grimbims

[grimbims]

If anyone following me remembers, I have written a few stories involving Kite Nye and Sabrina, two OCs from @nikkydash. And you may also remember my ongoing story with these two, Date Night, which currently has two chapters.

Well, today I present to you, not chapter 3, but a standalone story based on an idea I've had kicking around in my head for a long time. This one features mostly just Sabrina, and I tackle something new in my writing: horror!

I had hoped to get this out closer around Nikky's birthday, but better late than never, I suppose.

Anyways, enjoy!

Sabrina's Nightmare

Sabrina had no idea what the fuck was going on, and she didn’t like it one bit.

She stood in the doorway of the entrance of what seemed to be an abandoned building, the door being nowhere in sight. She tried looking back into the building, but was met only with inky blackness. She felt around her pants pockets for her phone, but could not find it. Instead, bringing her hands back out, she realized that she was holding a cheap lighter in her right hand, the color of which could not be distinguished in the dim light. She tried igniting the lighter, but all it could manage was a few weak sparks, refusing to give her a steady flame.

Feeling unease growing in the pit of her stomach, Sabrina slipped the lighter back into her pocket and looked out toward the surrounding environment, which appeared to be a sandy beach right next to the ocean. From this distance, the sand on the beach seemed oddly…pristine, with not a single sign of life or so much as a rock, though the sand did form a few small dunes which dotted the length of the beach. Waves crashed onto the shore with mild force and steady regularity, mimicking the labored breathing of someone with emphysema. Looking to the sky revealed that it was nighttime, the weak glow of the moon obscured by considerable cloud cover. Looking to her right, she was able to make out the faint, blurry silhouette of what appeared to be a city, shrouded in a mix of low light and thick fog. The night air was calm but bitterly cold, and Sabrina could easily see her breath.

A lot of it, in fact.

It was at this point that Sabrina realized that, for some reason, she was panting and her heart was pounding, as if she had been running furiously just moments before. She couldn’t for the life of her figure out why she would have been running. Was she trying to catch someone? Unlikely. Sabrina figured she’d remember giving chase to someone, probably because they owed her money. Since it was also unlikely that she was running on a cold night wearing decidedly not-workout-appropriate clothing for her health, it had to be that she was running from someone or something. But who? Or what?

The cops? Nah. There would have been either the flashing red and blue lights of their cars or white beams from flashlights, and there was only the moon’s meager pallor. Gangsters? Also probably not the case. Getting fake married to Kite had caused that one to back off for the most part, and Sabrina had surprisingly managed to be a good girl and avoid pissing off any others lately. She mentally flipped through her list of enemies, rivals, and various other people whose feathers she had ruffled in the past, but nothing was ringing any bells. Baffling.

There was also a nagging feeling that she had been with someone and ended up separating from them. But who would it have been? Kite? Day? A friend from work? An ex? Briefly she thought of Colton Chadwick and immediately pushed him out of her mind. While she had no doubt he would have bolted as soon as things started going south, the way they had broken up had kinda sorta resulted in him being run out of town in humiliating fashion, never to be seen again. So, probably not him.

Continuing to mull over her situation, Sabrina began to walk toward the beach, the only logical place there seemed to go. Whatever need there was to run had apparently passed, which was good because she could already feel the burn of having done so for a while. As the rush subsided and her heart rate lowered, she started to feel the sting of the chilly night air and shivered a little. God, she hated the cold. Why didn’t she have a jacket? It seemed weird that she would go anywhere in such weather without one. She couldn’t figure out if she had merely forgotten it or if she had left it behind in haste to get away from…whatever it was she was supposedly getting away from.

There were so many details that Sabrina was missing here. This sort of thing happened whenever she got particularly wasted or high, yet she felt stone cold sober and uncomfortably alert. In fact, for whatever reason, she was very much on edge, her fight-or-flight response feeling like it was on a hair trigger. Either she was going to fuck up the first poor hapless motherfucker who snuck up on her, or she was gonna book it out of there so fast Usain Bolt would be envious.

Okay, Sabrina, she thought to herself. It’s time to calm down a little.

With that, she took a deep breath in, then counted to four in her head, and then let a ragged breath out in a thick white plume, counting to four again. After repeating this several times, Sabrina was able to…maybe not exactly calm down, but at least get into a better headspace than she was previously.

Thanks, BJ, she thought offhandedly. I guess video games do teach you practical things, after all.

She continued making her way to the beach. After struggling through the sand for what felt like hours, which were almost certainly just minutes, she found herself atop one of the fun sized dunes and stopped, taking in the ocean’s waves. In more fun circumstances she might have taken off her shoes and made her way up to the shoreline, but as cold as the air was, the water would undoubtedly be freezing and manage to soak her feet to the bone. Once again she found her thoughts drifting, this time thinking that she should maybe take Kite on a moonlit beach walk sometime. Yeah, they’d eat that up for sure. They were a sucker for romantic shit like that.

Ugh, focus, dammit! This wasn’t the time!

Sabrina shook her head violently and gave her face a smack for good measure. She could plan romantic getaways with her fake spouse later, once she figured out this whole mess.

She looked around the beach now that she was properly on it. Back when Sabrina was a kid, she and Day had been “volunteered” by their parents to participate in a Saturday morning beach cleanup (come to think of it, they had to wake up so early in the morning it was just about as dark and cold as it was here and now). After hours of scouring the beach for garbage, the sand was still littered with various bits of detritus washed up from the ocean, and plenty of black specks dotted the lighter colored beige sand.

This beach, however, was quite different. Even up close, there only seemed to be pure white sand, unspoiled by a single piece of debris. Not so much as a broken fragment of shell, scrap of seaweed, or even a piece of trash left by careless beachgoers. It was as if it was devoid of life entirely, and could easily be mistaken for a desert were it not for the proximity of the ocean and the cloudy night sky. Looking in either direction, it also seemed to be as endless as it was lifeless, with no obvious endpoint on either horizon.

Not finding anything helpful along the beach, Sabrina turned her attention to the city. Obfuscated as it was by fog and darkness, it was everything she could do to even discern that there might be a city in that direction, not a single pinprick of light from a building managing to break through. Even so, for some reason looking at it filled her with deep dread, and as she considered the possibility of going toward it, her heart began to race, the dread swiftly turning into terror.

Now what prompted all this, then? While she still couldn’t think of any plausible answers, she had a feeling that, whatever she was running from, it probably came from the city, and/or claimed it as a home base.

At any rate, it was clear that Silent Hill was off-limits. Since standing around wasn’t accomplishing anything, and she wasn’t about to walk into the frigid sea into a watery grave, that left the choice of picking a direction on the beach and walking that way in the hopes of finding…something. Looking to her left and right, Sabrina finally decided to go left.

She walked along the beach for a while, once again struggling to move through the sand. It was unclear how much of it was the inherent difficulty of gaining a foothold in sand and how much was from being cold and exhausted, but this trek was proving to be a right pain in the ass. Sabrina considered moving closer to the shoreline, where the water mixed with the sand would undoubtedly provide more solid ground, but decided she didn’t want to risk getting hit with waves and possibly getting hypothermia. This moonlit walk on the beach was not turning out to be all it was cracked up to be.

As if all that wasn’t enough, an intense wind began to blow, which hit Sabrina with a full frontal assault and stopped her in her tracks. The lack of a jacket was proving to be particularly troublesome now, and as an added bonus it felt like knives were flying directly into her face, particularly digging into her eyes and nostrils. Sabrina raised her arms in front of her face to brace from the wind and what was surely the sand traveling along with it. However, she chanced a glance downward, and for all the ferocity of this wind, the sand wasn’t stirring at all. Just as she began to question this phenomenon, the wind suddenly stopped.

Well this was fucking unusual.

Granted, Sabrina was no stranger to magic and supernatural phenomena. After all, she had cavorted with undead mobsters and was currently (fake) married to a powerful magic user. Safe to say, she had, as the kids would say, seen some shit. But gale force winds that affect a person but not the surrounding environment? That was a new experience, she had to admit. Even the wildest magic she had seen tended to follow, y'know, physics.

However, as she continued to contemplate what had happened, a distant bell rang in her memory. She recalled a story that Kite had told her where they were on a trip to Ireland. They were visiting a castle that was alleged to be haunted, and they decided to have a bit of fun. They found a hiding place, waited for some tourists to pass by, then used their magic to pretend that the passage was inhabited by ghosts and banshees. The performance must have been quite convincing, because the tourists had fled in "abject pants-pissing terror" (Kite's words). Sabrina had laughed to the point of tears at this anecdote, and remembered thinking, Damn, I know how to pick em.

With this recollection, things were clicking into place, and for once she had an inkling of what could be happening. As this idea came to her, the wind began to blow again, this time at her back. It was only now that she realized that her hair was down, since the wind slapped it in her face. Once again, the sand remained unmoved, though as the wind passed through her ears, she heard something new: a faint voice(?) whispering, "...b r i n a…"

And just like that, the underlying unease and fear mostly melted away, replaced with exasperation and mild amusement. "Okay, very funny, Kite!" Sabrina called out. "You got me good! Come on out!"

As she stood triumphant, congratulating herself for figuring things out, the wind changed direction from behind her to coming in at her right. This time the voice was louder and more substantial: "S A B R I N A A A a a a a…"

"Yeah, I get it!" Sabrina shouted back. "Ooh, spooky ghosts and shit! But the jig is up! Come out and conjure up some fire, I'm turning into a fuckin' icicle over here!"

With this, the wind once again suddenly stopped. It wasn’t the only thing, however. The sound of the waves crashing onto the shore had also been silenced. Sabrina chanced a look at the water, and saw that it had gone completely still, without so much as a ripple on the surface. Then it began to lighten in color and take on a more solid appearance, slowly at first, then rapidly spreading across and expanding, otherwise remaining still. Before long, the water had reached this state as far as she could see.

The goddamn ocean had frozen over.

“Okay, Kite, this isn’t funny anymore! Enough’s enough!” Sabrina shouted again, panic creeping into her voice and chest. By now she no longer truly believed this was Kite’s doing. Rather, she may have been clinging desperately to any shred of hope that it still might be the case.

Coming in to extinguish that bit of hope was what felt like a hand rest on her left shoulder behind her. Accompanying this was the coldest sensation Sabrina had ever felt, as if the hand was soaked in liquid nitrogen and dripping it all over. This cold sensation moved its way up to her ear, where she heard a voice…no, it wasn’t really a voice. It was as if the words had been spoken and she understood what was said, but there was no sound of a voice speaking them.

You have yet to experience true cold…

Sabrina immediately clenched her fist and spun around to deck whoever it was behind her. However, she only ended up punching thin air, as whoever (or whatever) was standing there was nowhere to be seen.

“Show yourself, asshole!” she screamed, “Enough of these bullshit magic tricks!”

Behind you…

Slowly Sabrina turned back around and finally saw, standing about fifty feet away, the source of the not-voice: a somewhat tall, thin figure, about six foot even, wearing a long coat and a wide-brimmed hat. They appeared to be the color of the misty shroud draping the city, save for their face, which was a stark white. Sabrina could not discern any finer details about them; even their face was a blank canvas until they suddenly opened their eyes, which appeared to be the same color as their clothing and the city.

No, that wasn’t quite right. On closer inspection, the eyes, clothes, and mist weren’t simply the same color; it seemed like they were all the same substance. What was more, it seemed like there was continuity of pattern between all of these as the figure swayed in the currently nonexistent wind, like the visual effects of plaid in certain old cartoons where the outline of the characters or objects moved along while the plaid remained still in a background layer.

The feelings of terror and dread that Sabrina felt while contemplating going toward the city returned with greater intensity. Not only that, but the already-cold surroundings dropped even further in temperature, nowhere near the liquid nitrogen levels when the unknown entity grabbed her shoulder, but certainly Antarctic at the very least. Yet despite this, she found that she did not–could not, in fact–shiver in response. Aside from the jackhammering of her heartbeat and worryingly faint breath, she couldn’t move at all. It was as if the air had become so cold that she had, in fact, literally frozen in place.

But the worst part? All of this was familiar. Like she had experienced it before. Not that long ago, even.

Sabrina now remembered who she was running from.

And she was in deep shit.

Slowly, the figure began to advance toward Sabrina, the plaid effect becoming even more apparent as they did so. They were not walking so much as leisurely floating in her direction. Considering they had been right behind her only moments before, it was clear that this was not their top speed. For that matter, they were literally grabbing her then, so why all this? Was this thing enjoying fucking with her?

“Who are you? What are you? What do you want with me?!” Sabrina tried to say these things, but it seemed her vocal cords were frozen along with the rest of her body, because the words didn’t come out.

Right, probably should have expected that.

Succumb…

Succumb? What were they talking about?

Surrender…to the mists…

They were much closer now, and soon they would be within arm's reach in spite of their glacial pace. As if in anticipation, they stretched out their right hand. However, instead of motioning to grab Sabrina, they held their hand out, as if inviting her to take it.

C'mon, move, goddamnit! Sabrina thought to herself, trying to will her limbs to move. As thoroughly fucked as she seemed, she had no intention of surrendering to the mists at the behest of bootleg Slenderman. Do not go gentle into that good night and all that.

Yet her body remained stubbornly immobile. This was not ideal.

Just give in…it will be easier…and your suffering will end…

"Blow me, fuckface!"

To Sabrina's surprise (and perhaps the figure's), she could hear and feel these words forcefully escape her mouth. Not only that, but she found that she could move her arms again, and she could feel her legs itching to bolt. Wasting no time feeling out her newly regained mobility, she turned around and sprinted.

Despite the sand shifting under her feet, she was able to put some distance between herself and the figure. She chanced a look back, and saw that the figure began floating toward her again, hand still outstretched, though they apparently didn't see the need to up their speed to match Sabrina's. Rather than dwell on how unsettling this was, she chose instead to focus on what to do next to take advantage of this head start. Perhaps she could just get far enough ahead to lose them, or she could find a safe place to hide, or–

Or she could trip.

This was not one of the options she had considered, but it was the one she ended up taking. As she was running, her foot caught on something, and she ended up falling on her face. Fortunately she was able to close her eyes, though she still ended up with a mouthful of sand. She pushed herself up quickly, irritation building upon her already considerable fear, anxiety, and stress at the current situation. What had the fucking audacity to trip her up at a time like this?!

Sabrina looked down at her feet and saw the answer: a stray piece of driftwood, sticking out of the sand proudly. She was convinced that it wasn't there before, but this wasn't the time to think about that. Instead, it was time for a new plan.

The flight portion of this encounter was over. Now it was time for the fight.

Spitting out sand, Sabrina drew herself up and grabbed the piece of driftwood, pulling it out of the sand. It was about forearm length, somewhat heavy, and, miraculously, very dry. Perfect size for swinging.

As she appraised the wood, she saw the figure draw closer, almost upon her thanks to her unscheduled stop. Knowing her luck, they were probably incorporeal, so a blunt instrument alone would probably not do much. So how could she augment this thing?

And then Sabrina remembered the lighter in her pocket. Sure, it failed to light before, but maybe it would work now? As slim of a chance as it was, it was better than none. She drew the lighter out of her pocket and tried to ignite it.

Come on, come on…she thought to herself, as the lighter continued to give her pathetic sparks. Then, after what felt like a hundred attempts and teetering on the verge of despair, there it was: a small flame, holding steady and illuminating its surroundings. For once, Sabrina felt triumphant. It was a tiny flame, but it would do nicely.

As the figure drew closer still, she took the flame to the end of the wood. Before long, the wood was glowing dimly at the tip, to Sabrina's delight. Sure, it wasn't exactly the roaring fire she might have hoped for, but the heat and light would still be enough to dispel the figure. Speaking of which, they managed to approach somewhat over arm's length, with more demotivational rhetoric:

Fighting is pointless…embrace your fate…

"Embrace this, you creepy asshole!" Sabrina shouted, and swung the lighted wood down upon them with full force.

The glowing tip, subdued as it was, seemed to do its job. The figure was bisected cleanly down the middle, and they began to dissipate, emitting a horrible psychic scream. All of the worst sounds Sabrina could think of put together paled in comparison to how awful the screaming was, but it didn't matter. To Sabrina, this was the sound of victory. She had gotten herself out of yet another scrape thanks to the miracle that was fire.

…is what she thought for all of five seconds.

As the figure dissipated, they seemed to be absorbed back into the mist, which began drawing in closer. Sabrina turned to run, but the mist was also drawing in from that direction, and, in fact, all directions. The wind had started up again, howling furiously and calling her name.

Sabrina…Sabrina…

Panic once again began to set in. Sabrina swung the wood around wildly, desperately trying in vain to keep the mist back, screaming in frustration and terror.

"Stay the fuck away from me!" she cried, her swings slowly becoming weaker. In response, the voice seemed only to grow louder.

Sabrinaaaa…SABRINAAAAA…

"LEAVE ME ALONE!" Tears had begun to flow from her eyes, blurring her vision as the mist had begun to embrace her. It was cold. So very cold…

SABRINAAAA!...SABRINAAAAAA!...

"Sabrina! Sabrina! Wake up!"

Sabrina felt someone shaking her shoulders. However, rather than an icy grip, they were warm, soft, gentle hands. Kite's hands.

Upon this realization, Sabrina’s eyes shot open. Her vision was blurry, and she could feel moisture on her cheeks. Still, she was able to take in the surroundings and realize where she was: not a dark, mist-filled beach, but the bedroom she shared with Kite, who was currently looking at her with a rather concerned expression on their face.

“Sabrina? Are you okay?” Kite asked. “Talk to me!” If their expression didn’t make it clear how worried they were, their voice certainly did.

While Sabrina struggled to form a response, she felt a sudden breeze, and she shivered in response. For a split second, it was as if she was back at the beach. Before she could scream, however, that notion passed, and instead she mumbled indistinctly.

“What was that?” Kite asked, this time in a gentler tone of voice.

“Cold,” Sabrina managed. She felt the breeze again, but it was much less harsh than the beach winds had been, and certainly nowhere near as cold as the mists or the figure’s grip. This was in spite of her dress shirt and pants having been replaced with the tank top and shorts that were her usual sleepwear. Gradually, she was coming back to reality.

“Oh! The fan!” Kite said. They jumped up from the bed, walked over to the running fan nearby, and turned it off. “Sorry, it was getting a bit stuffy in here.”

“‘S alright,” Sabrina murmured, rubbing her eyes and wiping away the tears that had accumulated on her face. “And I’m fine, by the way. Just had a bad dream, is all.”

“To say the least,” Kite said. “You were thrashing and yelling pretty loudly at the end there.”

“Oh, uh, sorry about that,” Sabrina said. “Didn’t mean to wake you with my bullshit.”

“Never mind that, darling, I’m more worried about your mental state.” Somehow this made Sabrina feel worse than if they were annoyed at being awakened.

“I told you I’m fine, okay? Just a nightmare. Nothing special. I have ‘em all the time, you know this.”

“You were screaming and crying and swinging your arms around for dear life, I’d hardly call that ‘nothing special.’” Kite said sternly, hands on their hips completing the stern teacher look (though Sabrina’s teachers never stood over her wearing a sparkly peach nightgown–at least not outside certain dreams…). “Now then…” They sat back down on the bed next to Sabrina, then gingerly rested their hand on top of hers. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Sabrina, not exactly eager to relive whatever that might have been, was fully prepared to end the discussion with a definitive “No.” Then she made one fatal mistake: looking up at Kite’s face. So kind, so sympathetic, so ready to listen, so earnest in their desire to help their fake wife.

Goddamnit.

“Well, if it’ll make you stop asking…”

She then recounted everything in the dream that she could recall, which was a surprisingly difficult task, because many of the details were fading rather quickly from her mind. Still, she was able to tell Kite about the most important things: the beach, the city in the distance, the figure, the mist, and, of course, how cold everything was. Kite listened patiently and didn’t interrupt her, only chiming in once Sabrina had finished.

“Holy shit, that sounds terrifying!” Kite exclaimed. “Alone and separated on a dark beach, surrounded by mist, with a creepy figure slowly chasing you? No wonder you were reacting so violently.”

“Yeah, I guess so,” Sabrina agreed absentmindedly. While she was still shaken by the dream, recounting it to Kite had helped her put distance from it, knowing that it was over. Suddenly, she was hit with inspiration. “Y’know, I still don’t remember who I was with before it all went down, but I think it might have been you, after all.”

“And what makes you say that?” Kite asked, a single eyebrow cocked in curiosity.

Without hesitation, Sabrina answered, “It’s because you always keep me warm.”

A surprised look crossed Kite’s face. Even in the moonlight Sabrina could tell that their face was flushing quickly and deeply. Soon she felt the heat rush to their own cheeks as she realized what she had just said. Damn, how was she so smooth at a time like this? She was honestly impressed with herself.

Just as quickly, though, a loving smile crept along Kite’s face. “Well, in that case, how about I warm you up after such a frigid ordeal?” they asked.

Sabrina returned their smile with a wide one of their own. “Hmm, I’d like that very much, actually.”

They laid back down on the bed, Kite drawing their arms protectively around Sabrina, who wrapped her own around their waist. Kite pressed Sabrina’s head close to their chest, and she eagerly leaned into it. As she drifted back to sleep, her last sensations were the feeling of Kite stroking her hair and the reassuring sound of their heartbeat.

It was good to be warm.

[grimbims]

So once upon a time I streamed for y'all and I know that they were fairly popular streams cause y'all liked my goofy stories and riffing.....so would you guys be interested in listening to a podcast with me in it instead??

[grimbims]

Kekkai sensen ED parody I probably won’t finish.

[grimbims]

Puking and shitting

[grimbims]

Okay, folks, it's finally here!

Do y'all remember Date Night? The fic of @nikkydash 's OCs Kite and Sabrina that I started like a bajillion years ago?

Well, I've finally completed chapter 2! I have no real reason why it took so long, my brain just hasn't been in the writing sort of mood as much as I'd like it to be. 😖

Anyway, here it is at long last!

Oh, and a huge special thanks to @grimbims for beta reading this chapter!

One more note: I'm giving this one a slight NSFW advisory. Nothing graphic or anything, this is just probably something that's not for kiddos.

Date Night

Chapter 2

An unmitigated disaster.

As desperate as they were to say otherwise, there really was no other way to describe it. This dinner had been a total clusterfuck.

Kite chanced a look at Sabrina, who seemed somewhat shellshocked. They were trying to figure out what they could say without bursting into tears. So far, nothing came to mind.

Instead, Kite could only quote David Byrne in their head: Well, how did we get here?

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

Once Sabrina had returned to work, Kite still had time to kill before their afternoon shoot, so they decided to call and make a reservation at La Bouillabaisse. It was their favorite restaurant, offering an elegant and fresh take on classic French seafood dishes. Featuring such favorites as moules farcies, sole meunière, salmon en papillote, and pain bagnat, the crown jewel was, naturally, their signature dish and namesake: bouillabaisse. Gustave, the owner and executive chef, had perfected his recipe to the point that captured its rustic heartiness while simultaneously seeming impossibly high class. It was a delightful experience all around, and Kite was eager to share it with Sabrina.

Of course, knowing Sabrina, she would probably prefer to tackle their lobster thermidor. This would be fine as far as Kite was concerned; they simply hoped she would enjoy herself.

After a few rings, they were greeted with a rapid, "Bonjour, La Bouillabaisse!" It was Etienne, the maitre d'. On the surface, there was nothing unusual about this. After all, it was the typical way one might reasonably expect the manager of a restaurant to answer the phone. One could hardly expect this to be the first of several (okay, many) red flags.

However, Kite had been going to La Bou for years, and they had become well acquainted with all the major staff, as well as a large proportion of the workers in the lower positions. As such, they knew that the restaurant's phone system had caller ID, since a large portion of the clientele were regulars. This meant that Etienne would have a personalized greeting for whoever called in, and he was particularly amicable with Kite. For him to answer in such a rushed, impersonal fashion was...disconcerting.

At least, it was in hindsight. At the moment, Kite didn't give it much thought. Between the excitement for the date night and everything that had happened in the past week, they didn't have much mental energy to dwell on such an irregularity. Instead, they simply said, "Bonjour, Etienne! It's been a while!"

They heard Etienne sputter briefly on the other end before replying, "Ah, Mx. Nye! Mes excuses, I did not realize it was you! Things have been a bit...hectic...lately."

“Hectic? Is everything all right?” Red-flag-in-hindsight number two. Even on the busiest days, Etienne maintained an impeccable calm and professional air. He would certainly never admit to the situation being hectic, especially unprompted.

As if suddenly realizing all this, Etienne quickly came back with, “Ah, worry not, Mx. Nye! I assure you, everything is under control! We have simply come under new ownership, that is all.”

“New ownership?” they asked, confused. Soon, the confusion gave way to dread as Kite assumed the worst: “Does this mean that Gustave…?” They didn’t finish the sentence, but the insinuation was clear.

“Oh, non! Non! Nothing like that! Chef is still alive and well, he just sold the restaurant to a couple of interested buyers.” Etienne went on to further explain the situation: After over 30 years in business, Gustave, having no children, relatives, or other interested parties to take over La Bou, had decided to close the restaurant and retire to his chateau in Nice. Catching wind of this, two brothers who were frequent customers offered to buy La Bou from him for a large sum, and he accepted.

Kite was taken aback by the news. Sure, they knew that Gustave had been getting on in years, and had heard about him fretting over the future of La Bou. Still, this was such a drastic change to have happened so quickly. They also wondered how they hadn’t heard about this sooner, considering that they were one of La Bou’s favorite guests, and plenty of people at the agency dined there, as well. Hell, they went there in the past month before the marriage happened, and they hadn’t heard even a hint of this happening. For Gustave to leave so suddenly without warning…those brothers must have offered him a lot of money, indeed.

Wait, two brothers? And they were regulars? For some reason, this nagged at Kite, but they couldn’t quite put their finger on it. They were not given long to dwell on these details, however, as Etienne continued, “Ah, but worry not! Even with the changes, we still offer the highest quality dining experience! Speaking of which, you are calling to make a reservation, non?”

This was enough to knock Kite out of their reverie as they were suddenly reminded of why they were calling in the first place. “Oh, yes!” they responded excitedly. “You see, my wife and I are having a date night, and I want to introduce her to my favorite restaurant!”

“Ah, so you have found love! Tres bien!”

“Indeed!” they exclaimed. Whether they actually had or not was something they could figure out later. “Anyway, Etienne, I was hoping for a table at the soonest opportunity.”

To their surprise, he blurted out, “We have one for tonight, if you like!”

Red flag number three.

Normally, reservations at La Bou had to be made at least a month in advance, and often it ended up being six weeks to two months. On a few occasions, Kite had managed to sweet-talk their way into making one as close as two weeks, but only because they were able to assure Etienne and Gustave that their guests were incredibly high rollers. To have a table open the same night was unheard of; even canceled reservations filled up quickly, since there was a considerable list of clients who would snap up such openings at a moment’s notice.

Incredibly, Kite managed not to be put off by this, either. “Oh, well, maybe not quite that soon,” they giggled. “We’ll need some time to prepare, after all! Perhaps some time next week?”

Etienne gave an embarrassed laugh of his own. “But of course! Forgive my haste and presumption, Mx. Nye!” Kite thought they heard him mutter something else under his breath: “Si nous sommes même ici la semaine prochaine…” They thought nothing of it.

Soon a reservation was made: next Thursday at 7:30. It was a day both Kite and Sabrina would have off, and they would both have time to get ready for it in the meantime. Satisfied with the arrangements, Kite hung up the phone and hummed as they made their way back to the shoot, blissfully unaware of what was to come.

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

The fateful night had arrived, and it had started out promising enough.

Sabrina left the apartment in the middle of the afternoon, saying that she had a few arrangements to make. She told Kite to be dressed and ready to go by 6:30. They weren’t quite sure what she was up to, but it was clear that she was excited about that night, and it was nice to see her so enthusiastic about it. Whatever she had in store, they looked forward to it.

They took the opportunity to pick out what they were going to wear. Normally, they might go with something a bit more casual when going to La Bou, or perhaps more formal depending on who they were entertaining. Since this was a special occasion, they wanted an outfit to match. After digging around through their extensive wardrobe, they settled upon the following: a seafoam green evening gown with horizontal straps and a slit in the left leg area; white arm-length gloves; a silver chain necklace with an emerald in the center, a blue sapphire on either side; and a pair of burgundy open-toed heels.

As Kite studied themself in the mirror, they heard a car horn honking outside. Now who could that be? they asked themself, already having a good idea of the answer. As the horn honked again, they were able to confirm that it was near the front of their apartment entrance. They made their way to the front door and stepped out, and they were delighted by the sight that greeted them.

Parked in front was a large black Rolls Royce with an impeccable shine, the late afternoon sun bouncing playfully off the front grille. Standing by the car, her hand on the horn, was none other than their newly minted wife. Sabrina had changed into a midnight blue suit with silver pinstripes, a white carnation corsage pinned to her left breast pocket, and she was wearing a fedora to match the suit. An actual fedora, not just a trilby. As she saw Kite exit out the front door, she shot them a finger gun and a wink, a rakish smirk on her face.

Kite took a moment to revel in the sight. By God, they had married this. They couldn’t help but swoon a little.

Sabrina walked up to Kite, pulling out another corsage that matched her own. “An evening of enchantment awaits, my dear,” she said, the faint pink in her cheeks somewhat betraying the smoothness of her voice. She pinned the corsage onto their dress, slowly ran her hand down their arm, took their hand in hers, and kissed it.

Kite blushed and giggled. “Oh, my!” they said, somewhat flustered. “You really know how to make an entrance, don’t you, darling?”

Sabrina laughed nervously as she explained, “Well, y’know, I figured if we’re gonna go to this fancy place, we could go in style.” She then looked at them expectantly. “It’s, uh, not too much, is it?”

Kite’s eyes surreptitiously darted between the Rolls Royce and their suited up wife for another look. It was old fashioned. It was just a bit corny. “It’s perfect,” they said softly, smiling. They then leaned in and kissed Sabrina on the cheek.

The faint pink in Sabrina’s cheeks turned into a deep red, and a dopey grin spread across her face. They both stood silently, savoring the moment: Sabrina clearly enjoying Kite’s response, and Kite amused by Sabrina’s reaction. Sabrina shook her head rapidly to snap herself out of it, then said, “Anyway, we’ve got some time to kill before dinner, wanna cruise around in this bad boy for a bit? Figure we can get more money’s worth out of the rental that way.”

Kite looked at her with mock indignation. “Why, Brina, are you telling me you didn’t buy a luxury car for the sole purpose of this date? Some sugar mama you are!”

“Pfft! If anyone’s the sugar mama here, it’s you, Mx. Fashion Model!”

“Mmm, true.” Considering Kite was the one paying for dinner, it was hard to argue with that.

“So, ready to go?”

“Sure, let me just go inside and get my purse.”

Just as they turned around to go back inside, Sabrina said, “Wait!” She then opened the driver’s side door and pulled out a bouquet of red roses, hidden by the tinted windows of the car, which she then handed to Kite. “For you!”

Kite laughed heartily. “Oh my! How lovely! You’re just full of surprises tonight, aren’t you?” They then turned around and went inside.

Since La Bou was normally only a fifteen minute drive from the apartment, there was plenty of time for a scenic route. Sabrina typed the address into the car’s GPS, but otherwise drove somewhat aimlessly, allowing for the both of them to take in the various sights of the city. Thankfully, traffic had proven to be relatively light that evening, so they were never stuck in any one place for too long. Neither of them exactly saw anything new, considering both of them had lived there for quite some time up to that point, but the glow that the setting sun cast upon everything highlighted its true potential for beauty. The fact that they were beholding it while driving around in a luxury car probably helped, too.

Speaking of the car, Kite had been chauffeured in various high-end vehicles throughout their career–Ferraris, Maseratis, BMWs, Cadillacs, any number of limousines–but they had to admit that riding around in a Rolls Royce was an experience all its own. They could definitely feel the immense power of the engine as the car moved along, yet the interior was nothing less than the definition of comfort, offering a smooth ride and perfect climate control. Sabrina had put on Frank Sinatra to fit the theme of her outfit, and the sound system was crisp and clear, making for an ideal accompaniment to the scenery and the ride. While Kite was quite happy with their own Lexus, this bad boy really did put Lexi to shame, and they would be somewhat sad when it had to be returned.

Kite took a moment to bask in everything, allowing it to fill them with warmth. If this was the way things kicked off, tonight was going to be amazing.

This was an impression that slowly began to fade as they pulled into the parking lot of La Bou, and the feeling faded faster as they drove around it.

The first thing that was apparent was the lack of cars. Sure, it was a weeknight, but Kite had come here plenty of times during the week, and it was invariably packed. For a brief moment they wondered if the place was closed for some reason. Then again, if that was the case, surely they would have received a call or text saying as much. Then again again, perhaps with the new ownership, such a thing wouldn’t happen.

No. Must remain optimistic. This was their date night with their wife, and they were going to have an enchanting time at their favorite restaurant.

Saying nothing about this unusual state, Kite directed Sabrina to pull up front to the valet podium. While the “open” sign was indeed lit, they were not encouraged by what else they saw. The topiaries, previously carefully trimmed and kept verdant, were now simultaneously overgrown and browned, unrecognizable as the animals they were supposed to be. Several of the lantern lights that dotted the pathway to the door were out, and the sign above the door had a few letters (namely the “illa” and the “e”) obscured by dinginess, with the remaining letters darkened considerably. Perhaps most worryingly yet, there was a sign on the valet podium, scrawled hastily in Sharpie on a piece of printer paper and held on at a perilous angle with a single strip of Scotch tape:

VALET UNAVAILABLE

PLEASE PARK YOUR OWN VEHICLE

WE APOLOGIZE FOR THE INCONVENIENCE

Based on the battered condition of the sign, it had been in place for a while, possibly slapped back on each time it inevitably fell to the ground.

“Huh,” Sabrina said, sounding somewhat nonplussed. “This is, uh, kinda different from what you told me about this place.”

Looking back, Kite had lost count of the number of red flags up to this point, and it was obvious that this moment was a missed opportunity to cut their losses and find somewhere else to have dinner. They could have explained that this wasn’t the La Bou they remembered, that there was no way this could be the pinnacle of elegance and sophistication that they had been enjoying for years.  Why, Gustave would have had an aneurysm if he saw the sign displaying the name of his precious restaurant in such a sorry state! And that valet bullshit! Ugh!

Sadly, 20/20 Hindsight Kite could not inform the actions of Past Kite, and Past Kite was determined to make the best of the situation. “Oh, they’re probably just still adjusting to the new ownership!” they said, feeling ever so slightly like a jackass. “Come on, let’s find a spot and go inside. I’m sure that’ll still be the same!”

They found a space close to the entrance and pulled in. As Sabrina opened the door, she gestured at Kite to stop them from doing the same. She got out, walked around, opened Kite’s door, and held out her hand. Kite graciously took it and stepped out. “Thank you!” they said. “You’re such a gentleman!”

“Babe, you know it,” Sabrina responded, trying her best to sound cool. “Shall we?”

Kite nodded, wrapping both their hands around her arm. As they made their way to the entrance, Kite still held on to the hope that this would be a good night. After all, they were with Sabrina at La Bou! So what if the exterior was a bit shabby? This was fine. Things would be fine! It was like they said before, the inside would still be the same!

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

The inside was not the same.

And once again, in hindsight, things were not fine.

If things were fine and the same, the two newlyweds would have stepped into a splendorous lobby, with pristine white marble floor tiling, deep red velvet curtains with gold trim on the dark brown wooden walls, beautifully bronzed cookware and fishing gear hanging artfully on said walls, and a podium in the style of a classical Greek column, on top of which the guestbook (actually a disguised iPad) rested. Standing at the podium would have been Etienne, sharply dressed with perfectly groomed dark curly hair, greeting them joyfully as they walked in, ready to lead them both to Kite’s favorite table.

What they found was the tiling scuffed and grayed in color, the curtains at slipshod angles and straight up detached in places, and the walls otherwise barren of the decorative utensils, with obvious holes gouged into the wood where they used to be. Also absent was the maitre d’, or anybody for that matter. In place of him was a bell placed next to the now-bare iPad with a simple sign written in the same hand as the one at the valet station: RING BELL FOR SERVICE.

Seeing that the state of the interior did, in fact, match that of the exterior, Kite’s misgivings only continued to grow. Remarkably, even this was not enough to dissuade them from going through with this whole thing. After all, it still wasn’t reflective of what the dining area would be like. Besides, the bell was nothing new, as there were certainly nights that Etienne wasn’t immediately available to greet guests. Never mind that the place didn’t seem nearly busy enough to warrant that. One could never be sure of what was going on behind the scenes, and there was no doubt a perfectly valid explanation.

Not daring to chance a look at Sabrina, who had been silent since they both entered, Kite went up and rang the bell. After about a minute, and hearing what they thought was muffled swearing, a man stepped out into the lobby. He was fairly tall, easily exceeding six feet, wearing a wrinkled black suit and tie, the cummerbund falling out of place. His head was bald save for a faint band of curly brown hair going around, and he had a strong square jaw. The look on his face made it painfully clear that, not only did he have no idea what the fuck he was doing, but that he also lacked the self-awareness to realize this fact.

Oh no.

Kite suddenly knew who bought the restaurant, and a pit of dread welled in their stomach.

“Welcome! Welcome!” said the man, his voice so loud he was practically shouting. Kite thought they could see Sabrina wincing out of the corner of their eye. “Kite! So good to see you again! I was wondering when the lovely Mx. Nye would grace our presence!”

Kite fought the urge to roll their eyes. At least this time he didn’t try to kiss their hand. Or misgender them. “Taylor? What are you doing here?” they asked, knowing full well what the answer was. “Where’s Etienne?”

“Yes! Well, you see, Etienne is…unavailable…tonight.” It was obvious that he was trying to hide something about that, but Kite didn’t feel like pressing him. “So instead, I will be your maitre d’ this evening! Won’t that be delightful?”

“Hmm, quite.” they answered, not a drop of enthusiasm in their voice. “In that case, could you show us to our table?”

“Of course! Just let me check your reservation here…Oh, you do have a reservation, yes?”

Kite nodded. “I made it with Etienne last week,” they confirmed. “Tonight at 7:30 pm.”

“Very good.” With that, Taylor began to fumble with the iPad, muttering to himself. This continued for what felt like an eternity as he tapped on the screen, mumbled grumpily, and tapped again while mumbling some more. Kite should have figured that it would be too much to expect him to know how to work technology. Finally, he gave up and said, “Ah, yes, well, it would appear there’s a bit of an issue with the system, so I can’t quite confirm your reservation and check in. But! We’re in luck, as there is seating available for you and…” He squinted closer at Sabrina, who seemed to squirm where she stood. “Ah! Taking your chauffeur to dinner! Truly you are a generous spirit!”

“Excuse me?” Sabrina growled, her fists clenching. “Listen, buddy–”

Kite hastily put a hand on her shoulder, interjecting, “This is my dear wife, Sabrina. We got married recently, and we’re here for a date night.”

Taylor took another look at Sabrina, the expression on his face suggesting something less than complimentary. “I see…In that case, a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mrs. Nye!” There was a distinct lack of pleasure in his voice, a far cry from the way he spoke to Kite.

“Likewise,” Sabrina managed through gritted teeth. Kite privately appreciated her restraint.

“Now, then, shall I show you to the dining room? Right this way!” He trudged along crudely into the interior of the building, as if trying to power walk through molasses, and Kite and Sabrina followed. They were led to a dining room that, amazingly, did not look all that different from what Kite remembered, at least at first glance.

The dark wooden walls continued in here, with lights shaped like old-fashioned lamps to give a warm, dim glow that stimulated the appetite. Also adorning the walls were various paintings depicting fishing and nautical scenes, keeping with the restaurant’s theme. The floor was upholstered in black, with red and green abstract patterns at regular intervals. The tables were spread apart at a comfortable distance, with alternating white and red silk tablecloths covering them. On each table was a large candle contained by a glass holder, lit on the tables that were occupied. Overlooking all of this was a set of large, ornate windows, with the metal bars in the shape of fleurs-de-lis, letting you know that yes, this was a French restaurant at the end of the day. All of this was tied together with soothing classical music played at a sensible level to further enhance the ambiance.

On closer inspection, however, this was not the dining room of dinners past. More than a few of the lamps had missing covers, leaving exposed flame-shaped bulbs. Where the paintings were once originals or high-quality reproductions in ornate frames, there were now cheap, mass-produced pictures with frugal, no-frills frames, save for one large picture frame that turned out to be a screen that cycled through an assortment of tacky paintings that were clearly badly artifacted jpegs. The tables, typically all filled with happy diners, or made up ready to receive them, sat mostly empty and in disarray, with a grand total of three of them currently occupied by guests. The windows, miraculously, remained unchanged, though Kite thought that this was likely due to them being welded into the architecture and thus unable to be removed. Even the music had an odd quality to it, sounding unusually tinny and mechanical.

Taylor led them to a table by the window. “Your server shall be along shortly to present you with the menu and wine list,” he said. “In the meantime, enjoy the view!” He then marched away to parts unknown.

Kite and Sabrina wordlessly took their seats across from each other, both mildly bemused by what just took place. Sabrina was the first to break the silence: “Okay, what the fuck was up with that guy? He’s so unprofessional! I’m surprised he hasn’t been fired by now!”

Kite shook their head, then said, “I’m afraid nobody’s going to fire him, darling. He’s the owner of the restaurant.”

Sabrina was taken aback. “U wot m8?”

“Well, one of them,” Kite explained. “You know how I told you about the change in ownership? And how La Bou was sold to two brothers? That’s Taylor Trane, son of Morton Trane, head of Trane Holdings and one of the financiers of my modeling agency. I imagine his brother, Miles, is around here somewhere, too.”

Sabrina snorted. “Rich kids, huh?”

“You could say that.” What Kite neglected to mention was that the two brothers were well known for how much business sense they had. Which was to say: none. Morton, as much of a big evil capitalist as he was, was a charming enough man with a sharp business sense who was able to amass and maintain a sizable fortune. Unfortunately, he did not pass this talent along to his sons. Taylor and Miles were infamous for playing with daddy’s money and thinking they were hot shit, but the truth was that they were complete imbeciles who ran most of their ventures into the ground. This included a vineyard, a hot air balloon rental service, a custom office supply company, a luxury soap store, a chimney sweep service, and three(!) casinos.

And now they owned Kite’s favorite restaurant. They hoped that the brothers at least had the presence of mind to keep the kitchen staff. Assuming, that is, that said staff weren’t driven off by their usual incompetence.

“Still,” Sabrina continued, “dunno what his problem is with me. The way he looked at me you’d think I killed his dog or something.”

Kite sighed. “It’s not you. Well, not you personally. I suppose I should mention that we were at the same party once, and ever since then he’s...kind of had a crush on me.”

At this Sabrina began to laugh uproariously. Kite felt slightly indignant. “What, pray tell, is so funny about that, Sabrina?” they asked crisply.

Sabrina, after panting and wiping a tear from her eye, replied, “Sorry, it’s just the fact that guy has the hots for you…oh, man! I’m starting to wonder if I’m not the only one who was saved from having to get together with a gross dude.”

“Hardly a comparable situation,” Kite sniffed. “As crude as he is, Taylor never tried to force me into dating or marrying him. Plus, he’s not a zombie. As far as I know.” Then again, considering his stilted gait and dimwitted demeanor, they did have to wonder.

Sabrina shrugged, “Whatever you say. To be honest, cucking a rich asshole kinda rules.”

“That’s not how cucking works. I’d have to be dating him, and we’d have to be having sex in front of him. Unless…oh, babe, I didn’t know you were into such things!” They playfully shoved Sabrina, whose face was an interesting mix of flustered, disgusted, and annoyed.

“Oh, God, I think I’d rather die,” Sabrina moaned uncomfortably. “Wait, I just had a worse thought: what if he was into it?”

They both stared at each other for a moment, then shuddered simultaneously. With that conversation effectively dead, and suddenly painfully aware of the other guests staring somewhat disapprovingly at their table, Kite wondered what was taking the server so long. After all, the place wasn’t exactly bustling that night. They just hoped it wouldn’t be Taylor again.

As Kite struggled to think of something else to talk about (from the look on her face, so was Sabrina), there was a sudden commotion from the back end where the kitchen was. There was muffled yelling, squeaking, and banging, clearly audible to anyone in the dining area. Shortly after the initial barrage of noises, the swinging door flung open, and flying out of it was a very distressed-looking bat. Following the hapless animal was a man in a suit, wielding a mangled push broom and shouting at the bat, “Out! Get out, you filthy thing!” He chased the bat all around the dining room, swinging the broom and, by some miracle, just barely missing any of the tables, light fixtures, or patrons who were watching the madness unfold. Finally, the bat made its way to the lobby, with the man in hot pursuit.

“Well that was certainly, uh, something,” Sabrina said as she turned back around to face her spouse, clearly struggling to hold back laughter. As she caught a glimpse of Kite’s face, however, the suppressed laughter seemed to evaporate, driven away by whatever expression she saw in it.

At this point, Kite finally admitted to themself that this dinner was going poorly, and they had not even received the menu yet. Even setting aside the other numerous red flags up to this point, once an agitated man in a suit chased a bat throughout the restaurant you were dining in (how the hell did a bat even get into the kitchen?!), there was no recovery from that. The sensible thing to do, as it was from the beginning, would be to cut their losses and maybe find somewhere else. Surely there were any number of local joints that would be good. Hell, even Red Lobster would probably be a step up at this point.

Yet in this instance, Kite was stubborn. As increasingly pissed off at the whole situation as they were becoming, a morbid curiosity overcame them. They wanted to see where this was going. In a way, they now just wanted to see how bad it could get.

After more commotion from the lobby, the man returned to the dining room. He wore a tan suit and blue tie in contrast to Taylor’s black, which appeared to be a bit neater than Taylor’s despite the bat situation. He was at least six inches shorter than Taylor, with a full head of short blond hair and more delicate features. Furthermore, whereas Taylor had a more crude look to him, this man had a more fussy expression on his face, though he looked almost as out of his depth. In spite of this contrast, the family resemblance was unmistakable: this was Miles, Taylor’s brother. Mercifully he had traded the broom for a tray with a couple of glasses of water and menus, which did not appear to be in much better shape than the broom was.

“Ah, Mx. Nye! So lovely to see you this evening!” he said, still somewhat out of breath from chasing the bat. “You must excuse us, our unexpected furry friend slipped into the kitchen through the service door. I assure you that this is an isolated incident!”

Kite was in no way assured that this was an isolated incident, and could only hope that any poor hapless creatures who ended up in here were able to make it out unharmed. They also offhandedly wondered when the last health inspection for this place was. To Miles they said, “Hello, Miles. I would certainly hope that’s the case. I take it you’ll be our server for the evening?” They supposed it was too much to expect for any actual waitstaff to be present.

“Ah, yes, that would be correct! See, we are in the middle of some, uh, restructuring, and as a result we’re a tad short staffed. But worry not! I shall be sure to meet any of your needs tonight!” He unceremoniously dropped a tattered menu each in front of Kite and Sabrina, as well as a yellowed, torn, and dog-eared piece of cardstock that turned out to be the wine list. He then set down each glass of water, after which he quickly took a handkerchief from his front pocket and wiped his hands, seeming to do so subconsciously. “I’ll give you two some time to decide on what you want.” He then made his way to one of the few other occupied tables on the other side of the dining room to tend to other guests.

“Other brother, I take it?” Sabrina asked as she picked up the menu in front of her and opened it. “Seems like kind of a tightass, if you ask me.”

“Now Brina, be nice,” Kite chided, though without any real conviction. They started looking absentmindedly through their own menu. “You aren’t wrong, though. He’s definitely more…tightly wound. But at least he’s a bit friendlier than Taylor is.”

“Well, he didn’t look like he wanted to murder me, so progress, I guess.” As she flipped through the pages of the menu, she remarked, “Hey, uh, looks like they’ve made some changes to the menu recently.”

“What do you mean?” This caused Kite to actually look at the entries in the menu, and soon understood: easily half of the items had been gone over with Wite Out. Many of the remaining items also had their prices whited out with new prices written in in the same clumsy handwriting as the signs at the valet station and in the lobby. At this point they were somewhat inured to such halfassery, given everything else they had seen. “Oh, yeah, I guess they have.”

“Oh fuck yeah, lobster thermidor!” Sabrina exclaimed as she came across the entry. Kite privately took satisfaction in knowing what she would gravitate toward. “Love me some sea bugs smothered in cheese.”

As Kite settled on what they were going to get (sole meunière), the music in the dining room was interrupted with what sounded like moans. Not just any moans, however: these were very clearly the moans of a woman in the middle of a rather vigorous bout of sex. All of the diners, as well as Miles, looked around to find the source of the noise, which did not take long. The picture frame that contained the screen, instead of displaying a slideshow of mediocre landscape jpegs, was now broadcasting a hentai video, where a woman was being vigorously thrust into and screaming in ecstasy.

Sabrina looked wide-eyed at the new show, not in shock or surprise, but what turned out to be recognition. “Oh, shit, is that Bible Black?”

“Now cluck like a chicken!” shouted the man in the video.

“What?!” the confused woman cried out.

“A chicken! Now!!”

This was followed by a stock chicken clucking sound bite. “Knew it,” Sabrina said, sounding satisfied.

Another yell rang out, this time the booming voice of Taylor from the back of the restaurant: “OH FOR GOD’S SAKE!!” This caused Miles to quickly run to the kitchen, and Kite to put their face in their hands and sigh irritably. All this would be so much funnier if it hadn’t been happening at the restaurant that they had known and loved for so long. This must have bothered them quite a bit because they couldn’t even delight in the fact that their new wife was apparently a connoisseur of anime porn.

Well, they wanted to see how bad it could get, and by God they were getting what they wanted.

After a solid minute of the impromptu show, the video was finally stopped. Almost everyone in the dining room was silent, with nobody quite sure how to react save for Sabrina, who was laughing uproariously with tears streaming down her face. At least one of us is having a good time, Kite thought. Miles scrambled back out to the dining room, once again out of breath. That man really needed to work on his cardiovascular endurance.

“Our sincerest apologies, everyone!” he announced loudly to the maybe eight patrons. “Just a few technical difficulties! Must have been…a hacker! Yes! Some mischievous computer hacker messing about! Everything is back under control now, I assure you!”

Miles made his way to Kite and Sabrina’s table, pulling out a notepad. “Well, with that unpleasantness out of the way, shall I take your order?”

“Hey, I love dinner and a show,” Sabrina piped up. “Granted, the show is usually after the dinner, but I’m not too picky.”

Miles’ lips pursed tightly, looking somewhat annoyed. To his credit, he managed to regain his composure rather quickly, and said to Sabrina, “Hah, yes quite. What would you like, Mrs. Nye?”

A brief flash of panic crossed Kite’s mind. They hadn’t quite figured out who would take whose last name, and weren’t sure how Sabrina would react to being called Mrs. Nye. To their relief, she seemed to take it in stride, and told Miles, “I think I’ll have the lobster thermidor.”

“Ah, an excellent choice!...is what I would normally say, but unfortunately we are out of the ingredients to make that dish at this time.”

A look of mild disappointment crossed Sabrina’s face. “Oh, uh, okay, then how about you order, Kite? I’ll take a moment to find something else.”

“Sure, darling,” Kite said. “In that case, I would like the sole meunière.”

Miles sucked air through his teeth and said, “My apologies, but we are unable to make that, either.”

Hm. So this was going to be a whole thing, then.

This was followed by an extended bout of Kite and Sabrina alternating their attempts to order various dishes, only to be told by Miles that they were out or unable to make said dishes, with Kite’s frustration growing with each dish listed. Finally, in exasperation, Kite said, “Well how about the bouillabaisse for two, then? Surely you can manage the signature dish that’s this restaurant’s namesake?” They tried to keep their annoyance and sarcasm out of their voice, but they were sure they didn’t do a good job of it.

Luckily, Miles didn’t appear to catch onto it, and was even visibly relieved at Kite’s suggestion. “Oh, excellent choice! Might I recommend a bottle of ‘97 sauvignon blanc to go with it?”

The newlywed couple agreed, and Miles took their menus, promising to bring out their salads and some bread shortly. To his credit, the wait was, indeed, fairly short, as not even five minutes later he was back out, balancing a sliced baguette and two bowls of salad precariously on a tray. Considering how this night had been going so far, not to mention how painfully obvious it was that Miles was unused to anything remotely resembling manual labor, Kite thought it was a minor miracle that he didn’t end up dropping the whole thing over their heads. Instead, he managed to set everything down in front of them intact, if a bit clumsily, promising to return in time with the main course.

As someone who had been coming to La Bou semi-regularly for years, Kite was quite familiar with their bread and green salad. The bread was made fresh in-house, and Esperanza, the sous chef, had even brought them to the back of the house one time to introduce them to the starter used for every loaf (her name was Tilly). Esperanza had explained that any restaurant, from the humblest greasy spoon to the modest brasserie to the highest of upper crust establishments, lived and died by the quality of its bread, and by that metric La Bou had definitely thrived. It was invariably served warm, the crust at a perfect level of crisp that contrasted nicely with the wonderfully chewy yet soft interior, ideal for sopping up broths and sauces. That said, the bread had a flavor that stood on its own, infused with Tilly’s marvelously complex essence, made even better with creamery fresh European style butter. One could have a satisfying meal with just one of these baguettes, which Kite may or may not have done on certain stressful nights where they couldn’t be arsed to put more effort into dinner.

Meanwhile, the salad, while not afforded the glamor of its gluten-laden counterpart, nevertheless stood on its own as a refreshing starter for meals that whetted one’s appetite for things to come. It was an eclectic mix of leafy greens, ranging from the standard workhorse Romaine lettuce to tender baby spinach to peppery arugula, with the addition of various in-season vegetables, all tossed in a special house vinaigrette that Kite had spent an inordinate amount of time trying to figure out the components of (and perhaps attempting to sweet talk the recipe out of Gustave, who gently but steadfastly refused every time they asked).

It was quite a shock, then–nay, a personal attack–when Kite got a good look at what that nebbish nonce had dared to plop in front of them.

Where the salad had previously been a complex selection of different greens spanning the breadth of the leafy experience, in each bowl there was now only a sad pile of wilted, mostly brown iceberg lettuce shreds obviously meant for sandwiches. Punctuating each mound was a single anemic cherry tomato that whoever had the audacity to work the garde manger hadn’t even bothered to cut up, somehow making it worse than if it was just the lettuce. Served on the side of these so-called salads were sealed plastic cups of Sysco ranch dressing, completing the public school lunch aesthetic. Motherfuckers couldn’t even be bothered to spring for Hidden Valley. Kite was furious.

And then there was the bread.

Dear god, the bread.

Lying in front of the hapless diners was not the transcendent loaf of better times, but something altogether inferior in every way. The slices, rather than being expertly cut in uniform pieces on the bias, were all of different shapes and sizes, almost looking like they were crudely torn off the loaf rather than sliced. Instead of radiating warmth and exuding a seductive aroma, the bread was firmly room temperature, and had the chemical odor of a mass produced loaf. To confirm this, the bread was laying on top of part of a paper sleeve with branding from the local discount supermarket chain. Sabrina bravely picked up a slice and gave it a squeeze, and to her confusion (and Kite’s mounting horror and anger), the bread did not yield at all. Accompanying this horrendous showing, unsurprisingly, were small, individually wrapped blocks of cold butter, replacing the soft creamery fresh offering of yore.

Tilly, what happened to you? Kite wondered to themself. For a split second, they were overcome with grief at the loss of an old friend, which quickly gave way to an ever growing sense of rage. They could forgive, overlook, and dismiss quite a bit, but this? Oh, this was the last fucking straw.

“Hey, uh, Kite? You okay?”

This simple question managed to cut through Kite’s fury just enough for them to see that they were gripping the tablecloth in their shaking hands. They looked up a bit, and they saw Sabrina looking at them, concern on her face. It occurred to them that, though she may have seen them in the heat of battle slinging magic like nobody’s business, as well as in the throes of passion during sex, she had never actually seen them mad before. Kite had seen her mad plenty of times, of course, but to their recollection it had never happened the other way around.

Well, there was a first time for everything, right? For better or for worse and all that.

While the sight of their worried wife’s face was not enough to dispel the anger, it did give them the clarity needed to respond. Slowly, they released the tablecloth, breathed a deep sigh, then answered, “Yes, darling, I’m fine. I think I need to have a word with the new management, though.”

As they got ready to get out of their chair, said new management happened to be making their way to the table. Taylor was leading the way, carrying a tray with a large tureen in an awful blue and green floral pattern that evoked 70s home furniture, along with two large, shallow white bowls. Miles was close behind him, delicately cradling a bottle of wine as if it was a newborn baby. Well, at least Kite didn’t have to go looking for them. So far, this visit to La Bou had easily been the worst experience they had had so far, and the fact that this was Sabrina’s first impression of it made it that much worse. They intended to properly lay into the brothers for their shoddy attempts at running a luxury restaurant.

As fate would have it, however, the worst had yet to come.

To be honest, Kite had no idea how it had even happened. The carpeting, as worn and torn as it was, still remained decently flat. There was also a clear path to their table, free of any other tables or chairs, and Taylor, to his tiniest modicum of credit, was following it dutifully. It was the simplest task, really, one that should have been easy enough to carry out without screwing it up.

Yet somehow, some way, that ostentatious oaf had managed to find the exact miniscule spot on the carpet that was raised just a bit higher than the rest of its surroundings. Or perhaps he was simply dragging his feet in just the right (wrong?) way. Hell, maybe some assholish trickster deity was passing through and saw an opportunity that was too good to pass up. In the moment, and even looking back, the way it had happened was inconsequential.

What mattered is that, having come almost right up to the table, Taylor tripped. Somehow, he had enough reflexes to prevent himself from falling over. What he did not possess, however, was the ability to prevent the momentum of his almost-fall from carrying over to the full tureen that he was no longer carrying. That had continued its journey onto the table, and it landed in an overturned position. As such, the lid atop of it had fallen to the floor, and as a result, the contents of the tureen spilled, a bit on Kite, some on the table, but the brunt of it had landed on Sabrina, and she was now covered nearly head to toe in bouillabaisse.

All this must have happened in the span of no more than twenty seconds, yet to Kite it seemed to take place over the course of an hour, as they watched in horror while the chain of events unfolded. A million horrific scenarios ran through their head as they considered the implications of their wife being covered in hot seafood stew. Would she be burned? Would they have to call an ambulance? Could they remember enough healing magic to help her should an ambulance not be fast enough? Oh god.

Thankfully, in one small bit of mercy, that turned out to not be an issue. While Sabrina’s face did take on a shocked expression, it was not from pain, but from the sheer unexpected nature of what just happened. She looked down at her now-drenched suit, and the shock quickly gave way to anger. She turned to Taylor, then shouted, “What the FUCK, dude!”

The brothers at least possessed the decency to look horrified at what had just happened. "Oh, my lord! Mrs. Nye, I'm so terribly sorry!" Taylor sputtered out. He hastily set down the serving tray, then took out a handkerchief from his breast pocket and motioned toward Sabrina, apparently attempting to wipe off the mess. Kite supposed they couldn't fault him for having good intentions, but he may as well have tried to fix a sinking ship with a band aid, for all the good that would have done.

Sabrina smacked his hand away, perhaps out of anger, perhaps realizing the absurdity of him being able to do anything about the mess with a handkerchief. "You better be, asshole! This suit was a rental!" She then smacked her lips, some of the bouillabaisse having landed on her face. "Wait a sec, is this…tomato soup?!"

The brothers exchanged shifty eyed looks, struggling to respond to this accusation. After a moment, Taylor began, "Why, Mrs. Nye, whatever do you mean?" His condescending tone struck Kite as especially galling, so they could only imagine how Sabrina felt. "This is the signature dish of our esteemed–"

"I know what bouillabaisse is, dipshit!" Sabrina interjected. "I probably know more about it than you ever will! This is Campbell's tomato soup that you just threw some clams and fish into! And it's barely even above room temperature! What the fuck kind of hack cooks do you have working back there?!"

"That's my wife you're talking about!" Miles sniffed haughtily. "Ever since the kitchen staff quit, my darling Mary has stepped up to do the best she can!"

"Shut up, you idiot!" Taylor bellowed at Miles, who pulled back the bottle of wine as if to protect it from his brother. "You don't need to go spilling the details about our staffing issues! Especially not to this–!" He then clapped his hand to his mouth, preventing himself from finishing this thought.

A jagged, toothy grin spread across Sabrina's face. Kite knew that look. Her anger had now progressed to the point where she was savoring it, and she was undoubtedly also thinking of how she was going to fuck up these morons. "Go on, Taylor," she said with a tranquil fury one could almost mistake for calm. "Finish that thought. This what? What am I?"

Taylor slowly lowered his hand from his mouth, then stammered, "Well–I mean–that is…what I meant to say was…"

"No, no. I want to hear it." Sabrina continued, her grin widening. "What am I? What do you really think of me? Say it!"

Taylor's face reddened in frustration as he was invited to stop holding back. Only a fool would have accepted such an invitation, but there was certainly no shortage of those in the world, and Taylor Trane was truly a fool among fools. "A crude, low-class, crossdressing shrew who has no business being married to Kite!"

Kite felt their blood boil at the disrespect that this fucking imbecile was showing their wife. However, they found themself unable to respond in any way. They also noticed that Sabrina's face darkened for a split second before she, to their surprise, broke out in near-hysterical laughter.

"Seriously, man? That's the best you could come up with? Some old timey blue blood bullshit? I'm kinda disappointed. Besides…" She removed her hat, flicked her hair with a soup-covered hand, put the hat back on, then continued, "Even covered in the saddest attempt at Manhattan clam chowder I've ever seen, I still rock a suit better than your Neanderthal ass ever could!"

Even in their haze of rage resulting from how this night had gone, Kite couldn't help but note how right Sabrina was about that last point. She did look damn good in a suit.

At this point Taylor seemed truly apoplectic, not that he had any right to be, and Miles was a strange mix of anger and fear: clearly mad about Sabrina's further insults of his wife's cooking skills while terrified of how aggro both Sabrina and his brother were. As if straining to form words, Taylor shot back, "Listen here, you thug, I don't know how some two bit gangster wannabe like you landed an absolute bombshell like Kite, but I'll bet it was under shady circumstances! Mark my words, I'll find out what you did and have you put away for a long time! Then I can help Kite with the divorce proceedings so that they never have to see you again! Then I'll–"

"ENOUGH!!"

A shockwave of force rang throughout the dining room, abruptly silencing the shouting match. Everyone in the room turned their heads toward the source: Kite, who had leapt up from their chair, arms held out from their sides with fists clenched, panting heavily with a look of what could only be described as pure livid hatred on their face. Sabrina seemed somewhat surprised by this outburst, while Taylor appeared to slowly realize that he may have finally gone too far, and Miles straight up looked like he may have pissed his pants in fear. Ignoring all this, Kite unleashed all the frustration and anger that had been building up throughout the evening:

"You know, I was willing to put up with a lot tonight. Maybe that was on me, since I knew someone else had bought the place, but I thought, hey! It didn't have to be that hard! You still had the previous staff! Surely the likes of Etienne and Esperanza could help keep things running smoothly, right? Certainly this would still be the La Bou I knew and loved! I should have known something was up when I called Etienne last week.

"So I roll up here tonight with my wife, who went so far as to dress up and rent a Rolls Royce to make this night more special, and what do I find? A run down shithouse that's a shadow of its former glory! Run by two incompetent fuckwits who are so bad at business that they make Donald Trump look like an entrepreneurial genius!"

Taylor, demonstrating that he was still slow to learn, stammered, "I-I am so terribly sorry for–"

"Shut the fuck up, you goddamn clod!" Kite cut in. "I'm not finished. Anyway, you two managed to drive away any employees who knew what they were doing, let the place fall into disrepair, cut so many corners that it might as well be a fucking circle, and turn it from a place that required a reservation months in advance to one that struggles to seat four tables on a given night. In short, you ruined my favorite restaurant. You took a place that I have been going to and enjoying for years and run it into the ground because you're too stupid and coddled by daddy's riches to realize that everything you touch hemorrhages money and dies miserably.

"And you know what? I could let all that go. I could walk away sad, disappointed, and frustrated that my beloved La Bou was killed by the engine of late stage capitalism. Because that shit just happens, right? Life sucks, and that's the world we live in.

“But then you had to come after my newlywed wife. It was bad enough for you to insult her and look down your nose at her, but to suggest she's somehow coercing me in all this? To threaten to put her in prison so you can swoop in and 'rescue' me? You don't know us! You don't know what we've shared and been through! And you most definitely don't seem to know that you never had, and never will have, a chance with me! So why don't you do us both a favor and just! Fuck! OFF!"

As they punctuated these last words, Kite unconsciously sent out another wave of magical force, as if for emphasis. However, where the previous wave was met with dumbfounded silence by everyone in the dining room, this one was greeted by a distressed yelp. All eyes turned toward the source, which turned out to be a woman with a large nest of gray hair several tables away. Said hair was currently on fire, with the woman frantically patting at it while her dining companion attempted to smother it with a napkin, which only managed to catch the napkin on fire. He dropped the napkin, which in turn ignited the tablecloth. While they had managed to put out the woman’s hair, the flames spread through the tablecloth with terrifying rapidity, and it wasn’t long before it reached the floor.

“Oh dear God!” Taylor bellowed. “Miles! Get a fire extinguisher!”

Without a word, Miles rushed out of the dining room, and before long he returned, the bottle of wine having been replaced with a fire extinguisher of similar size. “This is the only one I could find!” he said.

“What do you mean?!” Taylor cried. “What about the big kitchen one?!”

“That one hasn’t been recharged since the flambé incident from three weeks ago!”

“Oh for God’s sake! Just put the damn fire out!”

Miles got into position in front of the dumbstruck onlookers. “Stand back everyone!” he shouted authoritatively. He then took aim with the hose, squeezed the trigger…and nothing came out save for a feeble gasp of lingering carbon dioxide. Frantically he kept squeezing the trigger in a vain attempt to unleash the contents of the canister that were clearly no longer present. “Heh. Well. I guess this one didn’t get recharged, either.” He then smacked his forehead. “Now I remember! The grease fire from last week! Silly me!”

“‘Silly you?!’” Taylor yelled incredulously. “You fucking imbecile! This isn’t a ‘silly me’ moment, this is fire safety!”

“Well, don’t look at me! It was your turn this time!”

As it became clear that the bickering brothers had no response to the ever-growing fire that had spread throughout the dining room, all of the diners scrambled for the exit, which may have resulted in a more disastrous stampede situation had there been more than a grand total of six people. Taylor and Miles, having observed their meager selection of customers making a break for it, quickly followed suit, continuing to argue about fire extinguishers along the way.

While all this had happened, Kite could only watch dumbly as their rage at the situation quickly gave way to horror at what they had done. Had they had a clearer head, it would have been a cinch to conjure up a spell to put the fire out well before it could be a real issue. As it was, they couldn’t help but passively watch the events unfold from their unintentional act of arson. It took a combination of the fire alarms going off and Sabrina vigorously shaking their shoulder before they snapped out of their paralysis.

“Kite! Kite! KITE!” Sabrina yelled, increasingly desperate. “C’mon, we gotta get out of here!”

Kite nodded wordlessly, then allowed Sabrina to lead them out of the burning building.

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

Oh. Right. That’s how they got here, standing dumbfounded outside the charred remains of what used to be a fancy restaurant. Years of memories and good times, turned to ash in an instant by Kite's own hand, albeit unintentionally. Then again, those good times were already destroyed by the negligent incompetence of Taylor and Miles Trane, who were currently dealing with the fire marshal and insurance reps. Not going well, either, judging by the waving of hands and other dramatic gestures.

Yet as upsetting as the loss of La Bou undoubtedly was, Kite found that they couldn't muster the energy to lament it. They didn't trust themself to feel anything right now. Not if they wanted to hold it together.

Instead they focused on Sabrina, wondering what could possibly be going through her head. Wondering if she was thinking about how they had royally fucked over this date night that she had been so excited about. She had pulled out all the stops to make it special, and this is how they repaid her efforts?

After seemingly eons of staring at her (they were staring, they finally realized), Sabrina turned her head around to face them. "Well, at least this time I didn't start the fire," she said quietly, following with a halfhearted chuckle.

And that was it. That's all it took for the dam to break.

Before they knew what was happening, Kite broke out into loud, ugly sobs. Sabrina, obviously alarmed by this, hastily added, “Hey, now, I was just making a joke! I didn’t mean to–”

“Sabrina, I’m so sorry!” Kite wailed. Sabrina looked taken aback, clearly not expecting an apology. “I didn’t mean for all this to happen! I knew things were going to shit, and we should’ve just left when we had the chance, and now look! I ruined our date night because I was too stupid and stubborn to cut my losses!”

As Kite gasped for air between sobs, they felt a pair of hands grab their own. They looked up, and through eyes blurry with tears they could make out Sabrina’s face looking at them, a gentle smile on her face.

“Hey, hey, breathe.” she said soothingly. Dutifully Kite did what they were told, taking long, deep breaths in unison with Sabrina’s. With this, they managed to stop crying and calm down. As bad as they still felt for what had taken place, they were grateful that she only seemed concerned with making sure they were okay. “Better?”

Kite nodded, then croaked out a “yes.”

“Good.” Sabrina gave Kite’s hand a reassuring stroke with her thumb. “Listen, Kite, you didn’t ruin anything, okay?” She jerked her head toward the Trane brothers. “If anything, it’s on those fuckin’ bozos who ran this place into the ground. Which I guess they did literally, now that I think about it…”

Kite laughed weakly, then sniffed, “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

“Besides,” Sabrina continued, “I’ve had worse dates, believe it or not, especially before I came out.”

At this Kite laughed more enthusiastically. “Wait, seriously? Did those involve burning down buildings, too?”

Sabrina gave Kite a serious look. “I plead the fifth.” She let go of Kite’s hands, then jerked her thumb in the direction of the parking lot. “Anyway, wanna get outta here? I could think of at least several places I’d rather hang out than here.”

“Agreed.” Kite said. “But don’t we need to stick around to talk to the fire marshal?”

“Psh, it’s not like this is the first time I’ve bounced from the scene of a fire before the authorities got to me. Besides, considering our dear friend Taylor got a good look at what you’re capable of, I doubt he’ll be coming after you again anytime soon.”

“I hope you’re right.”

“I am right! Worked on those zombie mobsters, didn’t it?”

“Mm, true.”

Sabrina stretched her arms and cracked her neck, after which she took out her phone to check the time. “Well, the night’s still young. Any other place you’d like to go? We didn’t exactly get to eat anything here, not that we were missing out.”

“To tell the truth, I’m not feeling all that hungry at the moment. Oh!” Suddenly Kite remembered the plans for the other part of the date night. “Can we still go out for minigolf? You said you wanted to take me to your favorite childhood place.”

Sabrina’s face lit up at the suggestion. “Oh, yeah!” she exclaimed. “I was gonna do that, huh? Well, let’s do it! Should be a nice way to unwind after all…this. But, uh, could we go home and get changed first? My suit’s all drenched with shitty soup.”

“A good idea,” Kite affirmed. “My makeup must be an awful mess from my crying jag just now.”

“I mean, I wasn’t gonna say anything…” Sabrina teased, which earned her a playful jab in the arm from Kite. “Hey, don’t worry, you’re still hot!”

Kite’s face flushed faintly at this. “So are you, darling. You were right, you wear a suit way better than he ever could.” They kissed her on the cheek, making sure to go for the one not coated in soup. This time it was Sabrina’s turn for her face to flush, which was apparent even with said coating of soup, or at least Kite liked to think so.

Sabrina cleared her throat, then proclaimed, “All right! Let’s go! To minigolf!”

The two enjoyed a quiet ride home. Thankfully, the backside of Sabrina’s suit was untouched by the “bouillabaisse,” so she could sit comfortably without worrying about making a mess in the Rolls Royce’s interior. Kite expressed mock disappointment that they wouldn’t get to see her drive home in her underwear, earning another furious blush for their efforts. It was nice to be in a good mood again, and they caught the smallest grin from Sabrina despite her flustered state, which suggested her relief at that, as well.

Well, dinner may have been a bust, but that wasn’t anything a nice, fun game of miniature golf couldn’t fix. After all, it’s not like anything catastrophic would likely happen at such a place after that fiasco.

Right?

[grimbims]

Good stuff right here. Fantastic work as always!

I offer you some Boscha

If she had a redemption arc- She NEEDS her redemption arc!

I love her so much I just need to see her get redeemed.

I like to give characters like her second chances and a time to have a redemption arc. Except belos- he's a bloody f--cking w--ker.

You give British a bad name!

Time for a horrible explanation- people might come after me on this but- YOLO?

But anyways- I feel like people are being a little- harsh on Boscha?

Like- I see people sorta being a little overboard on the boschlow ship.

I get that Boscha was a HUGE asshole. Which is true. But I know alot of people are expecting her to be redeemed- in other words, a second chance.

Do I ship Boscha and willow?

Mmmm- more or less?

I hate that Boscha acts like a real b-tch. It just throws me off.

But I just know that she's probably going through some stuff- like Amity for example.

Do I agree that she bullies people for it? Of course not, but I know that Boscha has some sort of- reason for it.

I like the ship but In a way where it isn't toxic and I know every other person who ship it agree.

This one person in particular said that it's a good way of showing forgiveness.

I see people saying ` it's a toxic ship, Boscha bullied willow for years. ` .

It's true, but for me, I think we should give her a second chance- that's all.

I wanna make it clear that I completely disagree with Boscha acting like the way she is.

I like her in a way where she changed, she's put her past behind and she's all good.

PLEASE- DO NOT COME AFTER ME- IM JUST SAYING SHE NEEDS TO BE REDEEMED!

I'm scared for my life.

Extra:

I know it isn't pride month a anymore but- for me it's everyday.

[grimbims]

This is so cute omg. The gift exchange stuff was a lot of fun to do.

Remember that Secret Summerween gift exchange I was part of? Well, mine arrived and

HOLY FUCKING SHIT?!?!

Huge and many thanks to @today-i-am-tumbling for these amazing keychains and pieces of art! I'm blown away! 😭

(Don't ask about the beans, it's a long story)

(@nikkydash thought this might interest you)

[grimbims]

Yeeeeeeeeeesssss 😩 I gotta draw them again some time their designs are so good

SABRINAAAAAA!!!!!!!

[grimbims]

Precious

Steve!

I love him! He's my son!

Yes he's gay shut up.

[grimbims]

Humans, please be sure your witch partner's tail isn't in the way before sitting down.

[grimbims]

Cute

Amelia enjoying attention from her girlfriend

[grimbims]

Quality content 🥹

willow: put ur hand on the wall

boscha: i have tiktok willow i know what this is

willow: no u dont. do it

boscha: okay. now what?

willow: now put ur other hand on the wall

boscha: ???????? okay???

willow: *grabs her from the front*

boscha: uh??

willow:

Y E E T

*distant sounds of glass shattering*

[grimbims]

I think she's neat!

Yes I gave her shark teeth

I love shark teeth Boscha!

Yes she's trans

Yes she's lesbian

Shut up and let them be

YES I HEADCANNON HER WITH ALL PRONOUNS

Literally fight me

[grimbims]

Aaaaaw look at hooty go 🥺

Pride hooty

You deserve all happiness

Just imagine hooty singin'

Be who you AAAAaaaAaAaaAarrreee~

For your PRIiiiIIIIIIIiIIIIIIIddee~

Don't HiiiIIIIIiiiIIiDe~

[grimbims]

Damn it a good pride (edit: pride not price stupid autocorrect)

bi pride beta luz

[grimbims]

Happy Pride!!

Here I am with a new icon for the month before dissapearing again.