#caffeine induced ramblings

[chaotic-warbler]

Robotgirl whose tits have been redesigned to lactate Monster because her engineer gf is too exhausted to just grab a can from the fridge after several hours of maintenance work.

[zozo-01]

"round and round on a horse like a carousel."

Here we are!! We finally got this massive fic out and done! I've always wanted to write a fic with Sam and Gavin, anddd my official bodycount is now up to two (thousand)!!! Special shout out to my lovely 'zo keeper' @gingerbreadmonsters who is enjoying some perfectly desrved R&R on the other side of the world!!! Thank you for letting me play with your theory and shoving Sam and Darlin' into it!!!

 CW: Angst, Multiple Major Character Death (most of it is shown but only one is described), Grieving Characters, (they are not handling the grieving process well), Hopelessness and Despair all around, Ambiguous Ending, Manipulation, Slight Coercion, Follows Ginger's "Echo is Gavin" Theory, Multiverse (kind of), Poor Sam is going t h r o u g h it, Echo doesn't care, Despite everything Echo does care for Sam, Mentions of Alexis invoking Sam to kill Darlin', You need to read 'have and hold' and 'reeling' to understand what is going on

click here for the ao3 link!!!

--

“Well you’re as handsome as the day I met you.”

He didn’t know what he let out, if it was a chuckle or sob. To be quite honest, he couldn’t hear anything except for the voice of the raspy shifter in bed. He needed to hear them, for what limited time they had left together. If he can’t go on with eternity with them, then at least let him burn their voice, their magical laugh, in his head. For the nights (or days he suppose) when everything is too much and he feels like he’ll burst, the memory of their voice will bring him back. Calm the angry threads that are barely bursting from the seams.

Although, one could argue that the memory of them in any capacity would shatter him more than what trivial and worldly matter will plague him.

“And you’re just as beautiful, Darlin’.”

Darlin’s hoarse chuckle led to a series of coughs. Realistically, Sam knows that their lungs aren’t what they used to be, but every cough had his core pulsating with the need to heal them. Not that healing magic would do them any good.

Another moment of silence passed, the clock ticking becoming louder. 

“I’m sorry, Sammy.”

He shook his head and repeated the same phrase once again. “It ain’t your fault.”

With a stubborn glint, one that had weakened with time, Darlin’ replied, “But I don’t want to leave you!” Their eyes were watery and their voice strained with pain in their chest. Part of him was scared that they were wasting precious energy trying to stay strong for him. Leave it to them to not rest in their final moments.

(Wait a minute, was that crack in the corner always there?) He wiped their tears, feeling his own build up, not that he’ll ever let himself cry when they needed more comfort than himself. He’ll have all the time to be selfish later. “I understand, you didn’t wanna be turned, I get it more than anyone else.”

But his words weren’t enough to change their mind. He’s long accepted that fact yet he continues. “We both knew this day was going to come. And listen to me,” he kneeled on the ground and held their hands, “I had the time of my life with you. You’ve made me the happiest man I could be, and to this day I still think I don’t deserve it. But I am the luckiest man ever to call you my mate.” He kissed their temple. “I love you, Darlin’.”

They gave a weak smile. “I love you too, my Nashira.” Their breathing slowed and they relaxed on the bed. “I’m tired, baby…” Their voice drifted off and Sam accepted the worst.

“Sleep, my love, you deserve to rest.” He kissed their forehead for the last time and watched them take their last breath. 

(Seriously, the hospital was brand new, why were there cracks in the ceiling?) Now that he was confident they were gone, he clutched onto this body, sobbing into their shoulder and mumbling about how they deserve peace in the afterlife. 

But it wasn’t fair.

Why couldn’t he have been made human so he could at least join them soon? A selfish part of his wishes that Darlin’ was turned into a vampire so they could be immortal and happy. Whatever the case, why must he lose his love when everyone else can have theirs? Why must he have a bad ending after being dealt a bad life and bad death? 

His mother always warned him to always be careful of what he wished for, but right now, he’d suffer any and all consequences just to meet them again. 

(Ok this is getting concerning now, because now the entire ceiling is gone-)

“What a shame. Another iteration, another failed attempt.”

Sam had wondered if a foreign voice could sound so familiar. It was cold and distant, like a scientist viewing the results of an experiment. But it had a sense of sorrow, a type of exasperation. Whoever this ‘scientist’ was wanted his experiment to work, but something told Sam that he was used to failure. In a weird sense, it sounded like a mixture of every voice he heard in his life. A strange concoction of dialects and accents and tones that left him unsure who to pin the owner of this voice. 

(There was one person that came to his head, but he shook that thought immediately. The voice in his head was too cruel to be him.)

There were other voices in his brain too. The ones that belonged to one of the few friends his mate made in their youth. (They’d always called it their Starboy era.) 

An incubus that they had met in one of the many clubs they adored and his partner that he worshipped over anything else.

“You’re my sky, deviant. The space between my stars… In a lifetime of sensing the emotions of others, I never imagined I could feel like this... This much… And I am so grateful for it, and for you.”

Who the fuck was that-

Gone was the bed where his Darlin’ passed in their sleep, the world had cracked and broke around him, only for them to be replaced with a clear sarcophagus and an eternal night sky.

Inside was the body of the Freelancer that was once adored by his incubus friend. 

(Wait a minute, didn’t he see them last week?)

Before he can think any further, from the neverending nothing, a body emerged. It was an incubus, that much Sam could tell from his aura, but instead of the pink colouring that most incubi had, this one was all black. The tips of his horns were a midnight shade, without any of the stars that make the night sky beautiful. His eyes were devoid of any light, and he had the feeling that something ripped the light from his eyes and used it to paint the stars. 

There was something else that was off with him. Sam couldn’t keep his eyes off the outline of the not-so-incubus incubus, puzzled by the glitching effect that surrounded him. The false sex demon (or at least, he thinks it’s a fake) was outlined with a pink and white hue, not like the usual red and blue glitches he’s seen before. He was causing disturbances in the otherwise stunning galaxy themed room. It was clear that this… Whatever this being was, he didn’t belong here. Sam had an inkling that this irregularity hadn’t come to give his condolences for his mate’s death.

(He could never understand how the term incubus, a term referring to creatures of light and fun and sex could also refer to a dark and twisted nightmare.)

(He was about to find out soon.)

The demon smiled, leaning his arms against the sarcophagus and chuckled, “Hello Nashira.”

Sam bared his fangs at the stranger, distrust filling his body. “You don’t get to fuckin’ call me that.” There were only two people who could call him that. One of them was dead. And the other was about to become dead inside. (Shh. Don't tell Sam that, this is our secret.)

The demon pouted, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Oh? You don’t remember me, Samuel? We go all the way back.” He gave a sly smile that Sam found all too familiar. “Your mate loves- oh, excuse my language, I had forgotten, loved having me around.”

Sam growled, “Don’t you fuckin’ talk like that around me.” He glanced at the dead or sleeping freelancer in the sarcophagus. “Or else you’ll be seein’ my mate and that partner of yours real fuckin’ soon.” Sure it was a low blow, but this incubi impersonator struck first and Sam’s never been known to hold back any punches, especially when it comes to his mate. In his anger, he even forgot the contradiction presented by the body in the sarcophagus. 

(Came. He meant when it came with his mate. No one tells you how hard it is to change the tenses in his words, let alone his mind.)

The impersonator raised an eyebrow, his eyes becoming darker, but that smile remained on his face. “Samuel, Samuel, Samuel. It’s adorable that you think a vampire can overpower a demon, but I shall let you feed your own delusions.” 

The demon paused for a minute. “You know, you and I used to get along so well,” he sighed. “Though I can’t blame you. It’s been years since we last saw each other, after all.”

“As if I’d befriend a prick like you,” Sam scoffed. Ok, maybe pissing off a demon isn’t a good idea, even when he considers his own immortality, but man oh fucking man, this demon’s a dipshit asshole and he wants to knock him down a peg.

The demon barked out a laugh, and Sam wonders where he’s heard that before. “Alright, then I’ll just have to remind you, Nashira. How about a trip down our memory lane?” 

It was a deal. With the way his voice sounded, it seemed like the impersonator made countless deals in his lifetime. The tone came to him naturally, he definitely has used it before. (Sam wonders if he was one of this creature’s past deals). Everything in him was screaming at him to turn away from this devil’s ploy, but his morbid curiosity craved the apple the demon was offering. 

“Alright, I’ll bite.” …The pun was honestly unintentional, but by God, if this demon is going to make a comment about it, he’s going to-

The smirk from the demon said it all. “You vampires sure love to bite things don’t you. Am I the next thing on your ‘to-be-bitten list’?”

“Shut up, demon, and get on with your story,” he grumbled, fully knowing he walked into that himself.

“Alright, alright, I’ll get off your case, Nashira,” he said, the sly smirk faded into a small smile, his eyes giving away that he was reminiscing on a memory. “I brought them, your darlin’, home one night. They had decided to get absolutely inebriated, so I had to carry them.” He walked around the sarcophagus and in front of Sam. “You chastised them for going above their limit, and they insisted that they were absolutely fine and it didn’t matter because I was there.” 

He went silent for a moment, a fond smile on his face. “They were always so stubborn…” His voice was quiet yet filled with adoration. Why was he talking about Dar-

The demon shook his head, breaking his trance and continued. “After you put them to bed, we caught up and I told you to be careful with their heart, that you were their ‘Nashira’. And you promised that-”

“That I’d burn the world and kill anyone in their way to make sure they’d never suffer another day again…” Shock filled his body, mouth hanging open and eyes embedded onto the demon. “How did you know?”

There was no way. His darlin’ was asleep and now permanently so, so they couldn’t have somehow told this stranger. And there was only one other person in the room that night. So it has to be him. But it’s impossible, there’s no way. The demon in front of him was far more cruel than the one he shared that sentiment with. Although… The body was similar to him, bar for the glitches and black colouring… And his voice was eerily similar, easily discernible from the cacophony of voices when the demon opened his mouth… And even that fucking bite joke is so him…

So then…

“Gavin? Is that you?”

There was a wistful smile on the stranger's face, almost happy by Sam’s attempt at discerning his identity. He let out a hollow chuckle, eyes glistening for a quick moment. “Ah, it’s been a while since someone has called me by that name, I almost forgot what it sounded like coming from another person’s mouth.” 

Sam stared, aghast. Surely it couldn’t be possible.

The shadow-man continued. “I only hear that name within the fleeting memories I torment myself with, willing to endure the pain so I can hear my name with their voice, just as it should be.”

He paused, mockingly bowing in front of the vampire. “So thank you, Samuel, for reminding me of that accursed name, but you are mistaken, my Nashira.” He cruelly smirked, eyes becoming blacker than black, whatever sliver of light that remained had gone, leaving the bitter and powerful entity. “The Gavin you knew is dead within the stadium walls, along with my deviant and your mate, all those years ago in the Inversion.”

A friend, wearing a stranger’s face. Familiarity and foreignness mixing together in an uncomfortable manner. 

“These days, I go by Echo.”

(Ok, that’s impossible. He can clearly picture his Darlin’ charging through the crowd in the aftermath in their gorgeous wolf form, and he remembers watching them like they were an angel sent from above. There was no way, no fucking way, that they could have died.)

(They weren’t even in the wards during that god forsaken day.)

Gav- Echo stood straighter, like he was proud of the person he’s become. Sam still couldn’t believe it. The incubus he knew was sweet and kind, with a heart of the purest gold that’s ever been mined. He was the type of man who’d carry old ladies’ purses while they cross the street, or make funny faces at the baby in the stroller. 

He loves unconditionally, becoming immortal not by the magic flowing through his veins, but by the magic he leaves behind in the hearts of the people he interacted with.

But this person… This echo of the demon he knew… He was the furthest from what he remembered of him. 

Echo chuckled at the puzzled thoughts that shone in Sam’s eyes. “This still is my favourite part, reminding you of our mission and updating you on how close I am to finishing it.”

Sam furrowed his eyebrows. “What the fuck are you talkin’ about? What mission? I didn’t agree to shit. And that still doesn’t explain what the hell happen to you Gavin! I saw you last week with your partner at the hospital! So how are they in that glass coffin!”

Echo snarled at his old name and raised his voice. “I told you, I go by Echo now.” He caressed the clear sarcophagus in a gentle way, like a lover caresses their partner’s cheek. “Gavin died when they did,” he whispered, like it was a secret between the two men. 

Sam understood it, recognized that pain. Part of him died with Darlin’ and now he might hurl any time someone not them calls him ‘Samuel’. It was their name to use and now it’ll have no use.

He furrowed his eyes, taken aback by Echo’s statement. But they were alive, he spoke to them last week. Despite their equal old age to his mate, them and their Gavin (the nice one, not this monstrosity in front of him), would constantly come by the hospital to see how Darlin’ was doing. It was nice, the support they, the clan and the pack provided was vital for him to keep his sanity.

Despite every logical sense making it seem like Echo is lying, the pain in his voice, the despair in his eyes, it was too real. The flinch his body did when he called him ‘Gavin’ was way too specific for it to be a simple mimicry of other grieving lovers. Whatever this version of the Gavin he cared for was, he’d experience the loss of his Deviant.

Either that or Echo should be given an Oscar for his performance tonight.  

Perplexed by this paradox, he opened his mouth to ask. Surely he deserves some answers as to what’s going on in this fever dream. “But they’re alive… I saw them breathin’.” He dared to step closer, a small part of him wanting to comfort Echo over their shared pain. 

A bittersweet smile graced his face, and yet again, it was too raw and real for anyone to fake. “They won’t be alive for much longer, Nashira.” With a wave of his hand, the starry night scene that they’d been in had morphed into a house.

This was Gavin’s and Freelancer’s house.

Sam looked over to the couch to see the human and incubus sitting there, laughing at the TV in front of them. Of course they were watching ‘Pingu’. He still couldn’t fathom why on earth either of them adore that show, but you can bet that their nights had consisted of curling up in their Cinnamoroll pajamas and laughing at the absurdity of the penguins on the screen. It was cute and wholesome and the exact domesticity that both of them deserved, so he never said anything. He can appreciate cuddles and a show to laugh at, even if he didn’t agree with the entertainment itself. Besides, it was nice to see the tradition be continued all these years later.

“I don’t even know why I loved that penguin show, but it’s just too damn loveable to not be obsessed with it,” Echo mused, walking towards the older version of his freelancer. “Admittedly, the pajamas were also my idea. I know, I know, seems out of character for me, but I digress. I do look damn good in a Keroppi onesie.” He chuckled and knelt before the older freelancer, caressing their cheek, even though Sam had a feeling the freelancer couldn’t feel his touch. His iconic glitches had calmed, and he became more grounded in reality.

Sam wondered if the freelancer calmed Echo’s rage, the same way Darlin’ did for him.

He felt a bubble of smugness burst through him, happy at the thought that for the first time during this fever dream, he got a leg up on Echo. “See? Told you they’re still alive, so you can cut the horse shit and tell me what the fuck is goin’ on here.”

A beat passed and Freelancer fell onto the ground, clutching their heart in deep agony.

Any and all pride that Sam felt a few seconds ago gave way to dread, forgetting that once again that darker incubus had been right again. He rushed forward, instincts taking over to try to heal his friend, only to be stopped when Echo put a hand on his shoulder.

“There’s no use, Nashira, they’re already gone.” His face had a hardened look, like he’d watch this scene happen over and over, but his voice had a resigned sadness in it. That despite expecting this result, he wished it would end differently. 

Wish carefully, listener. Actions have consequences. And wishes granted have a cost.

He tried to plead, struggling against the demon’s grip, “I can help! It ain’t fair that he loses his partner too! Send me back and let me save them-”

“Do you think I haven’t tried that?!” Echo responded with a question that Sam was sure rhetorical. His voice kept a steady tone, but it didn’t do much to hide the rage from his voice. “I have tried every single variation, every single possibility, changed every single variable but it leads to the same fucking outcome. Your mate dies and my deviant follows them to the River.” He pulled the vampire up on his feet and whisked them both back to the starry room that they began this conversation in. “How dare you be so arrogant that you think you can change this? If anyone can save them both, it will be me.” He seethed every word, and Sam could finally see the total toll it had taken on Echo.

That still didn’t explain what he had gone through, and Sam wanted to understand. Whether or not he could comprehend it was up to how well Echo explained everything to him. 

Echo sighed, rage leaving his face and replacing it with apathy. “Apologies Samuel, I know you don’t remember anything. But can you blame me for losing my shit when you’re being, and I’m putting this gently, a goddamned idiot.” He looked back at the sarcophagus, affectionately rubbing it once again. 

(Come to think of it, the way Echo rubs the coffin reminds him of the window cleaners on the skyscrapers he’s seen. He can even picture the cloth in Echo’s hand, methodically wiping it clean. Huh, no wonder why the sarcophagus is all sparkly and shiny.)

Sam had taken offence of the insult, but he remembered the ache in his voice a moment prior. He could see the gears turning in Echo’s head, a restless mind coming up with another plan to achieve his ultimate desire. 

An unconscious part of him wanted to help the former incubus (the jury is still at the stands) succeed in his goal. Was it because despite evidence to the contrary, Echo looked and spoke and moved like his best friend? Or was it in his nature to heal people, lend a helping hand to those who needed it? 

(Was it because his Darlin’ would have jumped at the opportunity to help a ‘friend’ out and he needed to keep their soul tethered to the mortal world for a little while longer?)

(But maybe he’s always been a selfish man, and this was his way to get his Darlin’ back permanently.)

Apple firmly in his hand, he weighed the consequences of taking the fated bite. His mind screamed that indebting his soul to the devil is a terrible idea. But he needed to get some answers, to understand the clusterfuck chain of events that leads him to this very moment. A deal with a devil never killed anybody, especially if he knows that the devil was once an angel. 

“You mentioned earlier that we been through this before?” Sam recalled.

Echo nodded thoughtfully, choosing his next words carefully. “Are you sure, Samuel? You don’t understand what you’re asking to learn.”

“More than anythin’ in my life,” he confidently answered, stamping out any fear or uncertainty from his voice. His mate would’ve been disappointed in him. They hadn’t gone to law school just to see their mate agree to a contract without seeing the terms.

“If you’re gonna sign your ass away, at least do it with consent and knowledge, Sammy.”

God, he missed their voice. He wanted to hear it again like a dark forest craves the sun.

The far-too-demonic incubus narrowed his eyes at the vampire, his scowl growing deeper. His cold voice spoke, “Well fine, I’ll make that decision for you.” He stalked closer to Sam, the once pink and white glitches surrounding his body becoming more intense. The distortions seemed to respond to Echo’s emotions, and by the looks of it, he had a fury that rivaled the most spiteful Gods. 

Had his teeth become sharper? His horns larger? Sam didn’t have time to answer these questions because faster than he could perceive, Echo stopped within striking distance of the vampire, snarling in disgust and rage. 

“Absolutely no.”

Sam opened his mouth to retort, “Hold on, ain’t you the one who just said that we been through this before?” If there was anything he hated more than a two faced, back-stabbing, lying bitch ass, it’s a motherfucker who goes back on his word. 

Echo pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering an ‘I don’t have time for this’ under his breath. “Look, I get it. You want to save your mate, really I do. But learning the grander plan at play would only bring you more pain.” He placed both his hands on Sam’s shoulders and gave them a comforting squeeze. “We can do this without you having to bear the weight of this knowledge. Let this be my burden to carry.”

Fuck that shit. Sam had never been the type to let someone else solve his problems, especially when it comes to his mate, and no dimension-breaking asshole imitation of his mate’s best friend is going to change that. 

“Gav- Echo,” he said hesitantly, “I wanna help you save both of our partners, and me knowin’ will just help your cause.” Sam felt the urge to get on his knees and beg, just so he can understand what the fuck is going on. “Please, I need to know.”

He let go of Sam’s shoulder and takes a step back. Echo’s face conformed into a cold fury, a far cry from the comforting tone he used a second prior. “I tried to make this as painless as possible for you, Nashira,” he spat out, with an effort to remain as calm as he could. But with every word Echo said, his composure wavered, a strained frustration creeping into his voice. “Yet you clearly, want to make things harder for yourself.” 

Sam watched as Echo’s glitches threatened to rip apart the reality they presided in. Tears appeared in the night sky and the stars were falling on the “ground” they stood on, crashing and exploding into a brilliant white light. For each star that descended from this makeshift heaven, Sam could hear Gavin’s voice from a life from long ago.

“I can be both a good man and a very bad incubus all at once.”

“You can let yourself feel everything right now, and I’ll weather this storm with you. Just like you did for me.”

“Now, there’s an idea. You know I’m a sucker for a callback.”

(Sam also noted that the sarcophagus carrying Freelancer’s body had vanished. Where to? He hadn’t the faintest clue, but something told him that even in death, Echo didn’t want his deviant to see him in this rageful state.)

His pondering was cut off with Echo’s booming and well, for lack of a better term, echoing voice. “Do you have any idea how it feels to carry millennia worth of memories that no one but I understand? How it kills me to know everything about you and your mate and Damien and Lasko and Huxley and them, but knowing all you will only exist in my life for a fraction of the time I’ve spent observing this world?”

A moment of silence passed.

Everything stopped.

Sam half expected for Echo to evaporate into non-existence. (What that meant he had no idea, but he didn’t have time to contemplate existentialism right now.) 

Instead, Echo composed himself. He waved a hand and every fallen star rose back into the sky and the reality-breaking tears stitched themselves back. “If you wish to become a stubborn, unnecessary martyr, then be my guest. But don’t you dare regret this decision later on.”

Sam couldn’t get a word in before Echo spoke once again. The room went dark again, but before he could panic about the sudden blindness, Echo spoke directly into his mind, a cacophony of every voice Sam has ever heard blanding into one harmonious tune. 

"Wish carefully, Nashira. Actions have consequences. And wishes granted have a cost."

(Glad to know Echo keeps the talks-a-lot-incubus tradition alive.)

On an unrelated note, Sam’s eyes felt heavy, like he hadn’t slept for eons. Sure he’s not known for his impeccable sleep schedule, but he’s never one to turn down the chance at some shut eye. Besides he’s had a hard life, let him lay down… And get some sleep… Maybe dream of them if he’s lucky.

(When has Samuel Collins ever been lucky?)

…

You know how when you fall asleep on a bus? Or on the train? (Or the tube as the British call it.) You don’t know when you fall asleep, and you know for a damn fact that you shouldn’t be sleeping in public where anyone can just… You’re sleeping on a train, you can fill in the rest.

That was what Sam experienced. Should he be sleeping in front of an omnipotent being that’s only one step away from a God? Absolutely no, but he did it anyway. Though on the bright side, at least he’s been blessed with a dream. 

But it's not them. 

“Samuel, I promise there’s a way to bring them back! But you have to believe me!”

“How Gavin!? How the fuck am I supposed believe when you say you’re gonna bring them back? I saw that shade fuckin’ drain ‘em! I saw the life fade from their eyes! You’re either delusional for thinkin’ you can save both of’ our partners, or your bein’ cruel for no goddamn reason.”

“Well you better believe me, because I can. But… It means watching them die over and over again until we get it right. Can you do that? Can you fall in love with them, only to know that you will only be guaranteed eternal happiness once?”

“...You do it everyday with your freelancer, don’t you? Why shouldn’t this be any different?”

“I’m not asking for me. Are you able to handle that kind of pain?”

“Lord knows I’d endure a thousand hells for them. I’ll do it in a heartbeat.”

“Alright, my dear Nashira, just remember…

…Actions have consequences. And wishes granted have a cost."

Oh right. He agreed to a deal. There was no point in wondering if he was making a deal with the devil because he bit the damned fruit long before he could even remember it.

A snapping sound slowly drags him back to consciousness, and a harsh reminder from Echo brings him back all the way. 

(Come to think of it, Sam didn’t even think he fell asleep. He just disassociated so hard that he felt his soul leave his body and relieve that past memory. Or maybe it wasn’t all in his head? Great, add time travel to the weird shit that’s happened so far.)

“Wake up, Sam,” he says with a harsh tone. If Echo had the same mannerisms, and everything tonight (or today?) proved that to be true, then Echo calling Sam ‘Sam’ and not some nickname or ‘Samuel’ or ‘Nashira’ meant that he’s pissed. Not in a ‘Freelancer not giving him affection for more than five minutes’ kind of way, but in a more ‘watching some professor antagonize Damien for being a fire elemental’ way.

Sam just hoped that perhaps Echo will have more mercy on him than the scarred professor.

(Emotionally scarred. She wasn’t worth having to deal with all the paperwork from D.U.M.P.)

“So you finally remember everything?” He may have posed it as a question, but the mocking undertone was a clear indication that he already knew that answer. It was silent for a moment, only to be broken when Echo clasped his hands together. “Well it’s always wonderful to speak to you, Nashira, but we have partners to revive, which if we’re being honest, would have been done quite earlier if someone would keep his reckless wolf alive.” 

What… No, he can’t…

Again? He had to go through that again? How on Earth did Echo expect him to go through the same love story for the thousandth time? If the definition of insanity is to do the same thing over and over and over again, then he has long gone past the deep end. He didn’t even know what possessed him to agree to this fucking deal those lifetimes ago. God damn it, he should have never bit the apple. Bringing people back? From the dead? The closest anyone has gotten to that is a vampire’s turning, but he knew his Darlin’ would rather die than give up their wolf. So he has to find a way to keep them immortal without turning them.

Cool. No pressure. When you boil it down to a simple sentence, it seems doable. 

That was before he had to watch them die a thousand times, and having to prepare himself from watching them die a thousand more.

He remembers it all now. The doomed timelines, the sinking and permanent dread that accompanied him around their death, the constant beratement from Echo whenever he failed. Given that he’s still here, talking to Echo and not enjoying immortal bliss with Darlin’ goes to show how much he has failed.

How dare Samuel Collins be so arrogant as to think as he could reverse an event so vital to the timelines he has the privilege of residing in. Does he not know his misery keeps his world spinning?

(Of course he knows why he agreed to all of this. Echo… Gavin’s voice held so much conviction, so much belief, that this plan could work. To call it a plan is giving it more credit than it deserves. It’s more of a hypothesis. However, theory can only be made fact if there is evidence behind it. At this point, it’s proving to be more fictitious everyday.)

In a meek voice, not out of fear but hesitation, Sam spoke for what seems to be the first time in a while.

“No.”

Echo halted. No, scratch that, the entire room just stopped. 

Before the stars and little clouds in the sky moved, twirling and twinkling in the false night sky.

The room seemed to forget how to breathe. Sam had to remind himself that despite his undead status, he wasn’t allowed the luxury of forgetting.

Echo scoffed, once then twice. Then he started cackling, bending over and clutching his stomach in a failed attempt to control this burst of joy. Or perhaps the absurdity of the entire situation has finally caught up to him. 

The ground cracked underneath the demon’s feet as he stomped around the room-dimension thing. “Of course, of course! I should have known that this would happen!” He muttered to himself. “Every single time we meet like this, you try to bail out because of your bullshit morals. Morals, that mind you, you only have because of them.” The stars heated up as his glare intensified. “Need I remind you how you treated Fred’s progeny?”

Sam was still living with the guilt of how he treated them and how they're relationship fell apart. 

If only he met Darlin' earlier-

“That's exactly it!” He yelled and the room shook with his fury. Did Echo just read his mind? “You’ve always based your decisions on what they would want you to do.” He scoffed, the temperature dropping as ice laced his voice. “Not that it ever stopped you before.”

Sam didn’t know if the chill down his spine came from the cold of the room or the cold hard truth his deranged friend was speaking. He was right. Sam will whine and cry about morals and standards and questions and thoughts of ‘what would Darlin’ do’, but it didn’t matter. In the end, he’d continue on with Echo’s mad experiment to save them. (Save them both.)

Bite the apple from the snake, suffer the consequences of the sin, go back to the Garden of Eden and do it all over again.

(Does that make his darlin’ the Adam in this story? Convincing him that eternal damnation wasn’t worth the pain of immortality? It wasn’t that Darlin’ didn’t wouldn’t agree with the plan. His Darlin’ was as selfless and kind as the Saints he was forced to pray towards. Death was nothing to them if it meant they could be the cause of that salvation that saves their friends. No, they’d disagree with the plan because they couldn’t bear seeing their beloved in constant, perpetual and unavoidable pain.)

(Or maybe their mercy  makes them Jesu’? A martyr destined to die over and over and over for the sins of those who have ruined them? If that’s the case, then he’s Judas, the fool who damned Jesus with a kiss.)

The demon rolled his eyes back in the dramatic fashion that he was known for. With a wicked smile and a faux concern dripping from his voice, he taunted the vampire, “Come on, Sam, we both know what you want.” Any and all anger was gone, replaced with the smug satisfaction of a man (or interdimensional magical being) who knows he’s been right in every scenario. Why, of course he is. Echo has had this same argument a thousand times over.

And he’s won every single time. 

(What can he say, he’s had a lot of practice.)

“Do I need to remind you of the times where you were the one who killed your precious mate?” He asked to continue to poke and infuriate the vampire.

Of course he didn’t need to. There have been timelines where Alexis had invoked him to kill his wolf out of petty revenge. (Let it be said that the actions of these Alexises are not indicative of the Alexis you are familiar with.) He remembers the taste of their blood when he killed them. It wasn’t of fear or disgust, it was of acceptance and peace. Like he was making love to them in their bed and not violating their body. They had always said, “If I wanted anyone to kill me, I want it to be you, since you’ll make sure I’d be loved in my final moments.” 

He wished they had hated him instead. The wild fire, the raging blizzard, within their blood hurt more than any acid in this or any world. 

Echo, satisfied with the memories that were returning to Sam, put the final nail to the coffin carrying Sam’s flimsy convictions. “You don’t want all of that pain and suffering they had to endure to go to waste, don’t you? So I ask you again, Nashira, don’t you want to have them again?”

The most infuriating part was that he was right, so fucking right. This is what Sam wants.

He wants to drag his Darlin’ from the river by the hair he loved to pull when kissing them and hold them close and keep them safe and alive for all of eternity. Wants to gently place them down on their bed and play with his hair and tell them that nothing will hurt them. His arms were the shield they desperately needed after a lifetime of fighting. To make up for all the pain he has caused them in multiple timelines and create the most perfect future possible for them, just for them. Helping Echo with his own predicament is an added benefit.

The sunk cost fallacy is a phenomenon where a person is reluctant to abandon a strategy because they’ve invested everything ounce of themselves to see it succeed. Echo and Sam were becoming too familiar with the ocean floor.

Quiet resignation and deep laughter filled the room, with the demon wiping his nonexistent tears from his eyes. “It’s always fun to break you, Nashira, but we have work to do. And this time,” his eyes darkened and the stars flickered out, leaving the two men visible, “I expect results.”

Sam nodded and an apple appeared in front of him. When he takes another bite, the cycle of pain will continue, and it will end with him. And he will end it.

He has to.

If not for his happiness, than for the happiness of the twisted demon he once called a friend. 

–

Now that the cycle restarted and Sam was sent back to the beginning, Echo remained in the room. Alone and perfectly still, like water that hasn’t been agitated.

The false memories always work. He gave himself a pat on the back for coming up with that idea after the first few cycles, when Sam was becoming resistant. 

The ‘multiple timelines’ that Sam had experienced were really just simulations that Echo created to cycle through in order to find the perfect solution. Each one contained a different ‘what if’ to reveal more information about how this world works. 

What if Alexis was a petty and jealous ex?

What if David turned on Darlin’ and let Quinn take them? 

What if they had a normal life and died of old age?

They all had a different purpose, but none of them were real enough to have any lasting consequences, but lovely Sam didn’t need to know that.

In truth, while Echo can make all the alternate universes or lifelike dreams he wants, he can only reset the prime universe, the one we know and love, only once. So he had to make absolutely, one hundred percent sure that he can manipulate the right factors to create his desired outcome. And he finally thinks he did it. After years of self-isolation and watching his friend be tortured, he finally broke the crystal.

(Whoever gets that joke has quite good taste in TV shows.)

Echo looked up at the black void and smiled. “Are you seeing this?! You said I could never and I fucking did!” Silence was his only response but he didn’t mind.

It took him much too long to learn about the secrets of turning humans into concubines, but better late than never. Considering that Darlin’ is a shifter, a human that is closer to a demon than a freelancer, it only makes sense to make them his first and successful attempt. (Mark his words, he will succeed.)

From his pocket, he held a photo in his hands. It was taken in front of the local cowboy club in Dahlia and the incubus and shifter were smiling. Happiness coursed through their veins and unbeknownst to neither, more was on the way. Echo studied how lively and youthful Darlin’ looked back then. Before Quinn had forced them to let go of themselves and the carefree nature that made them loveable. While he thanks Sam for bringing that side out of them, he was going to make sure they stay like that.

Permanently. 

He took a deep breath and braced himself. Once he saves them, he can save his beloved deviant.

He was going to see his beloved deviant again.

And he will make sure they all live happily ever after.  (But do you know what they say about those who try to alter destiny? The fates will not take kindly to anyone to change their plans and will do anything to get back on the right track. Certain events can never change, lest the universe unravels on itself. But Echo would relish that type of destruction, wouldn’t he.)

[ibeta]

Boss monsters take care of their little monster groups.

Sans, who keeps telling the player to do stuff for his people because he sees that they're sad/upset/wants friends—

Sans, who has an overflowing mailbox—

Sans, who lives far away from most monsters in Snowdin—

Sans, who seems so popular anyway—

Sans, who you meet after the tuToriel, like a guide—

Sans, who has mysterious salary from somewhere to pay for the house in Snowdin—

Sans, who keeps his promise for his little monster group probably—

Sans, who is the boss of the bosses, probably. It's just a secret that he's the last obstacle to world obliteration.

[autistic-katara]

GOOD OMENS SPOILERS

ok so i paused this and i’ve been pacing around my living room + kitchen for the past like 20 minutes cause fuccckkkkkk i think Crowley’s gonna confess or do Every but i from the vibe i’m getting from other ppl on tumblr + the vibe i’m getting from the show i’m fucking terrified smthns abt to go wrong and wait fuck that i know somethings abt to go wrong and i’m terrified of what it might be and mnnnnnnhhhh i can’t take this angst w/ no conclusion s3 won’t be until 2026 at the earliest (if it gets one at all) and i’ve just chugged an Irn Bru Xtra which is making me 10x more nervous (for u non-Scots Irn Bru is a caffeinated soft drink and Xtra as u could probably guess means it’s got extra caffeine so yk) and yeah fuck i can’t deal with this rn how am i supposed to deal with this huh ;-;

[xx-theblack-vixen-xx]

guysguysguysguys!!!!! ASEGEGSWDWWWFQSDASFEFFDVG AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA guys i am like super hyper rn and i cannot stop talking and moving and stuff liike I have eaten nothing but sugar today and i am going to EXPLODE AAAAAAAAAAA hehehehehe and the thing is that all ive eaten overall today is: waffles, coffee, Graham crackers, yogurt, ice cream,

And two cookies not to mention that I just got taken off of my adhd meds so i think that that makes things suuuuuuuper worse for everyone else, also today i dragged one of my friends at school into the babtqftim fandom and I was infodumping about aaaaaall throughout first period while a ran laps around a tree when i was supposed tobe playing disc golf I think i ran somewhere close to a mile or somthn like that and i saw him on like part fourteen of it during math class and then we went on a field trip to the downtown of where i live and we walked around and i saw a bunch of different things like some dude was fixing a fence with some sort of power tool and there were sparks everywhere which was awesome

And I got to talk about some old shows that i used to watch when i was young with someone in my group who also watched it and I took my sketchbook with me and i got to draw and we had to write stuff for school but I did basically the bare minimum and its not like the teachers can like take us back there sooo all of us are going to get full credit as long as you turn it in which I did and then now I'm home and Spider-Man across the spider verse is out now so i can watch it now but my dad hasn't even watched the first one so we're trying to set that up now

Hope you enjoyed my sugar-induced ramblings and i wish you a wonderful rest of your day/night/whatever time it is where you are :D

[positivelyadhd]

brown noise my beloved <33

[skitskatdacat63]

Okay so I'm watching the Monaco 2009 pre-race coverage and I'm only like 10 mins in but I have several things I need to say so I don't forget:

First of all OH MY GODDDDDD:

THIS INTRO IS SO COOL??????? LIKE OH MY GOD????? Sorry I'm just !!!!!!!!! about it!!! Like is this not the coolest thing?? The way Jake Humphrey is edited in is really smooth and realistic looking, I'm not completely familar with all the commentators, so I was staring at it like "wait....this is Jake, right? Or? It is, right??" If it tricked my 2023 brain, I can't imagine watching this 14 years ago lmao

Anyways I really really love BBC's coverage, I think it's soooo superior to modern broadcasting ngl. Like just the whole vibe of it, idk I really love it all, it's a shame not all of it is avalible to watch, bcs man, I would totally be up for watching every single thing as if it was the current season. You guys will have to inform me, since I only have access to F1TV, which is pretty good but mundane compared to this imo, but those of you with actual like cable broadcasters(like Sky and C4), would you agree that BBC's vibe is better?

Okay anyways, I have other things to say other than ranting about how much I love BBC's broadcasting lmao. Seeing the current(so like as of Monaco) leaderboard of the WCC is crazy. It is currently 1. Brawn 2. Red Bull 3. Toyota. I know obviously a lot changes from season to season, not to mention a literal decade, but the fact that two of those teams don't even exist anymore is so wild from the modern perspective. And heyyyyyy the team in 2nd is now on top baby!

Last point: Wow! I had no idea they were considering a budget cap for the 2010 season! Also just the comparison btwn the budget they were considering vs. the current one($45 million vs $135 million) is insane to me!! Even with accounting for inflation, the old budget cap is literally half of the current one.

*edit okay sorry, I just need to say this. WHY DOES MAX MOSLEY'S TIE LOOK LIKE THE OLD LESBIAN FLAG LMAOOOOOOO, like seriously if you wore that today, I would think you're repping me hahaha

[sneak-a-cat]

love that here on tumblr i can post at 1-3am about how i fucked up majorly by drinking 2 cans of cold coffee in an attempt to make my brainn fast enough to clean my room and have gone absolutely feral (please help me) and i won’t be like judged for the normal reasons

[giuseppe-yuki]

Logan's gf is probably bffs with an alligator shifter... Change my mind AHAHHAHAAHA

- 🐺 anon

P.S. I am so sorry did you get my caffeine induced ramblings earlier this week-

haha yes! everything surrounding logan is just so- patriotic and american lmaoo

i temporarily thought of giving logan a bald eagle!shapeshifter gf when i was still writing my og series, but apparently it’s illegal to own one in the US according to google, so I changed it to a hawk instead.

anyways, back to the alligator thought, when logan first saw the alligator curled next to his pretty girlfriend, he immediately activated his florida man instincts and started swinging at the alligator’s weak spots, like its eyes and throat. you almost had to tackle him to the ground in fear that he was going to pummel your friend to death.

“LOGAN! LOGAN! IT’S OKAY- IT’S FINE! SHE’S MY FRIEND!” you frantically yell, trying to pull logan away from the frightened gator on the ground. as if he didn’t hear you, he continues to stand in front of you with his arms out protectively, occasionally throwing jabs (but missing).

before you made up your mind to body slam (well, attempt) your boyfriend to the ground, your friend shifts back to her normal self, scrambling back away from your boyfriend’s swinging fists.

seeing the girl on the ground that was glaring at him instead of the alligator, your boyfriend’s eyes widen. he freezes up and his face flushes a deep red in embarrassment, in which you take your chance to pull him away from the situation.

“baby,” you reprimand, giving him a chaste kiss on his cheek, “i appreciate you so much for trying to save me, but i also would appreciate if you didn’t kill my friend next time.”

YES I DID get them!!! so sorry for the wait! it’s just a really busy week for me so i haven’t had a chance to sort through and reply to everyone my inbox yet 😥

[13as07]

Coffee #1.5

(Neji Hyuga)

[Artwork is not mine! Credit to iDNAR]

Requested by: @pokepony64 [Kind of]

[Idea inspired by the comment convo I had on my 'Coffee' oneshot on tumblr]

Word Count: 864

Warnings and/or Pre-Notes:

None

———————————————————————

     "Um... sir... I don't think that is what you want to order," the barista says, his nose scrunched up as he looks me up and down.

     "No, it is," I insist, glancing to the side as I replay the conversation I had with Lee. Two shots of expresso, four shots of orange juice, and two shots of creamer. Maybe Lee said four shots of expresso and two shots of orange juice... or was it three? I'm pretty sure he said two.

     "Sir, I really don't think you want to mix expresso and orange juice."

     "No, I'm sure that's what my friend said. He said it should taste tangy," I insist, letting out a sigh because of the worker trying to fight me on my order. What does he care what I order? It's my drink order, not his.

     "I mean," the worker mumbles, tinting his head and widening his eyes a bit. "It will be tangy."

     "Then that is the order I want."

     "What if you ordered something else? If you're trying to go for an orange flavor you can get an orange lemonade," the worker tries to persuade me, upsetting me even more.

     I just want my drinks made before I'm late. "Please just make my drinks," I mumble, rubbing my temples. I swear, this barista is giving me more of a headache than Lee does.

     "If that's what you want, but just a reminder we don't do refunds."

     "Ya, ya, ya," I mutter, tugging out my wallet to count out my total.

     After paying, I slide to the side of the counter to wait for my drinks. As I wait, the four or so baristas scurry around each other, whispers passed back and forth and eyes flickering my way. Is Lee's drink suggestion that strange?

     "Neji!" Lee's voice rings out, muffled by the big glass window he has himself pressed against. I swear, it's like my thoughts are just a setup for people to show up. "Neji!" He yells again, the bell of the door ringing as an undertone for his voice.

     "Lee," I mumble, turning to the side as he races towards me.

     "Neji!" He cheers again, jumping at me. His arms wrap around my shoulders as he shakes me around, Lee's energy at an all-time high. "Did you order already? Did you order the drink I recommended? After this are you going to see the girl? Are you? Are you?"

     The whole time Lee rambles on, I'm being shaken by him, the most annoying of ways he gets his energy out. The whole time, more eyes fall on us, and 'cutesy' giggles fall from girls both on staff and in line. "I swear," whispers one of the baristas, she and another settled at the end of the counter as they pop lids onto the drinks in their hands. "Those two are so lucky they're cute."

     "I know, right?" The other barista whispers, eyes glancing towards Lee and me. "At least their looks make up for their stupidity." Both girls giggle at their not-so-inside joke. Lee's recommendation isn't that stupid... is it?

     "Neji?" The first girl calls, eyes scanning my name scribbled on one of the to-go cups.

     "That's me," I call back, attempting to shake Lee off of me as I head towards the girl.

     Her eyes jump up to mine, going wide as her cheeks go pink. "Oh... hi. Neji is such a cute name. I... ah..."

     "I'm not interested, yad yad, I have a girlfriend, yad yad, I appreciate your interest," I grumble, taking my drinks from her before turning - more so dragging Lee as I inch away - to head towards the door.

     Lee rambles on about how "unfair it is of me to get all the girls" and "wanting to try the coffee he recommended".

     "If you release me, we can try it together, okay? Unhand me."

     "Yes!" Lee cheers, letting me go before he bounces around. He doesn't need any more caffeine but if it keeps his touch off of me, then so be it. Besides, we'll be reporting for duty soon so his extra caffeine-induced hyperness won't be my problem. "Give me, give me, give me!"

     "Hey! It's my coffee, I get to try it first." Once the sentence is out, I lift the cup to my mouth and take a sip of it. I hate coffee, it tastes terrible, and this cup tastes worse than usual.

     "Okay! My turn!" He whines, snatching the cup I drank out of before pressing it to his lips. Lee gulps the liquid, his face slowly falling out of his usual smile.

     When he pulls the cup away from his mouth, the brown liquid comes squirting out, spewing all over the road. "Ew, ew, ew!" Lee yells, running back and forth in front of me with his tongue hanging out. "Take your cup back! Take it back!" He whines, his words jumbled up by his tongue still hanging out.

     I do as Lee asks, taking the to-go cup back from him. "I don't know how people drink coffee," I mutter, eyes ping-ponging as he keeps running around. Hopefully, Aburame-San likes coffee more than Lee and I do.

———————————————————————

———————————————————————

[chaotic-warbler]

Anyone who played TWEWY knows which song I mean

[are-we-really-doing-this]

i NEED to hear your cm punk tool thoughts, my GOD

Okay like. Think about the worst man you know who likes Tool. You know that type of guy. Obnoxious as fuck, definitely a little misogynistic and/or homophobic, probably smokes too much. Now imagine a CM Punk fan like this. Not hard.

Now think about a woman you know who like Tool. Intimidatingly cool and just a little bit deranged. Also probably smokes too much or at least has a shitty job that makes them consume way too much caffeine. Many such girlies, right?

Okay now the songs. Sober. Literally Punk pitching the original beer spot, plus any additional rambling he was doing at the time. The Pot. Absolutely any time he’s yelling at anyone about how he’s straight edge and that means he’s better than you. Hooker with a Penis? He is somehow both the groupie and the guy chewing him out.

They’re like. Of the same nature. So demanding of your attention and respect just for what they can manage that so many can’t, and yet that is the very thing that makes or breaks them for a lot of people. Through all of what they do, you’re gonna get some irritating boneheadedness in there, and plenty of pretense (or at least in the people appreciating or analyzing them). They have cult followings. Some people tend to place them at the center of their universe, being a fan of them becomes central to their being, sometimes unwillingly so. I don’t know about anyone else, but sitting down to take in something that they’ve made induces powerful, visceral reactions, oftentimes as unpleasant as they are euphoric. With both, I am partial to their work from the 2000s. CM Punk is probably wrestling’s biggest tool, whatever double entendre that’s worth.

Also come on. Come on.

Come on.

[his-tamine]

spider, he, 19 || art, monster fuckery, & snz enjoyer i exist solely on caffeine, tdick, & poor man's poison

dni if you're u18, this blog's for horny adults only

don't reblog my kinky reblogs to vanilla blogs pls

#spiidernsft <- for nsfw/nsft #spiidervent <- for rambles #oc eden & oc forrest <- for ocs

(ﾉ･_-)☆ comms info (open!) | gaza funds | the inducing comic

[tomorrowusa]

If the Trump hush money trial is still in progress on June 14th, perhaps somebody will deliver a birthday cake to Trump in the courtroom with 78 candles on it. 🎂

In court we're seeing more of the real Trump without his daily 12-pack of Diet Coke® to guzzle.

Trump fans ignore the fact that their god is just 3.5 years younger than Biden. His highly caffeinated (and often incoherent) ramblings give followers the impression that he's vigorous when, in fact, he's just having a chemically induced oral convulsion.

It's ironic that this trial may improve Trump's physical health a bit. The extra sleep and the lack of personal histrionics can't be bad for his blood pressure.

[do-it-for-the-fandom]

how many WIPs do you currently have?

Depends on what you class as a WIP, I guess. I have 'stages' of WIP.

Stage one: the outline. This when I get an idea and I just do like a caffeine induced 'speed run' of typing it out: start to finish, don't stop to make corrections or edits, just get the basic story on the page. I have to do this otherwise I will 100% forget my idea, my brain is like a sieve I swear. I currently have 13 outlines. Most of these have been sitting in a folder for months or even years... chances are they will never actually get written. Occasionally I go back and add to an outline... but at least 80% of them end up being forgotten about eventually haha.

Stage two: research. Once I've decided that I actually will continue with a story I do whatever research I need to do. Generally it's just basic fact-checking and making sure I have any cultural/location-specific details correct. You wouldn't think there would be too many differences between Australia and America... but there are a lot of like little things that people tend to point out. "We don't do that here" blah, blah, blah. I don't actually care... but, I mean, if I'm going to do something I should try to do it in the most accurate way possible, right? I have two stories in the research stage right now. One of which has been here for over 12 months because there is just so much to learn... each new thing I discover leaves me with more questions and I'm deep in a rabbit hole with this one (shout out to the person who requested this story - I haven't forgotten you, I'm just learning so much! haha)

Stage three: writing. Now I've gotta take these chunks of 'word vomit' and random bits of research and make it something semi-legible. Usually I try to limit this to 1 multi-chapter fic at a time and just work on smaller Tumblr drabbles or one shots when I need a little break from that specific story. But, sometimes I'll bounce between two stories.

I know this was a lot of rambling to not even really answer your question... sorry anon! haha.

[sneak-a-cat]

girl help i’ve gone feral and the bells on tumblr are the last thread attaching me to even the concept of sanity