#I refuse to have another unfinished animation especially since I’ve gotten this far

[celeryguy]

Putting the scrimblos in situations

(animating one of my favorite parts from the jelloapocalypse stream)

[bards-witcher]

Perdita - Chapter 4

So I’ve changed up the layout of the chapters just a little, so they may be a little different from the first time around in an effort to clean things up a bit.

As always I hope you enjoy and let me know what you think?

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It’s hours later and he’s still on the roof, the fire having been put out by emergency services long ago as he now lay on his back to stare up at the stars, barely able to make them out due to pollution of the city on the night’s sky.

At this moment he yearned to go to the countryside, to the small clearing through a forest which he and Luke used to camp at to take themselves away from the stresses of daily life, to just take a deep breath and enjoy what little time they had with the other.

He liked to think that Luke was up there now, up in amidst the stars he loved so much watching over him, however, the thought was quick to sour in his mind, Luke would hate who he’d become and especially what he’d done under G’s ruling, not that he’d had much control over it.

Giving the sky a final look, he stood up, grabbing his bag before he slowly made his way down the fire escape, ever mindful of the growing pain in his ribs as he landed lightly on his feet in the now dark alleyway, taking a moment to orientate himself before he made a move to leave.

However, he’d only made it a couple of steps before the feeling of eyes on him had him stilling and pulling the knife he’d stashed in his belt, once again trying to reason that it was simply paranoia, but he had two gangs looking for him after all and having been in this line of work for so long, he knew when to trust his gut. 

The sound of a loud crash of metal near the road had his hand tightening around the knife in his jacket pocket and like lightning turned towards the sound only to make out a flash of blue dart around the corner of the building.

He ran out of the alley then, his knife brandished as he followed the flash of color before he quickly got into a defensive pose as he expected a fight, only he saw nothing, almost as if his mind had conjured the whole thing and nothing had happened as he looked down the long empty stretch of road.

The quiet of the street was eerie and did little to put him at ease, he stayed there for a moment longer before putting the knife back in his pocket, his hand never leaving its hilt as he began to walk through the dimly lit street for a place to sleep for the night.

**********

He thought it would take a lot longer to readjust to homelessness, it having been almost two decades since he was last on the streets, but strangely, it was like riding a bicycle.

As much as he wanted to, he knew skipping town wasn’t an option he could afford, it would be almost too easy for either gang to chase him down like a wild animal and kill him, besides, he had unfinished business here.

Due to his broken ribs, he had been forced to lay low for the first few weeks, never staying in one part of the city too long and rarely frequenting the same place twice, trying to move only under the cover of darkness to make hiding from prying eyes just that bit easier.

However, during the day he was still constantly on the move, stopping only to sleep for a couple of hours at a time before moving on to a new area to rest for another few hours. It was tedious and tiring but given that he’d had no sign of G’s gang or of his old friends in the last few weeks it must have meant that it was working until it didn’t that is.

It was his fifth week out on the streets and he was currently headed to the ‘local’ jaunt under a long-abandoned underpass where most of those who were homeless came to rest at night, he only came here once a week tops, mainly to gather any new info on what was going on in the town, being the bottom of the food chain, these people normally saw and heard things which the normal person wouldn’t pay much mind to but was worth its weight in gold to him.

As soon as he got there he wasted no time to slowly make his way to one of the fire pits to speak with Carl, an older man ranging in his 60’s who was the unspoken leader of the people here, and had somehow taken him under his wing, however, as he got closer, he saw the man talking to two guys which he quickly recognized to be two of G’s men.

They weren’t much more than henchmen, simply sent around to do the nitty-gritty tasks no one else wanted, but despite their slender bodies, he knew just how aggressive and dangerous the pair were, having been out on jobs with them many times in the past.

He stuck to the shadows as he edged closer to the group in an effort to make out what they were saying, watching as they held up a picture of him for Carl and the couple of other people around him to look at and identify.

For a moment he felt a spike of panic travel through him at the thought of being sold out, he hadn’t known these people for long after all and they owed him nothing, but relief was quick to take over as he saw the older man deny all knowledge of him and he was never more grateful for a group of people at the fact, briefly noting he’d have to come back and express his gratitude towards them when his life settled down a little.

Once the two men had made their rounds of the area, having gotten nowhere with their search, they began to make their way out of the underpass until they were stopped by someone he didn’t recognize at first, but when he did he felt all the color leave his face.

When he’d first come here he’d unintentionally gotten himself a reputation, a group of guys had seen him pull some food out of his bag and soon came over demanding he hand it over. Naturally, he refused, which made one of the guys pull his fist back and aim a punch to his face, which he easily deflected before throwing his own punch, causing the man to quickly fall to the floor.

A minute later and all five guys were on the floor, hands holding their bloodied noses and sore jaws before sulking back into their corner.

From then on everyone knew not to fuck with him, but he’d always seen the hatred and anger in their eyes when he came through, and now it appeared that karma had finally come to bite him in the ass.

He couldn’t hear what was said between the men, only saw the two guys pull their guns towards Carl demanding answers, but still, the older man refused to give them, and he knew the man had just signed his own death warrant.

Before either man could even make a move he quickly pulled out his knife and threw it at one of them, catching the guy in the throat, who soon fell to the floor choking on the blood now staining the floor red, as the other guy quickly aimed his gun towards him.

He moved on the balls of his feet through the darkness as the other man started to approach him, thankful that he hadn’t been seen yet. Slowly he crept around the small pile of rubble he was hiding behind as the man got closer to him, crouching in place as he got ready to launch himself for when the man would come into his view.

The guy had just come into his eyesight when he stopped moving suddenly, making him wait with bated breath for the other man to make his move, only he wasn’t given the chance when he heard gargling noises before the man fell to the floor, dead.

He stood, ready to fight if need be only to see Carl standing there, his knife shaking in the other man’s hand before he spat onto the guy's body, the sight enough to bring a small smile to his face.

“I believe this is yours” He gratefully accepted the knife that was handed to him, bending down to wipe it on the dead guys' trouser leg before pocketing it again “Seems you got yourself into quite the bit of trouble here”

He could only let out a terse laugh at the comment, sure that it was the understatement of the century at this point “You could say that, don’t suppose you could get rid of a couple of bodies for me?”

“We’ll take care of ‘em, you just go and be safe now, okay?” He relaxed a little as he felt Carl put a hand on his shoulder, giving it a light squeeze, allowing himself to enjoy the only comforting bit of human contact he’d had over the past few weeks, as he nod his head in reply as his throat felt thick with emotion.

Without another thought he pulled the bag from his shoulder, rummaging through it for a moment before he found what he was looking for, without a second thought he placed the last of his cash, about $60, in Carls’ hand, it was several weeks’ worth of food that he just lost, but he just wished he had more to give to thank these people for helping him.

“Thank you, Carl, for everything” Now it was Carl’s turn to nod his head, the two looking at each other for a moment longer before with a final shake of the hand, he turned to leave, not wanting to risk these people’s lives any further.

He walked around the town for a bit, letting himself relax a little knowing that neither gang would try anything in broad daylight with people around, at least not in the open, but still, he kept alert for the slightest movement indicating foul play.

So far he’d been relatively lucky given how he hadn’t run into anyone yet despite G’s men having been at the underpass only moments ago, however, when he was about to cross the road he noticed a reflection in a shop window, it was guy in a pigs’ mask staring right at him.

They stared at each other in silent acknowledgment, feeling panic begin to edge along his spine and frozen in place, before a couple of cars drove past, blocking his view of the other man and only once the street was clear again did he notice that Tyler was gone.

His panic only grew, so much so that he could almost choke on it, quickly taking a breath before crossing the road in front of him, adrenaline now coursing through his system as he ducked into a nearby alleyway.

After he took a moment to calm his racing heart he moved to the edge where the alley met the street, sticking to the shadows as best as he could in order to try and figure his best plan of action.

It was then that a light shone at his eyes and after reaching a hand up to try and shield himself, a brief scan of the rooftops showed Lui sat at the ready, a sniper rifle in hand that was angled towards him.

He quickly moved deeper into the alley, not wasting a second as he climbed over the gate which had previously blocked his access to the next street across, not bothering to spare a glance behind him as he started weaving his way through the streets and alleys to shake off any potential pursuers.

Eventually, through some sick will of God apparently, he found himself back at the building where he’d watched his flat burn all those weeks ago, he hadn’t meant to come here but he strangely felt a sense of comfort settle over him being here.

Deciding not to question it, he quickly made his way up back onto the roof, the journey taking a fraction of the time it previously did now that he was almost fully recovered, taking a moment to appreciate the sight of the city before moving away from the edge to settle himself in for some rest.

He made the quick decision to spend the rest of the day and the night there, giving him a good chance to get some genuine rest, hoping that for once no one would decide to come looking for him.

With a sigh he sat down, unsure whether he’d need to flee or fight during the night, hoping for once that he would be lucky and event-free.

Even so, he took the pistol from his bag and tucked it into his waistband before patting his midsection until he felt the knife pressed against his stomach, a comforting weight that allowed him to relax just that little bit more.

He moved his bag to act as a sort of pillow as he lay down, quickly closing his eyes to try to will himself to get at least some sleep before the sunset and the monsters would come out.

**********

The sun was just beginning to set behind the line of buildings when he woke up, quickly sitting up to check his surroundings to make sure that he was still safe, too used to the constant threat of danger that he could only relax and let out the breath he’d been holding when the coast was finally clear.

As the sky grew darker he simply sat there, paying attention to any and every noise he heard as he constantly checked not only his guns but the contents of his bag before repacking them, only to then get bored and start the whole process again.

After a while, when the chill really started to set in and his fingers began to get numb, he pulled out the photo from his pocket, now worn with having been folded and unfolded numerous times and from the teardrops that stained it.

He doesn’t know how long he stared at it, an ache in his heart as he thought about the what-ifs and the maybes of the past months, his mind going in endless circles only serving to torment him until he saw movement in his peripheral.

Within a second he was on his feet and his gun drawn, his breath getting caught in his throat when he saw Luke start slowly walking towards him, his hands up in surrender.

“Bit trigger happy aren’t we?” There it was, that smooth southern drawl which he’d thought he’d never hear again. He could feel his heart in his throat now but still, he stood his ground, gun pointed towards the older man “Not gonna talk, huh? Fair enough, I don’t mind sittin’ here, ‘specially with a view this good”

He felt tears prickle his vision, this was Luke, his Luke, looking just as he always had, his voice crystal clear in the night sky with the ability to even now make him blush, but as much as he wanted to believe it, to give in to the lie, he knew it was just some sick conjuration of his mind.

Before Luke could make a move, he gestured to the gun in his hand in an effort to try and establish some sort of control over the impossible situation, still aiming it towards the man in front of him who definitely shouldn’t be there.

“How?” He’s not surprised that his voice cracked, he was far too overcome with emotion that he could barely even say the word.

“How am I here? Well, see there’s another set of fire escapes on the other side of…..”

“No! How’re you here, how’re you alive?” He noticed his hands were shaking as he kept the gun pointed towards Luke, all his resolve beginning to slip away as he wanted nothing more than to be embraced by the other man once again.

It was then that a look of pity crossed Lukes’ face, the older man dropping his arms as he cautiously began to walk towards him, only stopping when the still trembling gun in his hand was pressed against his chest.

“Why���d you think I’m dead? Because that sick fucker told you so?” All he could do was look up at the man in front of him, not even wanting to tempt the belief of Lukes’ survival, knowing this must all be a sick game of his own mind “Tell me Ry, what did you see?”

His stance relaxed then, all fight leaving him as he dropped his arms and held the gun loosely in his right hand whilst his left went to cup Lukes’ face, flinching a little as he felt the ice-cold skin beneath his and feeling his resolve sturdy at the fact that he knew this Luke to be fake, all as he tried to give a weak smile whilst tears fell freely down his face.

“I shot you, Luke” he moved the hand cupping Lukes’ face to his forehead, pointing his finger at the exact spot his bullet struck “Right here”

When he removed his hand from Luke he saw that there was blood on it, taking a moment to look at it coating his fingers before he looked back up at the older man only to feel his heart stop for a moment and his breathing catch in his throat as he saw the blood now trickling down the other man’s face from the bullet wound which hadn’t been there moments before.

Luke was seemingly unaffected by the change, but quickly grabbed onto his shoulders and started to shake him a little as if he was trying to get him out of a trance, pleading at him almost when he next spoke “No Ryan, what did you really see?”

He could give a confused stare at the other man, hoping for a more elaborate answer or even a hint to whatever goose chase his mind was setting him on, but just as suddenly as he’d come, Luke was gone.

With a shuddering breath, he collapsed back onto the roof, unaffected by the cold of the night air as it already felt like Ice was traveling through his veins as for the second time on that same roof he once again succumbed to his grief.

[phancystuff]

Trying to Remember How it Feels (To Have a Heartbeat) 7/7

Pairing: Dan/ Phil (Phan) Summary: Dan moves into a new apartment in London and, though it’s a step up from his old apartment, his landlord gives him strange warnings while he’s touring the place– something about the last renters leaving because of ghost sightings. But, Dan doesn’t believe in the supernatural. He quickly changes his tune when he meets Phil Lester, the ghost haunting his apartment. Well, if haunting means quickly becoming the best friend he’s ever had. (Title from Harry Styles’ song Two Ghosts) Notes: Wow. It’s the end. I hope the ending does the story justice! I also did a lot of research into Samhain and I hope that if any Wiccans read this fic, that they feel respected. Please note that, although this fic has the warning of major character death, it is not in any way graphic. Tags/ Warnings: ghost au, Halloween, major character death (obv. it’s a ghost au lol), depictions of panic attacks, angst, fluff, HAPPY ENDING, mentions of suicide (it happens in a movie they watch)

Read it on AO3 Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six

Before the possession accident, Dan and Phil thought that they couldn’t get any closer, but they were wrong. Because now, everywhere Dan went, Phil followed. He had to follow. Before, the pull Phil felt toward Dan had been completely metaphorical, but now it was physically magnetic and he couldn’t resist it. They could only conclude that, somehow, Phil had broken his tether to the flat and had reattached it to Dan. It was the “how” that they really didn’t understand, not really believing “sheer force of will.” They also didn’t really know what the new tether meant. Surely it had some deeper significance; it wasn’t just a meaningless prison for Phil. Dan would never be Phil’s prison.

Dan had seemingly made it his life’s work to read up on why Phil was now spiritually and physically connected to him. Unfortunately, there wasn’t a lot of information out there. The only answer that was consistent throughout the dodgy websites that Dan browsed, was that a ghost might be unable to leave somewhere or someone that they had unfinished business with. But, Phil hadn’t known Dan in his life. How could there be unfinished business between the two of them?

It was frustrating to try to find answers and also have to sift through bullshit . There were thousands of people always trying to feed him misinformation or sell him potions, tarot cards, and charms. As always, Dan was finding more information about interesting, but unimportant supernatural things.

Sooner or later, Dan figured that he would take what he could get. Phil had refused to possess Dan again and, figuring that Phil wouldn’t change his mind, Dan had made it his mission to at least find something else that they could experiment with. Dan knew it would take a lot of convincing to get Phil to test some other ghost power, but that didn’t stop Dan from trying.

Along the way, though, Dan found something that piqued his interest and he poured over page upon page of information about it. For once, there was some history backing it up. A whole religion, in fact, that was still being practiced to that very day.

“Phil, have you ever heard of Samhain?” Dan finally asked the ghost sometime during the end of the week. It was the end of October. Halloween was coming-- it was only a couple of days away. The few trees outside their flat had been stripped of their leaves by a powerful, unrelenting wind. Dan was freezing and, for once, it had nothing to do with Phil’s touch and everything to do with the fact that winter was coming. Dan was in his sofa crease and wrapped in a sweater and thick, faux fur blanket, reading intently at his macbook. The steam from a hot cup of tea was curling up from the coffee table in front of him. Phil played the strangely cute horror game, Little Nightmares on the Xbox, yelping in surprise and terror every time he got jumpscared. Mirthful giggles replaced the screams and Dan couldn’t help but smile along. The scene was almost idyllic, especially after weeks of sadness, fear, and slow recovery.

Phil sighed and paused the game, turning his head to look at Dan. The peace of the evening was shattered by Dan’s question. “No. If this is another one of your ghost experiments… I’m not doing this again. I almost lost you the last time.” Phil nervously spun the wireless Xbox controller in their air. Dan ignored both Phil’s serious expression and the piece of technology hovering in front of him.

“Yeah, I know, but this is different; hear me out. Samhain is a Pagan Celtic holiday,” Dan began. Phil groaned and dropped the controller. It clattered on the rug-covered hardwood floor and Phil flopped back next to it.

“I’m not going to--”

“I get that, Phil! I get it, ok? You’re scared. I’m not. Now shut up and listen. I’m on a legitimate website: the BBC for chrissakes.” Phil clamped his mouth shut and stared at Dan upside down from the floor.

“Fine. I’ll listen. But I don’t have to do anything that I don’t want to do.”

“Yeah, and water is wet.” Dan flicked his blanket out of his face. “So Samhain is a holiday that marks the Feast of the Dead. It’s on October 31st.”

“So, it’s Halloween’s origin,” Phil said, exasperated. “What does this have to do with us?”

“Well, if you’d just listen, then you’d know,” Dan huffed out a breath and scrolled to a part in the article that he wanted to read aloud. Phil clamped his mouth shut. “They believed that “it was the time of year when the veils between this world and the Otherworld were believed to be at their thinnest: when the spirits of the dead could most readily mingle with the living once again.’” Dan looked up from the screen, his eyes shining with an excitement that Phil didn’t really understand.

“I don’t get it. I’m already “mingling” with you, Dan.” That was the understatement of the century. Dan and Phil didn’t need “Samhain” to be with each other nearly 24/7. It had gotten more intense ever since they had discovered that Phil was literally tethered to Dan. The ghost couldn’t be very far away from the living man; a few hundred feet was about as long as Phil’s invisible “lead” could stretch. Dan had made a lot of jokes about leashes and puppy play. Phil had been anything but amused.

“Well, that’s just it, Phil. So, the Celts thought that there was this boundary between spirits and humans that became thinner and allowed the two to interact. We don’t have that kind of boundary, but there is another between us.”

Phil furrowed his brows, focusing deeply on what Dan was saying. “Well, it used to be that I couldn’t leave the flat.”

Dan shook his head, “no, that was one of your boundaries, but not the boundary between us.” Phil quirked his brow thoughtfully. Were there really any boundaries between them anymore? They talked about anything and did everything together. Phil had been in Dan’s body. They could touch. Well… could they really? Phil glanced down at his gloved hands. Their touch wasn’t really genuine or mutual. It was so one-sided that Phil had mostly put a stop to the casual cuddles they used to share. Clarity came to Phil suddenly.

“It’s touch, isn’t it? I mean, I can touch you. But I can’t really do it without hurting you.”

“That’s the only boundary that I can really think of. But, on Samhain, the Celts believed that the boundary between the living and the dead dissolved.” Dan inclined his head eagerly.

Could it really be that easy? That on Halloween, some sort of boundary could be broken between the two and they could touch? Or that a boundary would just dissolve? Would Phil want to do that? He thought back to how very wrong possession had gone. He would never be able to rid himself of the terrifying image of Dan laying on the dead grass, his limbs splayed around him unnaturally and his face a deathly grey. Could something like that happen again to Dan? “I dunno, Dan.”

“Here’s the thing. This doesn’t require you to do any ghostly things to my body. I’ve looked into Samhain a little and it’s very much like Halloween. We’ll light a fire in the fireplace, because they had bonfires. We’ll eat a bunch of food, because they celebrated the day with a feast. We don’t have to do any animal sacrifices or rituals. I might just find a little prayer to say.” Dan gripped the edge of his blanket so hard that his knuckles went white.

Phil sat up uneasily and tossed the Xbox controller back and forth in his hands. “This still feels wrong, though. Like, are bastardizing someone’s religion for our own gain?”

“How is it anymore wrong that someone only going to church on Christmas and Easter? Or giving each other presents and pretending to be the easter bunny on sacred Christian days?” Dan raised his right eyebrow at Phil, looking at him expectantly. “Well? Is it any different?”

Phil considered his answer carefully. Was it really any different? Why did he feel so uneasy about disrespecting this Pagan religion, when the bastardization of the Christian religion was so normalized, commercialized, and even encouraged? Maybe it was because this holiday felt more real… felt more serious. And, was that a good thing? Did that mean that this would work? “I… I guess it’s not any different. But, if we are gonna do this, let’s just try to be as respectful as possible. Maybe we can find someone who celebrates the holiday. Get their help. Use the internet.”

A small smile grew on Dan’s face and his eyes widened. “Wait, does this mean you’ll try it with me?”

Phil breathed deeply and studied Dan’s eager face. Was he going to do this? The thing was, it didn’t seem harmful to Dan. Phil wasn’t going to enter Dan’s body, possess him, and use him like a skin suit. Phil couldn’t even believe there had been a time when he thought that was a smart idea. But no, there would be no Dan-possessing. They were going to have some dinner and try to touch each other. If Dan felt the usual spark of cold pain, they would stop and their life would continue as normal.

And if it worked? Hope grew in Phil’s chest and he squashed it quickly down. He wasn’t going to let himself get on that train of thought. If it worked, then it worked. But, it probably wouldn’t. “I don’t… see why not. It doesn’t seem dangerous.” Dan sprung from the couch, shoving the laptop off his knees and onto the sofa cushion. He landed painfully on his shins with a loud crack. He ignored the pain shooting up through his bones and gathered the ghost in his arms.

“Thank you, thank you! I have a good feeling about this. Something warm and right is just growing in my belly.” Dan clutched Phil’s shoulders, driving his face deeper into Phil’s icy chest.

“But,” Phil carefully pried Dan off of him, strong hands on Dan’s shoulders. He held Dan’s happy gaze. “You are going to tell me everything. If you feel even a little bit off, you have to tell me. I don’t care what it is. Your vision flickers? Tell me. You lose feeling in your fingers? Tell me. Your ass cramps up? Tell me, damn it.” Dan’s face fell with a mixture of embarrassment and guilt, and Phil felt bad immediately. “What happened wasn’t your fault; it was mine. But if we can prevent something bad from happening again--” Phil’s voice broke.

“--Phil,” Dan interrupted, “we’ve already discussed this. It was completely my fault. You’re not the bad guy here.”

Phil didn’t disagree with Dan out loud, but Dan could see it all in his face. Dan didn’t know if there would be a day that Phil didn’t blame and hate himself for what had happened to Dan. But, maybe they didn’t have to dwell on what was in the past. Maybe they had so much more to look forward to in the near future. Dan pulled a reluctant Phil close to him, “I promise to tell you if anything feels off. But we have to do this; we have to. I can feel that it’s the right thing to do.”

***

Dan considered asking his followers if any of them were Wiccans or Pagans and if he could pick their brains about Samhain, but ultimately decided against it. He didn’t know how it would look for him to suddenly be asking about a Pagan holiday; he couldn’t exactly claim that he was making a video about it, or that he was suddenly becoming religious. Plus, he didn’t want to take advantage of anyone for his own gain. Those were the sorts of things he had to worry about as a YouTuber.

Instead, Dan found a Wiccan using the normal-people way. He googled it. Since it was an actual religion, and not just ghost-hunting bullshit on the internet, he found someone legitimate pretty quickly. Late into the night on that same day that Phil had agreed to try a Samhain celebration, Dan was scrolling around on a Wiccan forum, when a particular post caught his attention: “A Beginner's Guide to Celebrating Samhain” by amod3rnwitch. The article was simple and insisted that anybody could celebrate Samhain. It outlined some of the traditional modern ways to put together a Feast of the Dead. At the end of the article, the author invited anyone to come to them with questions, judgement free. Dan quickly made an account through the forum and messaged the user.

“Hi, amod3rdwitch, my name’s Dan. I am interested in celebrating Samhain this year, mostly because I want to have contact with a friend of mine who passed away. Do you have any recommendations? I don’t want to be insensitive to the religion. Dan clicked send and leaned back in bed. Phil was at his elbow, reading on his iPad.”

“I feel silly.” Dan said, switching tabs to yet another article about Samhain. “Five months ago or whatever, I would have described myself as completely agnostic. I didn’t believe in the supernatural. Only cold, hard science. Now, here I am asking someone who describes themselves as a “modern witch” how I can accurately celebrate a Pagan holiday.” Dan skimmed over the article, despite the fact that he had already read it.

Phil lowered the iPad into his slightly translucent lap. “Hmm, I understand. I was a little bit more superstitious when I was alive. I did a little dabbling in tarot cards and other forms of divination. My grandmum was a psychic, did you know?”

“I didn’t know. Did she pass her powers down to you?” Dan said teasingly, poking his finger into Phil’s belly. “Y’know, there were some times that I thought she might have. Wait, let’s test it. Think of a word and I’ll tell you what word you’re thinking of.” Phil widened his eyes and trained their piercing blue irises on Dan. Phil lifted his hands and paddled his fingers in the air, “I’m building the psychic connection,” he explained.

“Of course.” Dan smiled fondly. “Ok, I have a word.”

“Mmmm…” Phil closed his eyes. “Meme!” He called out confidently. “Nope!”

“Toast?” Phil responded, a lot less confident this time.

“Toast? No, you spoon. I’m thinking of my favorite word.” Dan leaned his head back into his pillow and smiled softly at Phil.

“Ummm…” Phil pretended to think. “Is it Phil?”

Dan traced his finger in little swirl patterns of Phil’s thigh. They left little trails of warmth in their wake. “Mmmhm.”

“No fair, that’s not a word, it’s a name!” Phil pouted.

“Names are words.”

“Are not.”

“Are too.”

They could have gone on for hours, probably. But Dan looked down at his laptop and noticed a little notification in the corner of the forum’s tab. Had amod3rnwitch already responded? Dan clicked on the tab, finding that she had, in fact, responded to his inquiry. True to her assurance in the forum post, she was very nonjudgmental and kind.

“Hi, Dan. I, for one, love to include anyone interested in the religion, no matter what purpose it serves. In fact, plenty of people have watched some of my rituals for purely academic reasons. I’ve outlined a couple little things you can do to celebrate Samhain. If you could find a High Priest or Priestess to lead a ritual for you, it would probably be better. Either way, I wish you luck to you and your friend from beyond.

Blessed be, Beth”

Below the message, Beth had typed out how to build a simple altar to the dead. Among other things, she also recommended that Dan wait as close to midnight to begin the festivities. Dan read through the suggestions and showed Phil, positioning the laptop between them. Phil read silently to himself, his face betraying every emotion that he felt, as always. Uncertain, appreciative, then slightly disgusted.

“Dan, you are not making an altar to me.”

***

But, Halloween-- Samhain-- came and Dan was planning on doing just that. That day felt like any other day. Dan woke up early afternoon and pretended that it was morning by taking a shower, checking his social media like it was the morning newspaper, and tweeting his obligatory Happy Halloween tweet. At first, both of the the boys ignored the elephant in the room and didn’t really talk about their evening plans, despite the fact that odd little Samhain materials were strewn throughout the flat. They served as a reminder for what could possibly happen that night. When making breakfast, Dan pushed a gourd and pumpkin out of the way so that he could place his bowl on the counter and pour in a generous helping of Shreddies. When he put the milk back in the fridge, he had to tuck it behind a couple of loose pomegranates. As Dan placed his cereal bowl on the table to eat, he pushed a black tablecloth to the middle of the table. Instead of talking about what the materials were for, Dan and Phil chatted about the new season of Stranger Things.

The boys had gone shopping for their odd items the day before. Dan and Beth had messaged back and forth. He wondered if he sounded weird or suspicious when he asked her what he should cook for the celebration and if he should say some blessings. She had answered like none of it bothered her… which it probably didn’t, since this was her religion.

Dan spooned the last mouthful of cereal past his lips. Over his mouthful, he asked, “are we gonna talk about this?”

“Talk about what?” Phil replied innocently. His head was rested in his cupped hand as he watched Dan eat. Of course Phil knew exactly what Dan was talking about; he hadn’t stopped thinking about it. Obsessing over it. Worrying. In 12 hours, Phil was either going to be able totouch Dan, or it would have been a complete waste of time and energy. And there was always the possibility of something going wrong. Phil didn’t know exactly what could go wrong, but he was still mindful of the possibility.

Dan swallowed and dropped the spoon into the bowl with a loud clatter. “You know exactly what, smartass.”

Phil shrugged in response. “There’s not much to talk about. Either it works or you just look like an idiot, making an altar to your ghost lover. Like, talk about creepy, Dan.”

“What can I say? I’m Phil trash number one.”

Phil snorted and they got up and washed dishes together. Dan scrubbed, enjoying the feel of the hot water on his freezing hands-- he really had to get the flat’s heat checked out. Phil dried, unable to stop himself from bumping his hip into Dan’s companionably. The rest of the day passed uneventfully and slowly, as if they were two little kids waiting for Christmas day to come. They tried to pass the time by watching cooking shows and showing each other funny videos on the internet. It didn’t matter how much they distracted themselves, the sun took its sweet time slinking below the horizon, as if it didn’t want to say goodbye to the sky.

As midnight slowly crawled closer, Dan found himself thinking back on his last few months. He didn’t even remember what his life had been like before Phil. Had it really even been a life? Sure, he worked and made money. He spent his money and watched TV and played video games. He visited friends, wishing he was home the whole time. He celebrated holidays with his family, mostly because he was obligated to. But had he really enjoyed any of it?

Phil had made him slow down and appreciate the whole life thing. Each day was a renewed opportunity to breathe and taste and feel and think and learn. It could be taken from him at any moment, so there was no point in being anything other than happy. And being with Phil made Dan happy. It was heartbreaking and painful and terrifying at times. But, Phil was also the most wonderful, beautiful, kind person that Dan had ever met.

Dan had no idea how the rest of his life was supposed to go; he wasn’t supposed to fall in love with a dead person. People didn’t do that, unless they were lying to some tabloid. People were supposed to find a living, breathing partner and pop out a couple of kids. They were supposed to raise the kids, make more money, retire, and then die, Dan guessed. Phil seemed to think that it was unfair of him to stop Dan from living this kind of life, but Dan couldn’t disagree more. He felt that Phil had saved him from this fate. A meaningless fate that simply controlled Dan. By loving Phil, Dan was finally controlling his own destiny. It was cheesy, but true.

This didn’t mean that Dan didn’t wish he could tell people about Phil. People had noticed that he had become distant and were worried about him, but also noticed how much happier he was. Dan wished that he could take Phil by the hand and parade him around, showing him off for the whole world to see.

And then, of course, Dan was continuously heartbroken that Phil had lost out on his chance for life. It had been so unfairly ripped from him. What would happen to Phil when Dan eventually died? Would he be forced to live out the rest of his afterlife alone?

Dan was plagued by thoughts of the future. But for now, for tonight, he had a plan. Dan and Phil had something to do, a new experiment to try. If Dan could touch Phil one night a year, it would sustain him for a lifetime with Phil. After that, Dan could only hope that they could share an afterlife.

10:00 PM rolled around after a fifth rerun of The Great British Bakeoff and Dan figured it was time to work on their dinner. Beth had suggested some “traditional” meals that were still, thankfully, modern. Dan appreciated that Beth was down to earth enough not to suggest something ridiculous like “first you must sacrifice and ghost and slaughter it on the altar you have built for the ghost you are trying to summon.” Instead, she recommended a baked chicken, with stuffing and autumn vegetables. It was a lot more grandiose than anything Dan made on the regular-- he stuck with stir fry and pasta-- but it wasn’t past his skill level, especially if he had Phil’s help. Phil had proven to be quite adept at cooking and Dan had been more than willing to let him make Dan meals.

“Is it bad luck for you to make your own meal?” Dan asked, genuinely curious, as he watched Phil carefully place the stuffed chicken and vegetables into the oven.

“I dunno,” Phil said, turning around and throwing the oven mitts at Dan’s face. “We are kinda making this up as we go, if you haven’t noticed.”

Dan huffed and caught the oven mitt on its way down to the ground. “We are not! We have followed every one of Beth’s suggestions.”

“Except for, you know, the whole fact that her ritual is for inviting spirits to dine with you and speak wisdom. I can already dine with you, although the food won’t taste like much to me. And here’s some wisdom: you’re a nerd.”

Dan spluttered and swatted at Phil’s bum with the oven mitt. “You’re the nerd, nerd. Now help me build your altar.”

Phil rolled his eyes and mumbled something about “crazy fanboy stalker,” but helped Dan anway. They lit a fire in the small gas fireplace in the lounge (“Why a fire? Beth didn’t say anything about a fire.” “Look, it just seems right… aesthetically.”) Dan spread the black tablecloth over their dining room table. (“The black is fitting for you, Dan. It should be blue and green checked if it’s for me.” “Shut up, it’s symbolic.”) They scattered black candles, tiny pumpkins and gourds, and pomegranates across the table, strategically and aesthetically rearranging them. Dan and Phil lit the three large candles and then stepped back to admire the table. Even Phil had to admit, it looked good. If anything, it was a perfectly spooky Halloween aesthetic.

“Oh! I almost forgot. It’s missing one more thing.” Dan bounded to his bedroom and dug out a small item from his bedside drawer. He returned with it clutched to his chest. “Don’t laugh at me, ok? This is just a thing that Beth suggested might help.” Dan placed the object in the middle of the table, revealing it to be an unassumingly small picture frame. Inside the frame was a photo of Phil. Phil leaned over, looking closely at the picture. It had been printed out on regular printer paper, meaning the color was less than vibrant. He picked it up and studied it. It was recent: a little candid shot that Dan had snapped on his phone before the possession accident. Phil’s hair was cut into its 2017 style and his eyes crinkled with smile lines. It was weird to look at a picture of himself; it was the first one in at least seven years. Phil didn’t really make it a habit to look at himself in the mirror, after he had grown tired of trying on clothes and changing his hair. He found that he didn’t like the constant visual reminder of his ghost state. It was hard to tell he was a ghost in this picture, though.

“I… wasn’t sure if I should have gotten a picture of you from before you d-died.” Dan stuttered over the word. “But, it just didn’t seem right. I don’t want that Phil, I want you. Does that make any sense?”

Phil placed the frame back where Dan had carefully set it down. Next to the candles and black tablecloth, the altar was looking uncomfortably like a memorial. Phil hadn’t seen his own funeral. There was some sick piece of him that almost wished that he could have watched his loved ones mourn for him. A much bigger piece of him was glad that he didn’t have to watch it. “It’s a good picture,” Phil said simply. The jokey atmosphere that had filled the flat beforehand was replaced with something more sombre and reverent.

Dan shut off all the lights in the flat and powered down the technology, placing his phone, laptop, and Phil’s iPad in their bedroom closet. Beth had emphasized the need for the celebration to be quiet and free of distractions. And it felt very right for the altar to be enveloped in silence.

The chicken was ready to come out of the oven and it was twenty minutes to midnight. Dan stared at the table and decided that it was time for them to eat. Dan gestured to the head of the table, silently asking for Phil to sit. They didn’t say a single word to each other, mutually deciding that speaking would be inappropriate. Dan carved the chicken and served Phil first, spooning a generous helping of meat, vegetables, and stuffing onto Phil’s plate. He felt a little silly, knowing that Phil couldn’t really taste anything. Eating for him was like playing pretend, and he often told Dan about how weird Phil felt about the fact that none of the food ever came back out of him. Despite the feeling, Dan continued with the ritual. He served himself similar portions and then sat down.

Dan and Phil watched each other for a moment. Dan could tell that Phil was feeling similarly. Despite Phil being a supernatural being, neither of them really believed in the ritual. It just seemed too mythical, too far-fetched. Dan nodded to Phil and they began to eat.

At first, it seemed like any other meal eaten in the dark by candlelight. But, a noticeable lightness settled over them. The only sound that could be heard in the flat was the quiet tinkling of cutlery on plates. The candles flickered, casting the table in a strange, dancing light. Shadows grew and shrunk in the flames. With each bite, the shadows seemed to grow more and more unnatural. They weren’t frightening, just unfamiliar. Dan stared at them, almost hypnotized by their strange shapes. He gradually forgot about any of his previous disbelief.

Phil felt strangely calm. A peace settled over him, along with a quiet realization that tonight would change their lives. The epiphany came over him softly, like waves licking over his body. He wanted to tell Dan, but knew that he couldn’t break the spell of Samhain.

They ate their last bite of food at the same time. Any other time, they might have joked back and forth about their creepy synchronization. But tonight, neither of them thought it weird. Just right. The wind whistled outside their flat. Dan glanced at the clock on their kitchen wall and saw that it was a minute to midnight.

He had memorized one of the blessings that Beth had provided him with. She had sent along a whole archive of them and Dan had read through every single one, finding the prayer that felt the most appropriate. Now, he spoke those words, looking at Phil the whole time. Fire was reflected in Phil eyes, the blue and orange mingling together. The elements colliding in Phil’s irises. Dan watched, rapt.

“To those whose feet are stilled, and those who laugh with us no more. To you we say, our love was with you here and goes with you now… to that place where you rest and take delight.”

When the first candle’s flame flickered out on the other side of the table, neither Dan or Phil noticed, they were so entranced in each other. Dan’s eyes were an intoxicating brown and orange, reminding Phil of autumn soil. Both were rich and full of life.

“May your feet walk along the coffin paths to that place where all is fresh and green, where lovers, friends, and ancestors wait with open arms to greet you. Go in peace, and with our blessings.”

Both, however, noticed when the candle in the middle of the table went out with a soft hiss. Black wax dripped down the side and solidified in a wobbly line. Joyful darkness encroached in on the flat.

“Or remain awhile this eve, with us the living, and life and hearth, and love. Be rested amongst your own, this eve this one night, this Samhain.”

Dan paused and held Phil’s gaze, hoping that the weight of his words were sinking into Phil’s mind and into his ghostly flesh and into the thin, liminal air between them. There was magic, there, he realized. Of course there was. There always had been. Now, it brushed tenderly against his skin and ruffled his hair. It flowed between him and Phil; tendrils of magic curling around their tether.

“With countless turns of the wheel we miss you, be near us this eve, we pray ever for you… And we will meet again, once more when the wheel turns for us. Pray be there to greet us, in that place we will walk the coffin paths together and bide awhile with kin and hearth until that time be near us. Our kinsmen, our guardians, our ancestors, our beloved dead.”

The last candle between them lost its flame and comforting darkness engulfed the flat. The clock continued to tick and Dan knew, without looking, that the face would read midnight. Dan’s eyes adjusted to the lack of light and picked out Phil’s form from among the shadows. Dan reached his hand out slowly, like the wax crawling down the candlestick in front of them. Phil followed suit, eyes trained on Dan’s fingers. His head was surprisingly, blessedly quiet. He knew. He’d always known.

The moment that Dan and Phil truly touched for the first time was warm.

“Dan.” Phil whispered, unwilling to break his silence, but realizing he had to. He had to touch, to speak, to confess. He didn’t know how long this was going to last. He couldn’t waste it. But already, the feeling of a single fingertip against his was overwhelming.

“Phil.” Dan returned calmly. He curled his fingers around Phil’s and tugged, pulling them both out of their chairs. “You feel…” Dan closed his eyes briefly and that was enough to communicate the sensations dancing across his palm.

“You too.” Phil responded almost shyly, shivering despite himself. This wasn’t like possessing Dan. Phil still couldn’t smell anything, couldn’t feel the draft on his bare feet, couldn’t taste the chicken that he had just eaten. But none of that mattered because, this was a thousand times better than using Dan like that. Phil could feel soft skin in his hand. He squeezed and could detect the give of muscle, the strong pushback of bone.

Dan led Phil to their bedroom. They stood for a moment, contemplating each other. Tension pulled taught and then snapped and Phil finally pulled Dan into his arms. He reveled in the warm, living press of Dan against his body. Dan felt tears prick the corner of his eyes because, finally, touching Phil didn’t hurt. It felt like it should-- hot, pleasant, solid, soft, perfect. Perfect, perfect.

They tilted their heads and inched their lips toward each other. Dan’s hot breath puffed out and over Phil’s face. The gap between them grew smaller and smaller until:

All at once, there was no gap at all. Phil and Dan both had imagined this kiss a thousand times, thinking that it would never happen. Dan sighed into the kiss and Phil purred. It was so human, and that was all either of them ever wanted. They didn’t want fireworks and wind machines, dramatic rainstorms and fainting. It was a hot press of muscle and skin against similar muscle and skin. Sweet, quiet, perfect. Perfect, perfect.

Phil opened his mouth ever so slightly, inviting Dan in deeper. With deepness, came passion. They began to move and suckle. Hands traveled up shirts and across skin, painting each other with eagerness and love. Phil explored with a curious tongue and he was greeted by sweet, blissful wetness.

Sooner or later, they found themselves on the bed. There was nothing in between them. Not the supernatural boundary between death and life. Not the physical boundary of clothing. They pressed up against each other; trying to marry each of their every last atom of skin. They moved together, grinding and sweating.

“Phil, I love you.” Dan said, breathlessly. Phil was between his legs, seemingly everywhere all at once. He kissed, sucked, grinded, caressed, stroked. Dan tried to keep up, but found that he was more than contented to allow Phil’s frantic exploration and clutch at the ghost’s back in response. Dan wrapped his legs around Phil’s back and stroked the skin with shaky hands, intrigued by the goosebumps that he left in his wake. Phil shuttered at the smallest, most innocent touches and Dan felt intoxicated by the power. “God, I love you Dan Howell.” Phil responded, slipping a wet finger inside.

They moved together, adding, slipping, thrusting. Their most intimate body parts strained toward each other, begging for attention. Phil’s got attention before Dan’s as it slipped into Dan’s body. Twinges of pain were quickly replaced with reverberations of pleasure.

Phil cupped Dan’s face in his hand and stared at him lovingly. Phil loved Dan with every fiber of his supernatural being. His DNA sung Dan’s praises and vibrated with electric pulses. He was overwhelmed by sensation; this was more than he had ever felt, even when he had been alive. He had never made love when he was alive. Phil kissed Dan deeply, their tongues twisting together and caressing each other. He reached down between them and grabbed Dan, rubbing, massaging.

They chased a mutual climax. Their bodies strained toward each other and they kissed wildly. Dan’s hands touched everywhere he could reach. Phil’s thumbs rubbed softly into the skin of Dan’s face. Tears began to leak out of Dan’s eyes. They slipped down his cheeks and coated Phil’s fingertips. “Don’t cry, love.” Phil said, feeling his peak sneaking up on him.

“I love you. I will always love you. Whatever timeline, whatever lifetime.” Dan responded, his voice reverent and wise beyond his sight.

“Oh, Dan.” Phil thrust one final time and they both came together in a crescendo of emotion and physical pleasure. There were no ostentatious metaphors, no past memories, no historical or fictional references to compare it to. It was simply an act of life and humanity, and that was all Dan or Phil ever wanted.

They rolled over on their backs and Phil gathered Dan in his arms. They lay together, silent. Together, they just felt. They felt pleasure, waves of it sending aftershocks through their bodies. They felt happiness, pure and overwhelming. They felt sadness, because it would never be the same again. Phil clutched at Dan for dear life and began to cry. Dan made soothing noises and rubbed Phil’s back. “I can’t go back to a life without this, Dan. I can’t” Phil snuffled into Dan’s hair.

Dan was pressed into the sweaty skin of Phil’s neck, wondering how much time they had left. He knew exactly what Phil was talking about. How were they supposed to just… carry on like nothing had happened? It wasn’t possible. Dan knew that he would remember this night every day until it could happen again. That wasn’t a way to live. “I know, Phil.”

Phil opened his eyes and pulled Dan away from him slightly, just enough to look into his red-rimmed eyes. He leaned down and kissed Dan. His lips trembled against Dan’s. Dan could taste salty tears; he had no idea if they were their own or Phil’s. “Dan, do you see that?”

Phil was staring up at the ceiling, suddenly, looking awed. Dan followed his gaze, only seeing the rough texture of the wall. “See what?”

Phil glanced down at Dan, mouth agape. “You’re telling me you don’t see a whole lot of darkness right above us?” Dan looked up again, only seeing the normal shadows of the night on the ceiling.

“No?” Dan’s brows furrowed and he stoked his fingers down Phil’s neck. “What’s it look like, exactly?”

“Um, black. Just a… hole. It should be scary, but it actually looks, welcoming?” Phil responded, sounding confused.

Dan closed his eyes, understanding immediately. Of course. Phil’s unfinished business with him. “Phil, I think you should go toward it.” Phil twitched like a shock had gone through him.

“You don’t think....” Phil reach his fingers up toward the black portal, feeling the comforting energy that it gave off. It drew him to it.

“I do think.” Dan communicated silently to Phil and they both understood exactly what was staring down at them.

Phil turned his head away from the thing’s siren call. He cradled Dan’s head in his hand. “I can’t leave you, Dan. I can’t do this without you.”

Dan leaned into Phil’s touch, wondering if the first time he could feel Phil’s warmth would also be the last. What would the rest of his life be like? Could he ever get over Phil? Would he even try? Despite the worries eating at him, Dan knew that he couldn’t keep Phil from his great beyond. No one deserved to be imprisoned in a world that wasn’t made for them. Seven years had been long enough, and it was time for Phil to move on. Dan felt at peace. Dan whispered to Phil with finality, trailing his hand up Phil’s neck, into his hair: “And we will meet again, once more when the wheel turns for us. Pray be there to greet us, in that place we will walk the coffin paths together and bide awhile with kin and hearth until that time be near us.” Dan didn’t know if they would meet again in death, or if he was promising Phil something else entirely. Either way, the words seemed to calm Phil ever so slightly. “You have to do this, Phil.”

The clutched at each other desperately, their mouths meeting in a kiss. Only an hour after their first, they were already sharing a kiss goodbye. “I don’t know if I can do this,” Phil cried into Dan’s shoulder after they separated. “What if I never see you again?”

“You will.” Dan said confidently. He believed it; it wasn’t a bullshit platitude. Dan pushed himself up into a sitting position. “This is fitting. We met in this room.” A quiet tear pushed its way out of Dan’s duct, despite the fact that he was trying to keep his voice even as possible.

“Dan, don’t--” Phil choked and his voice broken. Tears were spilling out of his eyes hurriedly.

“The very first thing you said to me was an apology.” Dan smiled, letting himself remember the day that changed his entire life.

“And rightfully so; I gave you a panic attack.”

Dan snorted. “I get a panic attack if someone looks at me funny.”

“You do not.”

“Do too.”

Dan and Phil looked at each other and laughed through their tears. They laughed long and hard, holding each other’s hands. Because, this was the way they did things. They made self-deprecating jokes and lewd comments and made fun of each other relentlessly. They had never wanted it any other way.

“It’s time, Phil.” Dan squeezed the ghost’s hand reassuringly and Phil looked up to the ceiling, feeling unsure and scared and sad and lost. But Dan urged him up out of bed and let go of his hand and gestured up at the ceiling.

And Dan had always been stubborn, but Phil also knew that he was right. It was time. He allowed himself to float up toward the ceiling and was enveloped by a comforting, soul-emptying blackness. There was nothing for while.

***

And then: the initial notes of Muse’s New Born filled his ears and he flopped back on his bed. Things were ok, he supposed. He was home, which wasn’t his favorite place to be so late in his life. His parents were sweet, but suffocating. And they didn’t understand what he was going through.

He found solace in the depths of the internet and the friends that he had made on YouTube. They seemed to understand him. Not exactly what he was dealing with, because he didn’t explain that to his audience-- of course he didn’t. But they seemed to at least relate to his ridiculous mind and he appreciated that.

He turned on his side, propping himself up with his hand, and opened his laptop. It had been awhile since he checked twitter. He typed in the familiar url and looked at his feed. He favorited and responded to a few tweets, thinking entirely too long for witty and zany things to say. He saved his replies for last, because they were his favorite part. He had a few, not a lot. But one in particular stuck out him:

‘danisnotonfire: @amazingphil luvd ur last video ^_^ i love muse too we have so much in common!’

Phil clicked the tweet and typed out a silly, slightly flirty response, smiling to himself. Something was interesting about this danisnotonfire; he didn’t know what exactly, but he was going to find out.