#bits of him in jars of formaldehyde

[casasupernovas]

in the 'turn left' timeline, UNIT 100% dissected the doctor, i just know it.

[moon-buggg]

Not so different after all

I wanted to explore Moon's relationship with mad scientist! Y/n a bit, so I wrote this drabble! It's the first piece of non-academic writing I've shared since middle school, so be kind lol

length- 585 words

warnings- vague descriptions of bodies and dismemberment (yn is taking organs out of a cadaver to preserve them, its not graphic but viewer discretion is advised)

Sun had asked you, once, how you could stomach the dirty work of your experiments. ‘The body is just meat,’ you had responded, elbow deep in a cadaver, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. As if it were perfectly normal for humans to rifle through their own for spare parts. As if you had not been shunned from your peers for this exact transgression. 

Moon wasn’t squeamish. The opening of a body so unlike his own did not unsettle him in the way it unsettled Sun. No, it wasn’t the blood, viscera, or decay that made him feel like this, like everything was wound too tight, grating and wrong.

It was you.

And watching you preserve your latest specimen (another failure, not that you would let that stop you), he could hold his tongue no longer.

“Easy. They’re all hypocrites.” The accusation is harsh and sharp on your tongue. “Did you know they had us dissecting pigs in medical school but not once did we ever oversee a human dissection? Sure the anatomy transfers decently enough, but how were we supposed to treat human patients never learning from humans? What makes our bodies worthy of preserving over pigs? That we figured out pants first?”

“How are you ok with this,” he does not gesture to the human brain currently soaking in formaldehyde, “when everyone tells you it is wrong?”

The disgust in your voice is evident. Moon had always appreciated that about you, your complete inability to mask your emotions- or was it just a lack of interest? It did not help him in deciphering you in this moment. 

You continue on, either unaware of your rambling or used to his lack of response. “I mean really, who do they think they are?-” 

Moon tuned you out. He'd heard this rant plenty of times before. Nothing about your sworn vengeance on and superiority over those who wronged you would help explain why you made him so confused. 

Why your flippant treatment of bodies reminded him of the circus’s repair tent.

You were still talking, never once stopping your task of preparing various organs for preservation. Ever quick and methodical, your hands never stopped moving. “-ean, really, the body is just a machine!” you huff, dropping the heart into a jar like it had offended you.

“...a machine,” he parrots. You remain unaware of how his eyes bore holes into the back of your head.

“Exactly! One that I will take apart and master!” Your easy confidence about such grim matters unsettles many, used to unsettle him. He crosses the laboratory with two long steps and leans over you, observing your work more closely. A body lies cold and empty on the metal gurney, its innards laid out in jars across your desk. You’ve moved on to labeling now, penning down notes in a shorthand he’s yet to decipher. The silence is… comfortable, broken only by your pen scratchings and the quiet ticking of Moon’s internal clockwork. 

You look back at him only once, a questioning but otherwise blank stare, before returning to your work. Not displeased, at least.

He continues watching as you finish labeling and move to writing in that same shorthand in a journal. He doesn’t know if you would explain it to him if he asked, so he doesn’t. He just continues to watch. And as the sun sinks in the sky, he slinks away and activates the electric lights for you before returning to his perch.

[doomed-era]

also. with kishu facts how about widget facts? whats up with her /intrigued

well. she is in the castle currently! she has been waiting for four years (i give you a deranged smile)

-but she has been stasis for around 100 years, or at least not completely conscious. she has a very poor concept of time/self in there which helps her from going completely bonkers. it's kind of like being in a submarine. a stressful work environment 💔

-originally i planned for her to be physically 17 when gaffen frees her, however i scrapped it because i thought it was weird. she's physically and mentally around 20-21. how does this work? idk. Magic.

-she can be intentionally bratty and passive aggressive but mostly she just doesn't realize when shes causing harm. it is a genuine fear of hers that people cannot be honest around her because of her social standing

-DESPITE THIS! she does still refer to herself as a princess post-calamity I think. she's just kind of. adjusting. and the first ppl she meets besides gaffen are the sheikah who absolutely refer to her as a princess. she considers it her duty to reestablish hyrule as it used to be because that's what she's been taught is right, but she doesn't really want to. part of her arc is going to be exploring that. COUGH

-she's really embarrassed by the "antennae" she has on the sides of her hair and her teeth.

-despite her love of learning she often hated her tutors. she's got a if it sucks hit da bricks mindset tbh. thankfully she liked her last tutor a lot! he was a sheikah named shira longan and he uh! had magic that allowed him to see through a little metal eye he had as a hair accessory. eye on the back of his head :] they got along well

-widget is stealthy and difficult to track! good at hiding too. it is genuinely impressive that gaffen manages to find her.

-some people she knew at hyrule castle tried to set her up with the court poet as a joke

-if formaldehyde existed (i am not sure if I want it in gboh) she would keep small animals in jars

-overfamiliar with people she likes, and very touchy. will bop you on the head and want hugs, talk to you about weird laws and sheikah tech and biology for 182423462746823742 hours, etc etc. she's a BIT more chill post-calamity but not by a lot

-"shes a scholar and wouldn't fight" my ass if she thought she could help people or saw a need to defend herself she WOULD learn how to fight. and she does. so

[bruce-wayne-simp]

Like Minds

Hey hi hello im about to watch Like Minds (aka Murderous Intent) and apparently the only way i can watch movies now is by liveblogging them so 🤷‍♀️

(Maybe expect the LotR trilogy next idk)

Like with Remainder i have a vague idea what this movie is about. Well, maybe a bit more of an idea what this is about. All i know is there are 2 teenage murderers and a TON of homoeroticism (not canon i think but youre crazy if you dont see it)

Also this liveblog/my watching of Like Minds was heavily sped up by @catlovingwitch who sent me a lovely ask which fuckign FUELED me to do this so thank you v v much ❤️❤️❤️

Once again, i am a T Sturridge stan so this will probably be very heavy on him. Unless over the course of this i become an Eddie Redmayne stan

Spoilers be ahead

Idk why im like. Anxious? Whatever.

Its starting aaaaaa

Eddie R screaming on a train (hes thrilled)

Ooh theyre stealing stuff?? T Sturridge isnt here yet

(The way its set up is Alex (Eddie) is captured by the police and is basically giving them The Backstory™️ which is where Nigel (Tom) comes in)

Oh shit he killed Nigel

Ok so psychiatry lady is here and her name is Sally

God Alex looks so young

Ooh this is interesting and actually really good

Flashback starting

THERES NIGEL god hes pretty

Lmaooo Nigel is the new kid and hes Alex's roommate and Alex is kinda pissed lol

Thats what you get when you snoop. Alex was looking in Nigels trunk and found a taxidermied cat(??)

Lmao Nigels in the doorway like 'Do you mind?'

Oh hes so concerned about his taxidermy

'Hes weird' they say as they explode a cockroach for fun

Lmao Nigel reads books about anatomy/autopsies?? yikes

Oof Alex is pulling the misogyny card. Hes telling the psychiatrist lady shes running out of time to have kids 💀 sir youre not helping your case

"Nigel got what he wanted." "And what was that?" "Eternity."

Sally is Over It. She doesnt think Alex is guilty

Shes listening to the tape she recorded from her talk with Alex and is like 'hmmmm'

Back to flashbackss

Oh god Nigels dissecting a bird IN THE DORM ROOM

Lmaooooo i love Nigel

Alex is PISSED and is like 'the least you can do is show me some common courtesy' and Nigels like '??? K.'

Well that interview just went to shit

So Alex was kinda taunting Sally but mostly the detective dude. So detective guy comes in and is like 'Gunshot residue says you were holding the gun when it went off'

Alex asks to see his father, the detectuve is like 'he cant help you', Alex panics a little, grabs Sallys wrist snd is like 'Nigel was holding the gun when it went off, i didnt do this' and the detective dude loses it and punches him and Alex is dragged off to lockup kicking and screaming

Apparently Nigel ALSO had GSR on his hands so anybody couldve pulled the trigger

Yall need to watch this fucking movie

Ok so basically a guard runs back in and is like 'He wants to talk'. Well actually hes holding 2 guards hostage w a police baton and is pleading to be let out of the cell. He fights the guards, loses and Sally shows up as hes on the ground being cuffed again. They sit him on the bed, Alex insists he didnt kill Nigel and then starts talking about someone being 'here' and 'listening' and Sallys like '???'

Ooh ok so Alex thinks someone is talking to him im his head?? Does he think Nigel is?? We are at a flashback btw

Wait did they already steal stuff off the train??

Alex youre a bit of a brat lmao

Wait was he stealing stuff for his dad????

Ok Alex and his friends are kind of dicks

Ooh Alex is challenging the pastor dude who is teaching religious history i assume

Nigel is looking at him like hes kinda in love

HOOOO CHECK AND MATE. GET REKT PASTOR DUDE

Lmaooo Nigel keeps dead things in jars. He has a big thing of formaldehyde hanging up lmaoooo

You know what i actually kind of agree with Alex. I mean thats p reasonable

(The Headmaster (who seems to be fond of Alex) sees Nigels collection of dead animals and is trying to justify why Nigel is there and allowed to stay. Alex is the first quote)

"He's a part of your club and nobody else wanted him so youre doing the 'brotherly' thing. Yeah well does my future depend on that?"

"Thats enough-"

"No, you dont give a fuck about me or this guy the only thing that you care about-"

"Thats enough!"

"-is the amount of kudos his father's-

"I said enough!"

"No, which is fine, but just dont give me the 'brotherhood' bullshit."

Then the headmaster slaps him and is like 'This boy will be made welcome' and walks out lol

Oooh theres Nigel

Lmao he walks in, slides in behind Alex, grabs his notebook off the desk and walks out, visibly amused.

Jfc Nigel is making psychological notes on Alex and his friends

"This little shit needs to be taught a lesson"

Alex's friend, Josh, is a pos. He just made a literal Nazi joke. To Alex's credit he tells him to knock it off

At least one of his friends has 2 braincells.

Are they straight up chloroforming Nigel??? Wtf

They dragged him onto the train unconscious

Oh shit Alex is like holding him outside of the door while the steel beams to the side are rushing past them. Nigel seems out of it tbh cause hes not freaking out

Josh is lighting firecrackers and tossing them out of the train and he dropped one and freaked so Alex and Nigel got back in. Nigel went to walk away and Alex pushed him up against the wall like 'Where do you think youre going??'. Nigel just spit in Alex's face and Alex punched Nigel

Oooooohhhh shit Alex leaned Nigel out of the door again and Josh started freaking out and told him to let Nigel go and the handle Josh was holding onto the train with BROKE

Oh shit Nigel just let him fall

Like he straight up waved his hand over Josh's hand to taunt him i guess and he got sucked out of the train wtf

I feel like the thing to keep in mind here is all of this is being told by Alex and hes Not a reliable narrator

WAIT THE HEADMASTER IS ALEX'S FATHER???

Oh yeah Alex is an unreliable narrator for SURE. Besides some fondness there was 0 mention of him being Alex's father. Or maybe im just dumb which is entirely possible. Likely, in fact.

Lmao Nigel staring at Alex like a freak at Josh's funeral until his dad nudges him like 'Knock it off'

Alex's dad eyeing Nigel as he walks away

Alex and Nigel arent roommates anymore

Nigel reading basically smut in front of class (in front of Alex 😏😏) classy smut im sure but still

Alex is watching rehearsals of the play and Nigel comes up super close like 'sorry about ur friend' and is kinda. Creepy and morbid about it. Which tracks

I think its interesting that TS's facial expressions and delivery here is SO reminiscent of his role as Dream. Ive seen him make these EXACT expressions in The Sandman while talking. Its odd seeing them on a younger face tho (not in a bad way)

Oh my god Alex just got a human hand in a package. 3 guesses as to who its from? (I assume. I dont actually know. Im not gonna do my boy Nigel dirty like that)

Alex vomited and hes telling Sally that when he got back it was gone

Nigel comes into Alex's room, gives him some papers to help with his essay while Alex is yellimg at him to get out and leaves lmaoooo

My boy Nigel doesnt deserve the slander 😤😤

"How did he know i was struggling with my essay?" Youre a dumbass and hes smart

"How did he know my topic?" Idk maybe if you made an effort to know him youd find out. Im sure Nigel can be charming when he wants to be but hes not gonna be on guard 24/7 so you got to see the spooky shit hes into when you were roommates

"I mean he had answers to questions i hadnt even thought of yet." Omg could Nigel be... Smart?? Impossible. Only idiots study anatomy and dissect things. 🙄 CMON ALEX

Jfc Alex you are dramatic as hell. Hes comparing using Nigels notes to 'selling his soul'. Just get the easy A my guy

Me every time Nigel comes on screen: 🥰🥰🥰

Nigel and the dog im DECEASED

The dog doesn't like ALEX oooooo

Dogs know who you really are 🧐🧐🧐

"I've never brought anybody here before. You're the first. Okay? First."

Nigel just wants to be friends 😭😭 he brought Alex to his hideout and the first thing he asks is 'Do you like it?' 😭😭😭😭😭

Oh jfc Nigel is as crazy as Alex

God that LOOK he gives when Alex is flipping through the book. You cannot convince me Nigel isn't in love with Alex

"An implement for killing. That's what I am." N I G E L

Jesus. Alex thinks Nigel is in his head.

Alex just asked a girl (Susan) out on a date and Nigel came up afterward all friendly and tried to give him a book and Alex completely cut him off

Poor Nigel :(

Ok also poor Alex but i don't feel as bad for him cos hes an ass

Holy shit did Nigel kill someone?? Alex woke up and someone threw a knife on his desk stuck to a Jack playing card with blood

Oh my god its Susan (that girl Alex was gonna go on that date with)

Nigel this doesnt look good for you buddy

Nobody's accusing him but she was kinda.... dissected. Its pretty graphic if you watch this movie just be aware

Oh shit she was in the school greenhouse

I think Alex did it. Hear me out. Hes the one telling this story. If he did it, hes gonna tell the story in a way that makes Nigel look bad. Nigel, conveniently enough, cannot say anything otherwise. Cause he's dead. I think at the very least he did kill Nigel but telling the story this way makes him the hero for killing the big bad serial killer.

Ok back to the movie the knife and the card are gone from his desk and Alex is looking for Nigel.

Now the detective is getting statements from all the students who saw Susan before she was killed

Oooooh Alex got caught in a lie

'Ooh I sense some hostility' just kiss him already JESUS

OH SHIT. Nigel is remorseful about what happened and Alex was like 'You did it. Didn't you?' And Nigel says 'No, Jack. You did.'

(Jack is a nickname. It's explained in the movie i just don't feel like rehashing it sorry)

Alex punched him

"Well im sorry Jack but you were the one who got inside my head." OHHHHH FOLIE A DEUX

Nigel: You can fix him? I can make him worse <3

And we love him for it

Something something criticism of upper class structures (see: quote above about 'brotherhood'), parents being not involved in their kids lives and not seeing obvious signs of mental illness due to that (Nigel's... everything and Alex's authority issues, sense of grandeur and family issues)

This scene is where Alex's dad tries to get the detective to drop the charges and tries to use his connections to the detectives father to do so but he refuses to drop it.

Oh shit apparently theres no evidence Nigel did anything to Susan

Also apparently the detectives cant find Nigels parents so 🤨

Hmmm

Sally is gonna look at Nigels hideout

Damn Nigel had a TON of notebooks

Oh SHIT Nigel had photos of a sleeping girl

Nigel its really hard to defend this i hope you know that

Oh fuck theres a dead body under Nigels house

Apparently 2??

ALEX DID IT. FINAL ANSWER.

Nigel showed Alex the hideout!! Alex was the FIRST and ONLY person (besides Nigel) who knew about it!!! The bodies were fresh!!!! Alex did it. Nigel my babe ill defend you to the death Alex is a psycho

Its ride or die for Nigel Colbie in this house

Aww Nigel introduced Alex to his parents

"Helen and John, this is my best friend Alex. Hes working on the play." Oh yah rich ppl are fucked up. Imagine introducing your parents to your friend by their FIRST NAMES 🤮

Ooh he just read Nigels bible

Nigel thinks hes directly descended from the Knights Templar

See, Alex seems to be reading this like it's his first time seeing all of it. But HE BROUGHT IT UP FIRST. In that class with the pastor earlier. Nigel was watching him. This was right before Nigel started pursuing him (and i don't think this was how it happened. Hold on i'll talk about it later. I think Alex went after Nigel. And I've seen other people think this as well)

Alex's mother died while giving birth to him and he told his father that her death was his fault since he got her pregnant 😬

Oh god

Ok so

Sally found a card that said 'My beloved Maraclea' and Alex is telling her who Maraclea is

Maraclea was the lover of a knights templar in the 13th century who died and the knights templar. Uh. Had sex with her dead body. And basically 9 months later he goes back and her skull is moved from her shoulders to on top of her thigh bones which are crossed. He has to protect the skull bcs itll give them grest fortune or whatever

While hes telling her this theres a flashback to Nigel and Alex meeting up at night and uh. Theyre in a morgue.

I dont like where this is going 😣

Oh fuck its Susan

Is. Is Alex gonna necrophile Susans body

Did he do it???

Hes saying Nigel took him there to basically recreate the whole Maraclea thing but its ambiguous as to if he actually did it

Holy shit thats fucked up

So Alex is watching through the window

Nigels father found those photos that Sally found and. Um. I think those are of Nigels mother actually.

Implied incest/CSA warning (im gonna italicize it. Skip the italicized part. Nothing graphic and not even really explicitly abuse but theres an accusation being made basically. CSA bcs Nigel is 17)

Nigel is in his bed and so is his mother. Shes in a slip and hes in pajamas and his father is holding a gun and yelling and basically accusing them of sleeping together (tho Nigel is 17 and also thats his mother so uh. Yeah.)

Tbf it only incidentally looks like that and she claims they were just talking. But also i have no reason to trust her so uh. Yeah.

Oh my god

Nigels father just shot his mother right next to him.

Holy fuck.

Alex came in and grabbed the gun and asked Nigel what hes done and Nigel said she was 'chosen'

Alex points the gun at Nigel and Nigels dad gets in between them and is shot by Alex

Oh my god wtf

'Ill have my Maraclea' What. In the actual. Fuck.

And he just. Casually dumps his fathers organs into the fire.

"Dont you think they're gonna be missed?"

"Well as long as they dont find her nine months it doesnt really matter, does it?"

🤮🤮🤮🤮

Nigel i cant defend this.

Oh god Alex did it too with Susan

Tom Sturridge angry with a shotgun is something i didnt know i needed but im glad i have it

Oh shit they both did it

Nigel used Alex to kill himself

Holy shit

Alex had the shotgun pointed at Nigel and Nigel is very obviously upset and doesnt understand why Alex thinks hes the crazy one.

He told Alex to pray for him, reached up and pulled the trigger while Alex was holding the gun

ALEX WALKED????

HOLY SHIT ALEX IS MAKING HIS OWN BIBLE

HE LEFT AN ENVELOPE ON SALLYS CAR AND IN IT THERES A JACK CARD THAT SAYS 'MY BELOVED SUSAN'

Holy fuck he broke into Susans tomb and took her skull

Holy shit hes doing the same thing Nigel did to him to someone else

Roll credits

Ok ok ok wow so um.

I dont think Nigel did it

Well ok. I think the truth is somwhere in the middle. Alex is putting a lot of blame on Nigel for someone who may or may not have killed 2 people to Nigel's 1

God its so hard to collect my thoughts about this film. Also its like 2 am so uh. That doesnt help.

I think Alex had a more dominant role than he let on. Also considering how quick he was to pick up the mantle, idk. I just know while watching this i was surprised by how much Alex killed even as Nigel called himself an instrument for killing. All Nigel did that we know for certain was let a kid fall out of a train. Alex straight up shot Nigels father.

Nigel is more quiet and reclusive and morbid and Alex is more intelligent and outgoing.

Of course Alex makes a point to emphasize how morbid Nigel is and ive already pointed out how i think Alex is an unreliable narrator. Alex is smart. He knew how he needed to tell the story and he succeeded. He got off scot free.

Unfortunately i dont think Nigel would have been able to do that. Nigel was smart but not as smart as Alex. He would have slipped up

So what happened to Susan? I keep going back and forth on this. I think it could go either way. But i hate to say it. I think Nigel did it. This whole thing kinda goes back to the Maraclea thing and Nigel knew about it already. So he kills Susan and guts her so Alex has his Maraclea and he goads his father into killing his mother so he 🤮 has... his...

Basically i think Nigel is more evil but Alex had a bigger part than he lets on

Its v v complicated. Or its just 2 am idk. (respectfully) Leave your thoughts if you feel so inclined

Oh my god he said Alex killed her because in Nigels mind he chose Susan as his Maraclea oh good lord

(But Nigel is pretty and fictional so we'll give him a pass)

Im definitely rewatching this at some point. Its actually really good

Ok thats all lol bye im gonna go see if theres Like Minds fanfic

[the-villainous-ace]

Concept has been on my mind since this song showed up in the Azirephale playlist on Spotify

I haven't finished the second season yet so no spoilers really.

"Can't Take My Eyes... Off Of You"

#making up #serinade #musical number #dramatic declarations of love #I was wrong dance

Aziriphale is angry with Crowley,

Or as angry as his nature can tolerate without feeling guilty. Which in Azeriphale's case consisted of feeling rather disappointed, cross, and a little hurt, rather than the standard intense urge to call forth lighting to smite down who ever displeased you.

He did want to forgive Crowley. forgiveness is one of his favorite things, and he got immense satisfaction from doing it and he feels he's quite good at it.

At this moment though.

Abstinence, he felt, is also a good virtue that he, as an Angel, can exemplify*

*(unless of course he was asked to abstain from partaking in sushi, chiffon cake, filet mignon, crepês, oysters... well I think you see the point)

After Crowley's latest flame-up *(in that he had been both very ubset and on fire) the "I was wrong" song/dance just wasn't going to cut it...*

*(he'd already tried)

He was going to have to do something terrible, something unthinkable for a demon. So embarrassing that if anyone else saw what he was doing he would never be taken seriously again by heaven or hell.

It could mean the death of him...

⬇️ Continued...

Crowly serenades Aziriphale using a song by "Franky Valley" (an Azirphale favorite).  He hopes that by using the lyrics as a viechle, he can say what he feels honestly without his demonic rationalities* (or rather the insecurrities that had gotten him into this mess with Aziriphael in the first place)* interfering.

His voice cracks like the words are being painfully strangled out of him, forcefully and against his will. figuratively speaking though it could be said to go even a step further than that.* (it should be also said that at the way it's going, he may have to physically start to strangle himself to put an end to his nervous hissing)*

Crowley, as he begins his prostrated psalm, is engaged in a heated battle of wills within himself as he bites out mawkish lyrics that, despite their fluff, cut into his deeper feelings like a sharp doctor's knife and then began to rip them out of him, like they were to be displayed in jars of formaldehyde like feet and tumours and other grotesque specimens collected by resurrectionists.

But to Aziriphale, unaware of Crowley's painful effort, it seems like Crowley's usual begrudging-ness to apologize, only slightly elevated due to the increased humiliation he was no doubt struggling to endure, but still lacking in the humility Aziriphale thought he deserved from the demon.

He steels his resolve further, to remain un-budged by the display...

Sensing Aziriphale turn colder, Crowley plunges further to dig out his forgotten heart and force it open. Like going full gas, 100 mph in a 33' Bently through blazing hellfire all over again, he resolved himself to see it through. Even if he caught fire (which he was beginning to feel like he might... Again... )

And he thought that if he could do that, then he could damn well get through this song!

He's singing now, actually singing, not just spitting the words out like they were a fly in his mouth.

He'd gotten past the hard bits of the song. The bits about Heaven, and God, and a 4 letter word beginning with L that he sort of muttered, his pronunciation sounding like he had only just managed to stop himself from being sick.

But now he was singing, his voice carried out and he felt embarrassed at the number of emotions that seemed to tremble through it.

He couldn't remember when the last time he sang was, if he had ever at all. Maybe it was before he had "sauntered vaguely downwards", when he was still a part of the heavily choir praising god (when he wasn't busy building galaxies and nebulas and constilations).

Or maybe it was a couple of centuries ago in a bar drawling out a funny tune in merriment with sloshed company. Or it could've been yesterday singing along with Freddie absentmindedly knowing all the words from their constant repetition. The point was he couldn't remember if he had ever actually sung, but he certainly had never sung like this before.

He began to move too,

He had planned to dance. He didn't plan a dance perse *(attempting to choreograph a dance for a confession/apology was taking the embarrassment too far he felt)* He just sort of glided and swayed in the way only he could, in a manner that felt the right way to go about it when he'd seen it performed by others. Dancing certainly had felt more natural than singing to him till now.

Azeriphale's eyes widened in astonishment and he could feel himself start to twitch. He'd started to feel sort of tingly all over, like his body was trying to tell him something but his thoughts just hadn't caught up yet. All the chocolates, that he had indulged in earlier like he was attempting to stuff a deep void, felt like they had transformed into a swarm of rowdy caterpillars and were now dancing the gavotte! *(Of course the chocolates-turned-caterpillars could've been dancing any number of dances but the gavotte is what Aziripheal knows best)*

Crowley was staring at him.

This wasn't new and it wasn't as if he'd only started again a second ago. He had been staring since he'd come into the shop, he'd felt it and it hadn't ceased. But Aziriphale suddenly felt embarrassed about it. As Crowley sang, Azeriphale suddenly got the feeling that they were both remembering 6000+ years of that stare. And suddenly it wasn't just a stare, it never was, it never had been.

6000+ years and only now he knew what it had meant. The meaning it held now as their eyes glued together.

Crowley slid forward.

Aziriphales's face grew hot, the catterpillars had metamorphosed into butterflies that we're now fluttering in a hurricane of anticipation.

He took in a sharp breath.

The black slits of Crowley's eyes shook, advancing further, finishing the refrain...

"You're just too Good to be true...

Can't take me Eyes... Off of You~... "

•••

Wanted to just jot down my idea and ended up with a full-on drabble of at least 1000 words (I think anyway, I didn't count). Hard to write out and illustrate in words what you see as more of a colorful musical number visualisation in your head.

Divine inspiration triggered by the "I was wrong" dance from episode 1 of season 2 (It lives in my head rent free) and a favorite of mine "Can't take my eyes off of you" by Frankie Valli.

What if Crowley and Aziriphale fought and the only way Crowley could think of to get Aziriphale to accept his apology is to confess his feelings and the only way to do that was to masquerade them in an"I was wrong" dance trojan horse?

(side note I need a gif of Crowley doing the I was wrong dance like I need air to breathe and food to eat, additionally I would give my left arm, my college tuition and my soul to see David Tennant as Crowley perform this song)

Here's the lyrics to the Song for added context but you could also listen to it using the link at the top of the post

Lyrics - "Cant Take My Eyes off of You"

-Frankie Valli

🎶🎤🎶

You're just too good to be true

Can't take my eyes off of you

You'd be like Heaven to touch

I wanna hold you so much

At long last, love has arrived

And I thank God I'm alive

You're just too good to be true

Can't take my eyes off of you

Pardon the way that I stare

There's nothin' else to compare

The sight of you leaves me weak

There are no words left to speak

But if you feel like I feel

Please let me know that it's real

You're just too good to be true

Can't take my eyes off of you

🎶🎶🎶

I love you, baby

And if it's quite alright

I need you, baby

To warm the lonely night

I love you, baby

Trust in me when I say

Oh, pretty baby

Don't bring me down, I pray

Oh, pretty baby

Now that I've found you, stay

And let me love you, baby

Let me love you

🎶🎶🎶

[ask-serpulalacrymans]

He woke up stiff and heavy. There was a slight hesitation getting up. He slowly sat up feeling his blood flow back around his system again. He rolled his neck and shoulders, getting them used to movement again. Eventually he managed to get himself up and limped to the kitchen. His lower back is feeling the worse, either because of work or the blood pooling up there.

That was the trouble after coming back from the river. If he could, he would stay longer, but there was the anxiety of one of his neighbors finding him if he went beyond the start of rigor mortis. 

The idea of waking up to his own body filled with formaldehyde horrified him. Even worse, an unopenable jar of ashes… He didn't want his family to know either. Last thing he needed was to reunite during a funeral. Or buried six feet underground.

He got himself a glass of water to rehydrate and got an instant pho from the cabinet. One of the few foods that didn't go bad as fast around him. 

He would do the same in the forest. He would stay in the river for a bit longer, but there was still the anxiety of what if someone found him there. 

He needed to find the perfect spot. A place he could be left alone to rot and stay in the river for a long time. 

He stirred the rehydrate noodles covered in beef broth and sriracha around with his fork. He held them by his lips to let the warm wetness linger a bit before slurping them. 

When he finished the soup, his body felt 'normal' again. If only the rest of life was this simple.

[shiro-hatzuki]

hi yes i'm constantly haruka posting that this point but this is super important to me and i need you all to see this. so like i have a friend who goes by arizona, and he sometimes dms me milgram thoughts as well as post thoughts in the milgram server we're in. but unlike me, his thoughts are super cool. the gigagalaxy brain to my pathetic smol brain. and last night, they sent me an observation about haruka's season 2 mv that made me so excited that it would've been a shame to keep it to dms. so he posted in the server, and i'm bringing his thoughts to you through yet another post for the milgram tag. and if you're wondering, yes i do have permission, but in return they're going to be watching the notes on this so if you have thoughts, please share them!

spoilers for "all-knowing and all-agony" mv below the cut. there will also be talk of preserved specimens and taxidermy, though there shouldn't be anything too brutal. there will also be screenshots from the music video.

[image ID: A series of edited together discord messages from the user "Arizona." The first set of message read, quote "honestly im surprised nobody has theorized that the yellow shit is formaldehyde given his taxidermy collection. for an example its this color." endquote. There is an attached image of a bottle filled with an amber-colored liquid; however, the bottle's label says, quote "Formaldehyde-free fixing agent" endquote. Arizona's next messages read, quote "nevermind I misread the bottle. but that's still the color" endquote. The last message in the image is Arizone saying, quote "ignore the fake brain" endquote, and there is an attached stock image of a glass jar holding a fake brain while mostly submerged in amber-colored formaldehyde. end ID]

for comparison:

[image ID: A series of edited together discord messages from Arizona. Together, the messages read, quote "the formaldehyde theory would also fit in since the taxidermy clearly becomes 'degraded', as happens IRL. its a harsh chemical so eventually the specimen gets damaged. also the preservation process is brutal but I wont go into that. I feel like him being 'submerged' in the formaldehyde at the end means something" endquote. end ID]

those first few messages are referencing the times in the mv when the animals, presumed to be taxidermy, are "melting" into the amber liquid:

[image ID: A series of edited together discord messages from Arizona. Together, the messages read, quote "another note i'd like to make taxidermy isn't just scientific. it is considered an art form not sure what that could mean, just saying. the destroyed taxidermy could also represent a split, same with the stuff on the ground when he's asking if his mom's proud the intact, pure stuff, could represent 'the art' he thinks he is making- thus why he's asking if his mom's proud -the destroyed stuff represents the fact that he is literally murdering animals. in his words, 'mommy look, i've done great,' above specifically bodies that were in the taxidermy room before. BTW, the official art [referring to the art of taxidermy] as far as I know is 'letting the specimen live a life after death,' which is a bit grim" endquote. end ID]

[cutestkilla]

Thanks for the tags @forabeatofadrum @martsonmars @confused-bi-queer @aroace-genderfluid-sheep @artsyunderstudy @fatalfangirl @you-remind-me-of-the-babe @letraspal @basiltonbutliketheherb @facewithoutheart @ivelovedhimthroughworse @johnwgrey @captain-aralias and @moodandmist for the tags today! I love everything you shared, all of you are on fire now with the stuff you're posting and I have so much great stuff to catch up on.

I have a little bit from Chapter 8 of What's Left to share, which I will put under the cut since it's long and basically everything is a spoiler from here on out.

A little Sid POV:

Baz pops the padlock open with a spell, and I raise the blue metal roll-up door to reveal a small locker full of what I know to be enchanted furniture.  “Do you think it’s going to start talking to us?” I ask. “Like in Beauty and the Beast?” “Why would you think that? Did that happen in your dream?” “No… But you could cast ‘Be our guest’ on it. As a treat.” “For fuck’s sake.” “What, you’d prefer we find a severed human head in a jar of formaldehyde, I suppose?” He ignores me and begins to pick his way through the contents. There are things piled everywhere. Magickal dining sets with chairs stacked on top, a plastic bin labelled ‘rabbit’s legs’ sitting on top of a chest of drawers, next to a box full of monkey paws. Baz holds one up for me to see. “Look, Sid. Another classic film reference for you,” he deadpans. “A classic short story, originally,” I correct him. “And you’d better put that down before you accidentally wish for me to be quiet and it turns you deaf or something.” He drops it like a hot potato.

The day is getting long in the tooth, so consider this for today or Wednesday (or just me waving hello): @creepyspice @wetheformidables @palimpsessed @bookish-bogwitch @whatevertheweather @gekkoinapeartree @shemakesmeforget @urban-sith @technetiumai @kherub @messofthejess @angelsfalling16 @mrskrementz @frjsti @sillyunicorn @tea-brigade @mostlymaudlin and @aristocratic-otter

[magicalgardenofhypnosis]

A Cock Makes A Goat

Oh Chris is like a bitch in heat messaging, calling and texting me to meet him to do this already.

“I need you man”

“Band it”

“Let it hang low”

“Cut it off”

“Freak”

“You want too, don’t you?”

“A cock makes a man”

“Also makes a horn ball”

We agree for him to come to my Josie with a bag of sterilize balls and for him to do as I instruct him to.

He enters my living room with this sweet grin, a glint in his eyes and removes his close.

I pass by him groping, tickling and beating them in to submission.

“Are ready for it? No going back now”

“Where are the bands”

“The device “

“This will be extremely painful.”

“Use some ice”

“Hahahaha”

“You are cruel”

“That’s what you wanted “

“It’s exactly what you get bitch”

Using the farm hand device I loosen the rubber bands and one at time the slide up and tighten.

“Oh Fuck! Oooooowwwww”

“Get over it! It will be over soon”

“No”

“Or not”

“Mwahahahahaha”

“This so quite enjoyable “

“How about I beat you for a bit”

“I mean senseless”

“Please”

Shaking my head I grab a piece of paper towel wetting it with a liquid and approach him.

“Nighty…night”

“What?”

“Mmmppppffffhh”

“Dumbass”

“Deep sleep”

“He will be silent now”

“In a couple of hours it will be over “

“Oblivion”

“You will be a goat indeed, no balls and no will.”

The hours fly by with great anticipation as I prepare for the operation with a paper towel roll at hand.

Lining the floor under him and another for the tool.

Picking it up in one hand, I grab his balls with other and begin to cut them off one at a time.

I place them in a jar with formaldehyde then close the top and place in my room for safe keeping.

“Time wrap him up and lock his cock”

“Clean the room”

“Take him to my bed”

“He will wake up soon”

“He will get everything he wants”

“Also so much more”

“He will never no free will again”

“Mwahahahahaha “

“Feels so good to be bad finally”

The end

[blacksupremacy86]

Good Ole Ass Time

Have you ever wonder if you will ever tap into the deeper maybe even darker side of bdsm and well here I am.

Let alone anything like elastration I have been in a position to discuss many times over.

So anyway Justin Is a rare case totally open go everything I have ever said including this and castration as well.

I mean we spoke but constantly being put in a disappointing position left me with doubts till he shows up.

It’s a hotel on a rainy day during fall I skip a meeting to do this, I know awful naughty me renting a room.

Sitting on the edge of bed I check my watch then the door being knocked on awakens me from my day dream.

His face says it all the expression of man who is someone so deeply in need a hunger so bad.

This desire of lust and craving to be freed perspires in to the air a funky set as he enters the room.

I smack his ass in time to the door slamming as he jumps up in response to my actions.

“Damn sir, that was hot”

“Shut up! Removing very article in clothing”

“Yes sir”

“Did bring everything I asked for?”

“Yes sir, it’s in the bag”

“Alright then let me see you get the razor and shave off your body hair and facial hair too.”

“Now bitch”

“Who knew a nerd could be this cold? I love it.”

“Every inch fool”

“You are cruel sir, keep it, and use me”

He reaches for his bag rummaging through for a length of time and showcases his body

While I do enjoy the view he finally retrieved it starts to stand still slowing shaving it off for me.

In a act of total submission he drops more of pieces of his man hood on the floor.

I giggle a fit of tears at the sight of the last of his float to the floor and head to the back.

Upon my orders he cleans it up emptying it on of the contents of a plastic bag and waits.

Behind him I stand definitely much shorter then him and smaller grabbing his neck safely.

A rag fill a bit chloroform places over his tiny mouth as he says a few words smile creeps on his face.

I let go letting him flip onto the floor his bare white body shines in the light trying to come through the blinds.

He lay spread our over a towel from his last previous moments of shaving and I place my tools next to him.

“You want to be a goat right?”

“I’ll make you one “

“A good ole ass time”

“It’s a shame you can’t feel this”

“Oh well! Let me start with the elastration”

“Eww! These white balls yuck”

“The momentous occasion is here “

“Today I claim you as mine”

“Today you become mine”

He would be our for a good couple of hours so I grab the elastrator prepping the bands perfectly.

Placing it on it to the device allowing it time to stretch and hovering over his left ball.

Pushing it completely into the band I go to the right ball and do the same with more

security.

I prepare the next band following the same measure place a second and third band on his balls.

My amusement rises seeing the bands grow tighter and tighter around his balls.

I fondle them a bit then set them down for the long wait hours pass as they lose color.

Eventually I get my turn reaching for a pair of cutters I slide through them dropping every peace on to a paper towel.

Placing that in a jar of formaldehyde I close the top leaving it in the bag along with all else he bought.

Cleaning up everything to the place looks so emasculate you could eat off the floor I felt much better.

“Mmmmmmhhhhhh”

“Oh you are finally up”

“Chloroform right?”

“Are you happy?”

“Did you get rid of it?l”

“Take a gander in your bag”

“Oh fuck”

“You did”

“Thank you sir! I am yours”

The end

[afoolandathief]

Day 15 of Nano

WIP: Something Wicked

Status: Rewriting

NaNo profile: afoolandathief

NaNoWriMo 2022 Goal: 250 words a day

Words written today: 470

NaNo WC total (not counting prior work): 4,965

Total WC for rewrite: 38,209

Excerpt below ↓

(TWs for food and blood mentions)

A small stove held a large pot that had apparently boiled over in the distant past; solidified rivulets streaked its sides and soft, green mold was making camp on its rim. Pickle and jam jars with their labels hastily scrubbed off crowded the counter and windowsill. Some were empty, others held flower cuttings or organs suspended in a clear liquid, formaldehyde, maybe — Caz recognized the smell from that little moroi who’d stabbed him.

His hip bumped into a kitchen chair burdened with a leather jacket, purse, scarf, and, on the seat, a single sneaker. He gritted his teeth as the toe of his shoe crunched against something on the ground. Caz lifted his foot to find crumbled pet food. It was strewn in a certain radius out from two bowls and a water dish on the floor.

Jade had taken the case of tacos at some point and sat in between a stack of papers and what appeared to be crushed crystals on her table.

“I wasn’t expecting company,” she said. “Thought you’d just take the blood and we could go.”

“I didn’t say anything,” Caz said.

She raised an eyebrow at him, and Caz realized he was crouching over the floor, placing bits of kibble one by one in his palm.

[sanguineterrain]

Brooklyn Honey - Bucky Barnes x Reader

(Repost!) Hello, this is for the lovely @wkemeup​’s 9k writing challenge. I decided to go with the song prompt “Life in the City” by The Lumineers. It really reminded me of 40s Bucky.

Title: Brooklyn Honey

Summary: Life in the city ain’t always so pretty, but you’ve got Bucky and he’s got you.  

Pairing: 1940s!Bucky Barnes x female!reader

Word count: 2.4k

Warnings: nah

***

“That’s so not how you do it.”

“Sorry, I must’ve missed the day you wrote the manual on how to put up curtains.”

“You sure did, and I can tell you as an expert, the nails aren’t supposed to resemble a mountain range.”

“Smartass. C’mere.”

Bucky’s palm opened and you took a nail, carefully tapping it into the wall.

“Or is it the skyline you’re going for?”

“You’re pretty mouthy for an assistant.”

“I keep it interesting, doll.”

“Is that what we’re calling it?”

“James Barnes, what on earth are you doing in there?!”

Your eyes went wide and you hurried to scramble off the chair you were standing on. Bucky put a hand on your back, shaking his head.

“Buck—”

“I got it, don’t worry. Keep hammering.”

“But—”

“Honey, don’t you trust me?”

“Absolutely not.”

More knocking, faster and louder this time.

“Coming, Mrs. Anderson!”

Bucky buttoned up his shirt, smoothing his pomade-slicked hair back, and went to answer.

You stepped down from the chair anyway, daring to peek around the corner. 

He had his arms up, trying to fill the entire door frame and hide the obnoxiously yellow curtains you probably weren’t supposed to have. Mrs. Anderson, Steve and Bucky’s busybody next door neighbor, was a small, shriveled, old woman with a perpetually pinched face that looked like it had been stored in a jar of formaldehyde for the last twenty years. She kept trying to look over Bucky’s shoulder but he wouldn’t let her, moving when she did.

“—could’ve sworn I heard hammering coming from this apartment.”

“Oh! You must’ve heard me fixing my bike.” 

“You don’t have a bike, James.”

“Did I say my bike? I meant Steve’s.”

“Steve rides a bike?”

“Absolutely. Keeps him fit.”

“I don’t recall seeing him ever—”

“Well, bye, Mrs. Anderson! Always a pleasure to see you, ma’am.”

She gave another stern look before shaking her head, walking away.

You sighed as Bucky shut the door with his foot, a too sly smile on his face.

“Didn’t I tell you to trust me?”

“I think you might be a worse liar than Steve.”

“Well, ouch, doll.”

“First of all, who’s ever heard of needing a hammer to fix a bike?”

“We can be the first.”

“Next time, I’m answering the door.”

You clambered back onto the chair, returning to knocking in the nails. 

“I still don’t understand why you wanted curtains in the first place.” 

“It adds a homely touch, doll. Aren’t you the one who’s always complaining about how drab this place is?”

“Of course, but it’s not my apartment.” 

“It could be, with how often you’re over,” Bucky said sweetly. 

“Keep dreaming, Barnes.” 

“I will,” he assured with a smile that could melt butter. 

You shook your head and returned to focus on the curtains. True, the first one was beyond help in terms of nail placement, but the least you could do was try and make the next one even. 

Bucky had offered at least ten times to do it himself but there was no way he was getting his hands on a hammer after what had happened when he’d tried to install some shelves last winter. 

Besides, you were better at decorating when it came down to it. At least, that’s what Bucky kept insisting, letting you do essentially anything you wanted to the apartment. 

The chair suddenly groaned under additional weight and you startled as you felt the side of a body press against yours. 

“How’s it goin’?”

“Bucky, this chair really isn’t meant for two people.” 

“You sure? Seems pretty sturdy to me.” 

“Yeah, I’m sure.”

Bucky wrapped an arm around your waist and you fixed him with a look. 

“What? Don’t want you to fall.”

“How valiant of you.”

“Ain’t it?”

He hopped off before you could scold him further, grinning up at you. 

“Beer?”

“Yeah, thanks.”

Bucky disappeared and returned a minute later with an open bottle for you, holding it so you could sip safely while still perched on the chair.

Then you kept hammering, eyes narrowed as you focused on not hitting anything other than the nail.

Bucky watched from the floor as you did so, leaning back on his hands.

“What’re you looking at?” you asked after a while, glancing at him from the corner of your eye.

He shrugged, a gentle smile on his face.

“The city.”

***

“Honey, I’m home!”

“What did I say about that, Barnes?”

“You said… you’ll love me for all eternity because you’re as sweet as honey?”

“I think it was more along the lines of, ‘don’t call me honey unless you mean it.’”

“I always mean it, Y/N.”

And that was a little more sincerity than you were willing to explore, so you pointed to the bag instead.

“What’s that?”

Bucky grinned, setting a giant paper sack on the counter.

“Lemons.”

“What?”

“Lemons. You know, the little yellow fruits that make you do this?”

Bucky puckered his mouth and smacked his tongue, eyes screwed shut.

“Lemon’s not a fruit.”

“It sure is! Fruit got seeds. Read that in a book about agriculture. We produce a lot of corn, did you know that?“

“Okay, Bucky, the presiding question still remains: why do you have every lemon in the city?”

“There was a good deal at the docks. Dirt cheap for produce. Some guys told me they were takin’ some home for their wives. Didn’t want you to feel left out.”

“I’m not your wife.”

Bucky just grinned. You rolled your eyes.

“I don't know who taught you this, but the way to a girl’s heart is not twenty pounds of lemons.”

“Think of all the lemonade we can make.”

“Unless you’ve also got FDR and his cabinet in those bags, we’re gonna have a lot of leftovers.”

“Look at it this way: no vitamin C deficiency. One less thing to worry ‘bout.”

“Bucky.”

“They’re not all lemons, doll. I got other stuff too. Tomatoes, cabbage, snuck some cucumbers, even bananas.”

You sighed, smiling tiredly. This ration was taking its toll on everyone. You knew Bucky was doing his best, had seen the vegetables and thought of you and how much you missed having cucumber salad and tomato sandwiches like you used to.

“Thank you, Bucky, really. I appreciate you.”

You brushed past him to begin preparing the excess vegetables you three wouldn’t eat this week to pickle. Salt and sugar was going to be hard to gather, but you’d manage. You always did.

“Welcome, doll.” 

He beamed, eyes full of warmth as he watched you. 

“You gonna stay for dinner?”

“I dunno. Seems like Steve’s gettin’ kinda tired of me,” you laughed.

“Never. ‘Sides, even if he was, doesn’t matter.”

“Oh, really?”

“Nope. ‘Cause you stay for me.”

“And where did you get that idea from?”

He shrugged.

“Seemed kinda obvious, doll. You’re smitten, admit it.”

“Oh dear, you’ve got me all figured out. However did you know?”

“I’m a bright fella.”

“Uh-huh.”

“You ain’t saying no…”

“Really, I have to say no? Can’t you tell I only stick around for the great deals you get on produce?” 

“But it’s me that gets the great deals, so really, you’re still staying for me.” 

Bucky was against the counter now, shoulder to shoulder with you. 

You sighed, hand on your hip as you stared at the table. 

“What the hell are we going to do with all these lemons?” 

“We’ll figure something out. Always do, don’t we?”

You hummed, leaning your head on his shoulder, aware he was talking about more than the lemons. 

“Yeah. We always do.” 

***

Steve had been home for a while, wordlessly letting you in when you’d shown up an hour ago. You didn’t have to explain anything to him anymore. 

The record player was on, crooning gently. Steve was in the corner, drawing, away from the window after the breeze had whipped his papers around one too many times.

“Can’t believe they’re building another skyscraper down on Lawrence.”

Steve frowned.

“Really? Won’t be able to see the sunset now.”

“Yeah. And Brooklyn’s not exactly known for its scenery to begin with. Saw a rat and a pigeon fighting over a pretzel this morning.”

Steve chuckled from the floor, shaking his head.

“Times are tough. Even for rats and pigeons.” 

“Sure are.”

“Nice curtains, by the way. I like the color.”

“Oh. Yeah. Sorry. Did Bucky ask—?”

“No,” he answered, smile evident in his voice. “But that’s alright. I know he’s just tryin’ to gauge what you like.”

“What?”

“Yeah, after the war’s over and all, he’s gonna try and buy a nicer place.”

“And he wants my furnishing tips?”

Steve shrugged, gaze soft and knowing.

“Guess so.”

You cleared your throat, pushing a lock of hair behind your ear.

“Want some lemonade?”

“Jesus, there’s more? I thought we’d run out of bushels.”

“You’d think, right? I put ‘em in the icebox so they won’t spoil so fast.”

“Sure, yeah. Thanks, Y/N.”

You were in the middle of stirring the pitcher when Bucky came in.

He didn’t greet you or Steve immediately, like he usually did, instead setting down his keys, then slapping the mail onto the table. 

“Well, hey there, mister. Fancy a drink? Today’s special is sour lemonade, your favorite.”

Bucky looked up, startled, and glanced at the pitcher before nodding, attempting a half smile.

“Sure, doll. Thanks.”

“Everything okay, Buck?”

He nodded, slipping away to the bathroom with a sigh.

You turned to Steve, who shrugged.

“Long day at the docks, I guess.”

***

June twelfth. That was when Bucky was being shipped out, somewhere in Europe, too far from you. This entire year you’d been holding your breath, hoping, needing the draft to leave him alone. 

Now they were taking him away from you in less than a week. 

You were in the apartment, lying on the floor, on Bucky’s second to last day. That’s how he found you upon coming home. 

“Trying to count all the cracks in the ceiling, doll? You’ll be here all night.”

You had a glass of lemonade by your head, spiked with a bit of rum. It was already warm, because it was summer and things were supposed to be warm in the summer.

The curtains danced in front of the window, yellow like sunshine and all those goddamn lemons in the freezer. The only respite from an otherwise colorless world.

“This city is so ugly.”

Bucky looked up at the sound of your voice. He walked over, crouching by your arm.

“Think so?”

“Yeah. Can’t find a single pretty thing in the city.”

“I can.”

“Can you?”

“Sure. She’s looking at me right now.”

“That was sappy.”

“Yes it was.”

Bucky lay down, rolling onto his side next to you, taking a sip from your glass.

“But I ain’t mean it any less.”

You hummed, closing your eyes.

“Well, for what it’s worth then, I think you’re handsome.”

“Oh, yeah?”

You could hear his proud smile.

“Don’t make me take it back.”

“No, I’m just surprised to hear it is all.”

“Surprised, huh? I’m certain I ain’t the first one to call you handsome.”

“You’re the only one I wanna hear it from.”

Something fluttered in your chest.

“What d’you say then? You and I, think we can take on a city as ugly as ours?”

He smiled.

“With you, doll?”

“Yeah.”

“With you, of course.”

“Good. I’m gonna hold you to that.”

Bucky propped his head up on his elbow. It was quiet again, with only your occasional sighs and his quiet breaths.

“What’re you looking at?” you breathed, opening your eyes.

“You.”

Bucky flicked a drop of lemonade from the tip of your nose.

You turned, now face to face.

And oh, Bucky’s blues. Those had been your color even before the curtains.

“I’m gonna miss you,” you blurted.

He smiled a little sadly.

“Gonna miss you too, Y/N.”

You pushed your lips together, taking a deep breath.

“You were right, you know.”

“‘Bout what?”

“That day when you brought home all those lemons. You said that I stay for you.”

Bucky’s lips quirked, gaze fond like it always was.

“All those times I stayed for dinner and pretended to know what I was doing putting up those curtains. I stayed for you.”

You wiped your nose quickly, sniffling.

“And I’m gonna keep staying.”

“Yeah? What if the bridge collapses tomorrow?”

“I’ll swim.”

“Even in the winter?”

“I’ll get myself a pair of ice skates.”

“You don’t know how to skate, doll.”

“That’s right. So you better come back safe and teach me.”

Bucky leaned in, nose brushing your cheek. He rolled over and carefully straddled you, holding his weight.

“I’ll be there, honey.”

“Now what did we say about that?”

Bucky’s eyebrows pinched in thought.

“Don’t say it if I don’t mean it?”

You hummed, pulling him closer, arms around his neck. Bucky’s lips were a millimeter from yours, breath fanning over your chin.

“Mm, I think it was something about eternity.”

Bucky was soft, tangy and sweet. His scruff scraped your cheek and your fingers curled into the baby hairs at the nape of his neck.

He slid his hands under your back and turned so you were on top, head on his chest. You lay like that for a while, listening to his heartbeat, arms strong around you. 

Yellow fluttered in the breeze, tacked unevenly onto the wall, catching your eye. 

Bucky glanced to the side, chuckling.

“Don’t let Anderson take our curtains away.”

“Of course not. I spent a weekend on those. She’ll have to fight me for ‘em.”

“Good God. Now I gotta worry about you brawling with old ladies and Steve getting into alley fights while I’m gone?”

“Nah. Steve’ll help me.”

“Oh, great.”

You reached up, brushing his jaw with your knuckles.

“Call me honey again.”

“Honey, honey, honey.”

You reached up to get just one last kiss, except it definitely wasn’t going to be the last. It couldn’t be.

“They’re not gonna take you away from me.”

Bucky shook his head, kissing you much slower this time, trying to memorize you before time ran out.

“Never. ‘M gonna think of you and I’ll be back ‘fore we know it.”

You nodded, wishing hard, hoping somebody was listening. 

“Then, when I come back,” he whispered, promise riding on the summer air.

“We’re gonna make the best damn lemonade you’ve ever had.”

And maybe this city could take away your sunsets, your tea and jams, even your summer.

But if there was anything that was yours and yours only, it was the lemon pulp on Bucky’s lips and the undissolved sugar on your own, as bitter and pretty as home.

[glitteryglitter]

𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞

𝙰𝙽: I'm so sorry this took forever!

𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: None, I think!

𝙿𝚊𝚒𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐: Book! Enoch O’Connor X Reader

𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝙲𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝: 1009

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Y/n and Enoch had been friends for a while now.

42 years and 230 days exactly if you were to ask either one of them.

At the moment, they were arranging Enoch 's collection of pickled organs, as you do. However, they were interrupted by Jacob

It was clear he didn't like being around the pickled organs but whatever it was, it seemed urgent enough that he ignored them.

Don't you two ever get tired of- well-organs?

"They're important, Jacob!" Y/n protested

He glanced to the side which was a big mistake on his part.

Jacob swayed gently as he noticed several watery-looking eyes staring back at him from one of Enoch's jars.

Well, Miss Peregrine wants to see you, Y/n. Try to get back to her as soon as you can, okay?

They looked at him, confused.

"Why?"

"I'm not sure, she looked serious, but then again, she normally does. Anyways, I'd go check with her."

At that, he dashed up the stairs and slammed the door.

Jacob clearly wasn't the biggest fan of pickled organs.

"Alright." Y/n raised an eyebrow at Enoch.

He merely shook his head.

He didn't know what it was either.

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Several minutes later, the door to the basement crashed open for the second time that day.

Y/n ran down the stairs and practically threw themselves on the table next to a very unsavory-looking bowl of mouse hearts.

" Enoch I don't know what to do"

About what? You know how to pickle these things, you clean them, get some salt and formaldehyde-

"No, it's not that. Just, everything's so confusing I just don't know what to do right now."

The boy raised an eyebrow.

Normally Y/n would just get to the point and talk, but today seemed a bit different.

They picked their head up from the table slightly.

"Y/n, what's bothering you?"

Enoch had dropped his usually surly attitude, this definitely wasn't normal

"Y/n tell me what's going on. As much as I hate to admit it, you're starting to act like me and i don't like it"

They took in a breath and sat up finally

"Enoch, I have a cousin in another loop and they need my help. I don't know why or how they found me but either way, I'm leaving."

Enoch almost dropped his sheep's heart.

"You're what?"

"I'm leaving, I don't have a choice!"

"Y/n...yes you do! you always have a choice! What's wrong with this loop?"

"Nothing! I really want to stay, you know I do!"

He gave them a hard look

"You know what? Do whatever you want.:

Enoch slipped out of the room and slammed the door.

Y/n sighed.

They really would miss him.

They didn't know how or why but they would.

At first, they'd thought he was like a brother, but it was clear now that wasn't it.

There was something more, definitely.

A crush? This couldn't be.

The exact cliche that always popped up in the movies Y/n had watched.

Falling in love with your best friend? No! They didn't want to!

Even that couldn't mask the fact that no matter what they did or didn't want, it had happened.

They'd fallen for Enoch, and they'd fallen hard.

Perfect! Just perfect! The worst part was they probably didn't even have a chance to confess anything.

It really was sad, but y/n knew that sitting around wouldn't help anything.

They decided to start packing their things.

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After some time, they'd finally finished.

It really was strange how all the things in their room they'd acquired through the years could be stuffed into a few bags in a matter of hours.

Y/n had just finished hauling their very large heavy suitcases down the staircase, which they were cursing the existence of that moment when a voice from behind them jump.

"Y/n! Thank god I found you."

They turned around, nearly slapping the person who, to their relief, had stepped aside before y/n could whack them.

It was Enoch

He still looked downcast, but didn't seem to be angry at all.

" Well, I won't keep you for long... I just wanted to tell you something before you went away for good"

He paused again.

"I wanted to apologize. I don't want any hard feelings between us"

Y/n nodded. "Of course! It's okay, we can move past this. "

He smiled slightly, but didn't leave.

He almost seemed to be waiting for something.

"Enoch, is there something else you want to say?" Y/n asked curiously

"Well- yes"

"In that case, will you just say it, please? I don't have all day!" Y/n said with a small smile.

He rolled his eyes and took a breath in.

"Alright, well if you must know, I like you. I don't expect you to feel the same. This is terribly short notice too, but in case you do-"

A homunculus tapped y/n on the leg.

They looked down to see the small clay doll holding a flower.

"Is this for me?"

The tiny clay figure nodded as y/n took the flower, then skipped away.

"Oh my"

The familiar feeling came back.

The crush Y/n had tried so hard to forget.

There was no escaping it, they were head over heels for him.

Well, it was now or possibly never, what was the worst that could happen?

"Enoch, I'm leaving soon, but I want you to know that I feel the same way"

He nodded as y/n noticed his cheeks go pink.

"I should've told you earlier."

"Enoch," Y/n pulled him into a hug

"All that matters is that we both know how we feel"

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Five hours later, Y/n had been introduced to their new ymbryne.

Everyone had come out of the house to their goodbyes.

As Y/n waved goodbye, they felt unbearably sad.

Of course they wanted to see their cousin and meet new peculiars, but they'd stayed with these people for so so long.

It felt like they were losing too many people in too short of a time.

It felt so wrong.

Unfortunately, it had to be done, no matter how unpleasant leaving was.

Lastly, Y/n faced Enoch.

Abruptly, he pressed a kiss to their cheek, discreetly enough that even Miss Peregrine didn't notice.

"Stay safe, Y/n" he whispered.

They nodded.

"I'll be back Enoch, I promise"

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[get-shiggy-with-it]

heyo friend, I hope you’re doing well 🖤 What about the “You know I hate it when you do that, right? Keep doing it” smut prompt + shigaraki? With a gn!reader?

✧ pairing: tomura shigaraki x gn!reader

✧ warnings: brat taming themes, smut, references to violence, blood mention, handjobs, villain!reader, 18+ minors DNI

✧ word count: 1.5k

✧ a/n: hey mootie! thanks so much for your request. I know you were looking for some brat taming so take my subtle, sleep deprived attempt at some lowkey bratty behavior.

“You idiot, what the hell was that?”

The door slammed hard enough to reverberate through your chest. The momentary shake in your ribs was nothing compared to the adrenaline trembling in your fingers as they flailed in front of you, catching your fall. The bar top was cold and unforgiving in your grip.

Just like the floors under your feet and the roof over your head and all the people uneasily asleep upstairs.

Cold.

Unforgiving.

Tomura Shigaraki cut a menacing figure—and when didn't he?—as he stood cloaked in the darkness of the hideout. You could still feel the ache of his grip on your arm, can feel the dull throb of forming bruises there. He left faint crimson footprints behind when he stepped fully into the dim, overhead lights.

The short, baby curls around his head shone in the glow like some blasphemous halo.

But he is your savior tonight, so the comparison seems a bit less jarring.

“You’re gonna have to be a lot more specific than that, boss,” you tried to sound less winded than you are.

For someone so skinny, Shigaraki had some fucking stamina. Both beaten and well bloodied, the two of you certainly cut a striking image. And while you were panting from your escape—legs on fire after carrying you down innumerable alleyways and feet numb from the slap of the pavement through worn out soles—your boss seemed barely winded.

Untouched by the fight and subsequent flight halfway across the city while tugging you along at his heels.

Though, he also didn’t get his ass straight up hyperdrive blasted into a brick wall. You’d give yourself some credit where it was due.

“I don’t need you taking hits for me,” he snapped, coming nose to nose—well, hand to nose with you.

Every muscle in your body protested as you stood straight and stared him down, feeling how the bruises cut deep through your skin and stained your ego like rotting fruit.

“Really?” you asked, not quite delusional enough to be incredulous, but getting there. “Cause that fucking black eye says differently.”

There was a nasty red and purple mark spreading from the side of his temple that disappeared under the hand that hid most of his face from view. You’d watched him take that kick straight to the side of his head and not even stumble.

He was right.

Shigaraki didn’t lie—that’s why you followed him.

That’s why you couldn’t help the strange, second nature movement of your feet as you had watched one of the dozens that ambushed you wind up to fire a super-powered punch off at Shigs chest. The whole moment existed as a slow motion memory, something you watched from above—a voyeur in your own mind. The way your boss’ eyes went horribly wide, the glow of the man’s fist, the way your body went limp like a rag doll in mid air and slammed against the adjacent wall.

How your assailant was nothing more than a pile of ash only seconds later.

Though you tried not to read too much into that particular detail.

“You know I hate it when you do that right?”

You became peripherally aware that the ache in your chest was being exacerbated by his body weight pressing you back into the polished wood of the bar. As two hands caged you in with their pinkies comically raised to keep you trapped, you felt a familiar rush of defiance in the face of this show of superiority.

“What? When I save your dusty ass?” you tried to smile but his unwavering gaze made it die on your lips.

To be completely fair, you had just watched him take so many hits that should have killed him outright and keep fighting like the inevitably fractured bones were nothing but pinpricks.

You’d always known Shigaraki was intimidating, in his self-assuredness and confidence you knew was not unfounded. But you’d never seen him put his money where his mouth is before, only heard the stories from the rest of the League.

Now you understood.

“When you talk back to me,” he hissed.

He didn’t bother to correct you. He didn’t need to. You both very well knew that if anyone had been saved tonight, it was you as he retreated from the fight, pulling you to safety and not stopping until he—and doors of the bar—were firmly placed between you and feral city streets.

“Oh come on—” you were halfway through an eye roll even Dabi would be proud of when he reached up to grip the hand on his face and pulled it aside.

The smell of formaldehyde dissipated as it landed with a thunk on the bar and Shigaraki stared at you with newly unencumbered intensity.

“Keep doing it.”

You blinked in stunned stupid silence.

“What?”

It was only then that you realized it, and once you saw the subtle flush of his cheeks and the twitch in his fingers, you weren’t sure how it had ever escaped your notice.

Villainy had always been attractive for the rush, alluring in the sense that it afforded you the feeling of being so painfully alive. The adrenaline fueled, full body shaking that flooded you with invincible endorphins—that made your face hot and your blood sing. That was what called to you. That was what had you flinging yourself in front of punches and sprinting down the worn out city streets.

And that was what Shigaraki was feeling now as you held your own against him.

Challenged his authority.

Took what you were given and gave just as well.

You could imagine most people would have given up the smartass act after one too many brushes with a dusty end, but you were a stubborn piece of shit.

In fact, you were a little fucking brat.

And Tomura Shigaraki liked it.

“I won’t tell you twice,” he said, and when exactly did that gravel road rasp in his voice become so spine tingling?

His chest was flush with you now, and the familiar firmness pressing against your thigh only confirmed your revelation.

And only strengthened your resolve.

A grin on your face, you locked eyes with your boss.

“Oh, Shigs,” you mused, shivering at the way he smirked down at you in all his bloody, beaten glory. “I think you absolutely will.”

The bar behind you creaked under his grip and you suddenly missed the power in those deadly hands, pressing fingerprint bruises into your skin. You doubted you’d have to wait much longer for that though, not with the he twitched against your hips as you shifted to press back into him.

“Maybe you’ll listen better with your mouth full.”

One of those long fingers was trailing softly through the gashes in your top, running across your chest and tapping at your lips. He rolled what was undeniable a fucking unfairly large dick against you just so there would be no mistaking the direction this was clearly going in.

And what a hot fucking turn of events it was.

“Now boss, if you want me to keep talking, you’re gonna have to fill up something else.”

You couldn’t help but feel a little proud of yourself at the ability to formulate comebacks even as the hand at your lips slipped down to yours and drew it to the fastenings of his jeans.

“Don’t think I’m going to reward you for being so fucking irresponsible.”

He seemed at once so simultaneously wrecked and completely untouched by you that your head spun. Shigaraki kept his voice even, his face stuck in that same pleased expression. The only thing that gave him away was the raging hard cock you now palmed easily through his underwear and the pink flush that was spreading slowly down his neck and under the low collar of his shirt.

“Bold of you to assume this isn’t a reward,” you muttered, entranced by the way the blush lit around the razor edges of his scars, thin silver lines prominent against the blood rushing under his skin.

Your mouth watered and Shigaraki—Tomura? Should you call him Tomura now that his length was falling free into your palm and leaking across your fingers?—did nothing to stop you from leaning forward and latching onto one of the rough patches of flesh.

Shigs didn’t seem ashamed in the least or try to hide the gasp you yanked out of him with your tongue pressing deeply over the veins in his neck.

However, he also didn’t allow either of you to indulge for long. Seconds later a hand gripped the back of your shirt and the wrist that was currently pumping your boss’ deliciously heavy dick, stopping your movements entirely.

The rational part of your brain was not quick enough to catch the whine that left you when he moved to step away.

Shigaraki’s rare chuckle almost made it worth the embarrassment.

“Yeah,” he was grinning again but it was different this time. Predatory—a beast caught scent of blood, ready for the newest struggle to the death. “That’s what I thought.”

When he finally guided your hand back to his cock, warm with a beautiful red tip that gushed enough to slick your palm, you found it incrementally harder to formulate a response.

But you hadn't quite given up the fight yet.

When you smiled back at him, it was all teeth.

All claws.

Ready and waiting to be tamed.

[dollarstoreghostie]

Can I request a headcannon with asa and jesse with a reader who has hetrochromia ( one eye piercing blue and the other piercing green ) 😊💕

Absolutely!! And my apologies for the late response, I lost my password and got locked out for a long while, but I'm back with a vengeance!! Haha

ANYWHO, A BIT OF CONTEXT

JESSE AND ASA have very very very different love styles and this translates into vastly different relationship dynamics.

FOR INSTANCE, ASA generally doesn't view people as being equal to him. Resulting from his complete disconnect and disassociation with the human race, he views people like novelties, collectables; just another predictable creature to be cataloged and added to his ever-expanding collection of life and art. But you're different- don't get him wrong, you aren't on his level, but you're not so easily replaced. You're special. There's just something about you that has him like a fly in a web. No matter how much he thrashes and tries to free himself, he becomes more entrapped in you. The way you smile and talk and the way you walk and carry yourself and care about these things he can't understand. A part of him, being the drama queen he is, longs for you to put him out of his misery and sink your fangs in— freeing him, just as the spiders do when they consume their prey, but you don't, you refuse to, he's left himself vulnerable in front of you, waiting for you to put him out of his misery.

But you never do, it infuriates him. He disconnects from you, and, in the most uncharacteristic move for him, he leaves you alone and isolates himself from you and anything that reminds him of you and it's in this self-imposed isolation that he finds life so bland without you, it's worse than just missing you, it's longing. He feels like what those old poets spoke of, you won't leave his mind, no matter how he tries, and it's even more angering, but he finds, despite his pride, just how much fondness he has come to feel for you, and love, as tacky a word as that sounds. It's all he can describe it as. Inevitably, he comes to find that despite how much he loathes being out of control that he'd prefer to keep you around. You're just, you're weird, he can't explain it or his fascination with you, but he can't get enough of you.

MEANWHILE, JESSE TAKES AN ENTIRELY STANCE; his love doesn't place you equal to him or even beneath him. You are, in many ways, viewed above him. Now- hear me out here- Jesse would never think you were capable of defending yourself, or hell, even holding your own. But you aren't a pig. You aren't disgusting. You aren't meat in the way he views his victims or nuisances in the form of the brainless yes men that surrounds him in droves, like flies above carrion hoping to have a taste of the kingdom of blood and deceit he's built for himself. You are; you're beautiful. You see things so, not simply, but guilelessly. Unlike the sheep he employs, you are kind, so kind and sweet. You would never try to use him, and he knows this. He relies on this. He can trust you, and he sees you almost like an angel, especially after the accident that disfigured him.

You didn't run from the sight of his face, and that, that did it for him. If he ever had a thought about getting rid of you beforehand. That faded the first time he melted in your hands because, through his half-blind, remaining eye, all he saw in your face was concern and empathy, not disgust, not anger, not an attempt to stay strong and hide those all-consuming, repulsive emotions. He saw the exact reason he fell so deeply for you and the same reason Jesse had spared you of a role in one of his tapes. But this kindness of yours, as much as he adores it, concerns him and infuriates him at times. In his view, HE is the only one who should be on the receiving end of your softness, HE is the only one who deserves it, and these swine, this meat, would dare try to rob him of what only he deserves. The idea is enough to make him enraged. Still, this anger is never directed at you. Instead, those around you because he views you as utterly oblivious to the disgusting habits of the meat around him. To him, you are a victim. You are so wholesome, it's the world that would try to corrupt and turn you into another pig, and he will protect you from it.

NOW, WHY BRING THIS UP, BUN? Well, the thing is, it translates directly into their very different takes on loving your beautiful and unique eyes! Because regardless of their, well, peculiarities in how they love, they will love how you look, and really your personality is what counts the most to them. REGARDLESS

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐎𝐑 / 𝐀𝐒𝐀 𝐄𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐘 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐂𝐇𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐒𝐊𝐔𝐋𝐋 / 𝐉𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐄 𝐂𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐀𝐍𝐒 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐀𝐍 𝐒/𝐎 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐇𝐄𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐂𝐇𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐈𝐀

ASA IS FASCINATED WITH YOUR EYES. Perhaps they were what drew him to you in the first place. Scratch that, they were definitely what drew Asa to you in the first place. He had been leaving the shitty cafe outside of his university, with his first of many drinks for the day. When he'd taken a minute to catch his breath, the watery, bland and yet strangely bitter taste of the poor excuse for coffee knocking him back when he saw you pass by.

YOU DIDN'T STRIKE HIM AT FIRST, in fact, you seemed a little bland, the shade of your hair and its texture were something he had collected in droves, similarly, your skin, though breathtaking in its own right with the occasional blemish here and there, was nothing he hadn't collected before. In fact, he wouldn't have given you a second glance, if you hadn't turned to him and given him that polite smile.

THE WAY YOUR EYES GLIMMERED IN THE SUNLIGHT, THEIR MISMATCHED HUES SEEMING TO GLISTEN AS THE SHADES FRAMED THE POLITE BEND OF YOUR LIPS. He knew he had to have them - had to have you. But it wouldn't be until he watched you closer that he realized that the way he had initially thought wouldn't suffice. No, he couldn't put you into a jar or stuff you in formaldehyde. As he watched you walk home at the end of the day, the way you bobbed your head to the music, you were endearing, he didn't understand it, but you were. He'd have to hold on for you, play the long haul, as it were. And approach you as Asa far before he would collect you. It's easier to catch flies with honey rather than vinegar after all, and he'd prefer to keep you alive for now.

WHEN HE GOT YOU THOUGH, HE COULD NOT STOP STARING, it was, strange, you'd often turn and find him staring at you, his face unreadable, but his eyes speaking nothing but quiet admiration as he rode whatever train of thought seemed to have taken him at that moment.

AND FOR A TIME, YOU THOUGHT THIS MUST BE A COINCIDENCE, he wasn't looking at you, just in your direction and was lost in thought beforehand. It was a reasonable conclusion in your mind, he was the silent, contemplative, education type. It seemed to complete the persona. But no, no matter what you were doing, he'd be quietly watching. In awe as the light bounced from your eyes, the way the colours shifted. How your face shifted into concentration. How your lips would twitch when you thought of something funny.

WHENEVER YOU TRIED TO CONFRONT HIM, JOKINGLY OR NOT, HE WOULD BRUSH OVER HOW HE WAS WATCHING YOU AND THE LOVING WAY HE SEEMED TO FOCUS ON YOUR FACE. Always an excuse it seemed, but the way he would stumble on his words when confronted, smiling nervously and almost begging you to believe him was adorable and told you more than any explanation ever could.

YOU WOULD NOTICE THOUGH THAT HE'D BECOME FAR MORE INTERESTED IN THE MAKEUP YOU'D WEAR AND THE WAY YOU'D ACCESSORIZE. You think he's trying to be helpful but speaking out of his ass, but on the contrary, Asa has done his homework, he knows how to make your eyes pop, and he would like to make sure you knew how exactly to make your most precious asset look its best.

SOMETHING IN THE VIVID, MISMATCHED HUES OF YOUR EYES BRINGS JESSE BACK TO A SIMPLER TIME. Back when the height of the excitement that came from his twisted life were the frequent visits to his father's funeral home. How his father would force teach him how to dissect women. The ringing in his ears when his little hands shook to much to properly hold the blade. The hot tears that ran down his face when he inevitably left into the back alley, humiliated and tears and the soft respect of the old alley cat that lived back there.

SHE NEVER HAD A NAME, BUT SHE DIDN'T NEED ONE, the soft tufts of orange fur, that sweet, rhythmic purr and those striking eyes. She would come to him and curl up in his lap, purring and meowing and batting at the drawstrings on his jumper. And he would forget the humiliation, he would forget his father and the women, and he would play. To this day, he could still recall the warm fuzzy feeling of weightlessness that came as that cat showed him the love and affection his father never would.

BUT EVENTUALLY, THE CAT STOPPED COMING. Logically, Jesse knew the cat had probably passed away - the last few visits, he could recall the sharp bumps of the cat's bones through its skin, how small and frail it looked. A part of him feared the worst and contemplated bringing her home, but he knew if the cat didn't pass on the streets, she would meet a far worse fate in his home. But the sting of the loss of who seemed to be his only respite from his father and the only constant in his life burned.

AS THE YEARS PASSED, HE EVENTUALLY FORGOT ABOUT THE CAT, but the feelings it gave him, the warmth and comfort he felt as that cat circled between his legs, its tail curling as though it had a mind of its own and those striking eyes staring up at him with nothing but love... that never left.

WHEN HE FIRST MET YOU, HE HAD THAT FAMILIAR RUSH, LIKE SEEING A GHOST. It took him a while to realize where it came from - after all, the years eventually blend together into this stew of anger, lashing out, the wins and the loses and the tapes. But when he gets it - he gets it. That strange little cat and you? The coincidence is impeccable, and he gives a hoarse chuckle at the thought.

HE GIVES YOU THE NICKNAME 'ALLEY' AND 'KITTY' you don't understand it, and he will never explain, lest you decide to go poking around in the oldest dredges of his family photos, but it's cute, and you can tell by the creases in the corner of his eyes and the knowing half-grins he gives at your mock offence that he means the term lovingly. As strange as that seems.

AND YOU CAN BET HE'LL BRAG ABOUT YOU TOO. No one in his 'circle' would ever be allowed to see you - let alone contact you or see you for themselves - those sheep don't need that leverage over him. But they will hear all about your eyes, your beautiful eyes, the way they smile, how they bunch up with anger, how they don't hold the same animosity, degeneracy of his past suitors. Of whom there were many.

ITS ALSO NEEDLESS TO SAY, BUT THERE WILL BE GIFTS TOO, Jesse isn't much of a gifter in general, but he makes an exception for you. He loves seeing you dressed up, fancy, like a gift, like you deserve to be. You make him so happy, after all. But there will be jewellery, earrings, maybe a necklace, bracelets, rings... Whatever you want in those colours.

[five-rivers]

Orb/Reanimation

Another part of Doorways!  Link to series here.

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“What’s his name again?” asked Danny, picking at the hem of his shirt.  Today had been… stressful, for a number of reasons.  Partially the long drive and the disastrous breakfast stop, but also the fact that they were driving to meet a guy who was possibly:

a)       Vlad Masters version 2.

b)      A horrible hole in reality that would try to kill him.

c)       Possessed, like the Keens.

d)      Using ghost stuff without knowing it was ghost stuff.

e)      Messing around with ghost stuff while knowing it was ghost stuff, but without any of the skill to keep it from messing him up in turn.  

f)        Crazy in some wonderful, unforeseen way.

Or, finally,

g)       Mom and Dad’s one and only normal friend.  

Danny really wasn’t holding for the last one, if he was being honest.  After all, unlike Marianne, this guy had been part of the Paranormal Research Club.  

Okay, maybe there were other, positive, options.  It was completely possible for someone to be weird or crazy and not be evil or even particularly threatening.  Most ghosts were like that, in fact.  

Still.

“Frank Stone,” said Dad, cheerfully.

“If he turns out to be a Dr. Frankenstein type, I quit,” groaned Jazz.  “Just so you know.”

“You won’t quit,” said Danny, with complete confidence.  

“He is a doctor,” said Mom.  “He was studying biology when we met him, for his undergraduate degree.”

“I quit; I’m telling you.”

“If you were really quitting,” reasoned Danny, “you’d just open the door and jump out.”  He was pleased that Jazz was taking her turn as the resident overdramatic teenager.  She carried that burden only rarely, but it did seem like long trips in the GAV really brought it out.

Maybe they made her remember the whole Youngblood thing.  Who knew? Not Danny.  

“I’m not going to jump out of a moving vehicle. That’s more of a ‘you’ thing.”

“I can’t really dispute that,” said Danny, remembering all the times he had, in fact, jumped out of a moving vehicle. “In my defense, I can fly.”

“Why you can fly completely negates that as a defense.”

Danny held up a finger.  “Okay, so, first off, reality is not a moving vehicle.”

“Anything can be a moving vehicle, depending on your reference frame.”

“I agree on the moving part, but I dispute the vehicle part.  Vehicle comes from the Latin vehiculum, which is ‘a means of conveyance.’ Reality is not a means of conveyance. Ergo, it cannot be a vehicle.”

“Not so fast, brother dear.  Words change meaning over time.”

“Yeah, but that’s still what vehicle means,” said Danny.  “Unless you’re doing the medicine definition, anyway.  I think.”

“Reality is a metaphorical vehicle.”

“Well, if it’s metaphorical, it doesn’t matter whether or not it’s moving.  Does it?”

“I’m… not sure.”

“I think this is the place!” exclaimed Dad, pulling into a parking lot.  “Golding City University Medical Research Lab.”

“He doesn’t live here,” said Danny, slowly, “does he?”  They weren’t ambushing this guy at work, were they?  Even if he did turn out to be just as bad as all of Mom and Dad’s other friends, that was kind of mean.  

(Except, the Keens had been acceptable, once they were no longer possessed, and even the ghost possessing them hadn’t been too terrible.)

“He’s in the building behind the lab,” said Mom. “They let the teachers live on-campus, here.  He’s expecting us, anyway.”

Right.  Because they had called ahead, giving warning to their potential enemy.  Curse you, common courtesy and sundry social conventions.

Jazz was glaring at the small name sign on the building, which was just barely visible through the rain.  “Golding City University,” she said, eyes narrowed.  

“Uh, is something wrong?”

“Frankenstein,” she said.  

“Um,” said Danny.  He looked more closely at the name.  “Golding City.  Ingolstadt.” Oh, no.  Now he was glaring at the name, too.  Because Jazz was right, and it would be his luck.  Their parents’ luck.  Whatever.  

“Do you feel anything?” asked Dad.  

“No,” said Danny.

“Well,” said Mom.  “We’ll have to run a bit, try to stay out of the rain.  It’s too bad there isn’t a closer parking lot…”

“I could also just make us all intangible,” said Danny.  

“What?”

“I could make us all intangible.  I do it all the time to miss the rain when no one is looking too closely.”

“Huh,” said Mom.  

“It isn’t as if my powers disappear when I’m not fighting ghosts,” said Danny.  “I get to use them for other things.”

“I know, I know, it just seems… petty.”

“Petty is one of the best words to describe ghosts with,” said Danny.  

.

Frank Stone did not look like a Frankenstein. Not the monster, and not the ‘doctor.’

(Because Victor Frankenstein had not, in fact, become a doctor, had he?)

He was actually pretty average looking.  The same age as Mom and Dad, of course. Brown hair.  Glasses.  Skinny, but not that skinny.  Could Dr. Stone rob a grave?  Probably. But carrying the loot away without some mechanical advantage was probably out.  Unless it was old loot.  Dried out. Maybe just bones.  

Corpses were heavy.  

(No, Danny was not going to elaborate.)

Dr. Stone appeared to be somewhat confused about why Danny and Jazz were there.  Evidently, Mom and Dad had managed to give the man the impression that they wanted to fund his research with the fortune they had inherited from Vlad.

Which, incidentally, had been inherited by Danny, who couldn’t really do much with it until he was twenty-five.  Not that he was particularly keen on funding… Whatever it was that Dr. Stone was researching.  

Maybe that would be different if he could tell what Dr. Stone was talking about.  Danny wasn’t stupid, far from it, and had a good background in any number of esoteric subjects, but, well.  It was hard to rival an adult lifetime of learning and research.  Especially when he didn’t have any context.  

Mom and Dad’s briefing on Dr. Stone had generally focused on what he had been interested in as a member of the Paranormal Research Club, not his true field of study.

“Oh,” said Mom, suddenly, “this is about your organ transplant project, isn’t it?  You really need to provide more context.  When you just jump right in like that, even we’ll get lost!”

Okay.  Danny felt better.  

“Well, yes,” said Dr. Stone.  “I have been working on this off and on since college, you know how it is.  I know you kept up with that portal business!”  He flashed a nervous smile and set his coffee mug down on his coffee table.  It made a soft chinking sound against the glass.  “But the university gave me a grant, Vladco’s been donating some supplies—From their chemical division, mostly—and I’ve been having a lot of success!  I can’t wait to show you.  We’ve actually got a few specimens in near-stasis right now, all from mice.  We’re going to be implanting one tomorrow.  See how it functions.”

“Have you implanted any before?” asked Mom, leaning forward.  

“A few, but, well.  I can’t say they were resounding successes.  The most recent subject only lasted a few days… Although, that is better than the first! We’ve been adjusting some of our ratios.”

“Say, Frank,” said Dad.  “What chemicals are you using for this, anyway?  I know you’re using them in conjunction with low temperatures, but keeping crystals from forming in the flesh—”

“Yes, yes, that’s always been the problem with cryogenics,” agreed Dr. Stone.  Then they dove back into jargon and technical language.  

Danny glanced sideways at Jazz, uneasy.  Chemicals.  From Vladco. Yeah.  Not suspicious at all.  

He leaned over.  “Ten dollars says that he’s using ectoplasm to reanimate dead bodies.”

“I’m not taking that bet.  Do you feel anything weird from him?”  Jazz whispered back.  

“Weird, yes, but…”  Danny bit his lip.  “I’m not sensing any… doors.  Or ghosts.”

“Okay,” said Jazz.  “So, when we do find his mad science lab full of dead body parts, what do we do?”

“Well…  Nothing? As long as they’re legal dead body parts, I guess.  You know, from organ donors, or people who donated their bodies to science.  I mean…”  He shrugged.  “You’ve read Frankenstein, too.  And met Ellie.”

“Hm.  True,” said Jazz.  “I have to check my biases.  I’m still quitting, though.  As soon as we find his Frankenstein stuff.  Just so you know.”

“No, you aren’t.”

Jazz just sighed.  

.

Danny walks silently through the halls of the research facility.  True, Dr. Stone was planning on giving his family a tour of his workspace first thing tomorrow and had implied that other researchers would be doing the same, but Danny believed in being prepared.  

Well.  Sometimes. He was allowed to be inconsistent and contradictory.  Like any teen, he was still learning how to exist.  

Maybe he should stop comparing himself to ‘any teen,’ though.  It was beginning to feel dishonest, even in his own head.  Even though, technically, it was true.  

Anyway.  

This place was kind of creepy.  At least, he presumed a normal person would find it creepy. Too bad he didn’t know any normal people.  Sam would think it was cool.  Tucker would be freaking out because it was a medical research lab.  Ancients, Danny was as bad as his parents.  

It did have a number of features that one would typically only find on the set of a horror movie, however, so he felt fairly confident in his assessment of its creepiness.  Also, he had encountered at least five different crimes against nature and sanity (it took one to know one), and he hadn’t even gotten to Dr. Stone’s lab yet.  

He was impressed.  He hadn’t expected such a high concentration outside of Amity Park or Vlad’s hideouts.  

At the thought of Vlad, Danny drooped. Yeah.  He still wasn’t over the stupid fruitloop.  Still hated the fact that he had died.  

Back to the crimes against nature.  Ectoplasm was definitely a component, if a small one. Hard to get things to glow that precise, reality bending shade of green otherwise.  Also, well.  Danny can sense ectoplasm.

And…  Now he was in a room of jars full of diluted ectoplasm and… He sniffed. Formaldehyde?  He frowned and decided the number, size, and arrangement of jars was suspicious.  He walked around the table.  Yep. That was in the outline of a human body. Yep.  

Honestly, this wasn’t any more alarming than the living mice impaled with various glowing needles, or the disturbingly brown heart beating in a fish tank a few rooms back.  It was, also, significantly less alarming than the prosthetic face (mainly because, dang, that thing looked realistic), the (fresh) skeleton someone had been injecting ectoplasm into (yikes), and the weird flesh… blob… thing that someone had just left out in their workspace.  

Still.  This was another point for the ‘someone is building a Frankenstein’s monster in this building’ theory, and Danny had kind of been hoping that he was wrong.  

He walked out of the room, on alert for random murderous corpse monsters (or sad corpse monsters that needed a shoulder to cry on, a restraining order against their creators, and a loving home).  Or mad scientists.  Because, at this point, he was fairly certain that everyone who worked here was crazy, and not necessarily in the fun way Mom and Dad were.

He was glad they had decided to sleep in the GAV and ignore Dr. Stone’s invitation to stay in his apartment.  

Dr. Stone’s office was just next door.  His lab, just beyond that.  Danny approached cautiously, his ghost half on high alert, and his deeper self stirring uneasily.  

He laid a hand flat against the door, and that stirring became wakefulness.

Crimes against nature.  Hubris.  Pride.

Superbia.  It had to be.

A hole.  A wound.

Well.  This was fast.  Even with the Keens’ list of Paranormal Research Club members they had encountered while possessed, Danny hadn’t expected to find another thing like Gula so quickly.  

He hadn’t wanted to.  Despite his outward pessimism, he had hoped that there weren’t any more.  

After several frozen moments where Danny braced himself for an attack, he realized one wasn’t forthcoming.  The tear beyond the door had not noticed him, was not trying to consume him.  

So, he had a choice.  He could either try to deal with this alone, right now, or he could sneak away and tell his family what he had found.  Both choices had pros and cons.  

Before even a second had passed, Danny was easing away from the door.  He hadn’t quite promised to share if he felt anything strange, if he had detected anything bad, but…  It was a near thing, and he didn’t want to be dishonest with his family after they had been so accepting of all his… Stuff.  

Yeah.  Call it stuff.  Nice and generic.  Covers everything.  

Plus, his encounter with Gula had confirmed that he needed backup.  

He refrained from calling on his powers on the way out.  He didn’t want to draw attention.  The limits of the doors to the place which should not be mentioned were largely unknown to him.

Luckily, the doors weren’t alarmed, and he got back to the GAV without a problem.  He poked Jazz awake first.  

“Hey,” he said, “we’ve got a problem.”

.

“This portal is just… Sitting there,” said Mom.

“Yep.”

“In Frank’s office.”

“Well, I think it might actually be in the lab, but yes.  It’s kind of freaking me out.”

“Is Frank sleeping in his lab?” asked Dad, stroking the stubble on his chin.  

“No, I checked that before I went in,” said Danny. “He’s in his apartment.”

“You just… broke into his apartment?” asked Mom.

Danny shrugged.  “I didn’t break anything,” he said.  “But, I mean, what else was I supposed to do?”

For a moment, it looked like Mom was about to argue or scold him, but she shook her head.  “Alright, then someone else is in his office.”

“Maybe.  I’m not sure if these portals need a person attached or not.  Using person in the very loosest of senses, because…”  He made a gesture he hoped would be interpreted as a soul being forcibly removed from a body without killing the body.  

“You don’t think it’s in the, um,” Jazz also made a vague gesture.  

“You mean the hypothetical Frankenstein’s monster he’s made?  Yeah. I think that’s likely.  Also, judging from the sheer amount of, um, weird stuff in the other labs, I’d say it’s influencing everyone and everything around it, too.”

“Is that a thing it can do?” asked Mom.  

“I mean, I can do that,” said Danny.  He paused.  “’I’ in this case being the portal.  Yeah.  That’s why Amity Park is so…  Amity Park.”

Mom breathed out, slowly.  “Sweetie, trust me on this, Amity Park was strange long before we made the portal.

“Well, yes?” said Danny, not seeing what that had to do with it.  “So?”

“So, that strangeness couldn’t be caused by the portal.”

“Mom.  I’m—It’s a hole in reality.  Do you think it’s going to obey the laws of cause and effect?  You went to Amity Park because it was already a ‘thin spot,’ right?  I was already there.”

Mom looked vaguely ill.  

“Okay,” said Jazz.  “Let’s table that discussion for right now.  What are we going to do about this?  Break in?  Wait for our ‘tour’ tomorrow?”

“I don’t like the idea of waiting for Dr. Stone to give us a tour,” said Danny.  “I don’t want to give them time to prepare for us.”

“He doesn’t know what we’re here for, though,” said Dad.  “Does he?”

“I don’t know,” said Danny.  “I can’t read minds.”

“Yet,” added Jazz.

“Do you think he even knows about the…”  It was Mom’s turn to enter the gesturing game.

“Let’s just call it a hell portal for the sake of communication,” said Danny, despite the fact that the term did not do the actuality justice.  “Or Superbia for this particular one.  I think this must be Superbia, anyway.”  He didn’t want to imagine the possibility of even more of these things out there.  

“I’m not sure how he couldn’t notice that something strange was going on,” said Dad.  “Even if he was using ectoplasm and other supernatural elements in his research, we gave him a good grounding in what to expect from ectoplasm in college.”

“Yeah,” said Jazz.  “But not everyone is like you and Mom.  Your college days were over two decades ago.”

Something moving in the dark and rain beyond the GAV windows, catching Danny’s eye.  He pushed past his family to get a better look, blinking to adjust his eyes.  

“Heck,” he said.  “We have a mob.”

“What?” exclaimed Dad, rushing to the console to turn on the GAV’s exterior floodlights.  

They illuminated Dr. Stone and a crowd of college and graduate students quite nicely.  Their eyes reflected a dim red.  The GAV was, as far as Danny could see, surrounded.

Very briefly, the thought of gunning the GAV and crashing through the crowd crossed his mind.  It was just as quickly dismissed.  

He didn’t know what the line between influenced and mind controlled was, or how easily Superbia could cross it.  It was even possible that the ‘hell portal’ could vault over both of those and land directly in possession.  

“Ghost shield?” suggested Danny.  

“Will it do anything?” asked Mom.  

“Won’t hurt,” said Danny with a shrug.  

Mom flipped the switch.  

“What are we going to do?” asked Jazz, softly. “Wait them out?”

“Realistically,” said Danny, “we don’t have enough food and water to do that.  With this many people, they could take turns watching us.”

“Call the police?” suggested Maddie.  The other three turned to look at her.  “They are still human, aren’t they?”

“Yeah,” said Danny, frowning.  “But I don’t know how much, um, agency they have right now.  If we were in Amity, I’d say sure, our police understand, mostly, but…  Also, bringing extra hostages into this might not be a good idea.”

“If it’s the campus police that would get called, they might be affected, too,” said Jazz.  

“They have campus police?  How do you know?”

“This college sent me a brochure once.”

“Right.  Um.  I could always just fly us out of here,” said Danny.

“Assuming they don’t have ranged attacks,” said Mom, dubiously.

“Hm.  Yeah.  I think I could lift the GAV, and then we could just leave the shield on.”

“Assuming the shield does anything.”

Danny shrugged.  “I can always just try to fight them outright.  I’d prefer not to do that, though.”

Mom inhaled as if she were about to say something but was cut off by a loud noise from outside.

“Jack~  Maddie~ I know you’re in there.”  That was Dr. Stone’s voice, warped by a megaphone speaker.  “Why don’t you come out and see what I’ve done?  I dare say I’ve exceeded even our wildest dreams from college.”  A long pause.  “I even made a portal…  Weren’t you trying to get one of those?  Isn’t that what got good old Vlad hospitalized?”  There was laughter.  Too much laughter.  

The mob was laughing, too.

Superbia.  Pride.

Danny knew what he wanted to do.  He wanted to walk out and deal with the threat that was grating on his every sense.  But…  He knew that prideful actions were contraindicated under the present circumstances.  

Influence.  Right. How much could Danny be influenced?

How much could his family be influenced?

He looked up at his parents, seeking guidance. They seemed uncertain, too.  

“I didn’t destroy any lives- I made new life. New life!  Powered by an interdimensional portal, oh, yes…  Can you imagine the application?  Can you imagine a new world?”

“Okay, he didn’t seem like this in the apartment,” muttered Jazz.  “We have human nonlethal weapons, right?”

“Still have to worry about running people over,” said Danny.  He looked back at the lab building.  “We could try to cut this off at the source.  They aren’t protecting the building.  They’re using it as part of their perimeter.”

Eyes turned to the dimly lit building.  

“We can cover you,” offered Dad.  

“I don’t like this any better than you flying off with us,” said Mom.  “But…  It offers a more permanent solution.”

Danny should have gone after it when he was in the building the first time.  Well.  Time only rewound for one ghost, and that ghost wasn’t him.  

Unless he counted…  Never mind.  The point was, despite all his other wonderful and troubling features, Danny couldn’t go back and change a decision he’d already made.  Agonizing over it was a waste of time and brain power.  

Dad got behind the wheel.  Jazz crawled up into the well-disguised turret.  Maddie manned the other weapons.  

Danny stood at the door, ready to run, ready to transform as soon as he was through the shield.  

Family bonding activities.  So much fun.  

.

The mob attacked before he got the door open. He still made it to the building.

.

Danny didn’t bother with doors or windows or halls. He remembered what floor Dr. Stone’s office was on, and, now that he was sensitized to it, he could feel Superbia. He went through the walls, straight as an arrow.

(He wondered, briefly, if he was being as bigoted as he’d often felt his parents to be.  If he was ascribing more evil to the portals to the Red Country than was warranted. If he was simply holding up a dark mirror and seeing what he feared from himself.)

(But no.  He did not command like that.  He did not force his people to assemble armies in the night or attack people.  He kept them safe.  He had rules.)

The lab was awash in sick red not-light that burned in Danny’s mind.  It was barely physically perceptible, more present in senses that couldn’t translate to human terms than anything to do with Danny’s eyes, ghostly or not.  

In the center of the lab, on an operation table, was a stitched-together corpse.  Perhaps, under other circumstances, it would have been a very pretty corpse.  A young woman with long dark hair and broad shoulders.  

Its chest had been torn open.  Half-in half-out of the cavity was a red orb, the source of the not-light, like some sick imitation of a ghost core.  

(It reminded Danny of Freakshow’s staff, and he realized that he never did find out where that horrid thing had come from.)

They had been trying to make something like Danny.

He felt like he had eaten those blood blossom pancakes.  

Danny gritted his teeth and let his light, white-green and clear, fill his hands.  Ectoplasm fought against the miasma in the air, an oddly purifying presence. It wasn’t enough to chase away the wrongness.  This wasn’t his space.  

The fight against Gula was different.  Both he and it had been within nominally living bodies.  They had been next to the heart of Danny’s territory, his home ground.  Danny had been tricked and trapped, taken off guard, unable to use the tricks he had grown used to while fighting ghosts and Vlad.

(He could feel Superbia in his mind, pride urging him forward towards error.  Pride in his abilities, in his mind, in his family.)

Danny drifted sideways, watching.  Listening.  Other things in the building were stirring.  Sparks of wrongness growing and twisting, warping into fountains and springs.  This whole building was full of it.  Rotten to the bones.  It pressed against his teeth.  

Careful.  

He had to be careful.  

The orb shone.  

(Too much like Freakshow’s staff.)

(Influence, Danny remembered.  Just how close was it to mind control?)

Doing this as a human was impossible.  Trying to fight that as a ghost was unwise.

The always-open always-closed door that both contained and laid within Danny’s soul shifted.  So did the corpse on the table, its constituent parts sliding over each other gruesomely.  Death had lost its hold, lost its meaning.  The ghost that was Danny twisted, and he was too human, too alive.

Special little thing.  You think you can defeat us.

He could.  He could open himself and wash all this away in an instant.  He could burn with electric fire and the cold of deep space.  He could reach out.  The orb would be as dust under his hand.  

He didn’t move.  

In thinking you become…

Un-light burned up from the grooves in the tile floor. It didn’t reach the soles of his boots, didn’t reach his soul.  He gritted his teeth.  

US.  

YOUR VICTORY IS OURS.

“Wow, you picked the wrong person to use that strategy on,” said Danny, out loud.  Internally, he pulled on the delicate and frayed strands of reality that persisted even here. “I have so much imposter syndrome and anxiety that it isn’t even funny.  I know I can’t beat you.  Not here.”

But then, he didn’t have to.  

He found the right string and pulled.  He found the key and opened the door.  Death was in the room again.  Danny could move again.  Not so much the pile of flesh in front of him.  It was hard, it hurt, to keep hold of something like this, but half of Danny was this, was dead, even if he had far too many halves to ever be whole.  

Ice coated the floor, the tiles cracking under the sudden temperature change.  He dropped to the floor and was human.  

An impossible thing.  

And behind the human—

Well.  Danny didn’t have to defeat Superbia.  It wasn’t like Gula, didn’t have that strength, that experience.  He just had to make it so the things that would, could.  

(Danny had rules.  Some of them were to protect himself.)

He walked over to the orb.  Ultimately, it was just a representation, not Superbia itself. Still.  He put his foot down on it and slowly transferred his weight to it until it cracked.  Until it splintered.  Until it shattered.  Until he ground its dust under his heel.  

Then, the building collapsed.  Danny didn’t move, didn’t have to move.  He was a ghost again, floating in the air, exactly where he had been, all the floors having passed harmlessly through him.  

Outside, the faculty and student body of the college were sprawled in piles on the ground.  The GAV was, somehow, halfway up a tree.  A shockingly sturdy tree.  Several statues were in pieces.  

The sun was coming up.  

Danny put a hand to his chest and assessed himself. Yes.  Still here.  Still himself.  The Ghost Zone still sang in his bones, in his core.  He was still anchored in Amity Park.  Everything in order.  

This place, though… This place would be tainted for years, a thin spot forever.  He could feel it, now.  Why couldn’t he feel it before, when they drove in?

He shuddered.  Then he flew down to the GAV and knocked on the window.  Mom rolled it down.  

“Want me to fly us away to somewhere secluded before the cops get called and we get asked a bunch of awkward questions?” he asked.

Mom closed her eyes.  “Please do,” she said.