#but she's STILL a big weirdo and sassy even as a teenager

[arysthaeniru]

What if Clara was a midwife?

“The midwife is a relic of barbarism. In civilized countries the midwife is wrong, has always been wrong. The greatest bar to human progress has been compromise, and the midwife demands a compromise between right and wrong. All admit that the midwife is wrong.” - Dr Joseph DeLee, 1915 being completely wrong. 

Listen, I love Clara so much. She’s so weird, and everybody kind of hates her, and her weird double is so trippy, and I adore her sass. And everyone knows that Ice Pick Lodge didn’t quite have enough time/resources to shore up her route in Pathologic 1. And I just keep thinking: I do love Clara as she is, but imagine if she was a adolescent midwife, instead of a weird healer child! Imagine how much more thematically cohesive everything would be!

Clara’s story route is all about how old and new CAN coexist together, but it requires maintained, thoughtful sacrifice, to create that peace. That essence of sacrifice is what every midwife goes through all the times. What can pragmatically be sacrificed? Whose life is more important? How do you deal with the tensions and demands of the old and the new, and who bears the knowledge of that sacrifice? Clara facilitating the birth of something new in the the Town-upon-Gorkhon just becomes so much more interesting with her as a midwife, instead of a saviour figure. 

I also think it would lead better into the idea of doctors who aren’t really seen as doctors solving this plague best. Artemy’s steppe knowledge and Clara’s midwife knowledge would have equally been seen as complete nonsense by people like Daniil, who don’t understand the importance behind those kinds of cures, and the sorts of relationships that have to be maintained for it. 

And why the age-up? I think it just works so much better! Part of being an adolescent negotiating your future and the rest of your life, is that constant diplomacy and sacrifice between old and new. I think it also allows for Clara to have really interesting relationships with the rest of the town’s leadership, because of how being a teenager is such a transition phase.

So imagine with me, if you will, a new Clara and a new route. 

Clara isn’t actually an outsider to the town in this version: she’s Katerina’s bastard daughter. Everybody knows the her secret identity, but she doesn’t really live with the Saburovs anyway, she has her own place, a small but well-maintained house to do her work out of. 

Alexander still trusts Clara, but he resents her now, because she’s a reminder that the lack of children between he and Katerina is not a mutual thing, but specifically his own lack of potency. I bet that would make his ego really dented, and make him even more of an asshole. 

Clara still wakes up in a grave at the beginning of the story, but this time, it’s because she actually really died. When she walks around town, her reputation drops because the dead aren’t supposed to come back to life, and most people are horrified by your existence. 

Clara, upon initially coming back, is told by the Tragedians that she has to save people with her hands--she takes this to mean she continues doing her damn job. But to do that, she needs people to trust her again, and for that she needs Isidor’s approval. Too bad he’s dead now.

Sidenote: Clara’s midwifery job sometimes meant cutting the baby out of the mother. But she can’t legally cut flesh out of anybody, so she’d call Isidor up. She never much liked his necessity, but she and him got along fairly well.

But some of the Kin say that Artemy is a menkhu like his father, so maybe she should run after him to re-establish herself? Too bad Alexander is convinced he killed Isidor, and has already killed three people in town already. Alexander’s death warrant for him means he’s already gone into hiding. She can’t convince him to change his mind about Artemy 

Katerina doesn’t trust Clara anymore: she says her real daughter is dead, and that Clara is here as a horrible monster to lead her and the town astray. She wonders if this is the morphine addling her mind, but then she meets the Rat Prophet and everything makes sense. Also it’s implied the doppleganger is coming around whenever Clara’s not there to intimidate Katerina. 

When Clara goes to sleep, exhausted, confused, and nowhere closer to regaining her job or position in the town, she realizes she’s inherited the visions which she couldn’t see before she died. She’s a Mistress now. 

Capella, who used to be her friend, and Maria with whom she used to be amicable, are unimpressed, and don’t believe in her visions too much. They’re all arguing about the role of the Mistresses in town, and now Klara’s joining the midst, it’s becoming uncomfortable. Klara’s task is to try and convince them of her own validity and her own importance to the future of the town. Capella, especially, is easier to convince, but the weird friendship that used to exist before Clara’s death, is very tenuous, and Artemy can easily fuck it up. 

Speaking of Artemy, when Clara does eventually find him, he’s not actually a menkhu yet, so he’s completely useless on that front. But also, the Plague is happening, and he’s useful there, and he’s getting the trust of his father’s people. You get him to vouch for you, and it temporarily helps, but most people are still too freaked out by you. Clara and Artemy still don’t get along, though, Artemy’s way too condescending of Clara and they bristle against each other, uneasily. 

Daniil, on the other hand, is actually impressed by Clara when they first encounter each other. After all, beating death was the dream, and Clara did it! But Clara doesn’t like how he talks about her work, and also has no idea how she survived her brush with death, so the initial interest fades off, quickly. Daniil and Clara are still prickly with each other, but the threats of violence are less frequent, because a teenaged girl is harder to threaten to spank.  

Notkin, who Clara also used to be friends with, now thinks she’s just a half soul. He’s impressed by that, though, not scared, and all of his kids trade with her. But the Soul and a Halves generally insult Clara before doing anything.  

Khan’s Doghead clan respect Clara, because of her survival, but Khan maintains that the Polyhedron rejects her because she’s too old. Cara can prove him wrong by seeing all of the beautiful mirages of the Polyedron, but also telling him they’re all lies. This can make Khan made and lock off the Polyhedron, but the dogheads will still trade. 

Grace is probably Clara’s only real friend, and even she is being intimidated by Clara’s double. Grace is very convinced by her ability to speak to the dead, and Clara believes her, but also believes it’s dangerous. 

Clara and Andrei almost throw hands on the regular, one, because he thinks she’s presumptuous and very creepy towards her brother, but two, because she also stopped a lot of Herb Brides from coming to Andrei’s establishment, because they were all getting thrush from the twyrine. 

Clara still gets the daily missions to go and verify whether people are responsible for the plague, but this time, it’s because Alexander believes that Clara has inroads with all of them, because of previous midwifey encounters with them. This is true, but most of them don’t trust Clara anymore, so she has to do a bunch of errands around town to improve her reputation and prove she remembers her midwife skills. This can be helped by visions, or by rumours. Soon, Clara starts to build a lot of reputation amongst drunks and believers of her magical miracles (mst of the violent miracles done by her doppleganger) 

Clara’s double is still around, and is still the manifestation of the plague. At several points, people will suggest that Clara’s reincarnation is why the plague is happening and it’s uncertain if this is true or not. A lot of Clara’s missions are finding the double and asking her why she’s doing what she’s doing. 

Her relationship to Bounds, I think, would also be a way to explore their sins more. I think for a mature game, Pathologic doesn’t often discuss the relationships of sex and love to death very much, and I think there are some complex things to say about love, and children, and “sin” that could be really explored through a route with a midwife main character, who’s supposed to be investigating the sins and crimes of Anna, Yulia, Lara, Grief, Oyun, Big Vlad, Rubin and the Saburovs. I think dealing compassionately with the ideas of cheating, STDs, abortions and all the stuff around sexual health/freedom of women that nobody really wants to talk about could be an interesting way of how Clara reconciles the old and the new: by revealing secrets and letting them not be foul anymore. 

[spaceorphan18]

99 Perspectives on a Single Love Story #17

A/N: The Story of Kurt and Blaine told through the eyes of everyone else but them. Each chapter is a different perspective in the ongoing tale of their love story.

I started something like this a while back - and now I’m taking the idea and really running with it. Each chapter is a ficlet of a different character at a different point in Kurt and Blaine’s life - documenting their love story. This starts in Audition, and each chapter will be paired with a different episode until reaching Dreams Come True.

[Ao3]

***

Sandy Ryerson (Night of Neglect) 

There are other things he could be doing tonight. His doll collection hasn’t been properly attended to in weeks. Geoff would gladly accompany him for another forty dollars a night. Or, there are a few college parties that he could stake out in hopes in broadening his new, budding (ha!) empire. However, being a drug lord just did not have the same enticing ring as League of Doom. He never could deny that wily Sue Sylvester, who is just man-ish enough that he’s contemplated seducing her. She does give off good B.D.E. That’s Big. Dick. Energy. And Sandy Ryerson enjoys big dicks.

So he’s here, in this disgusting cesspool of a school, on orders from one Sue Sylvester to take down The Glee Club. Nothing delights him more at the thought of destroying Will Schuester on his own turf -- a turf that once belonged to Sandy and that had been so recklessly torn away from him. But he would get his revenge - oh yes he would.

Sandy turns the corner into the hallway leading into the auditorium when he sees a couple of teenagers holding hands, heads close together as they’re giggling about something. Sandy recognizes one of them immediately as the gay kid with a terrible fashion sense -- like, god, is it a skirt? Is it shorts? Pick one and stop giving gay people everywhere a bad name.

“Halt!” Sandy yells at them. Startled, the boys jump apart. “The Pink Dagger has arrived.”

“The Pink--wha?” The one he recognizes says. “What do you want?”

“Oh, sassy, are we?” Sandy says, circling around them, like a hawk circling in on his prey. “Well, we’ll see how much sass you have after The Pink Dagger has poked you.”

“Kurt, who is this guy?” the other one -- the other deliciously attractive one -- says. Sandy can’t help but look him up and down. He looks like a delightful treat that Sandy would gladly gobble up. But he has to focus -- he has a mission, and if he gets caught with any more students, he’s really going to be banned from McKinley.

“A really sad, gross old man,” Kurt says, taking the cute one by the shoulders to lead him away. “We really should be moving on.”

Sandy takes a step to block their way. “Excuse me, did you say I was old?” he is offended to the highest degree. “How dare you? How dare you indeed? Do you know what tonight is?”

“Thursday?” Oh, so he’s handsome and cheeky - Sandy could work with that.

Sandy is, however, still indignant. “No. Tonight is the Night of Neglect. And no one. No. One. Has been neglected more than Sandy Ryerson, Aka The Pink Dagger. You sad glee clubbers, who will probably spend this evening belting out wretched versions of classics you don’t even understand, don’t know the meaning of neglect. You know, my mother once left me at an airport for six months when I was a baby? And when I was part of The Acafellas, I had the most precious voice and I was so cruelly kicked out of their group? And last month when the community center wanted to put on an all female version of Chicago and they wouldn’t even allow me to audition... The world itself has neglected all of my awe-inspiring talent.”

Kurt narrows his eyes, arms folded across his chest. “I think you’re missing the point, tonight is not for you…”

“I will not be upstaged by a couple of queers who probably don’t know what it’s like to have the soft firmness of another man up their ass, even if their voice sounds like something is permanently stuck up there,” Sandy shouts, his voice echoing in the empty hallway.

Kurt winces. He clenches his jaw, but says nothing.

The devilishly attractive one looks confused. “Um, we aren’t performing tonight.”

“We don’t even go here,” Kurt says, an angered look in his eyes. He really should learn how to chill. Maybe Sandy should try to sell him some weed - but damn, he left it in his car. “We’re here to support our friends. I really don’t know why you’re here, but you probably shouldn’t be.”

Sandy places his arms around their shoulders. “Well, in that case, maybe I can entice the two of you to join the Legion of Evil, and we can bring McKinley’s glee club down together. And maybe have a little fun afterwards.”

“Gross,” Kurt says. Both boys pull away from him immediately. Well, that’s not exactly the reaction he had expected. Why does this always happen to him? Shouldn’t gay people stick together? “C’mon, Blaine, let’s get out of here. I’d rather have another encounter with Karofsky than talk to this weirdo again.”

“Fools,” Sandy yells as they walk away. “You have no idea what you’re missing out on! The Pink Dagger will be avenged!”

[valkerymillenia]

Umbrella Academy

season 2, episode 3

Next!

Again, live blogging and posting my reactions all in one post to avoid spamming.

This post got accidentally deleted yesterday so I had to write or all again (twice!)

Oh, starting with a Klaus and Ben 1960 flashback! Ah, Klaus... You have no shame. Let my baby eat though!

Lol "Chanel". Boy knows his fashion, of course.

And there's Boney M playing!

You can practically read his mind when he sees that diamond. Sugar momma alert! 😆

Damn, loving the black outfit, very sexy.

LEVITATING KLAUS WAS BEN LIFTING HIM UP! Seems that one crack theory on the fandom was right 🤣

Ben's face though 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

These two are the best combo. I love them.

61, Baja, NM. Traveling hippie commune.

Is Klaus still sober? He refuses a joint here so I'm inclined to believe that he is but he isn't acting very sober... Then again that might be an act, just him embracing the hippy life.

CALLED IT!!! BEN FALLS IN LOVE, DOESN'T HE?! I FUCKING CALLED IT IN EP 1!

62, Varanasi, India. The river scene from the promos. Yeah, I called this one too. Klaus is already looking seriously uncomfortable and realizing this is getting out of hand.

63, San Francisco. Poor Klaus is practically suffocating under all the touching and nobody respects his space or his words.

Destiny's Children! 🤣 You are such a 90s kid, Klaus.

Run away, Klaus! Run! Escape the crazies.

Ok, let me paused to write out a thought...

So a lot of people were worried about the cult thing and Klaus's intentions but it's clear he had no malicious intentions at all. He charmed and impressed some people for survival purposes and thrived, he enjoyed the love and attention at first and the cult just grew around around him organically whether he liked it or not, more a hippy cult of personality then a religious sect, but at some point he saw that it had gone too far, the pressure and expectation became too much and he realized he'd bitten more than he can chew.

It's actually rather sad how he just wants to escape but the cultists objectify him to all hell, he has no privacy or personal space. The problem with Klaus is that he doesn't do anything mildly, he always goes too big until he's drowning. Boy is already self-sabotaging and I'm sure he's going to start self-destructing very soon as well.

End of thought. Clicking play again.

Ouch! Poor Diego 😰 Lila, that is not how you cauterize a stab wound...

"what happened?" -your dear daddy stabbed you, dude.

Did she really need to strip him so thoroughly? 😏 Yes, yes, she did.

Well, at least she's not sewing you up, Diego. No needles, yay.

"oh, he isn't dead." "Disappointed?" "To see you? Always 😊" -did I mention I love Five's sass? I did? Well, I do.

Old family friend 😆

"you don't untie him?" "Was I supposed to?" Oh Lila, you're adorable, poor Elliot.

Vanya, that is suspicious as hell, just mow down that weirdo!

Ok, good instincts but too slow.

Run, girl, run!

Got to admit, these Swedes are good battle strategy, they are surrounding her surprisingly well.

Is this were the badass Vanya promo was from? Show me badass Vanya, please.

BADASS VANYA! 💖

Ooooooh, very smart, Five!!!

One of the machines though? What are the others for? I'm curious.

Plano Street Rooming House for Solitary Men? That's real depressing, Luther.

It's the "the end is nigh" guy the same that was screaming with Luther in ep 1?

King Kong! Not sure if cute or rude af...

Ahahahah! Luther literally STUMBLING on "Allison" and then acting like an awkward Steve Rogers when the kids call him out 😆 Boy, when will you realize that your obsession is creepy?

Honestly, ALL the Hargreeves siblings can be divided into two categories- sweet awkward dork or sass king/queen, there is no in-between (but Diego and Klaus get to be both).

Convenient that Vanya would just sit there and wait to be found by Five but ok.

"I have a brother?" -honey, you have five (pun fully intended)

IKEA MAFIA! 😂

Nice crop circle, Vanya.

Five just rolls with the amnesia, huh? Doesn't even question it. Ok, then.

Why is Ruby, notorious mobster, sewing sequins? It's it for the dog? I bet, it's for the dog.

"Hargreeves. She your ex?" *Cue Luther's super awkward fumbling* "S-Sorta...Y-Yeah. Sure." - big boy, this is the point where you realize how creepy your crush on your own sister is, time to reevaluate.

KLAUS AND ALLISON REUNION! THEY ARE SO CUTE! 😭💜

Honestly, I need more Klaus and Allison interactions. They have so much bff potential.

*le gasp* "oh, you're married?" 😲 -yes, Klaus, you met him.

"dicks, drugs, debutants. My holy trinity" -ok so everything Klaus says should be taken with a grain of salt but does Klaus still do drugs or not? Considering the evolution of his powers with Ben I'd say no, but we aren't seeing other ghosts harassing him so... Hmm, I need confirmation.

"alternative spiritual community" my ass

Ah, Allison falls into the sass queen category.

Allison can have a little PTSD, as a treat. 😢

Those shoes! Hi, Handler.

Those shoes really are her signature by now. Those heels could kill a man.

Handler as a brunette...? She looks good but I like her bleach blonde.

What did she say to make that boy pee himself?? Damn, Handler, no wonder your kid is a mess.

These dudes need to start listening to my girl Allison, instead of following her husband like puppies.

Great speech, girl! ✊

What is up with that sandwich???

Oh wait, it's Ben right? Klaus is using his powers to get Ray out of jail, isn't he?

Yup, of course he is.

Ben being all sassy and cocky about it gives me life.

"high places" - 😆

Poor Ray, you have no idea what you've gotten yourself into.

"family barbecues are about to get reeeeeeeal weird" - I'd actually like to see that.

"leave the pot, dear" - you're such an old man, Five.

"any questions?" Five, if be worried if she DIDN'T have questions after all that.

"asteroid impact" -aww 💜 you really do care for her feelings, Five... But you have to tell her the truth sooner or later.

Harlan likes classical music, huh? Good thing he knows a good violinist.

Harlan and Sissy... 😭 My poor heart.

Ouch! What is wrong with you, Lila? You're right but what is wrong with you?

"I can't believe I got shanked by my own father" - can't you, Diego? Really? After everything else that man did to you and your siblings?

"man to man, that son of bitch wouldn't stand a chance" - yeah, he would, he taught you all you know, boy

Not sure if Lila's story is true or not but... I still have that one theory that she was born on October, 1989...

"I don't understand you!!!" - ahah, poor Diego 🤣

Really? Right in front of Elliot's tuna mold?

Man, Handler is really obsessed with Five...

Oh, Luther, you giant puppy...

This is so AWKWARD!

Bonbons, Luther? Really?

Ok, this small talk is even MORE AWKWARD! It physically hurts to listen to this.

The pain in his face and voice when Luther goes "S-so great" 😭

boy, this is the moment you realize it's time to move on, you're not isolated teenagers in a dysfunctional home anymore, let her be your sister and find love elsewhere.

The sit in!

"seven languages" sassy, sassy, I love her.

YOUNG DAVE!

Oh no... Klaus, no, baby... Oh, this is painful.

Ben, don't be mean, let your brothe have this.

What kind of gay man doesn't know what eggshell is? 😆

"is this considered stalking? 'cause I think you're stalking now" - well, BEN, following your brother 24/7 for 15 years can also be considered stalking

Oh no, Vietnam flashbacks... Poor Klaus 😭😭😭

"Vietnam fling"? Ben, you know it wasn't just a fling! Stop being mean.

Aw, Klaus just wants to save Dave... He's willing to sacrifice their relationship to save Dave's life... 😭😭😭

I know Ben is just worried but he could be less mean...

Damn, this sit in thing is really upsetting...

Why is Ray being weird? Is he suspicious of Luther and Alison's relationship? Or is he just unhappy that Allison kept secrets about her family?

Oh Luther, no... Self-harm by proxy is not going to make you feel better.

Oh, motherfucker! That coffee thing was such an asshole move!

Shit, this scene is so well written, the way something so small is making the whole protest escalate to all hell... The police brutality, the parallels with recent events... Disturbing and brilliant and deeply relevant!

Yes! Rumor that motherfucker, Allison!

Oh no, don't be scared of your wife, Ray! Don't be suspicious!

Poor Allison... 😢

Oh Luther, you dumbass... 😢

Lila going to meet mommy, huh?

Oh, she's still wearing Diego's bracelet. Cute.

I know this scene between Handler and Lila was supposed to be a shocking plot twist but after David Castañeda's interview slip up, I already knew.

Still, an excellent scene and very cool surprise.

Like I said before, I really like Lila, I don't trust her AT ALL but I like her.

...

THIS WAS SUCH AN EMOTIONAL EPISODE... Again.

My god, this show gives me life.

[winmance]

Trust in me - Chapter 10 : Let The Good Times Roll

After breakfast, Jensen checked Jared’s injuries - as promised. He made sure to be as gentle as possible, but the injuries were deep and harsh. There was no mistaking that the person who did this wanted to hurt Jared. How could someone do that? How could you look at someone as young and small as Jared and assume it was right to hurt them.

Jared hadn’t even winced while Jensen was cleaning his wounds, but he noticed how he was holding onto the sweatshirt Jensen gave him a little harder.

“Do you want to go to your apartment? Get some stuff?” Jensen asked, trying to distract Jared.

“No, it’s fine.”

“You don’t have any clothes.”

“I’ll find some,” Jared said, “I just need to make some money. It won’t be too hard.”

The thought of Jared being alone on the streets, and selling his body while he was so badly hurt, sent a wave of nausea throughout Jensen. He shouldn’t do anything - it wasn’t his place. He just needed to drive Jared where he wants and to drop him off and leave him there - nothing more, nothing less.

“We can go and buy you some stuff if you want.”

If he could, he would slap himself in the face until he passed out.

“You wanna be my Sugar Daddy?” Jared asked in a sweet voice, rubbing his foot against Jensen’s lap.

It would’ve been sexy if not for the enormous bruise on his poor little foot. Jensen shook his head, knowing full well that Jared wasn’t wrong. He doesn’t want to be his sugar daddy, but he’s sure that buying Jared clothes and letting him sleep in his apartment makes him one. Well - almost.

“You can’t just say thanks and let it go, can you?” Jensen asked, chuckling.

“Nah. It’s funnier this way,” Jared winked, a smirk appearing on his face.

Jensen rolled his eyes before sliding Jared’s foot out of his lap. He walked to his closet and got a pair of basketball shorts for Jared. They’re way too big for him, but it would have to do for now.

“This is so not sexy,” Jared complained, looking at himself in the mirror, “I look like a grumpy teenager!”

“Which you’re totally not,” Jensen said, opening the door.

Jared stuck out his tongue before walking out of the apartment, closely followed by Jensen. At least his wounds weren’t bad enough to take away his sassy attitude. Jensen wasn’t sure if that was a good thing. How many times do you have to be abused before it doesn’t matter anymore? It’s an act of course, but Jared plays it so well - with such a simplicity that Jensen was willing to believe him.

He unlocked the doors of his Lexus GS300 and started to get in, but when he glanced over at Jared he found him walking towards the Impala.

“What are you doing?” He asked.

“Is this your car?” Jared asked, pointing to the Impala.

“Yeah, this is a private garage. They’re both mine.”

“Can we take this one?”

“No. I’ve only had her for a few months, I still need to work on her, I’m not even sure she would start.”

“Come on, please?” Jared pleaded, pouting.

“I said no.”

“Pretty please?” Jared asked again, batting his eyelashes in Jensen’s direction.

Jensen wanted to say no - he should say no, but Jared was looking at him with his big, sad puppy dog eyes, and he’s not sure why he didn't want to drive the car anyway. What was the point of having her if he wasn’t going to drive her anyways?

“If she breaks down, you’re the one who’s gonna push,” Jensen said, taking the keys to the Impala out of his pocket.

Jared was jumping with joy like a kid, and Jensen shook his head in disapproval, but there’s a small smile on his face. At least he succeeded in making Jared's day a little better.

“What’s her name?” Jared asked once he got into the car.

“It’s a car.”

“So?”

“Cars don’t have names.”

“Oh my God, you’re such a pain in the ass!” Jared complained, throwing his head back.

“No, I’m not!” Jensen said defending himself. Who give names to their cars? Weirdos. That’s who. Sure, he loves his car, but he’s not gonna give her a name. She’s not a person.

“Yes, you are! Come on, we should name her!”

“We? There is no we!”

Jared immediately fell silent and the smile that was on his face disappeared in a heartbeat. He shifted uncomfortably and pressed his body against the window - getting as far away from Jensen as possible in the confines of the car.

Jensen bit the inside of his cheek - he didn’t want to hurt Jared, that was the last thing he wanted - and yet, he had killed the joy that was in his eyes.

This was why he didn’t talk to people. He always ended up saying the wrong things,

Growing up, he was a really quiet kid. Only talking to Justin - while it was comfortable, he quickly found out that this lack of interactions made him unable to talk to others.

Now, he limits his interactions, and when he’s forced to, he always made sure to think twice before opening his mouth.

But not with Jared. As weird as it sounded, Jared made him feel comfortable; like he could talk freely without being judged. But that doesn’t mean that he shouldn’t think about Jared’s feelings before talking.

He sighs, turning on the radio and focusing on the road.

The mall is fifteen minutes away from his house, and even though they’re in the car, Jared slides down as far as possible on his seat - preventing anyone from seeing him. Jensen doesn’t know who the asshole that hurt him was, but he must be pretty bad for scaring Jared like that. He wished he could have five minutes alone with the guy. He would make sure to make him suffer as much as he made Jared suffer.

“What should we name her?” He asked, making Jared jump in surprise.

“What?”

“The car, what should we name her?”

Jared looked at him for a long time, searching his face for any signs that could indicate Jensen making fun of him. When he couldn’t find any traces of that, he smiled softly.

“Bella?”

“Absolutely not!” Jensen said, a grimace on his face, “My baby deserves better.”

“Your baby? Really?”

“Hey, I practically made her, ok? That means a lot!”

Jared laughed, and Jensen did the same. It felt nice - really nice.

“Why don’t you call her Baby? It’s perfect!” Jared yells excitedly.

Jensen thought about it for a moment. Baby seemed like a good name. It’s short and simple, just how he liked it.

“Yeah, I like that.”

Jared smiled victoriously, rubbing his hands on the dashboard.

“Your car and I have the same name,” He said, turning towards Jensen.

“Jesus Christ!” Jensen sighed, closing his eyes while Jared laughed even harder “You’re a little brat, you know that?”

“Yeah, but you love it.”

“Who told you that?”

“You don’t need to say it, it shows all over your face!”

They look at each other, their eyes locked together, before bursting into laughter again.

“Come on, let’s buy you some clothes.”

“Sure, Daddy!”

Jensen slapped the back of Jared’s head, which got him another laugh from the boy.

For a moment, he wasn’t a police officer anymore, and Jared wasn’t an underage prostitute. They were just two friends having an amazing day together, and Jensen couldn’t remember the last time he felt this good.

Tags : @emmalh2001 @captainsteelandsunshine @servilesammy @mereka18 @jareddbootylecki @mysterioushunters

[floralreddie]

richie eating you out p l e a s e. like a reaaal nice make out and loads of hickeys and bite marks and hair pulling and ass grabbing and just.. the full package of hormonal teenagers with pent up sexual frustration. losers notice the both of you with hickeys and marks and are just like “god damn what the hell happened to you guys?” and loads of teasing from them. idk i just love this so much. please and thanks heaps you can add anything you’d like. thank you dearie xx

I haven’t checked spelling so soz. the reader and Richie are eighteen in this, I simply can’t write them any younger so I’m using my own hc of what I imagine early 20′s/late teens Richie to look like. sick request tho babe, here you go! xx

warnings: swearing, nsfw as hell

forever taglist: @pearltheartist@mikoalabearwrites @arielgirly @trashmouth-smashmouth@mzcescapie@somenates27@reddiesballoons@cawcawhawkeye@richietoaster@sassy-molassy@fuckin-richie@zerealromaniangurl@notagoodplace4gods @itsway-past-mybedtime@homohayls @reddiefic@trashmouth-tozier69@temptedtozier@bitchardtozier@virgo-green @reddietofall @gczebos@tozierkasqbrak @temptedtozier @zerealromaniangurl @anniewdoodles@reddiefic @wyattsnoodles  @deux-mille-deux  @eds-trashmouth @thecastlebyers  @r-richie @erinn-l

You’re not quite sure how it happens.

You have, for as long as you can remember, been utterly besotted with one of your best friends, Richie Tozier. The both of you were two of eight, members of the self-named Losers Club that formed when you were just thirteen.

You can’t really remember how it formed. Something to do with the child murders. Something to do with Henry Bowers. Something to do with a bond between you all that could never be broken.

You had spent years pining after him. For a short while, your crush has been solely on Bill, with his confident attitude and bright blue eyes. You were always part of the gang. You, Bill, Stan, Eddie and Richie. Then Bev came along, took Bill’s attention, and you got on with life. You all went through some shit (but what was it, why can’t you remember?), and so came Mike and Ben, too.

That was that. You got older. You started looking at how Richie grew, all gangly and geeky and messy and just fucking ridiculous, but for some reason that was enough for you. He let his hair grown into a curly mess, wore his patterned shirts more than necessary, and shoved an 8mm tunnel through his ear. 

He lost his virginity when he was sixteen, and came to school bragging about it the next day. Bev had taken you to the girls bathroom and petted your hair as you spluttered angrily and bitterly about his escapades.

That following weekend, you lost yours to some guy in the grade above who as a Quarterback and used to bully Eddie and Ben back in the day. You made special sure that Richie saw you walk into the bedroom with the boy at the house party you were all at. 

You drunkenly cried in Stan’s car afterwards as the boy drove you home and tucked you into bed.

You and Richie didn’t talk for a week.

The next weekend, he slept with a boy in your English class (you heard it was in the back of said boys car near the Quarry) and came out as bisexual.

You made out with Bev and realised the same, just as Bev realised with a red lipstick stained mouth as the two of you sat at the Quarry that, ‘Oh, shit, I think I’m a lesbian’. The two of you had fallen about laughing afterwards.

Neither of you told the Losers how she came to this realisation.

You’re eighteen now, all of you. Bev has a girlfriend. Mike is dating some girl who lives near his farm. Bill and Stan have been dating for six months (fucking finally). Eddie came out as gay when you were all just fourteen, and had made it abundantly clear that he was not going near any of the guys in Derry. ‘New York,’ he sniped. ‘Is where I plan to find someone’.

You’re not quite sure how it happens, but you know it happens at your house.

You’re all there, all of the Losers, and you’re watching some shitty horror film from the early seventies. You’re squished between Mike and Richie, whilst the others spread themselves over the other couches.

Your mom, your only parent, was away for the weekend with her new squeeze, whoever that was.

Eddie sighs at a particularly needlessly gory scene, as Bev snickers and nudges the wincing Ben in the side. Stan and Bill, both quite bored with the movie, keep glancing at the clock. Mike had already nodded off. He usually did that, only because he spent most of his Saturday day time working at the farm.

And you…you were staring at the screen with a red face because Richie had been drumming his fingers lazily against your upper thigh for the past fifteen minutes.

You were well aware there had always been something there; something heated and more that friendship slotted between the two of you. You had seen Richie look at you with long glances and teasing winks. You did not, though, know if he felt quite the same for you as you did for him.

Finally, you glance up at him, a quiet glare on your face, only to snort when you catch him throw you the side-eye from behind his thick rimmed glasses.He smirks. You roll your eyes.

He moves his hand higher and you jolt.

Never, ever had he done this before. You had kissed for dares when you were younger and spin the bottle was still a thing. You had flirted and grown with him through awkward years and horrible crushes. He had never, though, pulled the moves on you that you were sure he had pulled on so many before you.

That thought alone makes you cringe.

Suddenly, his finger flatten against your jeans, and long and pale digits spread about the top of your thigh in the dimly lit room. With a slight shift of his long form against the sofa and a kick of his long, spread legs out in front of him, he gives your thigh a quick squeeze.

When you gasp, he smirks when Bill shoots you a concerned look.

‘Sorry,’ you cough, shifting as Richie snatches his hand away.

It is that moment the phone rings, and you nearly trip over Stan’s legs in your haste to vacate the living room. It’s your mom, as it turns out, making sure you lock the door before you go to sleep, and warning you that she won’t be home until Monday. You nod, standing barefoot in the kitchen and staring at the shut door where your friends sit beyond, and listening sparingly to what she’s saying.

The moment you hang up, Richie opens the door and slides into the brightly lit kitchen, his eyes dark and the sleeves of his ratty jumper falling about his hands.

‘What the fuck was that?’ you ask him, brow cocked and arms crossed. ‘You fucking weirdo’.

He snorts and rubs his nose, a flash of a smile sliding across his freckled face. ‘Shit, dude, harsh much?’ he scoffs, padding barefoot across the kitchen to reach you. He stands a foot and a half taller than you, and as his curls fall across his face and his acne scarred skin glints in the harsh light, you think for the millionth time of how fucking hot Richie was.

‘Um, harassing me is-’ He laughs, and you have to join in. ‘Why did you follow me in here, anyway?’ Your heart feels like it’s about to fall out of your butt. He stares down at you, eyes dark and hooded and teeth gnawing at his bottom lip.

He sighs. ‘I’m shit at this, dude. You know that’. Your heart thuds because, holy shit, what the fuck was happening? Richie scratches the back of his head and sighs, before shooting a quick glance at the entrance to the living room. 

He stares at you. You stare at him.

You cock a brow. ‘I won’t be another notch on your freaking bed-post, Tozier,’ you mutter, cheeks glowing. 

He scoffs. ‘I’ve slept with like four people!’

‘Whatever-’ He kisses you then, and your teeth knock together and his front teeth catch on your bottom lip and your noses knock, but heat pools so quickly into your stomach that you’re almost embarrassed at how long you have been dreaming of this moment.

It’s as if a switch goes off, because there isn’t a moment when the both of you kiss slowly. The moment his mouth is on yours, and yours on his, your looping your arms about his neck and pressing yourself against him in every way possible as Richie backs you up against the kitchen counter, his kisses quick and wet.

Fuck. Fuck. You’ve wanted this forever. 

His hands find the hem of your shirts, and they flatten against the skin there between your jeans and your t-shirt. You push against him, kissing quickly and kissing hard.

‘Fuck, Richie…’ you moan with a laugh. ‘Holy shit, I’ve been wanting to kiss you like this for fucking ever, dude’.

He pulls away, grins, and droops his head to kiss you neck. ‘Same here, sweets’.

You’re not quite sure how it happens, but suddenly you’re sitting on the counter and he’s pressed between your legs, and you trying hard as fuck to slide your groin against his because you are horny as hell. He kisses your jaw and your cheeks and bites hard against your neck; so hard that you yelp and smack his back and says sorry about a billion times.

You don’t even remember that the others are in the other room. All you care about is Richie’s skin, Richie’s lips, and Richie’s hard-on pressed against your inner thigh. He grabs your ass and yanks you against him, groaning into your ear as you both grind against each other, and the noise you make is fucking unholy.

‘I’ve…’ he pulls away, glasses askew, and licks his swollen lips. You stare breathlessly back, a big ball of hormones and horniness. ‘I’ve always wanted to go down on you, Y/N…do a dude a favour?’

You pretty much fucking shove his head down there.

He pulls down your jeans to your ankles in no time, before slipping his fingers underneath your rainbow printed underwear and finding a rhythm for you. As you stare up at him, his glasses fog up and his pale arm moves as he curls his fingers against you, finding what you like. He looks with hooded eyes down at you, mouth half open and chest heaving.

‘Fuck!’ you hiss, grabbing his hand and holding it. ‘Holy shit. Yeah. That’.

He grins, ducks, and kisses you again. Then he’s kissing your jaw, your collarbone, your clothes stomach, before planting a wet kiss to your core and you have to fucking slap a hand over your mouth to stop from moaning.

All in all, Richie Tozier is fucking good at going down on someone.

He kisses and bites your inner thighs, mouth hot and wet between your legs. You curl your fingers through his curls, knees pressed tightly against the side of his head as pleasure coils and coils inside of you, and wonder how to fucking God someone as clumsy as Richie was able to do something hardly any fucking guy could do with such skill.

He sucks and you turn to mush, hand falling onto his shoulder to support yourself. He licks a long strip and you all but choke on your tongue. 

When you mutter, quietly, ‘Fuck, Rich, I’m gonna cum,’ he surges to his feet and replaces his mouth with his fingers, working you with what he remembered you liked down there and smashing his mouth against yours as moan in surprise. He rubs at your before slipping two fingers in and curling and-

You don’t really remember finishing, but when you come to his mouth is pressed against yours and he’s swallowing your groans. What you taste, you assume, is yourself.

When you push him away, he blinking lazily at you and your red as a fucking lobster as you stare back at him, you knickers and jeans at your ankles and your neck aching with bite marks.

‘Do you wanna be my girlfriend?’ he blurts out suddenly. Ah, you think. There’s the Rich I know. 

You snort and stumble to yank up your jeans and plop onto the cold ground. Your legs are shaky, and you can’t quite believe he made you freaking cum. You had done stuff with only three people before him, and no one had come close.

You kiss his cheek and say, ‘Of course, dumb ass’.

He grins. ‘Awesome!’

You glance down. ‘Do you want me to…?’

‘Er…no…that sorted itself out’. He winks, blushes, and shrugs when you gape and snort. ‘What? Take it as a compliment, sweets’.

‘Oh, fuck,’ you groan, suddenly remembering the Losers. ‘The others. I need the fucking bathroom, but we have to go upstairs and-’

‘And past them’. He shrugs. ‘Oh, well. I’ve walked in on Stan and Billiam more times than I can count. C’mon’. He grabs your hand and drags you with wobbly legs through the kitchen door before you can even say no. You blush red when everyone turns to look at you, the credits rolling on the screen.

Mike, now half-awake and bleary-eyed, looks over the back of the sofa and squints. ‘God damn, what the Hell happened to you guys?’

Bev, standing with her arms crossed, snorts at the two of you. Stan and Bill, who apparently left, are eerily absent. Eddie stares the both of you with disdain. Ben stares at the ceiling with pink ears. ‘Anyone with freaking ears could say what they were doing in there, Mike,’ she scoffs. ‘Go on. Clean up. We’ll be waiting’.

With that, she plops onto the couch and ejects the VHS from the player. You look to Richie, who pushes his glasses up his nose and shrugs, and grin guilty. Nudging him, you start to walk toward your staircase.

‘Oh, and well done for finally acting upon the sexual tension! It’s been driving us nuts for years!’

[phancystuff]

Trying to Remember How it Feels (To Have a Heartbeat) 1/7

Pairing: Dan/ Phil (Phan) Summary: Dan moves into a new apartment in London and, though it’s a step up from his old apartment, his landlord gives him strange warnings while he’s touring the place-- something about the last renters leaving because of ghost sightings. But, Dan doesn’t believe in the supernatural. He quickly changes his tune when he meets Phil Lester, the ghost haunting his apartment. Well, if haunting means quickly becoming the best friend he’s ever had. (Title from Harry Styles’ song Two Ghosts) Notes: This is the first part of my Spooky Week Special! This fic is almost 100% already written and I plan on updating it every day until Halloween. Please note that, although this fic has the warning of major character death, it is not in any way graphic. Tags/ Warnings: ghost au, Halloween, major character death (obv. it’s a ghost au lol), depictions of panic attacks, angst, fluff, HAPPY ENDING, mentions of suicide (it happens in a movie they watch)

Read it on A03 Completed fic masterlist here

Dan woke up that morning in a mood, which is never a good thing when you’re supposed to do something particularly adult-y. Something like tour a new apartment because the one you’re currently living in is literally falling apart at the seams and your neighbors drill ridiculous DIY projects at all hours of the day. Dan’s YouTube channel had been doing pretty well lately, too, and he could finally afford a better apartment. He had made it hard on himself in the beginning by refusing to get a roommate, but he liked his space. It didn’t matter, anyway, it was finally time for him to move up in the world and trade his current hamster cage for a slightly bigger one. And yet, there Dan was, the morning of an apartment tour, on his third coffee, and still feeling like someone had hit him over the head and shoulders while he was sleeping. Sickly sweet Starbucks lattes weren’t even touching his exhaustion; it was that serious. So maybe that’s why, later when Dan was touring this potential apartment, he couldn’t be bothered with the stupid things that were coming out of the landlord’s mouth.

The white, middle aged man, who had introduced himself as Paul, had just closed the door to the master bedroom and was leading Dan to the kitchen when he glanced back at Dan. “Yeah, I just want to give you full, fair warning. The last renters left because they kept seeing a ghost.”

“You don’t say?” Dan hid his eye roll, answering uninterestedly. He didn’t know what the landlord was playing at, but ghosts didn’t exist and this was a nice apartment. He couldn’t be scared away from it. It was an old building, but it had recently been renovated and featured new, shiny appliances. The space wasn’t huge, but it would work perfectly for a 26 year old, single YouTuber. It had a great view of the city and an elevator to aid in the moving process.

“Yeah, ghosts! I mean, I never saw any ghosts, but I do get a weird feeling when I walk around here.” Paul rambled on and Dan leaned against the kitchen counter, staring at him. “From what I hear, the last landlord that owned this property didn’t carefully inspect the place and it ended in some poor bloke dying. Not really sure how; it was back in 2010. But, obviously, everything’s ship shape now.” The man trailed off, gazing around at nothing in particular.

“Uh huh,” Dan answered politely, but distractedly, crouching down to look at the controls on the impressive-looking stove. He wasn’t really listening.

“Oh, yeah! The stove is new and state-of-the-art--” as the landlord barreled into more information about the admittedly nice stove, Dan totally forgot about the weirdo’s ghost comments.

***

A week later, Dan was moving into his new apartment. He had spent a few days weighing his options, but had ultimately decided to apply for the flat that Paul had showed him. The application had been accepted quickly and now Dan was staring at his new home with a large, heavy cardboard box in his arms. Thankfully, his parents and younger brother were kind enough to give up their Saturday to help Dan out. They were hoping to get it all done in a day. Dan glanced back toward the street and felt overwhelmed by all of the boxes, furniture, and stuff in the moving van. As he made trip after trip from moving van to apartment, he felt increasingly thankful for the elevator in the building.

Dan, his parents, and younger brother were in and out of the apartment all morning with boxes and furniture. “Fuck, Dan, when did you get so much shit?” Alex collapsed on the sofa that the four of them had finally fit it into the far corner of the lounge. He glared at Dan, who just rolled his eyes at his moody teenaged brother. Dan couldn’t really say much; he was moody too when he was sixteen. Dan was just glad that he didn’t start his YouTube channel until later in his life. Less cringe-worthy stuff on the internet, that way.

“Sorry Lexy,” Dan put emphasis on his little brother’s childhood nickname, “How about you let me know what I don’t need and I’ll bin it. Would that make you happy?”

Alex puffed out a breath, “Yeah, start with the shoes. You have enough to make the average girl jealous.”

Dan crossed his arms, “sexist little punk.”

“Self-absorbed twat.”

“Wanker.”

“Assho--”

“Boys! Enough.” Their mum suddenly appeared at the opening to the lounge, looking at her offspring disappointedly. “Daniel, you’re 26, you should know better.” Dan looked down at his toes, feeling more remorseful that he was 26 and was still being disciplined by his mum. Alex just looked smug, until their mum turned to him and crossed her arms. “Alex, Daniel is your older brother and he needed our help today. So don’t complain. We’re family, we help each other. That’s what family does.” Alex rolled his eyes in response.

Dan collapsed next to Alex, letting a sigh escape his lips. “Thanks for helping me, you guys. Even though some of us are annoying little pillocks who should be locked in a room until their bodies are no longer being ravaged by hormones--” he looked pointedly at Alex-- “I really appreciate the help.”

“Well, of course you need help, it’s not like you can afford movers on a YouTuber’s salary.” Alex snipped, shoving his shoulder against Dan.

Their mum looked between them with exasperation, throwing her hands up. “I give up! Brothers! So nasty to each other!” She turned around, exiting the flat to get more boxes. Alex giggled.

Dan looked at him unbelievingly. “Did you really just giggle?”

Alex met his stare with furrowed brows, “No, I didn’t fucking giggle. Why would I giggle? The only funny thing here is your career path.” Alex shoved himself off the couch, “come on, you lazy fuck. You aren’t gonna pass all the work off on us.”

“Will you stop being such a prick?” Dan also pushed himself off the couch, already forgetting about the giggle that he had very clearly heard. Instead, he was thinking about offering to order pizza for everyone so they could have a much-deserved lunch break.

***

Later that night, Dan worked in his new bedroom, making his bed and unloading the boxes that had been haphazardly stacked about. The whole process of bringing in his stuff had taken the better part of the day and then his family stuck around to help Dan start to unpack. They didn’t really get far with it, before Dan was insisting that he could handle the unpacking part and that his family had done enough for him. Of course, Alex had made a relieved sassy comment that Dan had ignored and Dan’s mum checked and double-checked that Dan was ok to do it alone. Dan’s dad suggested going out to dinner and everyone had been more than happy to comply.

His family left long ago and Dan was alone in the apartment. It seemed so big and empty. Every footstep seemed to echo. Dan hated new places. It would get better when his stuff was unpacked and arranged. Until then, Dan just blasted some Vampire Weekend and rifled around in the boxes marked ‘bedroom.’ Whenever Dan moved somewhere new, he set his bedroom up first. The bed was the most important thing, especially since it was pushing 10:00 PM and Dan had gotten up disgustingly early that morning. After the bed was made, Dan went through the process of setting up his computer. Connecting to the internet was blessedly easy, but that was because the internet provider had already been in a couple days ago to install the router and ethernet jacks. Dan had stressed to them how important it was to get everything sorted and they had complied.

Fixing up his bedroom also included building his video background, which was always one of his favorite spaces to decorate. Of course, the iconic butt chair was there. He hung fairy lights around his bed frame and delicately put various knick knacks on display on his bedside table. Posters were hung, clothes were folded and stuffed into his chest of drawers, books were fitted into his new bookshelf, bedsheets were smoothed down, and slowly the boxes disappeared. Dan broke them down and slid them in the hallway, promising himself to take care of the pile rather than trip on it for the next two weeks. Before Dan knew it, it was 1:30 AM and he was crashing, quickly.

Dan silenced Ezra Koenig and tore off his clothes, changing into soft pajama bottoms. He lay down on his bed, groaning at the feeling of his aching body sinking into a blessedly comfy memory foam mattress. Dan had paid a small fortune for the bed, but it had been so worth it. He slept like a baby in it. Dan got out his phone, checking his social media accounts for any important updates. He reblogged some fanart on tumblr, watched some of his friends new YouTube videos, and liked some tweets. Dan himself tweeted, ‘of course the first thing i set up in the new flat is my bed. it’s where all the magic happens and by magic i mean sleep.’ Dan spent a few minutes replying with sassy comments to fans, before feeling his eyelids start to drift closed.

“Ugh, the lights. Gotta get the lights.” Dan murmured to himself, forcing his eyes open. He rolled to the left, aiming to get out of the bed, when the lights were suddenly off. Dan perked his head up, looking around in the room that had just been plunged in darkness. He couldn’t see a thing. He groaned, thinking about how he would already have to contact the landlord about electricity problems. “Stupid faulty electricity,” Dan pressed the palms of his hands into his eyes. “Whatever, it can wait until morning.” Dan pushed the bedcovers down, wiggling under them. They were barely over his body when sleep overtook him.  

Dan slept late and when his eyes finally cracked open, the sun was obnoxiously brightening the room. Dan put ‘dark curtains’ on his mental shopping list and pushed the covers off his body. He lay there for a second, observing the ceiling (and praising the lack of cracks in it).

Moments later, his feet touched the floor and he remembered the electricity the previous night. Curious, Dan pushed himself out of bed and padded over to the light switch on the wall. He flicked it experimentally and watched the overhead lights come on and off, on and off. They were working perfectly. There must have been a brief, scarily coincidental, power outage the previous night.

Dan went into the kitchen and made a coffee and popped some toast into the toaster, thanking both his past self for packing some food to sustain him as he moved in, and his mother for unpacking the food immediately. Dan got out his phone as he waited for his breakfast and sent a quick text to his mum. ‘Bless you for unpacking my food.’ She sent him a heart emoji without hesitation and asked him about his first night. He made light conversation about unpacking and sleeping, but quickly said goodbye to her in favor of breakfast.

Dan opened up the notes app in his iPhone, looking at the list of video ideas he had going. Although he had tons of unpacking to do, he was due for a new video soon. He didn’t want to spend a lot of time with a script or with editing, so he figured it was time for another video in his “Quick and Dirty with Dan” series. For these videos, he would essentially set up a camera and rant/ philosophize about a subject for five minutes. He only edited out the “um’s.” They were fun. People cared about his opinions on things, surprisingly. Dan composed a quick tweet: ‘any requests for a quick n dirty?’ and he watched the responses flood in. Of course, plenty of his fans suggested lewd things, inspired by the name of the series. Several tweets said ‘Donald Trump’ and there was no way that Dan was going to fall down that hole. Dan scrolled through his replies, munching on a bite of buttered toast. One tweet jumped out at him and he thumbed the text, liking it. ‘Talk about your experience with/ opinion about the supernatural! Like ghosts, not the show lolol.’ Immediately, Dan recalled the weird conversation he had with Paul the landlord about the ghost that apparently haunted this apartment. It would be a perfect story to include in his video.

When his toast was eaten and cup of coffee was drained, Dan tottered back to his bedroom, maneuvering around boxes. Dan made his bed and changed into his signature black outfit. He set up his camera and lighting equipment and sat down in his chair, checking the viewfinder to make sure that his video background looked agreeable. Dan pressed record, speaking his regular greeting of “Hello internet!” and barreling into the topic of the supernatural.

Three or four hours later, the video was being uploaded onto YouTube. Dan’s more scripted videos took much longer to create, which was why he really liked this series. Dan left the video to do its thing and went to unpack the kitchen, blasting Britney Spears and singing along badly. “Toxic” came on and Dan picked up a wooden spoon, holding it to his mouth and purring out the first words of the song, “baby, can’t you see?” He danced around the kitchen. About halfway through the song, Dan noticed that he was hearing double. There was another voice under Britney’s that wasn’t his own. It wasn’t a particularly good voice, either. It missed some of the notes entirely. Dan furrowed his brow and picked up his phone, checking that Spotify hadn’t accidentally given him a weird, cover version of the song. It hadn’t. Dan paused it and silence enveloped the kitchen. He pressed play again and the song was back to normal, Britney back to her sensual self. Dan felt a little unnerved, thinking about the electricity and the weird mystery voice. He considered exploring the apartment a little, checking closets and corners for possible squatters. In the end, he didn’t do anything of the sort, laughing at himself instead. He needed to get the place set up, then maybe Dan wouldn’t feel so jumpy.

Dan paused Britney and checked the status of his video. He was surprised to find that it had already uploaded successfully. He was impressed with the internet speed. He scrolled through YouTube comments, liking a few clever ones. He rarely replied to YouTube comments, unless one was especially funny. He didn’t find any funny ones, but did notice quite a few that looked exactly identical.

‘Umm wtf ghost at 1:33??????’

‘YOU BETTER BELIEVE IN GHOST STORIES, DANIEL, YOU’RE IN ONE!!!11! 1:33’

‘1:33 Ghost. Ghost. Ghost.’

‘Seriously, what the fuck is that at 1:33??’

Dan rolled his eyes at the comments. These weren’t new on the world of YouTube. People loved creepy things and once one person commented a timestamp and a ghost sighting, it was like a disease. Dan clicked the timestamp on one of the comments, fully expecting a shadow or stuffed animal falling over.

Instead, Dan felt like his heart stopped.

He paused the video. He suddenly felt hot, heat prickling across every inch of his skin. In the video, in the dark doorway of his bedroom, there was an unmistakable figure. A man. He was barely a glimmer, but, boy, was he there.

Dan stared at the screen, wondering if his eyes were playing tricks on him. There was literally no fucking reasonable explanation for what he was seeing. Dan tried to rationalize it, but was coming up with nothing. Zip. Zilch. Nada. Instead, he was thinking about the landlord’s comments, the mysterious giggle that he thought was Alex, the electricity problem, the strange voice he heard while singing “Toxic.” Dan started shaking. He was afraid to play the video and watch what the figure would do. But he had to. Curiosity ate at him. Slowly, shakily, Dan pressed play and watched the entryway. The man looked up at Dan in the video. Dan blanched at the man’s pale skin, dark hair, and piercing eyes. He didn’t look unfriendly, watching Dan with curiosity. In the video, Dan was saying something about “the idea of ghosts scaring the diddly heck out of him,” and Dan saw the ghost’s mouth quirk up in a smile, before he was simply phasing out of frame.

Dan paused the video and released a breath that he had been holding.

“Sorry for intruding on your video.” Dan screamed, actually screamed, jerking violently in his chair. It pitched back and he crashed to the floor. The room echoed with the sound of the loud crash and Dan felt momentarily dazed. He stared up at the ceiling, wondering if someone had slipped him hallucinogenic drugs without him knowing. Alex would probably get a kick out of doing something like that. Suddenly, a figure came into Dan’s view, looking at Dan upside down. It was the figure from the video. The ghost? The hallucination? Dan’s eyes widened at the man. He looked… concerned. “Oh dear, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you. Are you all right?” Dan noticed the voice had a Northern tinge, and now was really not the time to notice such a fucking stupid detail.

“Me? I-I-- well, I-I. Are y-you? Ghost? Who, who, who are you?” Dan stuttered pathetically, trembling all over. He felt cold and hot at the same time. He wondered briefly if he had a fever. Maybe he hadn’t woken up yet and this was a dream.

The figure covered his translucent face in equally translucent hands. “Oh god, I’ve really muffed this up. Of course you would be frightened.” He removed his hands from his face and stared down at Dan. “Won’t you get up? We could go to the lounge? I’ll introduce myself properly!”

Dan just lay there, trembling. He blinked his eyes over and over, willing the ghost to disappear. He wasn’t awake. He was asleep. This was a dream. He pinched himself. It didn’t work. He slapped himself in the face. Nothing happened.

“Hey! Don’t hit yourself!” Dan jumped again. He stared into a pair of ghosts eyes a moment longer and decided that he should at least pick himself off the floor. He did so, probing the back of his head and wincing at the tender spot that was definitely bruised. Methodically, he picked the chair up off the ground and tucked it under the desk, trying to breathe evenly. It was a losing battle. Finally, Dan snapped, and the floodgates opened. He began breathing harder, the unmistakable feeling of panic sweeping over his body. He felt lightheaded and numb. Dan sat down on the floor, hard, breath coming faster and faster. He pushed himself against the wall of his bedroom, trying to get as far away from the ghost as possible. His breath wheezed out of him, specks of spit flying out of his mouth. Dan pressed his head in between his knees as he lost feeling in his fingers. He didn’t feel real. He was terrified. What was happening to him?  “Hey, hey, now. It’s ok. God, I’m so sorry, Dan. It’s ok. Breathe. Slowly, slowly now.” Dan knew that the voice was coming from the object of his fears, but it was good advice. He tried his best to take it, trying to control his lungs. He used every trick he had learned throughout his life of living with anxiety. He imagined that his lungs had legs and were running away and he imagined himself running after them, catching them in his hands. He listened to the soothing repetition of “it’s ok, shh, slowly now” coming from the mouth of the fucking ghost across from him. Dan picked up his heavy hands and brought them up to his own neck, dragging his fingers along the sensitive skin there. Anything to ground him. Anything to make him feel real again. Minutes later, Dan’s breathing began to slow. He focused hard on forcing it to stay slow. “There ya go, good. I’m not a bad guy. I couldn’t hurt a fly, I promise.”

Dan looked up at the ghost who had crouched down in front of Dan’s crumpled form. He would have looked like a completely normal guy, if not for the see-through skin and the slightly hovering body. This was the first time Dan was getting a good look at him and he was surprised, to say the least. The man in front of him was more like a boy. He had long, black hair that was cut into a style resembling cool 2007 emo myspace kids. Interestingly enough, he was sporting a worn, blue shirt and grey sweatpants. He had piercing blue eyes.  “You’re a ghost.” Dan’s voice was shaky and monotone. He felt exhausted. Dan realized that his face was wet with tears. When he had a panic attack, he often couldn’t tell the difference between hyperventilating and sobbing. It all blended into one disastrous experience.  

The figure looked embarrassed and Dan thought he saw the ghost’s face turn red. “I am a ghost. I’m sorry.” The ghost scratched at the back of his head. “Dan, I feel terribly. I should have realized that you would have reacted like this. I accidentally drove the last renters out and I never even purposefully revealed myself to them. God, I’m just an idiot. I just couldn’t believe that you were a YouTuber and I got so excited to see the camera and--”

“--Ok, ok. It’s, um, ok, I guess.” Dan cut the ghost off. He blew out a shaky breath. “How do you, um, know my name?”

The ghost looked embarrassed again. “Oh, I heard your family call you Dan. That sounds so creepy. Sheesh,” he refused to meet Dan’s eyes. “I wish I could leave you alone forever, but I-- uh-- am kinda tethered to this place. Can’t leave.”

Dan nodded slowly, deciding that, if this was happening and this was reality, he might as well be cordial. “Oh. Well, do you have a name?”

Phil clapped his hand over his face and Dan couldn’t help but jump a little, body still on edge. “I’m really cocking this up. Yes of course I have a name, I’m so rude. Phil Lester, at your service!” Phil stuck his hand out at Dan who just stared at it. Phil slowly retracted it, “sorry, habit.” The ghost coughed, “sorry.”

“Right. Um.” Dan chewed his lip and stared at Phil with wide eyes. What was the proper etiquette when it came to ghosts? He couldn’t offer Phil some tea and cakes, for chrissakes. Dan suddenly remembered something Phil had said only seconds before. “You know YouTube? How?”

Phil smiled a sad smile and crossed his legs. He looked like a monk who had achieved enlightenment with his hovering. “I had a channel back in the day. I had a lot of fun with it.” Phil stared at his legs, picking at the fabric covering his knee.  

“Oh! Wow, you were a YouTuber?” Dan couldn’t hide his disbelief. What were the odds that the ghost tethered to his new apartment had also been a YouTube when he was alive? Dan wasn’t even going to dwell on how weird that sentence was. “What was your username?”

Phil met his eyes and smiled shyly, “oh, um, it was amazingphil.” Dan raised his eyebrows. “I know, I know. I made it in 2006.”

“That’s fair; everyone had quirky usernames back in the day.” Dan remembered his first youtube channel name and was briefly thankful that he never made a single video on it. He couldn’t imagine what kind of professional life he could have with a name like ‘danisnotonfire.’

“Yeah, I guess. But mine was particularly silly, huh?”

“Not as bad as danisnotonfire,” Dan said, laughing a little.

“That’s your channel name?!”

“Oh no, no. But it was the account I made when I was 16. I never used it to make videos, thank god.” Silence followed Dan’s comment and he was struck by the sudden realization that he was having a fucking conversation with a ghost. “Hey-- did you turn off the lights last night?” Dan tilted his head to the side slightly and Phil looked abashed.

“Um, ah, yeah. You had just worked so hard and looked so comfy. I just flicked them off for you, it wasn’t hard.” Phil cleared his throat, “electricity is one those things that I can manipulate.”

Dan hummed to himself. “So you were watching me last night?”

Phil’s eyes widened. “Sorry! Sorry! Bad habit! I don’t see many people. It’s just nice to--” He cut himself off. “I think it’s about time for me to leave you alone. You need some space,” Phil nodded to himself, “I need to get out of your space.”

“Phil! Phil, wait! I still have--” and then the ghost was gone, as quick as he had appeared. “--questions.” Dan finished lamely.

Dan looked around his bedroom, almost surprised to find that it hadn’t changed; only Dan’s perception of it had. Everything was too bright and crystal clear, like he had been swimming underwater with his eyes open until that moment. Dan shakily got up off the floor and made his way to the bed, collapsing on it. He didn’t bother to put on different clothes or get under the covers. So, a ghost was haunting his new apartment. What was he supposed to do about that? Let the landlord know? The landlord already knew; he had bloody warned Dan. Tell his parents? His subscribers? Well, his subscribers had already seen it. Curious, Dan pulled his phone out of his back pocket and scrolled through his replies on Twitter. The ghost was literally the only thing that any of them were talking about. Dan checked the views on his video and his mouth dropped open. It was almost to one million views, which was pretty normal for him, but it always took a couple of days for the views to add up to a million. His video was going viral. Dan locked his phone and placed it on the bedside table. What was he supposed to do about this? He began to drift asleep, the exhaustion of his panic attack weighing him down into the mattress. Phil had been a YouTuber when he was alive; maybe Dan would ask him his opinion. Before Dan could consider how odd of a concept it was, he was asleep.

Chapter two