie mentioned. Is he a good guy after all, or do old habits rear their ugly head?

I just fucked Brooke. I just fucked Brooke. Oh my fuck.

I looked down at Brooke’s peaceful face, and naked body, and could feel myself getting hard again. She’s so fucking hot. And I fucked her.

It’s not just sex tho. I’ve fucked tons of broads, but this felt different. I could lay here forever with only Brooke, and be so happy.

What the fuck am I going to do? How do I make her my girlfriend? Will she be my girlfriend? The thought of her with another guy makes me see red. I gotta make it just us.

Even when things were perfect with Lily, it was never about us; it was about everyone. The parties, the drama, going out, getting wasted, fighting and fucking, but never really about us.

At least not for me.

The only time I ever wanted to be stuck with just lily was when we were going to fuck around, but after that, we’d return to our friends. We never hung out as just the two of us. We never had conversations really, unless they were arguments.

I probably could of handled Lily better, but fuck her for real. Not only was she cheating on me, with some guy twice her age, she let him watch us fuck! Oh and let’s not forget that the guy was married AND she was friends with the family.

When Sarah sent me the text conversations between Lily and Nick, and pointed out the dates and times, I felt like I was gonna be sick. I mean she was with me most of them. All those phone calls from “her mom”, or multiple bathroom breaks were just her being a whore. I can’t believe I went down on her. I fucking hate that bitch.

I really like Brooke though. I don’t want her to know about all that bs. There’s enough bs with Sarah, I don’t want her finding shit about Lily. She already said she looked at Twitter.

I grabbed my phone and went on every account that video was posted and I deleted it. I even went through and deleted anything about it. Any comments, jokes, etc. were deleted. Just as I felt secure I’d gotten all of it, Brooke started to talk in her sleep.

“But I want berry waffles...” she mumbled. “You look like a turkey man.”

I can’t stand how fucking cute she is. I feel totally like a psycho right now, but I’m obsessed with everything about her. The way she laughs and smiles. Her long hair, long legs and cute feet. How she covers her mouth when she eats, and even how she acts when she’s drunk. And oh my fuck, the sounds she makes when I fuck her. I cannot think about that or I’m gonna have to wake her up.

Its rather funny that I’ve never really tried to keep a girl around. I usually try to get rid of them, but here I was freaking myself out over this one. I closed my eyes and finally let sleep take me, sure I’d wake up if she tried to get up. I feel so good with her in my arms. It’s been a long time since I could say, I’m happy. As I drifted off to sleep, I couldn’t stop smiling.

—————————————————-

When I woke up, it was dark, and I was alone. I leaped out of bed, threw shorts on, and went to find Brooke.

I couldn’t believe how panicked I was she had gotten away from me. I thought I would wake up when I felt her move but I must of been more tired than I thought.

I look in the bathroom, living room and kitchen but no Brooke. I feel a lump in my throat and wanna punch somebody in the face. I am not about to cry over some bitch.

But that’s just it, Brooke isn’t some bitch. I sank in my recliner and put my head in my hands. I had to get ahold of myself. I was being ridiculous.

I tried to calm myself before I walked back into my bedroom. Wow. The one time I wanted a girl to stay, she snuck out.

I missed her already. Who did she think she was? I checked my phone, and there were tons of messages from everybody under the sun. Everyone but Brooke.

Apparently there was a rager at Diamonds place. He and Bex split up, so he was trying to be straight again, which seemed pointless to me. Honestly, it made no difference to me who he fucked. I hit him up on FaceTime, and it was in full swing, so I decided to stop by to distract myself from obsessing over Brooke.

I threw on clothes and headed over to Diamonds house. There was a black Prius idling out front with no one in it, but when I walked around the front, there was an Uber sticker, so I just disregarded it and went inside.

It was packed with people, and there were several girls id gotten with before giving me the eye. Sorry ladies, not interested. My baby is probably at home taking a bath or telling her best girlfriend about me. I need to just feel confident in myself.

It’s not like she’s out partying which made me realize that I was. I will just have a beer and go home and call her. I said what’s up to a few people, and I made my way over to the bar. Then I stopped so abruptly, the kid behind me slammed into me.

”wow bro, my bad!” he exclaimed, eyes wide hoping I wasn't pissed.

”No worries player.” I said distractedly.

Brooke was standing there next to some girl I’d never seen, talking to some fucking douchebag. It took every bit of self-control I had, not to make a scene. I wanted to beat his ass, and grab her by her fucking hair and drag her out of there.

Who the fuck does she think she is? Fucks me and then sneaks out to a fucking party? I was so mad; I could barely see straight. Mad doesn’t even come close to what the fuck I’m feeling. She wants to play games? We shall see.

I spotted three girls to my right, that were pointing at me and giggling. They were not as hot as Brooke, but they'd work. I smiled, and they all laughed and whispered to one another as I walked over. Easy prey.

“Hey, I’m Mark,” I flirted, winking at them.

“We know who you are!” The short blonde one said. “I’m Tammy, and this is My cousin Kelly, and this is her exchange student Kimmy, from Japan. She wants to know how tall you are.”

“I’m 6’4.” I said standing up straight.

They all squeaked, and giggled, showering praise on me till their demeanor suddenly changed. I looked at where they were glaring and turned around to find Brooke.

“Hi, Mark. I thought you’d be too tired to come out. Who are your friends?” She asked all cutesy. I’m not gonna give in to her. She needs to be put in her fucking place. Fuck me and leave? No.

“Oh hey girls, this is one of my clients, Brooke. I just helped her with a home renovation to get her house sold. If any of you ladies need any help around the house or yard, gimme a call.” I said as flirty as I could manage and winked at them, as I breezed past Brooke, on the way to the bar. Brooke didnt follow me; she was still talking to the girls, who were now being 100 times nicer since they thought I had just blown her off. I kept track of her in the corner of my eye, and noticed she looked at me a lot. She wasn’t smooth at all.

I finished my beer, and decided to slip out and give Brooke a taste of her own medicine. As much as I wanted to guard her and hold her in my arms all night, I had to play it cool. I have never had a problem getting a girl, and I’m not starting now with the one I give a fuck about.

To be safe, I went and found the douchebag Brooke was talking to earlier. He was still standing with the same, strange girl.

“Hey bud, can I talk to you real quick?”

He looked nervously at the girl and then back to me before asking if there was a problem.

“Oh no! We’re buddies I thought, I just wanted to talk to ya about something, a lady shouldn’t hear.” I lied, winking at the girl who started blushing and looking at her feet. How does Brooke know these lame ass nerds?

“Ok, I’ll be right back, Jane. After you, my man.” He chirped.

I walked out in the garage and as soon as the door closed, I turned and grabbed the guy by his shirt, getting mere inches from his face.

“Wow, bro! What’s up I thought we were cool!” The guy said shakily, as he looked at all the exits and back to me.

“Well, that all depends on you Bro. How do you know Brooke?” I growled.

“She’s Janes friend, I could get you an introduction if you want. She’s not seeing anyone.”

I punched the wall next to the guys head, putting a hole in the drywall and shocking both of us with the sudden outburst of rage. This guy was fucking terrified, so I took it down a notch, loosened my grip and asked, “She said that?” I was trying to hide how much this revelation hurt me.

“She said she needs to drop some fuckboy that she’s getting too caught up with and needs a nice guy. I can tell her you’re nice.” He volunteered.

I released him and took a step back. So she thought I was a fucking fuckboy? But a fuckboy that she is getting caught up with... hmm. Shit, I could work with that.

“Brooke is mine, got it?”

He nodded his head overzealously. “I get it, bro, hands off.”

“I gotta leave, but I’m trusting you to make sure no dudes get too friendly with her. If you see anyone talking to her, pull them aside and let them know Mark is already in that, and I don’t fucking share. And don’t do anything stupid like tell the girls, cuz I’d like to like you, and not break your fucking face.”

“Got it! Loud and clear!” He said with his eyes wide, and sweat dripping down his forehead.

“Good. I’m leaving, but I always got eyes on so don’t fuck this up.” I patted him on the back a bit too hard and exited out the garage side door.

The Prius was still out front idling. In my younger days, I’d have jacked it and done stupid shit in it till the wheels fell off, but I was past that.

Suddenly, It occurred to me that one of the people with Brooke must be her Uber Driver. I checked to make sure no one was out front, and I walked over to the driver door took its keys. I double checked no one was paying attention and slipped the keys in my pocket, before jumping in my truck and driving off.

It only took 10 minutes for the text to come

Brooke: Wow thanks for saying goodbye asshole

Me: I didn’t think you cared

Brooke: what the fuck is that supposed to mean???

Me: well you didn’t say bye at my house, so I just thought that’s how you do things.

Brooke: I’m not going to do this with you Mark

Me: do what?

Me: hello?

Me: earth to Brooke

Me:...

Shit, I didn’t see this coming. Was she really going to ignore me? Like hell she was. I flipped my truck around and raced back to Diamonds, just in time to see Jane crying by her Prius. Brooke was comforting her and she looked so fucking hot. All my lousy mood disappeared, and now I just wanted to be her knight in shining armor.

I pulled up to them and rolled down my window.

“What’s going on guys?” I asked.

“Someone stole the keys to her car, and her spare set is all the way across town at her house, but no one is sober or willing to take her to get them.” Brooke steamed.

“Well, lucky for you, your knight in shining armor got his cigarettes and is back to drive you, ladies, wherever you need to go,” I smiled.

Brooke’s face lit up, and she led Jane in my truck bouncy and happy. They fucked with my radio, and squealed and giggled about a bunch of shit I didn’t care about, but I WAS happy she was with me and I got to be the hero. (Even though I caused the problem, and had the keys in my pocket.)

“Mark, I want to apologize to you,” Jane said out of nowhere.

“Why? you don’t live that far.”

“Actually I told Brooke to be cautious about you, because you’re a selfish womanizer, and every girl that gives you the time of day, gets her heart broken. Now maybe it’s all bad reputation, because I mean, you helped her with the house, saved her earlier today, and now you’re saving us!”

I looked at Brooke, and her eyes were wide as she turned eight shades of red. Was she embarrassed by me?

“Well I just have a bad rep, I’m not that cool. I just have made the error of trusting girls, that had their fun with me, and then told everyone about it, or even lie about it. At the end of the day though, I’m just chilling by myself.” I was really gonna lay it on thick with these two.

“I can see that now. Rumors are so unfair, and I wanna tell you to give him a chance now Brooke.” She said, taking both of Brooke’s hands in hers.

Brooke smiled at Jane. Jane was my new favorite person.

I pulled up to Janes’ and she hopped out and ran in, while we waited in the car.

“So you’re ashamed of me?” I couldn’t hold it in, I had to ask her.

She was fidgeting, and staring at her lap. I couldn’t see what was up with her face since her curtain of hair was blocking it. I waited for a response, but when nothing came, I unbuckled her seatbelt and grabbed her, pulling her onto my lap. She didn’t even try to fight me, just let me drag her over. She still wasn’t looking at me, so I tipped her chin up to meet her eyes.

“Hey,” I said.

She tried to look away, but I didn’t let her.

“If you need to take things slow and just wanna be my friend that’s ok. I am gonna be here for you, no matter what.”

“I like you too much Mark, and I’m not a fuck buddy type.”

I felt like I’d been punched in the gut. I knew Brooke was a good girl. I didn’t know what to say, so I just hugged her and kissed her hair. I didn’t think it was possible to love her more, but I felt so much for this girl right now, I thought I’d burst. She fucking liked me too.

“Thank you,” I said finally.

“For what dork?” She giggled.

“For taking me seriously. For giving me a chance to be your boyfriend.”

“ I think friendship is what we should focus on now, and maybe relationship someday.”

Although her words hurt, she was mine and if she wanted to call it friends, fine. We could label it whatever she wanted.

“Friends that maybe kiss sometimes?” I asked, gently kissing her lips and then pressing my forehead to hers.

“And other stuff,” she said as she rubbed against me. “Seems you’re kinda excited to see me.”

“Well ya, you’re on my lap. What do you expect?” I could feel myself blushing. She made me so nervous, it’s crazy. I’m not shy, but with her...

“Wanna come over to my place tonight?” She asked as she bit that damn bottom lip.

“Absolutely.”

Jane got back in the truck, “good job Brooke! I’m so happy you’re giving him a shot.”

Jane is my new best friend.

The girls sang along and had a blast on the way back to the car. I ran in and got them drinks at a convenience store, so I could throw away janes keys before Brooke finds them.

We dropped off Jane and headed to Brooke’s apartment, and I was so happy it was disgusting. In the back of my mind, there was this voice telling me I had to do whatever I had to, to keep her. She was gorgeous, and I couldn’t be the only one that noticed.

This was very confusing and stressful. I’d never fucking cared if I ever saw a girl again, so I didn’t put much thought into making them stick around. This was new for me, and to be honest, I wasn’t fucking enjoying it. Relationships, feelings, and girls are all just nightmares, but it was too late. I might even already love her, and there was no talking me out of it.

Not even when I was doing the talking.

#bill skarsgard #billy skarsgard #bill istvan günther skarsgård #fanfic #mark bill skarsgard #mark assassination nation #xmarksthespot2k19 #my writing

[witchfall]

the silver lining still remains: ch. 2

SUMMARY: “Connor read somewhere that 3 a.m. is “the magic hour” -- a concept still out of his purview. But the wide open dark gives him a feeling without a name; if it is all an illusion, as he’s wondered, it’s started pulling new tricks.

It feels like there’s a hole in one of his key biocomponents, slowly leaking. Like thirium could pool in the bottom of his abdomen, and no one would know until it’s too late.”

A Connor x F!OC fanfic. Read on AO3

---

[...RECHARGING…]

[...RECHARGING…]

[...100%]

[ALL SYSTEMS NORMAL. VISUAL FEED NORMAL. TIME: 3:09 A.M]

‘Yea, the diplomats are doing their thing.’ Hank, eating a burger. ‘But they aren’t here with us. Doing the work on the ground, you know? It’s never gonna be...quite the same.’

‘Here with us.’

‘Life’s that way.’

‘You’d miss me.’

[RUNNING DIAGNOSTIC…..ALL SYSTEMS NORMAL.]

Androids do not dream. Connor understands this. But the thoughts circle, endlessly. He processes and scans the color, texture, and sound of his memories until they are a grainy nonsense of variables that shouldn’t be there. Voices stop sounding right. Freckles are in the wrong place. Lips are the wrong size. The recollection is perfect; his sensor scans are absolutely complete.

The wrongness persists.

[ALL SYSTEMS NORMAL.]

He opens his eyes. Moonlight and the white glare of streetlamps shine through the dusty windows of Hank’s spare room (“You live here, you live like a civilized human man. Android man. Fuck it, you know what I mean.”). Sumo snores softly in the hallway and his owner snores louder still in the bedroom across the way. All things normal.

Don’t tell me you were working this whole time.

I was at Dan’s.

A smile, and a strange look in Hank’s eye -- uncategorizable. No statements of clarification. Continues to watch television.

Connor could get up and work. Read one of the books Hank suggested. But the thoughts spin on, so many of them, and he’s not sure he’s willing to leave them be.

She’s interfacing again. Stress level: 55%. Monitor your life signs.

Incorrect prioritization. Monitor her life signs.

Mouth open, face uncharacteristically inexpressive. Eyes (dark brown -- dark dark brown, where do they go?) out of focus. Extremely minor shivering.

Why?

His eyes fly open and he focuses again on the chilling brightness of the moon, if only to stop this thought cycle before it can begin. The street is silent. He read somewhere that 3 a.m. is “the magic hour” -- a concept still out of his purview. But the wide open dark of the sky gives him a feeling without a name; if it is all an illusion, as he’s wondered, it’s started pulling new tricks.

It feels like there’s a hole in one of his key biocomponents, slowly leaking. Like thirium could pool in the bottom of his abdomen, and no one would know until it’s too late.

[TIME: 3:15 A.M.]

--

Emma steps out of the client’s house, wiping sweat and grit off her forehead with the back of her glove. Clouds obscure the weakly setting sun, casting the neighborhood in a downcast gray. Materials she’d need for tomorrow’s drywall installation cycled through her head, hammering out all curious thought. A litany of the most boring items imaginable.

Nothing like exhaustion to beat the worry out of you.

Sleep or stagework? She hesitated outside her Taurus, testing the tires with her boot. If she had to ask, maybe she should just go home...

Her phone softly chimes.

Who could possibly want to call me now ?

She digs it out of her thick coat with a furrowed brow, suppressing a sigh. The number was “unknown,” but that was hardly unusual in her line of work. Androids were buying their own phones, but the savvy ones were understandably wary of tracking.

She clicks it over. “Emma Ibori.”

“Emma. Are you free?”

She blinks at the voice on the line. “Speaker Markus?” Well, that explains the blocked number. “...how’d you get my number?”

“It’s in the Corps files,” he says. “I hope I didn’t catch you at a bad time.” His voice is warm but straightforward, plodding along pleasantries as if by rote.

She raises a brow in interest, but her gut sinks. The leader of the preliminary Android government probably didn’t just call people to chat. “Sure, no. What can I do for you?”

--

Hank taps his empty coffee cup on his desk and stares at Connor. He checks his watch...he’s been staring for a good three minutes now. Connor doesn’t even seem to notice.

Hank leans back in his chair, making it creak, and sighs heavily.

“I think we’re off the clock,” he finally says.

Connor is staring at his computer like he’s Atlas, holding the world up. His brow is furrowed as he scans through files that Hank knows too well will reveal nothing new, not even to a top of the line prototype detective. Connor has a single hand on his forehead, fingers reaching up through his hair -- a curious gesture of humanity that makes him seem much younger than he pretends to be, even if he is still sitting up ramrod straight.

“You can go home if you want,” Connor says politely. His eyes don’t leave the screen.

Hank frowns. He’s too well-worn to know how to break through the miasma gathering around the young man. He just tries to be there.

Tough being a prototype.

A rough guitar riff plays -- Hank’s phone. He pulls it out of his pocket and stares at the number. An opportunity.

“Anderson.”

“Hey, it’s Emma. Does Connor have a direct line to Markus, you think?”

“Emma, I'm at work.”

Lo and behold, Connor finally looks his way. Hank stifles a smirk at Connor’s attempt to make it look nonchalant by casting his gaze lazily to the side a moment, but Hank doesn’t buy it for a second. They had to get Connor his own phone soon.

“I got a weird call from him. He said he had a job opportunity come up at the old East Yard Elementary for me but, uh...the number he used won’t work.” He can hear the wind crackle through her phone speaker.

“Markus called you?”

“Maybe.” He can hear her shuffling with a door. “One reason I wanted to confirm with him. I’d just demo this place.”

Hank leans forward. Connor does too. Hank gives him a look -- eavesdropping is rude, how many times do I gotta tell you that? -- but his detective instinct yammers like a mad dog. “Go back to your car.”

A long pause. “...all right then.” He can hear her breathing as she begins to walk. “I didn’t go in far.”

“You really shouldn’t be on that side of town,” he says quietly. “Are you alone?”

She doesn’t answer. His gut clenches. The girl was tough, a wicked good contractor who’d fixed up a number of things in his old house, and a presence that flitted in and out like a fly he couldn’t chase away. But she, like a lot of the youth around these parts, was both too stubborn and too trusting. Connor was nearly out of his seat trying to listen in now, dark eyes intent upon Hank, all pretense gone.

“I have a gun.”

“Emma--”

“Look, can you just ask Con if--”

A loud, unmistakable bang.

“Emma?” He pulled his phone back and looked at the call connection.

The line was instantly dead.

“Oh, fuck. Connor--”

Connor was already running full speed toward the exit. Hank grabs his radio and follows, fast as he dares.

“Dispatch, we have a situation. Door! Connor, use the door!”

--

Emma’s ears ring. Fear blooms in her stomach like an orchid. In a thoughtless moment, she reaches up to touch her ear to check for bleeding, but her hand is embedded with glass and already slick so it’s useless. She can feel the blood trickling down her jaw. It’ll probably stain her coat, she realizes with a bizarre amusement.

All she can really think about is running, away from her car where they'd ambushed her, zigging and zagging between vehicles, between houses, through any path that could break up their beeline on her. She expects them to shoot again at any moment -- a thought that keens bright as lightning. But they don’t, despite the fact that they had the wherewithal to shoot her phone from her hand.

What was stopping them?

She chances a look back. Two figures in nondescript dark clothes chase her with stocky, athletic movements and a uniformity that felt too exact to be human.

Fear bottoms her out. All her breaths feel like flame.

Her bag drags down on her shoulder, even as she tries to keep it from smacking her side too much with her left hand. But it’s no use. It’s slowing her down and they clearly aren’t tiring. While she hears sirens wailing in the distance, she decides to buy time by -- God and Universe please fucking forgive me, I’m never gonna be able to buy tools again at this rate -- throwing the bag as far as she can at her pursuers.

But not without grabbing her gun first.

--

“It was a mistake to let you drive!” Hank wheezes, but Connor knows the man can’t mean it. At the speed they are going, only an android could have prevented their untimely death via crash.

[FIND EMMA FIND EMMA FIND EMMA FIND EMMA]

Text flashes red in his eyes, constant, and he blinks hard to try and erase it. There is no erasing it.

[CIRCULATION ELEVATED. RECOMMEND DEEP BREATHS FOR SYSTEM COOLING.]

The dispatch chatter was up. Connor only slowed when he saw the flashing lights of other patrol cars in the distance, parked on some abandoned street where single-family housing met the blockier apartment units of inner Detroit. Police were exiting their cars, guns up.

He nearly slams the car into park. Hank grumbles something obscene but they both near tumble out of the car. They bolt toward what the other police are examining.

A bag…

Instantly, he enters analysis mode, the mind palace thrumming to life. Contents spilled out of the bag as if it was thrown for distraction. A measuring tape and a Laserlite level flung a few feet out of the bag from the force of the toss. One hammer, a smattering of nails and screwdrivers [multiple head types] are scattered on the pavement in an arc akin to spraying water.

Specks of fresh blood.

[MISSION: FIND EMMA.]

She loves this bag.

[PROCESSING: PROJECTING RUN BASED ON BAG LOCATION, THROWN ITEM DISTANCE, EAST YARD SCHOOL.]

“Connor, we’re going to find her, you just gotta--”

[RE-CONSTRUCTING]

“--take a second to breathe--”

[POSSIBLE DIRECTION: NORTHWEST?]

“--listening?”

Connor can hear Hank saying something in the background, but his processors burn too hot. He has a mission to do. He doesn’t have time for anything but analysis--

Two gunshots, 467 feet northwest.

His mission parameters squeeze his chest. Something lances his core biocomponent.

[DIAGNOSTIC UNDERWAY.]

He runs, fast as his feet will go, but the neighborhood is starting to blur around him. He leaves the other officers in the dust, not weighed down by patrol gear or a biological need for aerobic exercise. He vaults over parked cars and old trash bins and rounds the corner of an alleyway--

[RECONSTRUCTING PRECONSTRUCTING RECON--]

Two dead bodies litter the ground.

[THIRIUM -&*^&*CORRUPTION.]

What?

And Emma stands at the alley’s end, gun outstretched.

He stumbles to a stop at the sight. His entire vision shakes a moment.

Blood stains the side of her face, and one of her hands claws unnaturally around the gun, clearly injured. She stands with feet shoulder-width apart, arms straight. A near perfect shooting stance. One pursuer was downed with a shot to the head, the other with a shot to the chest. Executioner style.

Something hot burns in Connor’s ribcage. She had been cornered. A chainlink fence blocks the alleyway behind her.

She suddenly takes in a sharp breath.

“Emma!” The word feels torn from him as he skitters across the alley. Now he can see she’s close to tears, teeth barred, breath coming in shaky waves. “You’re all right,” he says, hands up. The softness of his voice comes at a shock considering the magma filling his midsection. “You’re safe now.”

[MISSION SUCCESS]

She takes in another sharp, shaky breath and the tears finally roll down her face. Her whole body near vibrates with stress. He moves until he is close enough that he can whisper.

“Give me the gun,” he says softly.

“No.”

His chest compresses further. “Please. You are not in a state to hold a weapon.”

Even if her shots were perfect.

She hesitates, but then thrusts the gun into his palm with her good hand -- much to his surprise. He sticks it in his extra holster on his waistband and then leans down slightly to level with her gaze. Without thinking, he tentatively rests his hands on her shoulders. His fingers wrap around her shoulders and his palms settle against her collarbones. Only then does it feel like she’s real.

Alive alive alive alive.

He scans her face, unwilling to miss a single detail. A gunshot wound to her right ear. Thick, coiled hair caking against the sticky blood. Scratches along her jawline from glass shards. Old smears of makeup under her eyes, now just black specks thanks to time and tears. But the constellation is still there -- a single smear of blood disrupting the map of freckles on her face…

“Connor!” Hank and the other police finally arrive, feet loud against the pavement. “Shit...”

Connor doesn’t turn to look back at them. He’s watching Emma’s dark brown eyes, waiting. Waiting. She stares at the middle distance between them, as if rebooting -- until suddenly she blinks and she isn’t. She’s looking right back at him. Searching his face.

“I’m--” A hiccup disrupts her sentence and she takes in another rough, shaky breath.

Another lance through his core biocomponent. He suddenly can’t bring himself to say anything at all. Something in him rumbles and roars -- a creature that he’d not witnessed since he broke the command to Stop Markus.

“Emma, hey, it’s gonna be alright.” That was Hank, breathing hard.

“Wh...why the fuck were they chasing me?” Emma looks between Connor and Hank, breaking eye contact finally. “They were by Tulio.” Her car.

“We’ll figure it out,” Hank says, stepping up next to them. He taps Connor’s shoulder once, a signal to move. Connor’s systems feel sluggish; he finds he doesn’t want to let go. But after a moment, he takes a step back, releasing her shoulders.

Hank places his scarf around her neck. “You said you could shoot but you never said you were a goddamn Olympian.”

She squints, looking away. “I dunno.” She gestures outward. “Got lucky, I guess.”

Luck?

Two programs go to war.

Analyze the variables: Markus’s involvement. Did someone use his voice? The supposed job. How did they obtain her number? Why did they chase but opt not to shoot her again? How did they find her? What did they want? Who are these androids and what was their purpose? Why was the reading of the blue blood returning corrupted data? Why is she shy about her gunshots? Find more information. Solve this now.

If you look away from her something else might happen you never know there are no proper odds for this anymore not in this city where nothing has a precondition another shooter could appear anything could come out of thin air so keep your eyes on her at all times don’t you dare let her leave your sight how did she shoot them like that was it luck was it just luck that left her alive was it just luck that she’s here at all--

“Connor?”

Emma is staring at him, moisture on her face glinting blue and red as the last of the backup arrives.

“He’s fine,” Hank says with his usual gruffness, placing a hand on her shoulder as if to turn her away. “Owes me some new tires. Drives like a maniac.” His tone is heightened. He’s trying to obfuscate something, but Emma doesn’t break her stare. Hank bites his lip, concerned.

Connor looks down. The pavement flashes red. He tucks one hand behind his back, as if that can stop the feeling building inside, and another to the coin in his pocket.

What if what if what if what if?

[DIAGNOSTIC COMPLETE. ALL SYSTEMS FUNCTIONING.]

But that can’t be right. Because his vision is blurring -- breaking into prisms of light as all the magma in his chest finally reaches his optical components.

He turns away so Emma won’t see.

#dbh connor #connor rk800 #detroit become human #dbh connor x oc #dbh connor x reader #dbh #kathryn writes #long post #hope the read more works D:

[atomicbark-blog]

Sugar Fall and Morailegence

Plush (JS/MI)Yesterday at 6:08 PM

(blood ment.) 

Your name is Jay Harley and you have just started to wake up after being knocked out by Stitch. Clutching your bleeding head you lift it too fast and see stars, almost hurking right then and there. Some common sense has seemed to leak back into your head despite you laughing at this moment. You push yourself up onto the wall and teleport out into the hallway, you hit the floor immediately clutching your mouth. You won't be able to teleport this much like this. 

Crawling over to a wall you pull out your phone and shoot Doze a text before pulling yourself up the wall, your claws digging into the drywall. You start to stagger off, laughing manically under your breath, a raspberry red bloodstain following your trail against the wall.(edited)

Mabs (PI/02)Yesterday at 6:42 PM

Your name, or at least what you call yourself is Doze. John Doze usually...it's kind of a fun play on words. At least you think so.    At least you would if you weren't a bit upset right now. Upset at having been stuck in spot while everything has been going tits up, upset that you weren't fast enough to get far enough so you could be with Clover. Upset you aren't with Clover now and are making him worry even more probably.  And upset that you know you're on your way to do something stupid but here you go. 

It'd have been one thing if Jay had just been candy crush cackle-mad...but the combination of her messages was more than concerning.  You didn't know if these Tricksters were immortal...but if they were and Jay wasn't working right then perhaps not.  And you already have a life of regrets you have forgotten, letting Jay possibly bleed out in the manor alone was not one of them you wanted to add to the mist. 

Leaving your hiding spot, you begin to make your way through what felt like an empty manor, making your way to where Jay last said she was.

Plush (JS/MI)Yesterday at 6:52 PM

You had staggered farther down the hallway since messaging Doze, you had to stop to do that or otherwise you would of fallen down right there and you weren't sure if you could get up again from that. Everything hurt and hurt a lot, ever since Clover cracked you a good one you hadn't started to heal like the other tricksters and man did it suck to some point. You keep staggering on despite your pain, it's something you were trained to do. Keep on carrying on, you could even stagger home after getting shot if you really wanted too, but right now with the glitching back and forth and feeling like something.. someone was hunting you down again. You were way to terrified to focus on ignoring the pain, you just wanted to reach Doze. 

Your blood trail skids down for a second as you crouch/crawl your way to the other side of the wall so you can continue towards the Lounge. Having no idea what is keeping you moving or why you do keep moving instead of staying still, you keep trekking along. Making it to the start of the stair way you crumple to your knees an lean against the banister, "Fuck making it down those.. Hahhaha!" You chuckle under your breath and lean your head against the railing, "Please get to me furst Dozey.~" Churring you close your eyes for a second, you just need a breather, yeah. Just a few minute rest.

Mabs (PI/02)Yesterday at 7:00 PM

You see the bloodtrail first, momentarily wonder if this is how Trace feels when he's tracking folks down.  Probably more exciting for Trace. Less terrible for Trace. He gets to see people, you just get to see blood.    As you round the corner, you see the figure slumped by the bannister.   Wellp. Here goes nothing and everything as you get closer. 

"Ey. Ey Jay.  What do you say.  Lets go on out and have have a really nice day." You say softly as you get closer.

Plush (JS/MI)Yesterday at 7:11 PM

Your bent puppy ears flick as you hear Doze's voice an you groan, looking up slowly an over at him. One of your eyes is held closed, you didn't want to get blood in it. He gets to see it in full and somewhere in your mind that upsets you, having him see you like this. A new jagged wide scar from the left side of your fore head to your right cheek, and absolutely covered in blood. You grumble softly, and try to stand up, shaking tiredly as you do so and nod at Doze, stars flashing in your vision. 

"Mmm.." You stand up fully and rock back and forth before grinning brightly, "Oh really!? I would LOVE that!" Your being glitches for a moment and a more calmer tone takes place, "Anywhere away from Stitch and them would be fine with me honestly."

Mabs (PI/02)Yesterday at 7:18 PM

A noticable frown at the blood.  Oh no...you can't be mad at Clover for doing what he had to do...but its still painful to see. Pulling out a large blue scarf like you were some kind of magician, you start to wrap it around her head and injury.  "Ye ye...sure thing.  Lets getcha outta here.  Ye aint allowed to get anymore badass lookin scars today." 

With careful slowness, you lean down to scoop her up in your arms. "I gotta couple places where I do some of my other business that I can take ye to.  Stitch ain't the only one know knows his way about medical equipment. Kek."  It's true...while Stitch's job was patching people together....yours was often taking them apart.  As slow as possible. Making sure they stay alive for as long as possible.  Torture ain't worth it if the person bleeds out in an hour after all.

Plush (JS/MI)Yesterday at 7:28 PM

You are touching the scarf lightly a soft smile on your face when he scoops you up. You let out a yelp of surprise and cling to him before laughing. You grunt and shake your head at that, trying to keep the candy syrupiness out of your brain. You lean away from him an whine, "I don't want to risk turning you." Frowning an wobbling a little you set your head against his shoulder, your breathing ragged an chest shaking with each breath. 

As much as you wanted to make sure he didn't touch you because of the risk, you just didn't have it in you to fight against it. You nod and grumble softly, ears drooping, "Yeah.. That sounds Peachy! Urk sounds pretty good, I'm all there for it." You allow yourself to rest against him and you find yourself smiling again, man he makes you feel so safe  and calm it's absolutely wild.

Mabs (PI/02)Yesterday at 7:33 PM

"Iffn I'm gonna get all hit with this crazy kittykat bullshit, I'd rather do it helping ya get to safety than getting kerfuckle kissed by some sappy assed sons of bitches.  Priorities yo.  Maybe I'll end up being the act three goes out like a hero sucker kek."  You grin as you cautiously take her down the stairs and head towards the garage.  Fuck there's blood everywhere and while you have some tools here if folks are on the hunt and she's scared to want out...best not to push it in case she glitches bad. 

"Sides. Prolly ain't gonna work on me.  Know why?  Cause I already happy as shit.  Know why times two?  I already got everything I need to be fuckass happy. I got Clover. I got you. I got skills to pay the bills. And I even got a dumbass fuckface I get to dunk on once all this is over.  Bread and Circuses all the way.  Why the fuck would I need anything else to be happy."  Part of you is saying it for yourself, as you ignore how much her blood smells like raspberry taffy.

Plush (JS/MI)Yesterday at 7:48 PM

You genuinely laugh at his words an grin up at him through your daze, "Yeah it fucking sucked lemme tell ya." You glitch a bit, your grin more manic like, "Got my forehead SMOTHERED is kisses be DOC!!!!" You practically slap yourself on the forehead, right on the wound and glitch back, "Never thought I'd see the day he would do something like that. Shit felt cursed." You snort an laugh softly. 

You find yourself gripping Doze tighter as he descends the stairs, you didn't want to fall, in fact now would be the damn worst time for that. You look up at him surprised before nodding, "You got that right. Damn I honestly didn't want this." You feel yourself frown heavily before you glitch like crazy, grunting you hide your face behind your hands and mutter to yourself, "Okay, Okay. No sad feels I got it jesus FUCK!" You bury your hands and face into Doze's shoulder to get yourself to calm down again, "Oof.. Sorry sorry. Looks like trickster me doesn't like thinking about sad shit."

Mabs (PI/02)Yesterday at 7:57 PM

"Sounds like Trickster you is a godamn pussy." you snort.  "Do you think we'd be where we are without the sad and the bad?  It's that sad and bad shit that makes all the good shit special.    If I wanted something fuckin happy without purpose I'd just load up on a dozen how may i serve you mlord click with yo dick games or something."  Carefully opening the door, you note which cars are gone and which remain before getting a set of keys for yourself. 

"That said.  Think about some happy shit. This ain't gonna last forever. And then! We're gonna have some fuckin fine dining on the fanciest daki pillows.   Can watch the best of vine videos till we're cry laughing like dipshits."  A wide smile.  "Don't need no candy ass magic to have a great time.  We're gonna show that candy ass magic that its just a punk ass bitch that only wishes it could have as much fun as we do when you and I are in full swing."

Plush (JS/MI)Yesterday at 8:12 PM

You laugh into his shoulder and nod, your gummy like hair bouncing with the movement, "Such a pussy, gotta be what you eat." You crack up more and bite your lip, snorting and laughing though your nose. "God the way you say things are great, honestly never a dull moment around you." You purr, then stop and blink surprised that you can even do that. With a soft oh shit and a tail wag you go back to purring, looking out and watching Doze do his thing. 

"Hell yeah you tell it Doze. We are gonna have a damn good time." You glitch heavily for a moment as you grumble lowly, "I don't need no damn candy to be happy with the people I love an care about." Stars brightly flash in your vision again and your ears flick back and down, "Ough fuck that's bright." You squeeze your eyes shut for a moment and shake your head as you chill out again. 

Tilting your head you look up and blink at Doze with a confused smile, "Are we leaving the mansion?"

Mabs (PI/02)Yesterday at 8:15 PM

"Ye ye. Gonna have a good time."  You nod as you head over to one of hte cars.  "Also ye.  Gonna take ya to my baddass tat parlor. Show you my sweet as fuck studio.  Finally can give you a bonafide tour of the place." 

Helps that you also have some other tools there for your other jobs. Though thats a bit more of a hush hush matter.  "Maybe if some place is open we can get some snacks n shit. Just chillin about while I help patch ya up."

Plush (JS/MI)Yesterday at 8:25 PM

"Oh man that sound great. Gonna be honest my candy side has been wanting a tattoo on the fucking ass and I'm all kinds of fucked up to agree with her on that point." You grab onto Doze's shirt as you wobbly lower yourself out of his arms, with a grabby hands motion you more of fall onto the car than grab it. You glitch with that jostle and grin wide, "Honestly!!!! What's so BAD about tattoos!~ Doc won't be seeing my ASS and I'm all UP for some rule breaking FUN!!!!~" A huge part of you is glad you got out of Doze's arms at that moment. You really didn't know how much longer you could of held the fake candy happy side back. 

You adjust the scarf on your head, still grinning and teleport the Kitsune mask to your hand. With a wink at Doze you laugh, "You really don't need to WORRY about this side of me! When I promise something it goes STRAIGHT to my HEART." You do the cross my heart and hope to die sign and hope in the car, glitching as you do so. You sigh, "I'm a bit tired, I'm sorry I can't calm that side down as much as I want too." 

Mabs (PI/02)Yesterday at 8:36 PM

You give a nod as you close the door for her.  "Ye ye I trust ya Jay.  Like you've never lied to me in all yer life why would I think you'd do different now.  Candy or not yer still you."  With that you hop into the drivers seat, stirring the car's engine to life.  "Never understood why he was against you getting tats. Like shit I'm covered in em and most of the guys got'em.  Specially since what you were describin is pretty classy." Pulling out of the garage, you start to drive off at a fairly amicable pace. Go figure, you're the only person in the Felt who drives at the speed limit or under.  Noting the sky and grass, you shake your head.  "What a trip huh."

Plush (JS/MI)Yesterday at 8:44 PM

You hum and rub your head, you keep opening the wound up like and absolute idiot. "I don't know either." You grab the handle on the seat and lay back, enjoying the slow ride. "I said dick near him once and like-" You laugh before you can even finish, patting your chest lightly, "He fucking said I was banned from sex." You wipe your open eye, and shake your head. "I think he's trying to keep me...." You open your eyes wide and glitch out like crazy before sitting up quickly and gasping for breath. "Fuck fuck fuck, stop doing that... keep me to himself. Doesn't want my loyalties getting all fucked up and shit." You sit back again groaning, "Like I would even be able to with how damn loyal the animal side of me is." You scrunch your brow and nod, "You know what. Yeah! Let's get me a fucking tattoo! Damn prove it to him! I ain't no DAMN THIN LINED person! I don't fucking BREAK!" You pump your fist into the air.

Mabs (PI/02)Yesterday at 9:06 PM

There is a laugh as you turn a corner.  "That's the problem with loyalties really.  Make em too rigid they're gonna rebel. You'd think after raising a shit ton of kids he'd have figured that one out but he's always after his white whale of the perfect example."  There is a shrug.  "The other thing about loyalties, they gotta be about trust.  You can try day in day out to force loyalty but...if you can't ever really be sure they're loyal and trust them...yer gonna keep just putting that pressure on until they break." Another laugh.  "Well tell ya what.  I'll die on that hill with ya when this is said n done and you still want it.  Fuckit I'll take the tank for that why not.  I ain't gonna do it right now tho cause yer pretty damn hurt and I got some principles. Don't do tats when someone's drunk or doped up, also don't know if that'll end up causing some troubles in her state."

Plush (JS/MI)Yesterday at 9:23 PM

You nod slowly and sigh, "I, oof.. everything is so muddled in my mind I feel like I'm swimming through a swamp. I don't even feel like this after getting drunk what the hell. Yeah, I get what you are saying, I don't know if he trusts me or not to be honest. I think he just expects me to be 100% loyal to him, and like yeah I am but cutting me off from things that I want isn't the way to go on ensuring that I stay loyal. It's not like I'm gonna betray yall, I can't." You shove your kitsune mask onto your face and flinch when it pushes into your wound. You close your eyes behind the mask and laugh, "Thanks Doze, I do want it, a lot actually, but I won't let you take the heat for it. Can't in fact. My problem" You grin behind your mask, "I'd rather have you protected than deal with something I asked fur." You reach over blindly and pat his shoulder, "I understand that policy, be best too honestly-" You glitch, your candy brightness taking a hold again and gripping on hard. "Hehehe!! Yeah! Don't wanna mess up and get LOTS of tattoos!" Jesus give me a break can't she just come to an agreement with you already and mellow out. You touch the wound and tilt your head, perhaps that will be fixed when you are all fixed up. The crowbar seems to have split you in two like a damn cherub.

Mabs (PI/02)Yesterday at 9:34 PM

"Wouldn't be surprised if Doc doesn't trust anyone, even himself.  Ain't anything against you, just how he be I guess."  Or maybe he has a hard time trusting because he knows even if the ends justify the means the betrayals he gave are ever likely to return to his doorstep one day....but you don't voice that part.  That ain't your business to say. "Psssh." You grin back as you glance at the masked face.  "Bitch please.  We innit to winnit.  If I'm out here risking candy toxic shock fer ya you think I'm not gonna take a dunk in the tank if it comes to it.  I ain't lettin ya be the only one to take that heat."  Glancing at the streets, you dodge some rather huh...well ain't this getting crazy with the decor.  Be funny if those stuck behind when this was all over.   But you're just about to your parlor at least and this part of the city seems a ghost town.

Plush (JS/MI)Yesterday at 9:47 PM

You sit back up, dragging the seat with you as you turn and face Doze, some good ass feeling jams right here damn, gotta pay full attention. "Hmm!~ The tank? Oh those Goop Tubes! Hehe!! Snow put me in one of those before I forced myself out of the grey magics! Those things are ABSOLUTLY terrifying!!!!" You laugh and glitch lightly, "Damn things are hell thats what they are, first time in one." You shake like you are trying to get water off of you and stick your tongue out, your mask following suit, "If we get dunked together we can chill together then, the after affects isn't something to deal with on your own." You look over your shoulder to the world out side and it finally hits you how much everything has gone to shit, "Wow... I missed this? Where is everyone...?" You don't like this one bit, you feel yourself slightly shift towards Doze as you murmur out, "Thank you... for staying at the mansion and for coming for me.. I didn't know how bad it got."

Mabs (PI/02)Yesterday at 10:23 PM

The laugh turns to a cackle.  "Ye ye the goop tanks. They sure are something ain't they."  You give a nod as you pull into parking lot for the parlor.  Giving a slow glance for any trouble, you step out of the car with shotgun in tow.  You had no problems blasting some candy coated jackass across the wall if it came to it. As you get the door, you shrug.  "Ye ye....shits gone to utter fuckin hell. Rip in the sky's bigger too it seems." You comment as you point up.  "There's a few holdouts of folks trying to wait it out or stay safe but who knows how long its gonna last."  There's a frown.  "....think before I left I saw something about losing Trace to it.  Probably means we're all gonna be kerfuckled considering he can track us down one by one in time."

Plush (JS/MI)Yesterday at 10:31 PM

You hop out of the car and decide it would be easier to float then walk, in which you to. You float after Doze humming sweetly as you do, "Oh yeah!! That was my fault.~ I did this SICK NASTY move on Snowman and made her hit the pavement after she made me eat pavement! I was a cherub then though!! And my other side on that note is rather WORSE than this one." Your mask winks, the eye that opens is full of flashing different colours, it's rather hypnotizing actually. You straighten out and look around grinning, "Well hell has some interesting tastes!~" You turn back around and float into the Parlor, "Trace went mad happy then? That's unfortunate." You settle your tippy toes on the ground and drag them as you float around the place, "Hmm.. Wouldn't Nepeta and Fin be in trouble first. Do you know if anyone has gone to help them?" You look back at Doze.

Mabs (PI/02)Yesterday at 10:41 PM

You step inside after her before locking it.  It's a pretty nice setup, sterile and well kept with paintings mural'd on the wall.  You noticably frown.  "Hopefully. Maybe. Not sure.  It's Trace.  And he's got probably some similar setups to what ya'll been having so he can prolly chase forever."  The frown deepens but you shake your head.  "Nothing to do bout it here." You lead her to one of the backrooms.  "But I can at least getcha fixed up a bit, so that counts for something maybe.  Have a seat over there and we'll get this all started up."  The chair looks relatively comfortable, obviously designs with tattoo clients in mind who would have to likely be seated in themf or hours.

Plush (JS/MI)Yesterday at 10:48 PM

You put a hand on his shoulder worriedly and pap him, "Fin says my teleporting messes up the trails, If need be I can get us the hell out of here and keep you safe." You glitch and your mask grins as you float over and sit down, "Like I sai-i-id!~ I won't turn you." You tilt your head all cutesy like and look around, "What do you plan on doing? Oh uh shit You are gonna sew my face all up and shit huh? Oh damn." You clutch the mask tightly to your face before slowly taking it off, your thick syrup blood sticking to it, "Oh gross why the fuck did I put that on again." Saying fuck it to the mask and placing it in your lay you shakily reach up for the blue scarf, not really able to see what you are doing.

Mabs (PI/02)Yesterday at 10:57 PM

You're washing your hands before putting on some latex gloves. Gotta be pro and sterile about this stuff.  "That's good too know.  Maybe be the ultimate ace in the hole really.  Aight. Gonna try to get that cleaned a bit and see what damage we workin with.  Gonna sting for a few until the local antiseptics kick in. Then prolly just gonna feel weird as fuck." You roll up a wheelie chair along with a tray of tools, bottles, and a pan of water as you help carefully remove the blue scarf, taking time to try to dab and wipe away the blood on her face as you keep gauze on hand to apply pressure in case it starts pouring blood again.  "Gonna have to see what I'm workin with first but looking like you may need a bit of stitches as is.  Gotta say Clover kind of cracked ya good."

Plush (JS/MI)Yesterday at 11:09 PM

You move your hands out of his way and close your eyes so he can do what he needs to, "Yeah, Though I can't say that I'm mad at him. It helped me break through... and since my trickster ass lunged for him I say I deserved it yeah." You scrunch your face slightly as your pain receptors flare up from your wound being cleaned. With how thick your blood is at the moment it doesn't pour blood as much as it slowly slides down your face again like syrup on pancakes. "Stitch's meaty damn cherub claws got me on the shoulders too, I didn't mention those because they don't hurt as much as my face does. They can honestly probably heal on their own." You force yourself to sit rigidly still for Doze so you don't cause him to mess up. The would is deepest on the top left part of your skull and kind of just drags through across your face. The condition of your eye is unknown, you still have yet to open it, honestly fearing the worst after getting use to having it closed this long. With out her effigy healing her up, she would need stitches for the left side of her face, the right side could heal properly on its own.

Mabs (PI/02)Yesterday at 11:16 PM

You methodically rinse and clean the wound, applying a dab of numbing agent as you go.  The blood's a bit weirder than what you're used to...but almost in a good way since it isn't pouring out faster than you can clean.  "I'll give em a checkout once I finish up the worst of it here.  No sense in leaving a job half-assed n shit." There is extra precaution around her eye, probably would need her to rinse that out at the sink afterwards.  "Oof...ye....looks like her gonna need some stitches pupperoni.  Fortunately I can likely do it without it ending up looking like Stitche's face.  Gonna likely have a mark when its all done though. Gonna look like one of those baddass anime babes with the sword three sizes too big for her."

October 16, 2018

Plush (JS/MI)Today at 12:10 AM

"Oh alright, you gotta point. Plus I shouldn't just leave them to bleed everywhere huh." You pause an snort under your breath, "Is it weird that I kind of want to lick my blood, shit looks hella tasty but also gets all of your teeth rotten in under two seconds." You reach up and carefully tie your hair up and out of your wound. "Alright, I'm fine with that, needles don't bother me too much and with how damn fine your tattoo work is I trust that you will definitely hold to that." You tap your fingers on the chair, feeling honestly kind of bundled up, "Say, anything you want to do after this, can like.. satisfy the damn candy side of me and shit so I can mellow out." You flick your ears an look at him, "Honestly think you out of anyone would be able to help me mellow out so I don't cause any more trouble." You grab your tail and bap it between your hands, something to do so you aren't sitting still and jittering out, "I feel safe an calm around you." You laugh softly and grip your tail.

Mabs (PI/02)Today at 12:18 AM

"Can't deny its too weird. I mean be lying if I said it didn't smell fuckin delicious." You smirk.  "But then perhaps I ain't the best judge of what is delicious considerin my appetites."  You give some of the area near the wound a couple test pokes to ensure that the area was good and numbe before sterilizing the needle.  "If any of this starts to hurt lemme know and I can dab more numbin shit on it.  All about that comfort here." You slowly get to work, hands working with a precise smoothness to them that your powers have granted.  "Hard to say really.  Problem with things is yer gonna be a-ok no doubt no problem but pretty sure me being out and about is the worst thing I can do.  Trying to keep out of the radar in all of this shit.  Whatcha candy side hankerin for?"

Plush (JS/MI)Today at 12:40 AM

"Will do..!" You swipe some blood off of your mask and look at it, "Hm. What's wrong with your appetite?"  You raise the blood up to your nose and sniff, damn that did taste delicious. Like you just snorted a whole can of koolaid up your nose. Resist the temptation to lick it... You don't even flinch as he starts, you more of relax even more, glad to have someone stitching you up. "Hmm I don't know. Nothing to crazy honestly. I'm chill with just hanging out with you and letting myself mellow out and fall out of this trickster state. Kind of tired of it honestly. I only need one good head bashing for me to be done with something." You say fuck it and give the blood on your finger a little lick and scrunch your nose up, that was like opening a whole box of pixie stixs and downing them with the wrappers on. "If you want to go back to the mansion after this I'm up for that. The tricksters seem to be turning their heads from that place fur now."

Mabs (PI/02)Today at 12:51 AM

"Some folks get really nit picky about what is and ain't cool to eat.  Like sure no problem killin a pig or a cow and making ground up burgers.  But then folks are like can't eat rats. Can't eat this. That is gross.  But like...at the end of it all, meat's meat yanno?  Ain't no chicken gonna care what happens to it after its dead, same for every other thing.  Carapaces, trolls...folks...in the end we're all about the same."  As you talk, you carefully make small stiches up the wound, taking pauses to clean and dab and add a bit more numbing agent to it as you go. "Chillin sounds good to me. After this we can prolly vamoose to one of my layday locations.  Keep all my dvds there n shit. Watch some movies. Hang out in pillow land.  Take 20 naps.  Its my fav place to just go and pass time by doing shit all.   Prolly best not to get back to the mansion anymore.  Tho I'll understand if you wanted to. "

Plush (JS/MI)Today at 1:04 AM

"Yeah yeah I get that. Gonna be honest, when I was younger and not really uh hm.. mannerized? I would go in the back yard and dig up the moles an just-" You laugh, "Wasn't pretty. So I understand what you are saying, I don't think anything is wrong with that." As he moves away from your left eye you open it, it's entire colour has changed to a dark cherry red. "Hm." You pat your cheek under it and your ears flick back as panic races through you. "..." You close it again and say nothing on the note of not seeing your fingers from that eye. "Yeah that sounds good. I could use a good rest after this honestly." You smile softly at him, "It will probably be for the best to go there too. Does anyone else know about these layday places?" You shake your head slightly, "The mansion will be fine. I doubt anyone but us could navigate it honestly."

Mabs (PI/02)Today at 1:12 AM

"Ah hell I'm not younger and I'm still not mannerized.  Elbows on all them fuckin tables. Kek!"  You grin wide as you are starting to finish up the last of the stitches.  "Moles pretty alright, though small things got like not much good meat on em so they're a bit a pain.  Like the sunflower seeds of the meat kingdom." You dab up the last of the mess around the stitches before applying some Hello Kitty bandages over them.  "Nah.  Chances are once this blows over I'll move it again elsewhere.  Always good to have little somethings that you can call your own.  And ye ye...highly doubt that the mansion is in any danger. Prolly safer than most of the folks in the city."

Plush (JS/MI)Today at 1:33 AM

You snort and shake your head, "Yeah they are, no way would they satisfy me now. Little dirt creatures." You reach an gingerly pat your head and sigh, "Oh man, that is much better. Thank you." You blink a few times before wagging your tail happily. "I feel like I can think again- Though still being full candy decked out is concerning. How long does it take to go back to normal?" You wave your hand in front of your left eye again and make tsk noise when nothing happens. No worry right? It's just from the head injury, vision should come back soon enough. "Ohh alright then yeah, that sounds like the safest place to go right now." You nod with his thoughts on the mansion, agreeing. You place a foot under you and float up and back, away from the chair and reach back to where Stitch scratched you, "Hmm..?" Not feeling anything you twirl for a second trying to look before floating over to Doze. "So... I'm thinking... Wounds from the crowbar as trickster doesn't heal but wounds from other things do because even though I bled the claw marks are gone."

Mabs (PI/02)Today at 1:40 AM

"No problem.  Always glad to help...glad its helpin ya some."  You roll back a bit as you start to put stuff away.  "Not sure really.  Most grey shit tends to be like....few days. Week tops?  Who knows though.   It'll sort out when it does tho." "Oh?" You tilt your head and notice that yeah, despite the streaks of red there was no indicator that injuries were ever there..  "Huh...kinda cool.  Guessn' its a good thing to know.  Gotta admit, the outfit is kind of fuckin adorbs as well.  Though still think green is a way better color on ya."   You take a few minutes to clean up and wash some tools and offer to let Jay wash her mask, noting her eye.  "Ah dang looks like you may have bust a vessel in there.  Hows yer vision?"

Plush (JS/MI)Today at 2:30 AM

Your ears flick back as he asks what you didn't want to hear. "Uh. My right eye is perfectly fine but uhm.." You wash your mask and put it on easily afterwards. "As for my left eye, I can't see out of it at all." You look over at him and shrug as you touch the floor with both feet, "Oops? I hope it temporary... How do I deal with the busted vessel though uh hm that sounds more important." You let down your hair and bounce it around before curling your tail over it. "Mh! I like my original wardrobe but I wouldn't mind being this pink or having this fun gummy hair."

Mabs (PI/02)Today at 2:37 AM

"Ye ye. Prolly will be fine. Prolly just gotta wear a badass eyepatch for a while to let it rest up and shit."  You were hopeful if only because that was one of the many things you had no idea about.  With a smile, you lean over and whisper the location of your hidey hole. Appears to be an abandoned bunker just a bit outside the city. "The hair is pretty baller gotta say.  If it wasn't for the utter fuckwittery wouldn't have been against this whole thing but shit its just a fuckin mess."

Plush (JS/MI)Today at 2:52 AM

"Oh damn, look like a sick pirate. I even have a Halberd for it, go straight into conquer the sea times." You smile worriedly behind your mask and decide to throw the fear behind you. Best not dwell on it when you guys are about to chill the hell out and wait out the rest of this hell. You tilt your head as he tells you its location, your ear flicking and with a nod you put a hand on his shoulder. "Oh god yeah, I would be totally for this style if the manic shit wasn't behind it." You teleport to the location he told you, and blip back out for a second to teleport the car back home. Maybe that would fuck with the trails even more. Haha have fun Trace. You flash back in next to Doze and wobble a bit, "Damn that was the biggest fucking thing I ever teleported. Straight migraine damn, never teleporting a car again unless absolutely necessary." You look around the place as your vision stills and look around, "Ooh shit, maximum comfort, what movies do you have?"

Mabs (PI/02)Today at 2:59 AM

"Hell yeah.  If things go tits up we can just steal a boat and sail uh...actually we could steal a space ship and be badass fuckin space pirates."  You laugh as you finish cleaning up.

A teleport in, she's gone, then back...and looks pretty wobbley. You hold out an arm to prop her up.  So far you haven't been feeling any of the effects of sugarfication...who knows maybe your slow ass time shit is making it hard for it to stick in small quantitites.  The outside looks pretty ramshackle and barren, but after a couple corridors you find yourselves in a fairly comfortable looking room. Large throw pillows, some tacky beaded curtains for giggles and a nice entertainment system with fridge. "Ah shit I got a bit of everything.  Like to keep up on the Earth flicks going down. Guessn I'm already a pirate as is kek.  Got some cute Disney shit, some action movies, some crazy ass giant animal attack stuff, this kind of sweet ass nature documentary...even a couple rom coms though they're kind of fuckin tropey as shit."

Plush (JS/MI)Today at 3:49 AM

You pause at the beaded door way for a minute and tilt your head, pawing at them and laughing softly at the noise they make. You eventually get your arm stuck in them and have to teleport out to fix them, snickering as you do so, damn you gotta get some of these things. And I just realized you said beaded curtains but we thrive in idjit land here. You wonder around the place, getting yourself use to it before low floating back to Doze and setting down again to listen to his movie list. You snort at his joke and nod, "Pirate buds." You raise your hand for a fist bump but hesitate.. he's already touched you and not changed, this should be okay right? You look back down at the movies. "You got any tacky horror movies? I love those things."

Mabs (PI/02)Today at 3:59 AM

"BPBFs...Best pirate buds forever. Kek."  You smile and shoot her a finger pistol with your index and middle finger outstretched.  Two was your gimick, think of it as a double barrel pistol wink or something.  Bumping her paw digits with the fingers, you sit down next to her  to think. "Oh hell yeah.  The tacky ones are the best. So many of the modern ones are just way too fuckin serious. Gimmie that stupid schlock of dumb college kids summoning zombie devils anyday.  We can take bets who gonna die next."  Normally you'd recommend a drinking game of it but between bloodloss and her state probably not a good suggestion.  "Got a few that have like a whole series. You know you got the good shit when you have like 6 sequals each shittier then the last. Can just que up and marathon."

Plush (JS/MI)Today at 7:59 AM

You laugh an nod, the bestest of pirate buds. "Honestly, and yeah, I can already vote for all of them. The blonde hair girl goes first." You look over the movie titles an think about his idea, "Yeah a marathon of these should be time killing enough huh? I'm up for that, you can choose which to marathon since I picked the genre." You float away from him and around the room, setting things up to make this biggest and most comfiest looking pillowfort in the world. You even go out quickly to get some dope halloween bat and spider lights, absolutely halloweenpimpping the place out. You have to take a moment, your head screaming at how much you've done to it today. You'll soon be at your limit for teleporting for the day, better save those for more important things. Like escaping. You nest into the pillows, churring and getting everything more fluffy and comfortable for the movie. "You got any drinks or popcorn for the movies?" You hum and float back towards Doze, setting down next to him, the pillow fort finished.

Mabs (PI/02)Today at 3:26 PM

"Gonna suggest then hmm...critters marathon. Nothing like tiny lil monchy fuzzums from space. "  You grin as you pull out some soda from the fridge and get some chips.  "Way ahead of ya.  Aint a movie night without the snackrifices." You give a nod of approval to the halloween decor and pillowfort.  "Nice nice.  Ultimate Spoopy comfy town up in here now."  Sitting down, you use the remote to start up the first movie as you settle in close.  At this point you were pretty confident that being close by was not going to change you.

Plush (JS/MI)Today at 5:49 PM

"Hell yeah to both of those." You settle down next to him and tug a blanket onto you lap, your tail swishing slowly as you smile and watch the movie. When you watch movies you tend to blank out the world around you, even when you move your self you don't really register it. So as the movie goes on and you two talk off and on you don't pick up your drowsiness. You don't even pick up when you lean on Doze, draw your knees in and wrap the blanket tighter around you, your eyes drifting closed. You nod off for a few seconds and blink yourself awake, there was some things you wanted to get off your chest before passing out. You turn towards Doze with a tired hum and smile softly, "I wanted to thank you, truly, out of that crazed state of mind. You didn't have to risk yourself to help me at all and the fact that you did really means a lot to me." You rub your good eye as your tail thumps softly against the pillows. "And in the car with the tatts, sayin you'd go down with me, all the time you've calmed me down. Being there for me when few to no others were.." You rub a hand through your hair, pausing a moment as sleep starts to tug at you again. "You mean a lot to me Doze, I'm lucky to have you around." Instinct hits you straight in the heart as you use your left hand to hold up half a diamonds with your pointer an middle finger, the classic morail sign, and you don't even register you do it. "You're a damn great dude.." You continue to sleepily ramble as you move your other hand off your face an look at him with a genuine smile.

Mabs (PI/02)Today at 6:07 PM

This was nice.  At this point you've become so used to the faint smell of candy that it doesn't even register.  Just you and Jay, watching hokey movies.  After a bit you realize her banter is slowing as she slowly starts to drift, and you don't bother to try to stop that.  It's been a helluva day and fuck she probably could use fourty winks.  Need that rest to recover, heal, and all that jazz. As she starts to talk, you tilt your head and give probably one of the rare smiles that isn't a wide grin or an amused smirk.  "Ey.  That's what I'm here for.  We're innit to winnit. Better or worse. A daring duo.  And as I said, rather go down trying to do somethin than wait for the kickback in Die's fuckin closet.  Which, by the way...best hiding spot in the mansion.  Kek." You note the hand gesture, and reach up to match it.  "Pching!  Could say the same for you. Well not the dude part.  But yer amazing Jay.  Through and through.  Can't imagine the mansion or a world without'cha.  Clover has my hearts but yer a sparkly diamond in my eyes."  If the threat of candy dandification wasn't there, you'd prolly have given her forehead a kiss.  Instead you just ruffle the back of her gummy soft hair with your free hand.

Plush (JS/MI)Today at 6:43 PM

You laugh softly, locking this moment, this memory in your mind. Something to recall when you need to. Your tail thumps quicker as he ruffles your hair an completely accepts your pale feelings and returns them too. Your worst day turned to the best day. You churr softly, and just like that, being around him, realizing and being the best damn pirate morails, your sugar high self dissipates. Leaving behind good old Jay, just way more tired this time. You smile genuinely at Doze as you snuggle against him as you start to drift off again, "Hmm I wouldn't want it any other way, damn diamonds for life.. Best fuckin morail to have." Your breathing steadies and slows as you fall asleep snuggled against Doze. Your last thoughts before slipping into dream world are quick, you are going do your damn hardest to keep Doze safe from this trickster mess, you are so ever happy to have a morail and one you connect with on so many levels, you.. you are happy actually happy for the first time in a long time. You fall asleep smiling and for the first time in 15 years you dream something calm and something happy.

Mabs (PI/02)Today at 6:54 PM

You blink, as the sugar disspates and sitting next to you is the familiar Jay you know and adore.  "Same. Same here.  Besties for the resties of our lives."  You lean over to gently kiss the top of her now normal head.

"You get some rest. I'll keep an eye and ear out for trouble..."  You say as you gently pet her head while she drifts off to sleep.  Despite all the shit going down, you can't help but feel...pretty dang good.  Cause heck, this will all blow over eventually. For now, in the tiny little room in the nowhere land, things are alright.  And that's all you needed for now.

#Discord rp #rp thread #story post #Status Update #Jay #Doze #(( UHH NEVER DONE THIS B4 )) #sugar fall and morailegence #dozenuts #atomicbark

[outinthewastes]

Diary Part 2

A sequel to Part One, which I put up earlier this morning

April 18th

Working with Krow is... challenging. He's whiny and petulant but also overeager to please. He constantly needs to be told he's doing a good job. I've been tempted to hit him just to get him to shut up when he repeatedly asks how he's doing.

He is doing an okay job, but good god man. Good god, shut up. I am not your father figure or friend or lover or whatever it is he wants from me. Get your validation elsewhere.

It's especially hard to not become violent when he gets on the topic of women. I wouldn't call myself a feminist, but jesus lord, just listening to him is really swaying me to the cause. Disgusting little wretched man. He's in here for good reason.

He thinks I'm going to help him escape, too.

I don't know what I'm going to do when the time comes, but there's no way I could, in good conscience, allow him to escape with me. I may have to do something drastic.

Somehow I don't think Jacob will disagree.

Well, I've got time to consider this. It's going to take us a while more to collect enough stuff for this. I am not, by nature, a patient man, but I will have to just deal with it.

June 20th

It has taken, seemingly, a lifetime to finally assemble enough packages for this operation. An agonizing process slowed by the fact that we only get a few hours of free time a day, and the guards are constantly flipping random cells for contraband. I almost got caught a few times.

Someone carved this scary looking face into the wall behind my pillow long before I got here. So, I slowly chipped away at it myself until the drywall came loose. Behind that I carved another small hole. Not very big, but big enough to hide things. And the little mouth shaped drywall I could place back and no one could hardly tell what I'd done. Not without really looking it over. And the guards aren't THAT thorough.

Almost ready.

July 5th

We've planted the packages at key points throughout the facility. Well. the parts we have access to.

Tonight's the night.

July 7th

A lot went down yesterday. Where to even start.

Jacob betrayed me. Sold me out. Good thing I never fully let him in on the plans, so he didn't know where all the bombs were. Never fully trusted him, anyway. Still, hate to have that distrust validated.

I didn't expect Phineas to come through at all. I hate the idea of owing him anything. I hope I never see him again.

Krow's dead. Big loss. Was still a bit traumatizing to see. He probably deserved it, but... I don't know. I think the thing that bothered me the most about Krow was how similar we were. We both had the same fucked up childhood. Isolated, domineering mothers, unpopular in school. Maybe he was just born broken or something, though. It would never have occurred to me to hurt anyone. Not like that. I guess I should stop thinking about it. If only I could...

The man who rescued us. I knew him. He was that agent that hassled me in my lab. before. Before... That thing I did. I thought he was a government agent. But apparently not.

We've flown out to Virginia. I would like to crawl into a nice bed and sleep for a week. but first I would like to have a shower that lasts about two days.

July 14th

Met with intimidating smoke man's boss. Smoke man's name is Abel. Boss's name is Thanatos. No, really.

My grandfather. They didn't want me, they want my grandfather. Like I fucking know anything about the dude. But they want to sneak me into Chicago to see him. I guess they think he'll see me and do as they say out of familial nostalgia? Heh, wrong family for that, man. If he gave a shit about me at all he wouldn't have left me alone all those years with Gloria. Wouldn't have ruined the family name by being a big psycho. Well, whatever, they're paying me enough. It's just one night out of my life. He's probably not even alive anymore. How could he possibly be?

Oh!

Most importantly. I can't believe it. I saw Laurence. He was sitting outside the building when I finished up my meeting.  Was he just there by coincidence or was he waiting for me? It was interesting talking to him again. We fell back into the same kinda... roles. the same brotherly bond. Joking and teasing. Talking about movies and music. We didn't really talk at all about what we'd been doing these past decades. It was like we didn't need to. We're just in tune with each other.

This is the best I've felt in a very long time.

We went to a close by diner. He had some big nasty sandwich and I had a big plate of fries and he made fun of how I eat and it was just so nice. I really missed him. I knew I did, but I didn't realize how much. It was like there was a part of me missing for a long time. I think things are looking up! Surprisingly enough! He works for Thanatos. Maybe all this shit was almost worth it... heh. Nah. That's crazy.

We exchanged numbers. I'll have to call him when I get back in town.

July 19th

I don't know.

I don't know what to think.

August 22nd

I mean where do I even...

Opa was alive. Sort of. I think he did something to himself so he wouldn't die in that place. I don't think he's human anymore. That city was awful. Caked with fungus. Moist and slimy, shit floating in the air. Hard to breathe through that mask.

And Orville. The things he did. He made me do.

I don't even know what to write about any of it. I don't know who to talk to. No one would understand. Those kids. They were just kids. Why would he make me do that? Every time I think about them I'm just flooded with all these intense memories. They aren't mine. And I can't make sense of them. They're just rattling around in my head contradicting each other and I really shouldn't know what it's like to have a period or learn to drive stick or grow up black or have sex with a man... or all these things. And I still don't because I can't process these memories!! It's like a movie I'm watching but I can't look away and also I'm IN IT but NOT IN IT, and the more I try to think about it the more I feel horrible and wrong and if I don't stop I'm going to throw up some more and I've been doing that enough today. And APPARENTLY I'm not real, I mean, like, everything in my life is just weird fake bullshit, grown in a lab, my entire destiny guided by a madman. I don't know!!

I wish I could still drink. Would it really be so bad? I could just... one time. Or perhaps some weed would be the better choice. It might make it worse, though... Aghfffk

Thanatos and Abel can go to hell. I don't care how much they paid me. It wasn't worth it. One last meeting and they can fuck off forever.

I feel ruined.

August 24th

Got the meeting over with. Got the rest of my payment. Look who's a millionaire now, it's this boy. Well. I was already one. But. Now I'm double one. ha ha. Whatever.

I don't feel as bad today as I did yesterday, but I'm still pretty pissed off about his whole rotten year. Met an interesting girl. More on that later.

In lieu of my grandfather they're now targeting some guy I don't know at all, so I'm off the hook. Although...

Opa said something about that man being responsible for my father's death. Which is intriguing. I'd always assumed my mother drove him to kill himself. She almost drove me there a few times, so, you know, it fit. But.

So now I can't stop thinking about this guy. I'm obsessing. I know, it's stupid. I should let it go. But I can't.

Oh.

Laurence screamed at me. I forgot how mad he gets... Can't say I didn't deserve it...

We were at his house. We did actually do the catching up thing this time. Everything about this time felt weirder, awkward. He seemed testy at me from the start. Now I know why. He found out about Janet and me. His sister. He thinks I abandoned my kid, Janet abandoned ME. But I don't want to argue with him about it... But she's the one who left...

Now I'm definitely feeling that decade long gulf between us. Sucks.

[artificialqueens]

for all the honest world to feel (trixya) (5/8) - dare

Brian stared down at his screen, trying to understand what he was seeing – the mild frown on Katya’s face, and the other queen, hands raised, standing just out of frame beyond the gap in the bus bunk curtain.

(AN: so this is… long and sad. finally-throwing-in-an-angst-tag-at-the-bottom levels of sad. warnings for unsafe alcohol use and overdrinking; as usual, “she/her” for adore and “he/him” for trixie (brian) and katya. also, this might read a little weird, but i made the executive decision not to name the weho queen who’s been giving trixie shit because (contrary to, uh, all other signs, i guess) i don’t actually want to speculate on who’s a douche and who isn’t in the ru girl community. so that’s also a thing. 

(OH, and, there’s more lyrics in this one, please don’t judge me, it’s very hard to try to measure up to trixie’s irl songwriting chops lmao)

this week on honest world: shit’s sad. shit’s real sad.)

| ch. 1 | ch. 2 | ch. 3 | ch. 4 |

FROM: SHEA - 9:57 AM - Sunday August 24th, 2017

[Attachment: IMG_3782.MOV]

Girl.

If you dont wife her up I will.

FROM: KIM - 10:03 AM - Sunday August 24th, 2017

holy shit

i don’t think i’ve ever seen her mad. like for real

FROM: SHEA - 10:04 AM - Sunday August 24th, 2017

This was some WWF shit girl. That bitch will be feeling it for a while.

FROM: KIM - 10:05 AM - Sunday August 24th, 2017

katya’s from boston. she’s 90% salt, 5% feelings, 5% inner saboteur and 100% ready to fight

FROM: SHEA - 10:05 AM - Sunday August 24th, 2017

Thats a lot of math, Kimberley

FROM: KIM - 10:05 AM - Sunday August 24th, 2017

are you being racist? don’t be racist shea. omg.

someone had to count trixie’s tips for her when she was passed out drunk in my bed

FROM: SHEA - 10:07 AM - Sunday August 24th, 2017

*Steal trixie’s tips from her.

FROM: SHEA - 10:15 AM - Sunday August 24th, 2017

Trisha baby if you’re out there we love you girl okay? call us any time xxxx

*

Brian stared down at his screen, trying to understand what he was seeing – the mild frown on Katya’s face, and the other queen, hands raised, standing just out of frame beyond the gap in the bus bunk curtain.

“You know,” Katya was saying, perfectly conversational, “I found it kind of cute at first? Like a puppy trying to fight itself in the mirror – or one that can’t, you know. Stop pissing itself. You know what I mean? Funny but sad. But I don’t think I find it funny anymore.”

The other queen laughed nervously. “Come on, Katya –”

“I’m not laughing. Why are you laughing?” said Katya, raising his eyebrows. “I’m not laughing.”

The laughter stuttered into silence. Over the mic, Brian heard Shea expel a slow, cautious breath.

Katya tilted his head, and the expression on his face darkened like a spring storm. “I want to make it really clear to you how far you’ve managed to over-reach yourself, that you’ve actually crossed my limits. ‘Cause I don’t care how you run things in your club, how you treat your friends, whatever – that’s none of my business, since I don’t work in your club and I’m not your friend. Oh, in case you hadn’t noticed – I’m not your friend. FYI. Because you’ve been acting like I am, and I think it’s time for that to stop.”

The raised hands dropped out of sight. “Jesus. Why don’t you tell me how you really feel.”

And that – Brian winced despite himself. That was a mistake.

Katya grinned, showing too many teeth. “Can I? I’d like that, thanks.” He tapped his fingers rapidly against the side of his thigh. “I feel like you’ve gotten a little too comfortable as top dog in your scene, and when Trixie showed up and didn’t line up to eat you out like everyone else does, your ego plummeted out of your ass. And what we’ve been seeing for the past half a year – can I repeat that? It’s been half a year, which is beyond pathetic – what we’ve been seeing is some kind of hemorrhoidal psychosis, as you take obsessive potshots at someone who couldn’t give less of a fuck about you. It’s not just pathetic – it’s harassment. You’re showing your whole ass right now but guess what, girl? We’ve seen it.”

“You said yourself you’re not in my scene, so don’t talk like you know shit,” the queen snapped back. Her voice tightened like a screw being ground into drywall. “The bitch could have tried to be friendly, for fuck’s sake –”

“You aren’t being very smart right now,” Katya interrupted, with all the force of a tire iron punching through a sheet of glass. “This might be a good time to consider your word choice, if there ever was one. That would be the smart thing here.” Teeth again, manic. “You want friendly? I can do friendly. We have another week on tour – you want me to do friendly. Because the alternative is that I freeze you out, publicly and professionally, and I make your life and your career outside of that fucked up, incestuous bubble of a scene you’ve pissed all over very difficult. Am I – am I being clear? I want to be very clear. You’ve messed up enough shit in my life, and I want this over with.”

There was a pause and a shift in the shadows beyond the curtain – nodding.

“Good. So here’s how this is going to go.” A wooden sound, rap, Katya’s knuckles against the bunk frame. Brian could make out the rise and fall of Katya’s chest, shallow and too fast, in the gap between the curtains. “You don’t post about Trixie. You don’t talk about her. If, God forbid, the opportunity arises, you don’t talk to her. That last one is for you – I’m a lover, not a fighter, but it is my strong suspicion that if you pull this to her face one more time, she will beat the ever-loving shit out of you. Just a – a pro-tip, let’s call it. An insight.”

There was a weak laugh. “She can try it. Jesus, Katya, come the fuck on –”

Slam – an open-handed palm against the wood. “Do you think I’m fucking around here? I’m not. Don’t fucking push me on this.”

Brian had heard Katya angry a handful of times in his life. He’d never heard him like this. This wasn’t Katya out of control; this was Katya very near the end of his rope, and aware of every inch he had left, making them count.

The sick feeling in Brian’s stomach crept higher. He pressed his knuckles against his mouth.

“You stop coming for Trixie,” Katya was saying. “No more posts on facebook, no more whispers at shows. No more shit-talking to promoters – yeah, I asked around, I heard about that. Not that it did you much good. It has to hurt, I think – does it? Knowing that Trixie’s booking is worth more than your word? That’s gotta sting. But I’m not sure how much of a hold your word even has anymore, you bitter fucking cunt.”

Shea, behind the camera, drew in a shocked breath at the pure vitriol in Katya’s voice.

There was a stillness to the air for a long moment, like the silence after a hurricane has swept the earth bare and ragged. Then the other queen laughed again; louder this time, acidic, but with a definite note of finality – of defeat.

“If everyone could see you now,” she said.

Katya barked a laugh of his own. “Girl, they wouldn’t care. I’m America’s fucking sweetheart.” He stepped back and waved a hand in the space visible between the curtains; it was shaking finely, Brian could see it. “Get the fuck out of here. I’m not dealing with you today. Call back tomorrow – I’ll be friendly again.”

The curtains fluttered as hurried footsteps passed by and receded out of the room, the door to the common lounge sliding open and then shut.

Katya’s shadow shifted. Back and forth, like he was caught up on a decision; then he said, quiet, muffled: “fuck.” Footsteps rang in the opposite direction – towards, Brian assumed, his own bunk, as there was the fumbling sound of feet on rungs and then the rattle of metal rings as the curtains were pulled shut.

The camera reversed. Shea stared up at it, her eyes filling most of the screen, hilariously wide and scandalized. Then the video went black – and flicked back to that first still, frozen, the anger on Katya’s face deepening the hollows of his cheeks, his eyes throwing sparks through the screen.

Brian stared down at the rictus of his face, then pressed the phone down screen-first beside him into his mattress. The hard lines of its body bit into the insides of his fingers.

Fuck. What the fuck.

He could stop the video, but he couldn’t make his brain put away the tired lines that had cut into Katya’s face, or the ragged edge of his voice, or how the sound of his palm hitting solid wood had rung through Shea’s bunk, bouncing thickly off the walls.

The room was too small. Brian dragged himself up and went out into the living room, phone in his fist tucked into his pocket, but out there it was too big, and his skin felt all wrong, and he wanted to call Katya but he couldn’t make himself do it.

Katya hadn’t called or texted since the night of the pageant, when Brian had waited and waited all night but the internet – and that fan in the bar who’d clocked him – had stayed miraculously silent. Katya hadn’t called, or texted, or tweeted, or even updated his fucking instagram.

God.

Brian’s phone buzzed suddenly in his pocket and he almost threw it at the balcony doors in his haste to get it out. He fumbled it awake – and then he saw the name on the screen, and his shoulders slumped again.

FROM: ADORE - 10:28 AM - Sunday August 24th, 2017

I forgot to ask but can u water my plants??? this is the longest ive gone without killing any of them :(

LA sucks.

it’s like *jaws theme* all the time. and i forgot my sunglasses

He swiped his phone unlocked and read through the texts, mouth twitching feebly towards an almost-smile. It buzzed in his palm again and a picture appeared – Adore, nose scrunched, squinting into the sky.

Brian typed back, i promise, you can definitely afford another pair of sunglasses. and yes, your plants are safe in my hands.

The answer came quickly, every letter infused with the kind of wry snark that Adore was so good at: dont make promises my lawyers can’t keep

Brian huffed a quiet laugh. The sound was swallowed up in the space of the apartment, a small rock dropped in a large lake, not even reaching far enough to touch the walls.

*

Adore had come out the morning after that night to find him on the couch, his guitar abandoned on the coffee table, staring out into the thin morning light. It wasn’t even 7 AM. He’d gotten four or so hours of restless sleep before giving up on it; the room was lit such a soft grey that he might as well have wrapped in a dream anyway. He’d been staring out at the clouds and the inkstain crows flecked along the telephone wires for so long that they’d blurred, like an impressionistic painting – barely real.

Adore had gone and sat beside him. Then she’d leaned over, carefully, and rested her head on his shoulder. He’d shuddered – one long wave through his whole body. She was warm. When she breathed her chest expanded against his arm, slow and steady like waves coming into the shore. He’d only been able to bear it for a few minutes before he’d had to get up, fingers twitching at his side; he’d given her an apologetic smile, and she’d watched him walk back to his room with her chin on her wrist, her forearm braced against the back of the couch.

He’d checked twitter one more time, and then fallen into deep, exhausting sleep.

*

“That’ll be thirty-two dollars and forty cents, please,” said the bored young woman behind the till, eyeing his – genuinely embarrassing – collection of groceries: ramen noodles, tomato sauce from a jar, the kind of shitty white wine he’d drunk in senior year of college, and stuff to make a salad, out of the idealistic hope that he might actually make a salad.

“I’ll just put that on my credit card,” Brian said. He watched her surreptitiously as she entered the amount onto the card reader. Adore had brought him here a few times, but he didn’t recognize her.

“This your first day?” he said, then winced.

“Huh?”

“I mean. Are you new?”

Now she was eyeing him, even less impressed than she’d been by his groceries. “No…”

“Oh.” He ran a hand over his head awkwardly. He’d forgotten his cap at home. “I just, I haven’t seen you here before. I thought…”

Her mouth twitched, and she popped her gum, a sharp snap in the air. The sound was somehow scornful. “Listen, mister – I’m working, you know, and even if I weren’t, I don’t go out with the kind of guy that bothers –”

“Oh my god, no,” Brian said, flushing, “Oh my god, no, I’m gay. What? No.”

“Oh,” she said. She started turning red too. “Oh. Shit – uh, I mean –”

He laughed awkwardly. “Don’t worry about it. Sorry for being, uh, super weird and stuff.”

The lights overhead were the sickly fluorescent yellow of small-time grocery stores everywhere. He could have been anywhere – east coast or west, north or south, any timezone, any city, any tour. His shoes squeaked on the floor when he shifted from heel to heel.

How was it less than a week ago that he’d felt so at home in this city he didn’t know at all?

“Your receipt,” the cashier said. She held it out towards him, then hesitated visibly. “Listen, uh… are you okay, man?”

He shrugged, stilted, and took the receipt, then grabbed the bags by their handles. “Oh, you know. More of the same,” he said.

It was awful to realize he meant it.

*

Touring was a little bit like being a ghost in your own body. You were breathing and eating and sleeping, but you might as well have been walking through walls, the way you drifted from place to place, squinting at google maps on your phone, talking to people whose names you’d either forget within five minutes or never knew in the first place. You could be anywhere at all; you might as well be nowhere.

Brian drank shitty wine and played into the night, the notes echoing hollowly across the big empty space of Adore’s living room. Music usually anchored him into his body on the road. Every chord brought him a little closer, the muscles, tendons, bones of his hands all tuned in to the melody with the ease of years. He could close his eyes and wherever he was, he was home.

But each time he opened his eyes again he was someplace new.

Seattle wasn’t a tour stop, but its grey skies, the neighbours he ran into on the staircase, the people he saw in the grocery store – none of them were home. But, fuck it, neither was LA, where he spent a few days every month or two and sometimes found himself waking up wondering whose walls he was looking at. And where the fuck did that leave him?

He played a sour note, paused, and corrected himself. Breathed. Tried to bring Emmylou’s lilting refrain back under his fingers.

Without Adore’s voice in the next room livestreaming her way out of boredom, the apartment grew stale and shadowed; without Katya’s calls every night, the days seemed endless, a pale stretch of hours where he did nothing and saw no one. And as each hour ticked past on the clock it became more and more obvious that the veneer of sunshine he’d pasted over Seattle with Adore’s friendly warmth and the sound of Katya’s smile was just that – a veneer.

Another sour note. He stopped and lay his guitar flat in his lap, then picked up his glass on the coffee table and drained it.

His phone lay still and silent beside the wet ring his glass had left on the wood.

He flicked a bit of lint from the couch off his boxers and took up his guitar again, tracing out the melody that he’d been chasing these past weeks on automatic. The sky outside was ripening, edging into evening. It was almost fall. He’d been in Seattle for three weeks, and it seemed he really hadn’t moved an inch.

He could call Katya. He could suck it the fuck up and call Katya, because maybe Katya was waiting for him to call. Maybe this whole ‘respecting Katya’s space’ thing he was doing was totally misguided, and Katya was waiting beside the phone every minute that he wasn’t out there defending Brian’s honour or whatever that was.

I fucked you up, he could say. I was so busy pretending that everything was fine now and my problems were gone because they weren’t yelling in my face every two seconds that I didn’t realize I was setting us both up to get hurt. I was so fucking stupid, Katya, and I’m so – I’m so sorry.

And Katya would say…

What?

I just want you to be okay, if he was feeling self-sacrificial; it’s your irrepressible Virgo energy, if he was feeling avoidant. Maybe, maybe, I thought you said you didn’t lie to me, and you weren’t going to start, if he was feeling particularly honest.

Katya was always honest, more or less. It was just that the truth was flexible, more conversation than monologue, and irony always had to have the last word. Brian, meanwhile, was just a bit of a liar.

Not with Katya, though. Not before. And he hadn’t meant to – he really hadn’t meant to, not even for a second; it was just –

Fuck.

It’s worse than I was letting myself feel, Brian could say. There’s things I don’t know how to tell you. Because it is about you.

His throat tightened; he let go of the frets. He grabbed for his drink blindly and for his notebook with his other hand. Resting it against the body of his guitar, he opened to a blank page and scrawled,

You fought yourself to bring all your feelings down to heel,

and if you stopped yourself from looking, was it ever really real

but everyone’s been looking

and you –

Something inside of him was drifting dangerously, thin tethers tied to his ribs all that held it in place, like a threadbare sail on fraying ropes. The words on the page blurred in front of his eyes. He raised his glass to his mouth but the rim bumped against his teeth and nothing came out. Empty.

He frowned down at his cup. Like, fuck that nonsense. He’d put good money down on those teeth.

The wine sloshing into the glass when he poured himself another sounded like the ocean creeping onto the shore on a windless day. Like Provincetown – another place he’d gone to hide; another town full of strangers. He set the bottle back on the table, cap off, and picked up his guitar again.

*

Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday he went running in the morning like nothing had changed. Before, Adore would be waking up when he got back; one of them would make breakfast, then they’d jam for a while, and then Adore would smoke up and Brian would text Katya, if he hadn’t already done so.

Now Brian just jogged. Further and further each day, until Thursday found him running along the seaside, pounding the pavement with salt stinging the inside of his mouth on every inhale. The sky was a soft feather blue, the ocean a deep silk bedsheet wavering in his peripheral vision – and then the mass of Pike Place rose up in front of him. Before he could think about it, his feet were carrying him inside; past the florists, past the bursting orange and red arrays of fresh fruit, and down the stairs to the magic shop’s door.

He wiped the sweat off his forehead with the collar of his tank top, grimaced, then pushed the door open and stepped inside.

It was just-opened quiet on the floor. No customers, no music; just a vague shuffling from behind the counter. “Just a minute,” the shuffler called. “If this accursed speaker breaks on me one more time…”

There was a crackling sound from the speakers set high in the walls, like a cheap firework skidding along cement, and then a whole storm of swearing below the counter.

“Uh,” Brian said. He approached cautiously. “Can I take a look? I might be able to help.”

“No, it’s really fine –” A frazzled head popped up from behind the register. “Oh! It’s you! I know you. You think you can fix it? The damn thing goes off all the time, the wiring’s too old –”

Brian shrugged. “I work in clubs and theatres and stuff, so I’ve picked up a thing or two. Let me see.”

Steph – that was her name, he remembered – was as curly-haired and strangely-dressed as when they’d met, with a sprig of rosemary tucked behind the large crow-shaped brooch pinned to her blouse and dust all over her knees. He crouched down beside her and squinted at the mess of wires and cords, poking a hesitant finger around and hoping he wouldn’t get fried. That sound had not been good.

“I think,” he said after a minute, “I think it’s this. Hang on. I’m gonna – if I die, tell my momma I loved her, and tell my dad –” he ducked further under the desk. “Well, whatever you like, if you can find him.”

She barked a laugh behind him.

He didn’t die, although he did burn his fingers a little bit, and when the music started playing (some kind of witchy Swedish wailing, possibly Bjork, Katya – Katya would know –) he let out a “Hah!” of triumph. Eat that, three years on the road and four years of theatre school and thousands of dollars funnelled directly into the University of Wisconsin’s incredibly deep pockets. Eat the shit out of that.

Steph helped him out with two hands around his forearm, shaking him delightedly once he was more or less standing. “You’re a miracle worker,” she said with a bright smile. “I should hire you on the spot, because clearly you’re the real magic here.”

He wiped the sweat off his forehead with his free arm and grinned down at her. Clear bright light was streaming through the high windows in the walls, glinting off her brooch, her earrings, the silver in her hair. Her smile and easy warmth was the same as it had been before, and, god, that was nice. “I’ve got greasepaint coming out of ears,” he said, shrugging modestly. “You can’t really call yourself a theatre kid until you’ve nearly died a dozen different ways trying to string up the speakers on the janitor’s old ladder. ”

“Different ways?”

He waved a hand. “You know, falling, electrocution – so boring. A good old-fashioned garrotte is where it’s at.”

Her eyes scrunched at the corners when she laughed. “I like you,” she said, grinning, “you’re strange,” and he grinned back, feeling lighter than he had all week.

“I don’t know what you mean,” he said. Then: “Oh, hey, the book you sold me is great. Who knew reading about the end of the world could make you feel better about life?”

“That’s right, the apocalypse poems, you…” Steph said, then paused. “God, I’m so sorry, I don’t remember your name. But you’re Danny’s friend, right?”

Brian blinked. Swallowed.

“Yeah,” he said; it came out forced, like he was overcompensating for something. “Yeah, sorry, it’s Brian. Yeah. I took some time off work and I’ve been staying with Danny.”

“Oh, do you work together?” she said, brightly and obliviously twisting the knife. “I know he does something or other with clubs and theatres and whatnot too. He’s very private about those things, but such a sweetheart. I haven’t seen him around in a while, though, how he is?”

“Away on business,” Brian said, “and, you know, we’ve been keeping busy otherwise. I’ll tell him you asked.” He wiped his palms against the sides of his shorts. “Listen, I actually – I should probably be going, actually. I’m supposed to be skyping him in about half an hour.”

An absolute lie, but Steph swallowed it without a flicker of suspicion. She smiled and pressed a hand to his arm. “Tell him I send my love. And thanks again for your help, Brian. I don’t know how many more shocks my old heart could take.”

“Oh stop,” he said, chuckling, and gave a little wave. “See you around, I guess?”

The polite small talk of strangers. Preferable to a slow death, but not by, like, a lot.

Brian took the stairs back up to the ground level slowly, although his heart rate was well back to normal by this point. He wandered out of the arcade, and turned, and walked, and turned, and then he was on a raised dock, leaning against a wooden rail next to a locked gate, which guarded the ramp down to the boats. The wood pressed into the front of his ribs. He curled his palms around the rail, ignoring the bite of splinters.

A light breeze ruffled his shirt and cooled his pink cheeks. The ocean stretched out before him, golden sunshine catching in the crests and troughs of the waves.

He closed his eyes.

*

At home, he typed, i hope you’re doing okay. i love you.

Deleted it.

Typed, today someone didnt recognize me and THAT made me sad. i think i need an intervention.

Deleted it.

Typed, went to the beach to sea what all the commocean was about but idk im still not shore

Deleted it.

Sighed, stared out the window, looked down at his feet.

Typed, i’m sorry. katya, i’m so sorry.

Deleted it.

*

“You’re so white from these shadowed winter months,” Katya crowed, shielding his eyes dramatically. “I don’t know if I can be seen with you.”

“You’re real white from being born, you know, caucasian and unfortunate, but I’ve suffered your company for years,” said Brian. He frowned and wiped at his nose where something wet was dripping – sweat or sunscreen, he didn’t know. “If you really can’t bear it, I’m sure I can find one of these tanned, strapping, oiled-up hunks of meat who’d be willing to walk with me –”

Katya grabbed his arm mid-gesture. “No no no, don’t you dare!”

“I’m just saying,” Brian continued, “you invited me, bitch –”

The shine of Katya’s grin, open-mouthed and laughing, was enough to blow his whole awful night out of the water.

They walked. The sun drew rippling air waves out of the too-hot cement; the ocean crashed beautifully green into the white shore. But it somehow wasn’t too crowded, for all that it was the dead of summer, the very peak of beach days. They moved in blissful anonymity. At one point, Katya bought him an ice cream. Brian ate it one-handed, making panicked noises and laughing as it dripped closer and closer to his hand. His other hand was – well. He’d taken Katya’s as they stood waiting for the cone, and he hadn’t let go yet. His stomach flipped giddily every time their steps fell out of sync – their palms would drag against each other, just for a moment, each time making him newly aware again of the calluses on Katya’s palm.

He traced his index finger along the big tendon on the back of Katya’s hand, and Katya glanced at him sideways, quick, lips parting on a short intake of breath. Brian licked at his ice cream and said nothing, warm and smug all over.

Sea breeze and the sting of salt. They leaned over the wooden rail, right into it, shoulders and hips pressed together. The blue stretched endless.

Katya started to turn red in the cheeks around four so they ducked for shade. Brian slouched back against the blush pink wall of some souvenir shop, under the awning, and Katya stood in front of him to block the sun from his eyes. One moment Brian was looking over Katya’s shoulder at the white gulls darting and dipping over the sea; the next, he was blinking up, and Katya was closer, leaning in, one hand on the wall beside his head, his gaze flickering over Brian’s face with the same combination of lazy ease and breathless flight as the birds in the air.

Brian blinked, processing, then licked his lips to wet them. “Feeling tall?” he said.

“Feeling lots of things,” said Katya, smiling faintly. “Tall may or may not be one of them. No one’s ever accused me of a Napoleon complex, Tracy – and my psychological rap sheet is longer than the Mariana Trench. You always take me to new and exciting places, did you know that? That’s why we’re friends.”

“I thought it was for the free therapy and life coaching.”

“Don’t undersell yourself, mama. What’s newer or more exciting than uncertified therapy and dubious life coaching?”

Brian laughed. “I don’t know that ‘new’ and ‘exciting’ are words that many people have applied to me – out of drag, at least.” His mouth twitched. “You might be du-biased.”

He expected Katya to throw back his head, lean away and laugh, but instead – Katya leaned closer, his eyes glinting with mirth. “I’m gonna kill you,” he said, “I’m gonna kill you right here and dump your body into the ocean in front of the tourists, God, and everybody, and no one will punish me when they hear about the years of pun-spewing bullshit you’ve put me through.”

He was so close. Brian’s stomach flipped again; he could feel Katya’s warmth all along him, make out the freckles on his nose. “Kill me?” he said, mouth dry.

Katya blinked. Something about the set of his jaw, the small lines around his eyes, seemed suddenly vulnerable, intense and somehow opened wide.

“Yeah,” he said after a moment. “Or, I dunno. Maybe that other thing.”

Brian held his breath. All he could hear was the crashing of the waves, loud and close – or maybe that was the sound of his heartbeat in his ears. He reached up and brushed the tips of his fingers along the sharp line of Katya’s cheek.

Katya’s chest hitched.

The breeze chased the sunlight through the empty pier, stirring the sand across the wood, and Katya leaned in, slow enough that Brian could stop him if he wanted. Brian didn’t. He lifted his face, eyes slipping shut; and Katya’s mouth fell on the corner of his, once, soft, then warm against his right cheekbone, and again on his left. Brian exhaled shakily.

“What,” he said, unsteady. “Can’t kiss me when the cameras aren’t on?”

Katya huffed a laugh, the breath warm on Brian’s face. He curled a hand below Brian’s ribs; his fingers dipped into the hollow in his tank top to brush against bare skin. Brian shivered. Voice barely louder than the wind in the distance, Katya said, “My life would be so much simpler if that were true.”

Brian opened his eyes. He looked up and met Katya’s gaze, and his mouth twitched, almost a smile. Katya’s stubble scratched at his fingertips as he settled his palm more firmly along the curve of his jaw. “Well, you’re not really a simple woman,” Brian said, and Katya was laughing when he leaned down and kissed him properly.

When he opened his eyes, the sun’s lowest rays had dipped below the edge of the awning, lighting Katya up in gold, and he tipped his head back to rest against the wall, wrapped his free arm around Katya’s waist, and said, “Come home with me.”

Except that’s not what happened at all.

When he opened his eyes, the sun was shining, and Katya was lit with gold, and he tipped his head back against the wall and thought about saying it –

– then smiled crookedly, and said instead, “You kiss like you have heat stroke.” And Katya threw back his head and laughed, wheezed, “no, just heat rash,” while the sun caught in his hair and lashes.

It’s not what happened, but it could have been. He could have taken Katya home, and pressed him up against the hallway inside his door, all that sun-warm skin under his hands. He could have kissed him the way he wanted to. He could have blown him right there with his knees sore against the hardwood, or taken his hand again and drawn him back into the bedroom, kissing him all the way. And after – Brian could have asked him to stay.

That wasn’t how it happened, but, crashed out on the couch in Seattle after his run, Brian dreamed every moment of it. Every inch of hot skin and the rasp of sheets and falling asleep together and waking up together. And when he woke up – alone – he pressed his hands flat against his stomach, feeling like something had been taken out of him. Feeling ill, feeling exhausted, feeling like his head was buzzing and his mind was five feet outside of his body.

Eventually he dragged himself up and fumbled for his phone. He wiped at the inner corners of his eyes with his knuckle as he thumbed it awake; then he pressed his palm over his face, exhaling shakily.

No new messages. Of course.

His whole body hummed feverishly, the twinned effect of the sun on his morning run and the one in his dream. Maybe that was what fucked over his self-control, that sick feeling like he was out of his head, or maybe he was just giving in to the inevitable – but, whatever it was, he opened his messages and, despite all his better judgement, typed out: check in?

Hating himself a little, he hit send.

When there was no response thirty minutes later, despite the read receipt that had popped up almost immediately, he left to go find something to drink.

*

“Oh hey, it’s you,” said the girl behind the counter. She eyed his purchases. “Wow. I didn’t think it could get sadder than last time…”

Brian huffed a short laugh. “Still gay, don’t worry.”

“Uh huh,” she said. She ran the first wine bottle – yes, first, thanks so much – under the scanner and hit a few buttons. “So is the whole sad and gay deal an aesthetic thing? How much Lana have you listened to in the past three days? I’m trying to decide if I should be staging an intervention that I’m – full disclosure – not really qualified for.”

“Do sad gays get a discount at this establishment?”

“Nope,” she said, popping it like bubblegum. “Sorry.”

She finished ringing him, his three bottles of wine, his pack of sour key candies, and his thoroughly depleted dignity through the machine.

“Credit,” he said, offering it over.

He was threading his hands through the bag handles, waiting for his card back, when she said, “Hey. What’s your name, man?”

He blinked. “It says on the card.”

“Yeah, whatever,” she said, handing it over wrapped in his receipt with an eye-roll. “So what is it?”

“Brian,” he said, and looked at the sallow lights on her face, wondering where she was going with this.

“Brian,” she repeated. “Hi, Brian, I’m Mariam.”

Her tone was conversational but somehow serious, weighted, and Brian – Brian swallowed against the sudden and unexpected feeling of his throat going tight.

“Now who’s hitting on who?” he managed, and she chuckled, but didn’t lose that look in her eyes.

“Brian. Take care of yourself, hey?” she said.

The lights glared brightly across the empty floor, the rows upon rows of no-name brands and the scuff marks on the shitty linoleum. She was watching Brian like maybe he needed watching. He swallowed again, and nodded, and left without another word.

*

Dust motes floated in the slowly draining sunlight when he returned to the apartment. The whole space of it echoed with the closing of the door. He kicked off his shoes, cracked open the first bottle, and went to get his guitar, glass in hand.

Hours passed. He drank more. He scribbled in his notebook, crossed things out, scrawled corrections in the margins. There was too much in his head. Words tumbled out like a hole had been torn somewhere, all the loose change and lint of his brain escaping despite his best efforts to plug the gap. His writing got sloppier, slanted; he wiped wine from his mouth with the back of his hand and turned the page.

The beach, the dream, the night before. The months of build-up, the moment of release. Wanting, wanting, he wanted so much and he had told himself, when he was a kid, that someday he would be able to have all the things he wanted. If he was smart enough and good enough, quick enough on his feet, he could make anything happen. But here he was: trapped into stillness as the path under his feet cut off abruptly. Because how could he have all the things he wanted when they existed at such cross-purposes?

Or was it just him? Not the fame, not the fans, not the industry, and certainly not Katya – maybe it was Brian at cross-purposes with all of it, putting himself in his own way, selfish and stubborn and cowardly, refusing to accept with good grace what the universe was offering him.

The sun dipped below the blocky Seattle skyline, the buildings across the road cast in radiant red, as he stumbled into the kitchen to open the third bottle. His hands slipped on the cap; he blinked wearily down at it, then out the window at the purples and pinks of the sky, dappled and streaked like watercolours. The sun was just a winking and burnished glare over the lip of the buildings. He inhaled deeply and it almost seemed like he could still taste salt in the air.

The skyline blurred before his eyes, replaced by the memory of the things his dream had omitted. Walking the long way back down the pier, Katya with one arm hooked around his elbow and the other hand clutching at his bicep like an ingenue, twitching with laughter every minute or so because apparently this was the most heterosexual he’d ever felt. Which, Katya had definitely licked at least one pussy in his day, so. What he meant was probably that it was dumb, and romantic, and brought them so much closer together than held hands as they made their way between the shadows of the tall lights that lined the boardwalk. The sun set in brilliant gold in the distance. Brian remembered the warmth of Katya’s chest against his arm; he remembered looking at Katya’s lips, then away, and wash, rinse, repeat; he remembered the sign they passed, jutting up out of the middle of the boardwalk: END OF THE TRAIL.

He remembered going home alone, flushed and giddy with the heat of the day, and turning on his phone to see a new notification from his facebook messages. date night tracy?, it said, captioning a photo of him and Katya on the boardwalk, arm in arm, the soft look on his face all too bare in the deep amber light of the sun setting over the ocean.

Brian shook his head, and poured himself another drink.

The night after that was all in flashes. His fingers sliding along the strings of his guitar. Losing his pen under the couch; hunting through Adore’s drawers for another one. Sweet sad notes filling the room, lingering in the air like sea salt. Fumbling with his phone; his guitar; his own hands.

Love’s the kind of feeling that’s not easy to derail, that was good, that was fine, but I find that I’ve been tryin’ ‘cause, ‘cause what, ‘cause what –

He lost another pen. After that… he didn’t remember much after that.

*

Brian woke to a splitting headache and a buzzing phone.

The phone was on his stomach; his head was on the arm of the couch. He blinked into the bright morning light and groaned, covering his eyes.

His phone buzzed again.

Whatever it was, it could fucking wait. He let it fall to the side as he rolled over, taking in the mess of paper and pens – what the fuck, where did he get so many pens – on the coffee table, the empty wine bottles, his guitar abandoned carelessly on the floor. The glass doors to the balcony were open, though he didn’t remember opening them, and the harsh cawing of the crows outside made his eyes water.

Jesus fucking Christ.

He stood unsteadily and made his way to the kitchen, where a bag of sour key candies lay splayed open and empty on the counter and a plate with the mysterious remnants of what might be a drunken midnight snack lay beside the sink. He stared at one, then the other, then turned decisively to get a glass out of the cupboards and fill it from the tap. He downed it in one go and poured himself another.

Back by the couch, his phone was buzzing again.

Katya, he realized through the groggy fullness in his head. That could be Katya.

He returned to the couch and lowered himself gingerly, full glass clutched in one hand. He fumbled the phone trying to grab it, which probably said bad things about the balance of alcohol to water in his system at that moment; then he thumbed it awake and scanned it as quickly as he could through the low-burning nausea of his hangover.

There was, in fact, a notification from Katya. A missed call at 2:23 AM. Brian’s heart leapt and his mouth went dry; but then he looked past that, at the avalanche of notifications from twitter and instagram, and his whole body turned cold, shoved into full wakefulness and unholy sobriety.

What the fuck had happened last night?

He unlocked his phone and opened instagram to see notifications in the thousands. Thumbing over to his profile, he found a post he didn’t remember making, dated 1:57 AM. That was – he looked at the little clock at the top of his screen: 7:13 AM – barely five hours before. The little thumbnail showed his shoulders over his guitar; when he opened it, he saw it was a video.

Brian stared at the post in horror for a long moment. Then – because there was literally no other choice – he flexed his fingers, which had gone numb, and he hit play.

The screen cut to his face, frowning blearily and too close, as he tried to prop his phone up. He looked – exhausted. Shit. Dark circles under his eyes, a tight, stressed set to his mouth, which twisted down as he failed to make the phone stand steady a third time. Finally he – the Brian on screen – muttered a sharp fuck, and just leaned the phone back against something or other, putting his glass of wine in front of it to hold it upright, so the rim blurred out the bottom of the frame.

He stepped back, sat down, and pulled his guitar into his lap.

Brian, the Brian watching, took shallow breaths against a rising nausea. His pulse thrummed loudly under the thin skin of his neck.

The camera captured the body of his guitar, the slouch of his shoulders, and part of his mouth, which he wiped at with the back of his hand, pick balanced easily between his fingers. Then he sat up straighter, squaring his shoulders and sliding his other hand up the neck of the guitar into place – Brian remembered that, cool smooth wood under his palm, he remembered glancing at the camera and thinking fuck it, fuck this –

The Brian on screen played an open chord and then set into the melody that made up the verses, the tumbling notes, middle finger – pinky finger – ring finger, and, watching, his brain cut through the fog to focus on that, ring finger, ring finger, the song he’d been working on all this past month coming together despite the drunken way he slid between the metal frets.

And then he started to sing, and Brian went from feeling slightly nauseous to being absolutely certain he was about to throw up.

It wasn’t the verses, thank god. Not the harried scribbles that filled pages upon pages in his notebook, most of them awful, all of them never to be fucking revealed to the world at large because they were his, ugly and sincere and too personal. All the moments that made him want to try; all the things that made him afraid. But this –

“Love’s the kind of feeling that’s not easy to derail

But I find that I’ve been trying ‘cause

I can’t see the when and where –”

A chorus is a vague thesis; but, watching, he still felt stripped wholly bare.

“I hear waves in my dreams at night,

Feel the sunlight and your stare,

So maybe it’s to no avail –

And maybe ‘stay’ won’t turn out stale –”

Brian swallowed, fumbled for his glass of water, tried to hear anything but the roaring in his ears, see anything but his face dipping into frame as he bent lower over the guitar, eyes closed, face pained as he sang stay. And he was sliding through the notes like a drunk stumbling through a door, graceless but functional and – worst of all – far too honest.

“But I still don’t know if I can go

Off-road at the end of the trail.”

Fuck.

The video didn’t end abruptly – apparently, when drunk, he couldn’t make the crop function work for him – but with an agonizing slowness, the last, aching note from his guitar hanging hollowly in the air. His shoulders on-screen rose, then fell; then finally he reached forward for his phone. A flash of his mouth, his cheek, his eyes squinting – and then it went dark, and looped back to the beginning.

He jabbed at the screen to stop it, and stared down at his phone in mute horror, jaw slack and mouth dry.

First things first, he deleted the video. It wouldn’t shut people up, but he couldn’t just let it sit there, all of him laid out in the bare daylight. The raw sound of his voice, scratchy with exhaustion, on his shitty phone mic; that one glimpse of his face, like opening a door you’re not supposed to by accident, the kind of door you can’t close again or back away from. All a room’s quiet secrets, the small ones that cut deepest, framed starkly by the open doorframe.

He wasn’t going to load twitter, or look at the texts that had come in from his friends who’d seen, but then a new one appeared at the top of his screen as his phone buzzed in his hand. It was Shea – a youtube link. His phone buzzed again with a second message, a third, more, all from Shea. He thumbed messenger open, still numb all the way through, and scanned the group chat dispassionately. Then he stopped, and read it again.

FROM: SHEA - 7:17 AM - Friday August 29th, 2017

youtube.com/watch?v=Jf1L34kn0

Please watch this, get your collective shit together, and stop making me feel sad for both of you

Ive got better shit to do with my time

And PLEASE reach out to us, jesus, brian, we care so much and i know youre doing your own thing but we’re really, really worried.

Well. I cant speak for kim. Im worried; that bitch is probably just hungry

He huffed a laugh, but it didn’t feel like one. It felt like something was cracking open inside of him.

His phone buzzed again.

FROM: KIM - 7:18 AM - Friday August 29th, 2017

i can be hungry and worried at the same time cunt

but sheas not wrong, bri.

please.

Brian swallowed, then swallowed again, throat tight and eyes stinging. He took another gulp of his water, then, after a moment’s hesitation, typed, i’m here. i’ll watch it in a minute. i love you guys and im sorry

He wasn’t sure what he was sorry for. There was a whole laundry list of reasons he should be; he might as well cover his bases.

It wasn’t – it wasn’t that he’d been wrong to leave. It wasn’t that he’d been wrong to want out or to go silent. It was just that it could be right for him and wrong for them, and he could be sorry for that, even if he wasn’t sure yet that he regretted it.

He hit send all the same.

His phone buzzed almost instantly with their replies, but he didn’t look, pulling up the youtube link instead. Then: for the second time that morning, his heart stopped and his body went cold.

“help me i’m not dying fast enough”, said the title under the loading video. “Katya Zamolodchikova Periscope (August 29, 2017 @ 2:40 AM)”.

He didn’t want to click – he knew he didn’t want to, and also that he shouldn’t – but he did anyway, because sometimes he was a masochist like that. Lately, especially.

Katya, on-screen, stubbed out a cigarette and lit another one, inhaling deeply.

“I’m not going to tell you how many of these I’ve had tonight,” he said to the camera. “Because it’s none of your business what hell cycle of ideating and ovulating I may or may not be going through right now. That’s first of all.”

He looked… gaunt. Unkempt. Worse than in the video Shea had taken a week earlier.

“It’s a funny thing, to have – kind of – resolved myself to wanting something, and always having it sort-of in reach, and then to realise maybe I can’t have it at all. I could have, but maybe I missed my moment, maybe I didn’t lay out my thesis convincingly enough – maybe maybe maybe. Maybe what I wanted isn’t on the proverbial table anymore. That’s harder, I think, than knowing all along you can’t ever have it. It’s a different kind of wanting. I don’t know.”

He flicked his fingers in the air by his ear, ash falling grey and soft like snow from a rooftop.

“I’ve never been good at wanting things. That’s funny, right? From an addict, I mean. It’s funny. You can laugh – I’m laughing. Maybe you are, I don’t know, I can’t see you. I don’t care.

I’ve never been good at wanting things – I’ve had them, or not had them. It all seemed kind of –” he paused, then laughed, a hoarse bark. “You know, insignificant in the face of the rapid decay of the environment, our bodies, society as a whole, and ultimately the universe itself. The universe is dying, by the way, in case you hadn’t heard. I took a first year physics class, girl, so I know what I’m talking about.”

You read Neil Degrasse Tyson’s book once, you fucking idiot, Brian thought; it rung hollow, as if it came from someplace a good distance from his own body.

“So I’ve never been good at wanting stuff. Drugs isn’t want, drugs is need. And that’s not – I know I look like a mess right now, but a) not on drugs, and b) still not about need. I’m not in some kind of I’ll-die-without-you pseudo-love psycho-abusive Nicholas Sparks kinda bullshit. I’m just – I’m just sad. I’m just really fucking sad. And I’ll delete this tomorrow, and anyway –” Katya looked sharply into the camera, and for a moment, Brian felt seen – “I figure it’s only fair.”

“So anyway,” Katya continued. He turned away, towards the road; his eyes lit up with amber streetlight, glass-green and shadowed. “We’re all dying. I know, Brenda, I’m a broken record over here about it, but we’re all dying, and that’s kind of a big deal. And I love it! In some strange, existential way, it’s liberating, it’s electrifying, it brings you closer to your own body and soul and maybe even God, if, I don’t know, that’s your thing sometimes – ‘your’ being mine – but then –”

He stopped himself. Brian watched as his fingers tapped frenetically against the side of his cigarette for a moment, then he raised it, pursed his mouth, inhaled. Exhaled. He lifted his face to watch the smoke rise and disappear.

When he looked back down, he was smiling, crooked at the edges, like it hurt. “But then something comes into your life, and suddenly, it’s like, wait. Hang on. I want to see more of that – let’s stop the death train, maybe. Let’s put a hold on this dying shit. Because whatever it is I’m feeling, I want that, and – and – and why the fuck am I wasting time killing myself when this has been here, maybe all along. Self-indulgent fatalism suddenly starts to feel – selfish.”

“I mean,” he interrupted himself, suddenly and obviously changing tacks as a thought struck him, “please still come to my show. It’ll be so good. All these questions and more will be addressed – not answered, because who cares about answers, but asked? Yes. More questions than you ever wanted. Please come.”

He flashed a smile, plastic-white, but it melted away too quickly into the same tired pallor.

“I don’t know. I don’t even know if anything I’m saying is true. I want all sorts of things all the time, but it’s always a little bit – intellectual. Like, wow, I wonder what having that would be like? Feel like? I’ve never experienced this kind of wanting that doesn’t have an endpoint – it won’t just stop once I get it. It goes forward. It has a future. What the fuck is up with that, you know?

But it’s not – you don’t just get to have things.”

His voice cracked.

“No. Okay. One second,” he said, and then he disappeared around the camera. Brian could still hear him breathing, though, quiet in the night air, an eerie echo of so many phone calls over the past month.

When Katya returned, he lit himself another cigarette, and this one didn’t shake between his fingers. “I’m going to delete this the minute it ends, for the record. I don’t know why I’m even doing it. I guess I’m just lonely. I know, I’ve been on tour, and that’s great, but – I dunno. It’s lonely. Work is lonely. Dying is lonely. And there’s one thing I want and I thought I could have it but – turns out – I probably can’t, and that’s – that’s lonely too.”

His mouth twisted, an almost-smile.

“I always thought that was such a cliché: to feel alone in the middle of a crowded room. And I love a cliché when it’s not played straight, but. Maybe, sometimes, the crowd doesn’t matter when one person’s not in it.

Anyway. I’m doing a lot of whining for someone with not a lot of problems, comparatively. And this problem isn’t even really mine. Not at its core. Selfish, right? But hey – no one’s making you tune in, Elizabeth.”

He took a final, decisive drag on his cigarette.

“Okay. I’m gonna go listen to some ambient noise and try to sleep.” The corner of his mouth twitched. “Ocean sounds, track four: a classic. Yeah. Yeah, okay. Bye.”

The streetlight blanketing his face in fragile white, he looked into the screen again, directly, as if he could see Brian there looking back at him, heart sore in his throat. Then the video went dark.

Brian sat and stared down at the phone in his hands. Between the low buzzing nausea of his hangover and the Seattle morning greyness, the world around him felt – distant. Not quite real. Not as real or as close as that twitch of Katya’s mouth, or the wry, exhausted humour in his voice. The frustration and sadness and longing in every line of his body. 

They were both so stupid. And so fucked.

He tapped out of Safari and into his messages, where he typed again, check in?

Knees tucked into his chest, he waited, and a minute later the reply came in – the little OK emoji, thumb pinched to index finger.

He exhaled loudly and pressed his hand over his eyes.

The phone buzzed against his thigh a moment later and he looked down again. It wasn’t from Shea or Kim like he thought it might be – it was, unexpectedly, another text from Katya. All it said was: you?

He bit his lip, thinking about it. He wasn’t going to let himself lie, to himself, to Katya, not again. He wasn’t going to do that to them. But the honest answer was – yes. He wasn’t good. He wasn’t better. But he was okay, for all the values of okay that the check-in had meant since the first time Katya had needed it: I’m alive, I’m safe, I’m here.

Yeah, he typed and sent, that’s about right.

He looked up from his phone at a sudden noise beyond the front door – a thump, like something heavy had been dropped.

It could have been one of Adore’s neighbours, so he dragged himself up and started to walk over, ready to offer assistance if needed. The woman upstairs was older, and generally bought more groceries than she could carry. But as he was approaching the door he heard the scrape of a key in the lock, and then the handle began to turn.

Adore wasn’t supposed to be back until that evening.

“Hello?” he started to ask, but then the door swung open, and he was staring into a pair of very tired, very startled eyes that definitely weren’t Adore’s.

“What the fuck,” said Bianca del Rio.

To his own surprise, a burst of laughter punched out of Brian’s stomach. “Yeah,” he said, staring back at Bianca, at the douchey sneakers on his feet, the Shangela shirt he was wearing, and the small duffel he’d dropped behind him. Brian found himself smiling, just a little. “Same.”

#I've said this to u already but… why #trixya #trixie mattel #katya zamolodchikova #dare #angst #submission #fathwtf #canon compliant

[bittykimmy13]

Lifeless (GT)

This takes place two weeks after Torn. Be warned: this is not a happy story.

Characters belong to me and the lovely Obsess-Confess

The weight of his world lay in the palm of his hand and looked up at him with agonized green eyes. She twisted and writhed against a pain that couldn’t be escaped, her skin and clothes soaked red, red, red.

“It hurts,” she whimpered. Her expression became blank, eyes empty. Her blood-smeared lips barely moved. “It hurts.”

He brought her close to his chest, fighting to move faster, but his legs felt like they were dragging through wet cement. The forest shuddered and stretched around him, blocking out the stars. Tree lashed out with skeleton-like branches and slowed him further, determined that Sylvia would die in his hands.

“You’re going to be okay, Sylv,” he croaked. “You hear me? You’re gonna make it.”

They both knew he was lying.

It was that revelation that woke him up.

He opened his eyes blearily, processing the dim motel room. The malevolent trees no longer choked out the sky, but the drywall ceiling did. His hands were empty.

It hurts.

The echo of her voice struck him like a blow to the head. He came to consciousness soundlessly, but on the inside everything screamed in ear-splitting agony. Inescapable, like the pain that had torn Sylvia apart until her body gave up.

Agony had become the norm, hurting so much that he was beginning to be numb. He didn’t want to be numb. He wanted to hurt. He deserved to hurt.

Cliff didn’t agree.

Sylvia wouldn’t want you to be like this. Man, think about the fit she’d throw if she saw you doing this to yourself.

Jon’s punch had been just short of dislocating Cliff’s jaw for saying that. Blinking hard, Jon peered across the room and saw the other bed still empty.

Good. They both needed the space.

His eyes slid cautiously to the nightstand, and he reached under his pillow to grip the hilt of his knife. But the nightstand was empty this time. He suppressed a shiver.

Nightmares were one thing. He swore something was following him. More than once he’d awoken to see her on the nightstand. Watching. Unmoving. As if she had followed him from his nightmares. He would blink, yank the lamp cord, and she’d be gone. There’d be a thrill of fear and paranoia, and then the lethargic reality that came with being awake. He didn’t have the will to chase hallucinations.

Cliff wouldn’t say it out loud, but Jon could see the way he was starting to look at him. Like he was crazy.

Maybe he was. But there was nothing on the nightstand watching him tonight.

Because it was huddled under the shadow of his pillow.

Jon flinched as his fingers brushed against something soft and solid as he prepared to settle back into bed. Devoid of all else but basic hunter instincts, he locked his fingers around the thing.

It cried out, and even his instincts became nothing.

That voice.

“Jon,” she sobbed, trembling in his grip. “Jon.”

He yanked her in front of him and fumbled with the lamp switch, every nerve surging with electricity. His eyes adjusted to the light and drank her in desperately, but something was wrong. In his hand was Sylvia.

But not Sylvia.

While the rest of the room was washed with light, darkness congealed around the thing in Jon’s hand. It breathed through heavy gasps and squirmed to free its arms, vacant of natural color–as if Sylvia had stepped out of a black-and-white film. Worse than that, its presence seemed to warp and eat the light around it like a living shadow.

It looked up at him pleadingly. Its eyes were not green, but dull grey and swimming with tears.

“Jon,” it whispered.

“No.” His voice wasn’t much more than a breath, and then he was shouting. “No, no, no!”

Tearing his eyes away from the shadow thing as it ducked its head and whimpered, Jon threw his free hand under the pillow and pulled the knife out. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and held the blade close to his captive, breathing hard.

“Don’t!” it cried, writhing anew. “Please! Just let me ex–”

“Stop moving!” When it didn’t listen, he pressed the sharp edge to its upper arm. He didn’t put enough pressure to carve its flesh, but it gave a piercing shriek that stabbed his heart.

A wisp of black smoke hissed where the blade made contact with the shadow’s skin.

The knife was iron.

Tears raced down its cheeks, down the black traitor brand that belonged to Sylvia. “It hurts! Jon, please, it hurts!”

Lightheaded from the sound of her voice, Jon jerked the blade away. He couldn’t bear to feel the squirming in his hand any longer. Stumbling to the dresser, he dropped the shadow roughly, pushing aside the coffee maker, the telephone, and empty beer bottles so it would have nothing to hide behind.

It got to its feet shakily, and he shoved it into a seated position with the back of his hand.

“Don’t move a fucking inch.”

“J-Jon–”

“Don’t move!” he hollered, leveling the blade mere inches from it as it started to straighten. It froze, eyeing the knife with absolute terror. He growled through his teeth, “If you really know me, then you know I’m fast. You know I can gut you before you even get your wings open.”

The words were acid in his mouth. He would have strangled anyone who spoke to Sylvia like that.

This thing on the dresser wasn’t Sylvia.

“I am Sylvia,” it said, as if it could read his mind. “I-I’m not here to hurt you or anyone. I'm… I’m just…” It scooted back on his hands, shoulders wracking with her tearful little gasps. “I-I don’t know.”

Jon didn’t waver. “What are you?”

“I wish I knew for sure,” it answered, hugging its legs to its chest. “I know what this looks like… what I look like. But Jon, it’s not what you think. Fairies coming back. There’s legends about that, called shades. Warriors and heroes who were slain before their time. It’s far-fetched, even for fairies, but–”

“Stop,” he hissed, because he knew in his heart that he wanted to believe it. But it couldn’t be true.

It sniffled. “You’re the one who asked. Y-you can’t get mad at me just because it’s not what you want to hear. What do you want to hear, Jon? That… that I’m a monster who’s come to haunt you? Will it make it easier for you to use that?” Its voice cracked as it pointed at the iron blade.

He couldn’t look at the shade. It wore that frustrated, determined expression its face. It was her face, and the shadow didn’t deserve to wear it.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he spat. “You shouldn’t exist, just like any other spirit. You’re dead. She’s dead!”

“Yet here I am, and I-I don’t understand it any more than you do. Fairies and humans are different in life, right? Is it so crazy to think they’re different in death?” It unwound its arms from its legs and stood tentatively, gesturing to itself. “I’m all here, Jon. I… I feel just like I did before it happened. I’m not some vengeful piece of me. I’m all of me.”

He glared at it, tightening his grip on the handle of the knife. “How do I know that?”

It shrugged helplessly. “I would have shown myself to you the moment I figured out how to prove it. But I don’t know how. You have to believe me. I… I know you’re hurting. I’ve seen y-you.” The shade swiped at its eyes, voice choking. “I’ve wanted to show you I’m still here, but I was afraid of you.”

“You should be.” Jon leaned in and made the shade shrink away in fear. He wished his voice would stop quivering. “Because you’re not her. Stop talking like you’re her.”

“I don’t know who else to talk like.” Its wide eyes darted to the knife, then locked onto his face. “B-but… if you had absolutely no hope that I’m telling the truth, you would have run me through by now, so I’m not giving up. It’s me, Jon. You can’t begin to imagine how hard it’s been not to blow my cover. When… when you’re crying or drinking, or when you’re fighting with Cliff. Or when I think about all the episodes of Survivor I’m missing because you won’t turn on the stupid TV.”

The shade gave a broken, whimpering gasp that might have been a laugh.

Jon stared and staggered back. His hand shook. The knife fell to the carpet, and so did he.

“I miss her,” he choked out, dropping his head in his hands. Sobs pounded against the inside of his chest, crushing his lungs. “I miss her so goddamn much.”

The shade peered over the side of the dresser, tiny grey hands gripping the edge. “You don’t have to miss me,” it pleaded. “I’m here, Jon. I-I’m right here.”

“Go.” Jon look down. “Get the fuck out of here. I can’t look at you, and I can’t kill you, so just go.”

There came a buzz of wings, but they didn’t retreat. He glanced up and found the shade approaching him through the air tentatively. Jon’s fingers brushed the hilt of the knife on the carpet.

“Leave!” he shouted, scaring it back several inches. “Don’t make me change my mind.”

Its little face was scared and defiant. Sylvia’s face when they argued. “I don’t care. Kill me if that’s what you want, but you can’t expect me to just stand back and see you like this and do nothing!” It flew down closer, no more caution in its movements.

Jon leaned back against the foot of the bed, his fingers slackening on the knife. He left his hands on the floor on either side of him, no longer able to fight the punishment that had no doubt finally come to haunt him. He dropped the back of his head against the mattress, tears spilling onto his cheeks.  

The shade brushed against his hand, ducking under his thumb to lean against his fingers. He couldn’t bear to look. It trembled as it collapsed into his tilted palm. He wanted to close his hand, to hold her the way he used to.

“Why were you by my pillow?” he asked, staring at the ceiling. “Why not stay on the nightstand like you always do?”

The shade didn’t deny the accusation of where it had been standing all those nights.

“I wanted to remember what you feel like,” it said quietly, brushing its cheek against the side of his finger. “I couldn’t stay away. I couldn’t just watch anymore.”

Jon’s fingers twitched against his will, closing around the shade. A fingertip glided shakily against its arm, its shoulder, its cheek. If he didn’t look, he could pretend it was her. It felt like her. It felt more real than any ghost he had ever encountered. Even poltergeists were only solid when they struck out in violence.

This one’s touches were soft.

“You said you were afraid,” Jon said, forcing his fingertip to stop. “Why are you doing this?”

He expected another insistent, pleading answer. Instead, there was a deafening pause followed by weeping. He couldn’t bear it any longer. He scooped the shade up closer to see.

Her face was buried in her hands, hair disheveled. She wore Sylvia’s typical outfit–a tank top and a pair of shorts–devoid of color like the rest of her. A patch of darker skin marred her upper arm where the iron had burned her.

Watery grey eyes peeked over her fingers as she slowly dropped her hands. “Just because I’m afraid doesn’t mean I don’t love you.”

She looked at him sadly, adoringly. The kind of look she would give him after long, grueling hunts, when the two of them wanted nothing more than to curl up together and lock out the ugly, unfair world.

His other hand inched up until he could reach her hair. It started off as an experimental touch. When her hair proved to be as a soft as it ever had been, he found himself stroking it. She didn’t flinch away.

“Your wings,” he murmured. “They’re back.”

“Like it never happened.”

"But… I still have them.” They were wrapped up in her favorite blanket, tucked safely into the pocket of her favorite of Jon’s shirts in his bag.

“I know.” Sylvia looked down at herself, tensing as if he would revert to anger from the revelation. “Like I said, I… I don’t understand it. But I’m me. I don’t know what’s on the other side, but I do know it wasn’t ready to take me. I’m still here, with you. Whatever’s on the other side decided we deserve a second chance.”

He nodded, no longer harboring the strength to deny her. “It’s you.” Admitting it felt like a boulder had been lifted off his shoulders.

It made him feel alive and exhausted all at once, but it made her smile. Colorless or not, she was still the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

Jon cupped her close to his face, drinking in the sight of her greedily. How could he have thought she was frightening? His fingertip hovered near her hurt arm, and he shuddered. “Sylv… I-I’m so sorry.”

All those sleepless nights of aching for her in his hands, and the first thing he’d done was hurt her. Threatened her. Still she had been brave enough to approach–that same courage he’d always loved about her.

“It’s just a little burn,” she said. “It’s already getting better, see? You should go back to sleep. I know you haven’t gotten much.”

He shook his head, rubbing her unburnt arm up and down with the back of his fingers and reaching around to stroke her wings, terrified that she might vanish into thin air at any moment.

“I just got you back. If this is all a dream, I’m not ready for it to be over.”

“It’s not a dream. I’m not going anywhere.” She scooted to the edge of his palm and reached out to touch his damp cheek. The teary smile she gave him made him certain that this was too good to be true. But he didn’t care. “I was afraid before,” she went on. “I thought you wouldn’t understand, but you do. I’m still here, and I’m not leaving you. You deserve to sleep.”

“I don’t,” he whispered. “I don’t deserve to have you. You have a second chance, and you’re wasting it. You should be anywhere but here. Somewhere happy.”

She chuckled and leaned her forehead onto his cheek. “I’m going to be happy with you whether you like it or not. Look at me, Jon.”

He pulled her away reluctantly, both hands cupped tenderly around her shadowy little form.

“It’s time for you to get some sleep,” she told him firmly.

With no further argument, he adjusted one hand around her and stood, shuffling back to bed. She was right. If he didn’t lay down soon, he would collapse from the shock. Even as he settled in and reached over to turn out the light, he never took his eyes off her.

He turned over with his back to the door and tucked his hand with Sylvia under the sheets right beside him, where Cliff wouldn’t be able to see her. Jon kept his hand over her, fingers curled in a gentle grip. She was practically invisible with his shadow over her.

“You’ll still be here?” Jon murmured, exhaustion calling louder and louder with each featherlight stroke of Sylvia’s hand on his finger.

“You’re not getting rid of me.”  

With her promise echoing quietly in his ears, it wasn’t hard to fall asleep.

 Sylvia didn’t sleep. She hadn’t known sleep since she died.

 Peering out from under the sheets, she stared expressionless at Jon’s peaceful, slumbering face. While he slept, he was easy to leech off. And now that he had accepted her, it was even easier. The burn on her arm was healing fast.

 It had been harder than she thought, but he had given in. Maybe it was the nightmares she fed him. Maybe it was her tears. It didn’t matter anymore. He was hers.

She didn’t feel a drop of guilt for lying to him. She couldn’t.

Other than an insatiable desire to have him, and a merciless will to survive, she couldn’t feel a thing.

#shot in the dark #lifeless #mywriting #shade au #jon #sylvia

[queennicoleinboots]

Day 22 of Xara and Peter's Curse: Peter W. Parker Gets Electric Shock Therapy After Being Peter Bunion

I was working with the Parkers again after they found their new duplex in Snotville, GA. Godiva and Jamie Parker were happier in this place, but Peter the Asshole Ape hated it there. The ceilings were too low l, and ceiling fans constantly assaulted him. When I went to work, I saw a ceiling fan in pieces in Peter's new office.

Peter was sending more E-mails and yelling at his computer again.

"SIGH! Where the fuck did I put that bookmark. Goddamn computers! I'm 54 years old and still don't understand computers. I really am incompetent as fuck. Holy shit. Haha!" Peter yelled at his computer. "Fuck this. Huehuehue!"

I laughed at him as I dusted his furniture. "What the fuck happened to your ceiling fan?! Hahahaha!!!"

"Oh Xara. Everything is funny to you. Have you gotten a hobby? As for my ceiling fan, I have a hobby of breaking it into tiny pieces and leaving on the ground as a reminder that I'm fucking King Kong," he answered with a sadistic grin on his face.

"Yes. My hobby is putting old, rotted vegetables under the bin in grocery stores and laughing at your bullshit," I answered.

He laughed. "What?! What vegetable did you throw under the bin lately? Maybe I'd eat it"

"A red potato," I said with a laugh.

He burst out laughing. "Yeah. I would eat it!"

His phone started ringing.

"Now what the fuck?" Peter moved like an ape toward his phone.

I cracked up as I accidentally snorted Pete's Liquid Gold (Irish furniture polish) while trying to dust.

"Oh God it's Paul. Sigh," he said as he answered the phone. "Hello?" He suppressed his urge to make ape noises.

"Hey! How are you?" Paul asked.

"Good, I guess. I dunno," Peter said as he shrugged.

"Great. I have a job in Graytown I need done. Do you want it?" he asked.

Peter put the phone to his butt and farted a loud ape fart.

I held my breath and was laughing.

"....I'll take that as a... no," Paul said.

"Yep. That's what I meant," Peter said as he held the phone away from his ear.

"Ummm. Thank you anyway. P.S. That was one wicked fart. I could smell it through the phone. Hoowoo Jeez!"

I was beating myself and giggling.

"I'm glad. I hate drywalling. At my last job, I threw the piece of sheet rock into the wall and then spackled it. I didn't give a fuck," Peter said.

"You're fucked up. I'll talk to you later. Hahahaha," Paul said.

Peter hung up the phone and set it down.

I then burst out laughing and was rolling on his floor.

"Peter!" Jamie, his very sick father, called.

"Oh God," Peter said quietly before yelling to his father. "WHAT DAD?!"

"I need you to trim these bushes outside of our bedroom!" Jamie called.

"I hate this fucking house! God! Another goddamn thing. Why couldn't we get a house with no bushes? Geez, I hate yard work!" Peter complained as he moved his hands around.

I cracked up. "Even as an ape, you're allergic to the outside?"

"No, but I am allergic to the bullshit called yardwork," he said before he moved out of his office into the garage. I followed him as I cleaned. I knew I was going to laugh at the obscenities coming out of his mouth.

He grabbed the electric hedge clippers before going outside. "Oh yeah! Because I really want to fuck with bushes instead of trying to do my artwork for my novel. God, all I want to do is destroy the minds of children, not put up with hedges that are sorry excuses for trees. What good are they? I can't fucking climb them."

I chuckled and followed him while I cleaned up. I was watching him out the window. I saw him come back into the garage.

"Goddammit. I forgot my Paul Bunion cap and my size 20 boots. I still have small feet for a gorilla. What the actual fuck?" he said sarcastically as he put his apparel on.

At that point, I lost my shit and called Joebear.

"Hello?" Joebear answered.

I was fucking laughing and couldn't talk at first.

"Oh God. Another person laughing at me. Whatever. I'm just the personal shopping bear. Fuck it," he said.

I laughed. "No honey. I'm laughing at Peter. He's wearing a lumberjack cap and fucking lumberjack boots. He's Peter Bunion the ape! Hahahaha!" I said while belly-laughing.

"Lolwut? A lumberjack ape? What is he doing? Going on a rampage?!" Joebear asked while laughing.

His father went outside to monitor his ape son. Peter did the obligatory beating of his own chest, making of ape noises, and jumping up and down. Jamie was laughing his ass off and trying not to fall out of his wheelchair.

"Yeah. He is definitely going on a rampage, lol," I said. I laughed.

Peter then picked up the electric hedgeclippers and started terrorizing the bushes. Here's what I saw. I saw Kong jumping on buildings and punching out windows, helicopters, and ceiling fans. I saw him avoiding cops and tanks, just like in the classic Nintendo game of Rampage.

"Oh YEAH! This is what the fuck I want to do with my time! I want to sit here and hack bushes as though I were fucking Peter Bunion! Jesus Christ! Yep. That's me Peter Fucking Bunion, and I LOVE LUMBERJACKING! This is bullshit! I can't even climb these fucking goddamn trees! This is a goddamn waste of my fucking time! What would Peter Bunion like to do? Certainly NOT work on my artwork on my newest novel!!!! I want to do DRYWALL! I want to chop down bushes I can't fucking climb! Hahahahahahuehuehue!!!" Peter ranted as he hacked the bushes.

Joebear heard him rant over the phone and through the electric hedge clippers. I could tell he was in tears laughing.

I was belly-laughing and no sound was coming out.

As I was watching Peter, I saw King Kong with a lumberjack hat and lumberjack boots going on a rampage through various two-dimensional cities. I imagined the branches of the bushes being skyscrapers Peter Bunion was destroying.

He continued to rant, "Oh yeah! I really wanted my life to end up like THISSSS! Look at me! I'm a fucking bigass monkey with a fucking electric set of hedge clippers chopping down bushes that look more like bamboo strands. This is bullshit. I was a tall human being who was a great artist and porn star. Now look at me! What the fuck happened?" He started to cry.

The minute his first sob came out of his mouth, rain poured down in buckets for no apparent reason. He was almost finished with trimming those God-forsaken bushes. Because Peter was using electric hedge clippers, his body looked like a neon sign at a night club.

Jamie looked at his son and said, "Boy. It's raining. You might want to get out of the rain."

Peter was finally able to turn off the clippers after having 5000 volts shot through his system. He then unplugged the hedge clippers and followed his father into the house.

He had a huge smile that was involuntary plastered on his face. His fur was standing on edge. He moved as though he were a two-dimensional figure.

"What the fuck happened to you?" Tug, Peter's basenji, asked as he sniffed him. "You smell like burnt hair. You look like a mad scientist."

"Ladies and Tug, Peter has been electrocuted," Jamie announced as he dried himself off with a towel.

"Get on the rug, Jamie! You're dragging water into the house. Xara just mopped!" Godiva called. She was referring to a royal blue rug that was in the living room of her side of the house.

Jamie went to the rug with his towel and dried off.

Godiva looked at Peter and screamed. "Are you kidding me!?"

"I WISH I WERE!!!!" Peter said with involuntarily gritted teeth as he threw the hat across the garage as though he were a cardboard cut-out.

I lost it and jumped up and down. "Honey, Peter got electrocuted when there was a random huge rain downpour while he was trimming the bushes," I said to Joebear on the phone.

Joebear's laughter just continued. He was breathe-laughing. I could tell tears were pouring out of his eyes from laughing so hard. "That's horrible. Why is this funny?"

Peter started rocking back and forth as he walked like a two-dimensional cartoon character with gritted teeth. "FUCK YOU! FUCK YARDWORK! FUCK BUSHES! FUCK THIS HOUSE! FUCK MY LIFE! FUCK MY CURSE! FUCK TERMITES! FUCK YELLOW JACKETS! FUCK DRYWALL! FUCK PAUL! FUCK CEILING FANS! I FUCKING HATE THEM!!! FUCK BEING ELECTROCUTED!!! IN FACT, FUCK MY EXISTENCE IN GENERAL!" He ranted to the rhythm of his two-dimensional walking.

Joebear and I howled with laughter. "That's why!" I said. "Goddamn Peter is funny when bad shit happens to him!" I cracked the fuck up.

"FUCK OFF!" Peter said with gritted teeth before slamming the door to his side of the duplex. "GOD! I JUST WANTED TO BE AN ARTIST! I DIDN'T ASK FOR THIS SHIT!!" I heard him continue to rant.

Godiva just stared at the door to his side of the house and shook her head. "We weren't supposed to laugh. It just makes him madder," she said.

"I know, but it is just so hilarious," I said while still giggling.

"It's unbelievable, I tell you," Godiva said as she shook her head. "I actually don't know how to respond...

I just laughed because there was nothing else I could do. Among the involuntary gritted-teeth smile, walking like a badly-drawn cartoon character, and the frizzyass fur, it was too much for me to handle. I needed electric shock therapy to handle the stress of what just happened.

Not to mention he still had those size 20 lumberjack boots on his feet. Oh God lol!!!!! I will be in tears with laughter for a few hours. I can't do it.

[actor-babes]

Scream Part 6

Secret Contracts "What do you mean she is gonna tell?" Billy screamed out in the back hallway of the wing of the school that was still under renovation. There was no one here, and this time they had made sure. "She told me she knew! She will probably tell the cops now!" "No. No! I warned her not to tell anyone. We should be fine." Billy said. "Well, she told me?" Stu said panicked. "Fuck!" Billy screamed out punching a piece of drywall. "Shit, this was not supposed to happen! It isn't time for her yet. We can't yet. It just…it wouldn't work if we did now. Fuck, she's going to rat us out!" Stu could understand Billy's anger, but he wasn't on that level yet. He was still just confused and afraid. What if she had told already? The police could be on their way to them now and they'd go to jail. His parents would be so mad with him. They watched her as much as they could all day, and from what they saw…she didn't tell anyone yet. They had to get to her before the police called her down for questioning. They cornered her after lunch, outside of her English class. "Hey, Steph." My head snapped up. I had just left to go to the bathroom. I threw the pass to the ground and sprinted for it. "Stu, go that way," Billy pointed to a different direction and the boys both took off. I began breathing heavily. I couldn't afford to get caught. I had to make it down to the guidance office to the police. However, that was three floors down and in the middle of the building. I slid down another hallway and looked around 'Where the hell is everyone when you need them?' I thought to myself. 'Absolutely no one had this Period off?Unbelievable.' I saw the elevator and ran for it. Pushing the button frantically, I looked around. I didn't see them. Had I lost them? Then, almost as if on cue, as soon as the elevator doors parted, I was tackled inside of it. Another figure stepped inside and pressed a button. The doors closed and the elevator began to move down. "Hey, Steph " Stu grinned down at me. I felt like throwing up, "Get off of me!" He climbed off of me and stepped backwards as Billy stepped forward. "Did you think you were going to get away with it?" Billy screamed down at me, before kicking me in the stomach. "Did you actually think we'd let you get away with it?" He then picked me up by the collar of my shirt and shoved me into the wall. The steel was cool against the back of my neck as I dangled a foot or so above the ground. Stu pushed the emergency stop button and as the elevator lurched into a forced stop, the top of my head hit the ceiling. I whimpered. "I thought i told you not to tell anyone about our little secret?" Billy continued to scream at me, "You're going to ruin everything!" I growled, "It's not my fault you can't keep your big mouth shut, Loomis. And for Your information, I haven't told anyone." He pulled me away from the wall and then slammed me back into it. I groaned, closing my eyes. He then let go of me and allowed me to fall to the floor. "You really are a fucking moron, aren't you?" I looked up at him. "My teacher is going to notice that I'm taking forever and you're beating me up right before I go to the guidance office to be questioned by the police. This isn't suspicious at all or anything, just continue." Stu looked over at Billy, worried, as I stood up and brushed myself off. "You leave me alone now, and I won't say a damn word. We can deal with this later. You keep hitting my head against the fucking wall like this, and I will let them know everything I know." Billy looked over at Stu, who shrugged. "Some help you are," Billy mumbled as he ran his hand through his hair. "Goddamnit, Steph Why the fuck do you have to be so damn smart?" I grinned, "Because, I'm a girl. Girls are always smarter and we're always right. Always." "Fine. Whatever. But if you tell, I swear I will come after you and mutilate you before the cops are anywhere near catching me. Then, I'll go peacefully. But you rat, and I will destroy you." I rolled my eyes, "Yeah, yeah, now can I go pee?" *** "Hi, Kat," the sheriff grinned at her as I entered the guidance office. "Hi, Sheriff Burke," I beamed. I then grinned at Dewey, "Hi, Dewey." He blushed a light shade of red, "It's just Deputy, today, Steph." I giggled softly; Dewey had always been so adorable. "How is everything, Steph?" The sheriff asked. "Everything good?" I nodded and he continued with his light questioning. "Your dad's good, Sid's good, school's good?" I nodded again, assuring him that everything was fine. "Okay, well then, let's get started. Did you know Casey Becker or Steven Orith? Were you friends with them?" "I knew them both," I nodded, "I wouldn't say we were friends, but we were acquaintances. I don't know. We didn't talk on the phone every day or anything, but if we had classes together we'd sit with one another or do a project together if we each didn't have anyone else we'd rather sit with. I wasn't really close with her, but I got along with her." He nodded, taking notes. "Do you know anyone who would want to hurt Casey? 'Oh, just her ex-boyfriend who is conveniently working together with my best friend's boyfriend to kill half of the school. No big deal, Sheriff.' "No, I don't know who would ever want to hurt Casey," I looked down. I really was upset that someone that I had known was killed and that it was someone who was so young, "I – I don't know. She was just so nice to everybody. Even to like, the kids that no one really talks to, she was still nice to them. So, I don't know, Sheriff. Whoever did is an absolute monster though, because Casey was a sweetheart." He nodded, smiling sadly, "Thank you, Steph You can go back to class, if you'd like." I nodded, "Okay. Goodbye, Sheriff. See you later, Deputy." I resisted the urge to wink and send Dewey into a deeper shade of red as I walked out of the office. It was going to be lunch soon. "So, how did it go?" an arm snaked around my shoulder as I stood at her locker. The halls were empty, always so conveniently, at Woodsboro high, yet again. Save for one or two kids down the hall at their locker. "Get off me, Stu," I mumbled, ducking out from underneath it, "If your girlfriend sees that, you and I will both end up like Casey and Steve." I closed my locker after putting my books inside. "And it went fine, thank you. He doesn't suspect that I know anything or that you and Billy are psychotic so you can calm down." "Psychotic?" he looked up, grinning, "I like that, I really do. I'm going to have to use that…" he noted to himself, before nodding, "Anyways, he really doesn't?" "No, Stu, actually I told him everything and they're on their way to tell your mommy now," I rolled my eyes. "Don't you think you'd have been pulled out of class and fingerprinted by now if he did? Sheesh. It's fine. Relay that to Billy and stay away from me. Okay?" "I'm afraid we can't do that." I groaned as Billy joined the conversation. "Seeing as how, you go to this school, too. Seeing as how I'm dating Sydney and Stu's dating your best friend…you really can't get away from us, Steph You're stuck with us," he grinned, "So deal with it." I rolled my eyes, "Whatever, Billy. Can I at least go eat my lunch before I lose my appetite?" He shook his head, "I was doing some thinking and I decided to go over it with you. Okay? As much as I hate to do this, it's only fair because you helped us out. And, if you play your cards right, you'll be helping us out a lot more." "What?" I groaned out, exasperated. I just wanted to go eat in peace. Away from them. "I was thinking, well, you know that we're not done yet. I can see it in your eyes. And, I've come to offer you a deal, Steph If you help us out, we'll help you out." I raised an eyebrow, so he continued, "If you keep this a secret until it's over, you help us with some simple tasks, do what we say, and you don't ask any questions, then we won't change our mind at any point and kill you." I thought it over during a long period of silence. Billy was ready to start talking again before I spoke, "Can I ask what tasks I'd be helping you with?" He grinned, "You just have to help us come up with witty things to say on the phone with people. We call them, before we kill them, in case you didn't get that memo." "We also call people for fun to scare them," Stu grinned. "You really just have to do that for us," Billy nodded. "And we've got someone to take the fall, so don't worry about getting caught. You just can't ask who they are or who else we're going to kill. Just come up with lines, keep your mouth shut, and stand there and look pretty and everything's golden." I rolled my eyes, "If it keeps me alive and you let me go so that I can go eat," I sighed, "Then fine, whatever, I'm in. But I want this shit in writing so that if you even attempt to kill me because believe me, Billy, I know that if I piss you off just once my blood will be on the walls." He grinned at the image briefly before nodding and looking around. More kids were in the halls now, but they had been talking quietly at Steph's locker like old friends (yeah, okay) and no one looked suspicious. "Okay. Well, do you work tonight?" "Yes, I work almost every night." "Well, I'll see you tonight, then. And I'll have it in writing." He and Stu both grinned as they walked off. I sighed, leaning against my locker. I then blew my bangs out of my face. I just signed a deal with the Devil…