#t; existential nightmare

[sshbpodcast]

Character Spotlight: Kathryn Janeway

By Ames

Finally, we’ve made it to the Delta Quadrant in A Star to Steer Her By’s character spotlight series, as we turn our focus to the crew from Voyager. And who better to start us off than our intrepid Intrepid-class leader, Captain Kathryn Janeway? She stalwartly leads the crew through uncharted space, wheels and deals with new alien species, kicks countless asses, and drinks copious amounts of coffee. What’s not to like?

Well, some things, as you’ll see below in our patented list of all Janeway’s Best and Worst Moments throughout the series (and beyond!). What’s in the Delta Quadrant doesn’t actually stay in the Delta Quadrant, you see. So count the number of times Janeway self-destructs the ship as you read on below and listen to our countdown timer over on this week’s podcast episode (T-minus 57:33). There’s coffee in this blogpost!

[Images © CBS/Paramount]

Best moments

Ralkana? He said you’d been shot. One of the early gems of Voyager is “Resistance,” and Kate Mulgrew is on high display throughout. When she comes to understand Caylem’s tragic history, Janeway embraces his cause with compassion and empathy. And when the poor, senile man is dying and continues to mistake her for his daughter, Janeway lets him believe his delusions because they’re all he has.

Hello. I’m Captain Kathryn Janeway. Welcome to the Bridge. We joke a lot on A Star to Steer Her By that Janeway’s go-to tactic is self-destructing the ship. And she gets to actually carry that through for the first (but not last) time in “Deadlock,” taking out a whole bunch of Vidiians with her. Lucky for us, a spare Voyager crew (including a bonus Harry and Naomi) are saved as a result, since any other time it’s a trick you can only pull once.

There’s nothing to fear… except Kathryn Janeway Throughout the sensory-overload nightmare fuel that is “The Thaw,” Fear the Clown torments the people within his holo-environment until he crosses paths with Captain Janeway and she proves to be the most cold-blooded of them all. She cleverly tricks him into releasing the hostages before ripping the rug out from under him with the reveal that she isn’t really there.

You’re part of a family now, and you have obligations Watching the crew become more of a family as the seasons progress is a highlight of Voyager, and the way Janeway comes to trust Neelix is lovely to watch. In “Macrocosm,” she makes him an ambassador, and an episode later in “Fair Trade,” her “you’re part of our family” speech when Neelix admits to feeling like he no longer has a purpose on the ship proves how she values him.

Time’s up Not only is “Year of Hell” one of the best two-parters in all of Star Trek, but it also has yet another instance of Janeway destroying the ship! She takes it upon herself to save her crew from the Krenim and their very pretty, very powerful timeship by plowing what’s left of the Voyager directly into that sucker. And she even gets a great sendoff line to go with it!

For what it’s worth, you made a tempting offer If we’ve learned anything from the first several seasons, it’s don’t cross Janeway or she will double-, triple-, or quadruple-cross you right back. Evidently, no one clued in Kashyk in “Counterpoint” because he tries to use her to find a wormhole and nab some telepaths, but she’s been prepared for that the whole time. Pity, the two of them were almost cute together.

I’m a little busy right now, helping a friend It takes her quite a while (most of the series even), but Janeway slowly makes steps to accepting the EMH as people. By “Latent Image,” she’s agreed to let him process his trauma, even though it would be much easier to deal with if she just erased it (again) like the program he is. She even sits with him while he has existential crisis after existential crisis.

Her Royal Highness, Arachnia, Queen of the Spiderpeople! As far as comedy episodes go, “Bride of Chaotica!” is one of our favorites. You can tell everyone’s having so much fun, especially Kate Mulgrew as she throws herself fully into the over-the-top role of Queen Arachnia. Janeway pretending to be a B-movie villainess is just candy to watch, and she saves the invaders from the fifth dimension. All in a day’s work!

I make a better you than you Jake thinks he’s very funny in making me include this one on the Janeway list, but here we go. So Dala in “Live Fast and Prosper” isn’t really Janeway, but she does make cunning deals and schemes with the best of them. And hell, the bonafide Janeway delivers as well by foiling her counterpart’s dastardly plans and throwing her in the brig where she belongs.

I’ll start my own Federation, with blackjack and hookers When the Voyager is stuck in the titular void from “The Void,” everyone’s begging to resort to piracy – it just looks so fun! – but Janeway puts her foot down. Despite being so far from home, she has tried her darndest to unhold Starfleet ideals, and starting her own miniature Federation is her way of showing that people are better when they work together. Void friends forever!

Must’ve been something you assimilated While I could pick on Admiral Janeway for breaking the Temporal Prime Directive in “Endgame,” I’m just too impressed by how she so thoroughly owns the Borg Queen. She knows diplomacy won’t get her anywhere with the Borg, so she lets herself get assimilated to pass on a neurolytic pathogen that takes out the whole collective and saves Voyager!

Set your compass to Starfleet Finally, we’ve been pretty forthright about our love for Star Trek: Prodigy, and Admiral Janeway really gets some great moments to chew the CGI scenery. In the season one finale, “Supernova,” she stands up for the Protostar crew, especially sticking her neck out for Dal in a way that is so pure and supportive that you root for the whole group. We're so excited to watch season two when it’s up on Netflix!

—

Worst moments

And if you win you get this shiny banjo made of gold What the whole series boils down to is the long journey to get home from the Delta Quadrant… but it’s kinda Janway’s fault they’re stuck there in the first place due to her needlessly selfless actions in “Caretaker.” And then there are countless opportunities to get home after that that she squanders to uphold Starfleet rules. Who’s gonna know, Janeway?

The Trolley Problem solution for maximum murder Probably the most infamous action Janeway takes is the murder of Tuvix in the eponymous “Tuvix.” Sure, it’s to get two crewmembers back, and I’ve heard that the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few, or the one, but it is straight-up cruel the way she forces Tuvix to medbay against his will, kicking and screaming the whole way that he wants to live.

I couldn’t help it, said the scorpion. It’s my nature. Boy, does Janeway know how to put her crew in needless danger by making snap decisions and then arguing about them a lot (a lot) with Chakotay. Her decision to team up with the Borg in “Scorpion” against the newly introduced Species 8472 is frankly insane. There’s no reasoning with Borg, lady. I’m with Chakotay on this one: you can only trust a scorpion to sting you.

You must comply In “Scorpion,” Janeway promises to return Seven to the collective when they finish the whole Species 8472 thing, but instead Janeway straight up kidnaps the poor drone and makes the decision to deprogram her in “The Gift” like the cult victim Seven is. It’s all entirely against Seven’s wishes and a little uncomfortable to watch because our new Borg has no agency yet.

Get down with your bad self Okay, Jake is being a pill again and insists we include Janeway’s fictional counterpart from “Living Witness” using biogenic weapons against the Kyrians. And yeah, it’s not actually Janeway – it’s a purely fabricated story the Kyrians concocted for their biased history program – but ya know what: I love how diabolical and ruthless this Janeway is so much that I’ll include it.

I’ll be benefiting from other people’s suffering Even more uncomfortable than watching Janeway force individuality on Seven is watching Janeway straight up ignore the DNR from Torres in “Nothing Human.” We sorta get that Seven can’t make her own decisions because she’s essentially a cult victim, but Torres is of sound mind when she refuses to accept surgery from Crell Moset and Janeway won’t hear it.

Sit in the corner and think about what you did We did a whole other blogpost about when it’s a good idea to break or uphold the Prime Directive after watching “Thirty Days.” Janeway refuses to let Tom save the Moneans and throws him in the brig for a month for trying to help them. It’s inconsistent to say the least when captains decide to hide behind the almighty Prime Directive, and Janeway is the biggest offender.

You’re malfunctioning, and you need to be repaired We praised Janeway a moment ago about how she respects the Doctor’s agency in “Latent Image,” but all through the series leading up to that, she struggles to think of him as a sapient person. It’s revealed in this episode that she’d ordered his memories of Jetal wiped as a way to deal with his trauma – something she’d surely never do to one of her solid crew members.

The Handbook on Personal Relationships is three centimeters thick Season 5 is well represented in this list, and you’d think that after that long, Janeway would have a modicum of respect for her forever ensign, Harry Kim. But in “The Disease,” she sets a double standard out of nowhere that crew members can’t bang aliens without permission. Hello? Janeway, everyone has already broken that, not just Harry, your special little boy.

Every captain gets a little torture as a treat! We get to watch Janeway go full Captain Ahab on the Equinox crew in “Equinox.” She hunts down Ransom like he’s her white whale. She tortures Lessing for information. And then she fires Chakotay for doing his job of being the most moral character in the room. It all feels out of character, but that’s kinda the point because this is what the Delta Quadrant pushes people to.

Delete the wife Speaking of seeming out of character. In “Fair Haven,” Janeway designs herself a holo-boyfriend and then falls head-over-heels in love with it. We fully support the captain going and getting holo-laid, especially since it’s unethical to bang her subordinates, but she should know better that this guy is just a sex toy and not a real person – she did program him that way!

Two Janeways are better than one There’s a whole new meaning to arguing with yourself in “Endgame.” Turns out, Admiral Janeway originally doesn’t want to wreck up the Borg as we gave her credit for above, but withholds her plan from her younger self and then tries to pull rank while everyone else is rallying to save millions by taking out the Borg. Ladies, can’t we just work together… to kill Borg!

—

And we’ve finally made it home to the Alpha Quadrant! That’s all from Janeway today, but we’ve got her whole crew to peruse through for the upcoming weeks, so make sure you’re venturing through Voyager with us here, follow along with our Enterprise watchthrough on SoundCloud or wherever you podcast, sip some coffee with us over on Facebook and Twitter, and lift your mugs to a toast: to the journey!

[bougiebutchbitch]

okay I'm having an art day tomorrow and I'm feeling masochistic so

based on the absolute existential nightmare of the Izzy Hands Tits Poll

as always, reblogs to increase sample size are appreciated!

[marshmallowpuffcat]

I loved the new TADC episode!! Some thoughts:

I loved seeing people's predictions come true from the trailer (opening nightmare sequence with Pomni's half-abstraction and maple syrup being some kind of 'goal' of the adventure, Caine making himself a god to NPCs, etc). Great foreshadowing there!

I was so lost in the shenanigans that Gummigoo's existential dread hit pretty hard. I forgot that it's a DARK comedy there for a while djgfjsgf

Canon out of bounds areas and NPC T-poses!!!! I know that's a weird thing to be hype about but I'm working on an AU that uses a lot of glitchy elements and it's exciting to see these in the show >v<

Speaking of that out of bounds area, love seeing Pomni's character growth and creativity getting them out of that area. She's working her way out of girlfailage and I'm proud of her :'D

I'm honestly kind of baffled that a portion fandom is furious at Caine for what he did to Gummigoo and have decided that he's just evil incarnate now? Don't get me wrong, I like Gummigoo! His fate was sad, but I thought it was pretty predictable.

On that note, I tend to take the most generous interpretation of Caine's character. That is, his actions read more as unintentional than evil to me. His robot moral compass is skewed compared to the humans, and he doesn't realize that a portion of his actions do a lot more harm than good. I don't think anything in Ep 2 went against this view of him. Yeah, he (probably) did vaporize Gummigoo, but I can see him reasoning that he can make another one with the same programming, backstory, motivations, etc. Destroying 1 stray NPC is like mushing an ant that you found in your house to him. Episode 1 already established that Caine has no idea what goes on in adventures- he didn't know about the significance of this particular Gummigoo. He might not understand that humans can get attached to NPCs, and there are no NPCs that live in the Circus (except Bubble, Caine's favorite child lmao). Gummigoo didn't stand a chance :(

Speaking of sadness, the funeral juxtaposed against Gummigoo's destruction was an excellent touch.

[inevitably-johnlocked]

Hi Steph! Curious if you had any existing lists ready to go? :D

Hi Lovely!

I do! And based on this poll here, this is the list you guys want to see!! I hope you enjoy!!

HURT/COMFORT Under 5K Pt. 2

See also:

Hurt / Comfort Pt. 1: Under 5K Words

Hurt / Comfort Pt. 2: 5K to 10K Words

Hurt / Comfort Pt. 3: 10K to 50K Words

Hurt / Comfort Pt. 4: 50K+ Words Pt. 1

==

And When The Night Is Over by Simply Isnt On (K, 329 w., 1 Ch. || Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Platonic Bed Sharing / Not Slash) – Sherlock and John sleep together.

Once Upon A Time by ProfessorSquirrell (T, 908 w., 1 Ch. || Family, Snippets of Life, Romance, Sherlock’s Mind Palace, Implied Drug Use, Angst with Happy Ending) – There is a room in Sherlock's mind palace where nothing gets deleted. And it looks like this...

My Unfortunately Average Sized Cranium by Haelia (K+, 996 w., 1 Ch. || Humour, Headache, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Past Drug Use, Doctor John) – In which Sherlock has a migraine. ALMOST Johnlock. Not quite.

The Four Incidents by TheGirlWithRedHair22 (K+, 1,064 w., 1 Ch. || S1 Compliant, Hurt/Comfort, Romance, John Whump, Accident, John POV, Hand Holding, Worried Sherlock, Sherlock’s Self Esteem) – The first time John was present when someone insulted Sherlock, he brushed it off as a strange coincidence.

Sleep Tonight by Jenn1984 (T, 1,220 w, 1 Ch. || Hurt/Comfort, Bed Sharing, Worried Sherlock, Sick John, Hugs/Cuddles, Touch Neediness) – Fingers begin prying open his jacket looking for a wound and John would really like to swat at them. No, he's not hit anywhere, he's just damn sick.- John Watson has a fever.

Poppies For John by grannysknitting (T, 1,102 w., 1 Ch. || Hurt/Comfort, Friendship) – Rememberance Sunday fic - John notices a discrepancy between Sherlock's stated intent and his actions. Sherlock, for once, explains himself. Friendship or pre-slash, your choice. Intended in honour of those who defend us.

And, Usually, He's the One Who GIVES Me a Headache by Cumberbatch Critter (T, 1,315 w., 1 Ch. || Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, POV John, Cranky John, Headaches, Head Massage) – A migraine is never fun.

Hallucinations can't open doors by Bespectacled dreamer (K+, 1,330 w., 1 Ch. || Reunion, Hurt / Comfort, Friendship, Hallucinations, John’s Wedding, Light Humour) – In which John gets married and Sherlock gets a broken nose. 

Here to Stay by MockJayPhoenix12 (K, 1,574 w., 1 Ch. || Post Reunion, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Headache, Bed Sharing, Care Taker Sherlock, Hand Holding, Fluff) – On Sherlock's first day home, John wakes with a migraine.

3:00 in the Morning is a Great Time to Talk by Aztecwarfareandcrumping (K+, 1,775 w., 1 Ch. || Hurt / Comfort, Friendship, Bed Sharing, First Person POV John, Cuddling, Worried Sherlock, Comforting John, Platonic Affection/Love) – "Are you trying to talk your way into my bed?" "Obviously." 

Dying Changes Everything by whitchry9 (K+, 1,919 w., 1 Ch || Sherlock POV, Suicidal Ideation, Near-Death, Hospital, Sherlock Whump, Gunshot, Unhappy/Ambiguous Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Friendship) – Sherlock is having an existential crisis and wants to have a near death experience like John did to gain some perspective. “Shoot me John!” he insisted, gesturing to himself. John just looked at him. “Are you completely mad?” 

Study in John by chappysmom (K+, 2,158 w., 1 Ch. || Post-ASiP, POV John, Introspection, Friendship, Nightmares, Caring Sherlock, John’s Limp) – After the events of "A Study in Pink," John lies on the couch in Baker Street and thinks about the whirlwind events of the day. What is he getting himself into?

A Room of One's Own by whitchry9 (K+, 2,174 w., 5 Ch. || S2 Timeline, Hurt/Comfort, Supernatural, Sherlock’s Mind Palace, Coma, John Whump, Worried Sherlock, POV John, Angst, Friendship/Bromance, Hospital) – When a severe head injury lands John in a coma, somehow he ends up in Sherlock's mind palace. It's actually pretty nice there, and John is entertaining the notion of staying there, rather than returning to his broken body. But Sherlock isn't taking it as well, and John can feel him breaking around him.

Spilt Milk by Erin Giles (K+, 2,222 w., 1 Ch. || Humour, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort) – John comes back from a trip to the supermarket only to take a trip up the stairs. Both shopping and blood are spilled leaving Sherlock to play the role of Doctor.

BBCSH 'The Comfort of Company' by tigersilver (T, 2,769 w., 1 Ch. || Post-TRF/Mary, Hurt/Comfort, Romance, Bed Sharing, Grumpy John, Touching, Clingy/Handsy Sherlock, Cranky Sherlock, Fluff and Light Angst) – It's a trope that John and Sherlock end up sharing in the same bed eventually and I admit I do adore it unconditionally, along with all it infers as to the lowering of defenses and the heightening of trust. I put forth for your consideration that the notion persists because those who think about these things realize these two men are each in dire need of some good company.

Unquantifiable by 221b_hound (M, 2,799 w. 1 Ch. || Est. Rel., Sherlock/Sally Friendship, Grumpy John, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Pet Names, Texting, Sweet Sherlock, Princess Bride References) – John remains a terrible and foul-tempered patient, but he does try to make up for it with pet names and text message silliness. In the meantime, Sally Donovan visits Baker Street for a hint about the Milverton case, and has to deal with a Sherlock Holmes who can't find words big enough to thank her for saving John's life at the warehouse. For afters, there's a viewing of The Princess Bride. Part 33 of the Unkissed series

Museums and Laboratories by RhododendronPonticum (T, 3,004 w., 1 Ch. || Romance, Angst, Obsessive Sherlock, Anxious Sherlock, Anxiety/Panic Attack, Separation Anxiety, Doctor John, Co-Dependent Sherlock) – If Sherlock's kitchen was his laboratory, then his bedroom was his museum.

Reversed by whitchry9 (K+, 3,072 w., 6 Ch. || Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Medical Anomolies, John Gets Shot) – The man pointed his gun at John's chest, right at his heart, and shot.' Wherein John is shot, and Sherlock is the one panicking.

It's Just Another Birthday by Vintage Tea Party (K, 3,207 w., 2 Ch. || Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Sherlock’s Birthday, Sherlock 3rd Person POV) –��When John makes a birthday cake for Sherlock he thinks its an innocent enough gesture. But nothing is ever normal with Sherlock and this isn't just another birthday. 

Human Body Pillow by Lunavere (K, 4,122 w., 1 Ch. || Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Five and Ones, Sleepy Johnlock, Bed Sharing) – A story about the five times John fell asleep on Sherlock, and the one time Sherlock fell asleep on him.

What John Doesn't Know (Won't Hurt Him) by blueink3 (NR [T], 4,392 w., 1 Ch, || S3 Fix It, Pining Sherlock, Snippets of Life, Hurt/Comfort, Scars, Fluff and Angst, Five and One, Hopeful Ending, POV Sherlock) – Five people who see Sherlock's scars before John Watson. But Sherlock's secrets were never something he could keep from his blogger for long.

Date Night by inevitably_johnlocked (G, 4,451 w., 1 Ch. || Anxious / Worried Sherlock, Caring John, Schmoopy Fluff, Fidget Cube, Baking / Cooking, Date Night, Established Relationship, POV Sherlock Holmes, Understanding John, Grumpy Sherlock, John’s Bum, Kisses, Hugs, Domestic Fluff, Touching, Hair Petting, Light Humour) – It's John and Sherlock's first Date Night as an official couple and Sherlock needs it to be PERFECT. Mrs Hudson helps. Part 7 of I-J's Tumblr Ficlet Collection

When Your Belly's in the Trench by Morgan_Stuart (T, 4,743 w., 1 Ch. || PTSD, Character Study, Rescue, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Torture, Trauma, Danger, Drama, Kidnapping/Captivity) – The next time that door opens, John Watson will kill the person on the other side.

[sweeter-innocence-fics]

Summer Fic Week 2023 - Day 2: Tangled Up in You

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Reader

Work Summary:

You were supposed to have a tent to yourself, but unfortunately, Eddie snores.

Steve x Reader sharing a tent.

Rating: Teen and Up

Word Count: 2192

Read on AO3.

Masterlists.

Summer Fics Masterlist.

Taglist: @mrs-kai-anderson @ang3l1te @missryerye

Taglist info.

Notes:

No Upside Down AU but Billy still beat the crap out of Steve that one time.

Warnings for reader being a bit of a scaredy cat, mentions of serial killers and strangulation, spooky stories, allusions to emotional abuse (steve's parents), the existential nightmare of your late teens/early twenties, implied ronance

---

You were the last one up.

That wasn’t strictly true. You’d gone to bed, and gotten up again. Alone in your tent, you’d spooked yourself, thinking that shadows were figures standing outside, or the branches whipping in the wind were animals coming to get you.

So you’d picked up your blanket and gone back outside. The campfire was little more than dying embers right now, but you were fine with that. It was oppressively hot and humid tonight.

The five of you had brought three tents with you: Steve was sharing with Eddie, Robin with Nancy, and you had the small one all to yourself.

Normally, you would’ve just squeezed three people into a two-person tent, but you got the feeling that Nancy and Robin had plans that didn’t involve you. Besides, it was far too hot to be squished in like that.

Somewhere behind you, you heard a twig snapping. You tensed.

It was probably nothing. It was probably just a branch, caught in the wind. Or a small animal.

Definitely not a serial killer. Definitely not a bear or a wolf or a mountain lion.

You strained your ears, not daring to turn around. It was stupid, but you felt you were safe if you stayed still.

Nothing. It was almost certainly-

Another twig snapped, and you whipped your head around. There was a dark figure standing between the boys’ tent and the girls’ tent. You twisted in your seat and lost your balance, falling into a heap on the ground.

“Woah, woah, hey.” A flashlight flickered on. It was Steve.

You exhaled. “What the fuck?” You rubbed your nose, trying to hide how fast you were breathing.

“I had to go pee,” he said. “You’re jumpy tonight. Can’t sleep?”

“The scary stories may have been a mistake.” Even so, it was hilarious to watch the way Eddie threw himself into storytelling. He was a real artiste.

Nancy, too, was a surprising one. She wasn’t a performer like Eddie was, but she knew how to tell a story. On her turn, she’d talked about a serial killer who broke into people’s houses to torture and kill them, and you had felt your skin crawling.

That had been where your mind had instinctively gone when Steve’s shadow had loomed over you.

“I can’t sleep either.” He flopped down on a rock beside you. “Eddie snores,” he complained, and you chuckled. “I was thinking I might just sleep out here. It’s hot enough.”

“All alone? And let the Hawkins Strangler get you?” you teased, jabbing him in the side.

“Shut up,” he said. He might’ve been good at hiding it, but you were pretty sure that Steve was just as shook up by the scary stories as you were.

“You wanna share with me, instead? I don’t wanna go back in there alone.”

“You sure?”

“I can’t have you sleeping out here. Come on.” You gathered up your blankets and got to your feet. Steve stared at you, still not sure if you were serious. “We’ve shared rooms, like, hundreds of times.”

“As kids.”

“What’s the difference?” There was a big difference, but neither of you were going to say that. You held out a hand to him. He took it, and you tugged him to his feet.

You didn’t speak as he followed you into your tent. He had left his sleeping bag in his own tent, but it was so hot out that you decided to spread yours on the ground and use it as a mat rather than a cover.

Your tent was just about big enough for two people to lie side by side without touching each other, but it was hard to get comfortable. You didn’t want to encroach into his space.

As you rolled away from him, tucking a pillow under your head, he said “Regretting inviting me in?” His tone was light.

“Nah, you’re good. If the Hawkins Strangler shows up, you’re closer to the door, so he’ll get you first.”

“No way.” You heard him shift slightly, so you rolled back over to face him. All you could see was his silhouette. He was leaning up on one elbow. “I used to run track. He’ll never catch me.”

“So you’d leave me to be strangled?”

“No, of course not!” He nudged your arm. “I’d lead him away, giving you time to escape.”

“How? I can’t drive Eddie’s van.”

“I’m assuming Eddie and Robs and Nancy have already fallen victim to the Strangler in this scenario?”

“Of course. Eddie’s alone so he’d be taken first. Robin and Nancy are… distracted, so he’d get them next. But you and me, we’re alert. We’d be ready for him.”

“I would be. I already told you. I ran track. I could draw him away from you if you could drive the van, but you can’t, so you’re on your own.”

“So you’d leave me to die.”

“In a heartbeat.”

You giggled. “I don’t believe you.” Steve chuckled quietly. “I think you’ve got a heroic streak, Steve-o. I don’t buy you leaving without me.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Well, you did get the crap kicked out of you by Billy Hargrove when he was threatening Lucas that one time. That’s pretty heroic to me.”

Even in the darkness, you saw him wince. “Let’s talk about something else.”

“Why? Do compliments make you uncomfortable?”

“Don’t,” he said.

You leant up on your elbow. Your eyes were adjusting to the dark now, and you could see that he was rubbing the bridge of his nose.

“You amaze me sometimes, you know that? You used to think you were hot shit, when all you were was a rich guy who was good at sports, and now you’re getting all bashful on me when you’re one of the coolest people I know.”

He exhaled hard. “There’s nothing cool about working for the company my dad owns.”

You picked up your pillow and dropped it between you, and then folded your hands on top of it. He hadn’t technically started the job yet, but you knew it was the plan, after the summer was over.

His dad had gotten to him. No son of mine is going to work in a video store in his twenties. You could practically hear his dad’s voice booming in your ears. Growing up, you had been witness to far too many shouting matches between Steve and his father.

You’d been friends with him since elementary school, so you’d seen each other at your highest and your lowest.

“Fuck working for your dad. You like Family Video!”

“It’s not a career.” Even then, you could hear the echo of his father’s voice in Steve’s.

“Well, we both know you’d be a great fireman, or a nurse, or a teacher-”

“Nobody wants me looking after their kids.”

“Are you kidding me?” You slapped his shoulder lightly with the back of your hand. “You’re great with kids. If I had kids, you’d be the first person I’d call to take care of them.”

‘Ideally, you’d be their dad’ was what you didn’t say.

You had always thought you would marry Steve, ever since you were little. He was sweet and kind and funny, and he was your best friend.

Then high school happened, and you became very different people. You never hung out at school, and eventually you stopped hanging out at weekends too. He always had a party to go to, or a date with some hot, popular girl. He didn’t have space in his life for you anymore.

During senior year, things changed again. Nancy had dumped him, Tommy and Carol had abandoned him to hang out with Billy instead, and he was alone.

You had wondered if he would come crawling back to you then, but he didn’t. You had your own friends by that point, and no desire to revisit the heartaches of the past.

He had graduated quietly, and started working at Scoops Ahoy. That was where you reconnected. Robin was a friend of yours, and for a while, they were attached at the hip. Hanging out with Robin meant hanging out with Steve.

You had been reticent at first, but it didn’t take long to realise that the little boy you had always loved was back. No more King Steve. Just Stevie. Just the boy who punched a kid twice his size in the face for making fun of your shoes.

Except now he was taller. More mature. Handsomer. You wondered if you would ever stop fantasising about spending the rest of your life with him. It didn’t seem like it was going to happen at any point soon.

“Are you still awake?” he whispered.

“Yeah.”

“Good. You went quiet.”

“You went quiet first.”

“Yeah… Well…” He took a deep breath. “Do you really think I could do it? Be a teacher, I mean?”

“Steve…” You chuckled softly. “I think you’d do it better than anyone. I think-”

Just outside the door of your tent, there was a loud crunch. You gasped, scrambling away from the noise. Unfortunately, ‘away’ in this case meant towards Steve.

The back of your head hit his shoulder, but instead of pushing you away, he sat up, putting an arm around you. “It’s okay, it’s okay,” he whispered, and you weren’t sure if he was trying to reassure himself or you.

“Knock knock!”

You exhaled. Eddie.

“What do you want, Eds? It’s like, four in the morning,” you said.

“Have you seen Harrington? He wasn’t there when I woke up.”

You glanced at Steve, who huffed out a laugh. “I’m right here, Munson. Your snoring woke me up.”

Eddie made an offended noise. “I do not snore.”

You rolled your eyes. “Go back to bed, Eds. Stop sneaking around like some kind of ghoul. I nearly pissed myself.”

“And stop being so damn loud,” Steve added. “You’re gonna wake up Nancy and Robin.”

“Oh, I highly doubt they’re sleeping.”

“Get lost, Munson!”

“Alright, geez.” You could picture Eddie throwing his hands up in frustration. “If you’d have told me I was gonna be the fifth wheel on this trip, I wouldn’t have come.” It was a joke, but your heart felt like it had flipped over in your chest.

Eddie’s footsteps receded. It took far too long for you to realise that you were practically sitting in Steve’s lap.

“Sorry, am I crushing you?” You tried to shift off him, but Steve’s arm curled around your waist.

“Sometimes I think you’re the only person in the world who believes in me,” he said, sounding wistful. “You’re my best friend, you know that?”

“Don’t let Robin hear you say that,” you joked. He didn’t say anything. You realised, half a second too late, that he was trying to be sincere. You didn’t do well with sincere. It was easier to talk about your feelings if it was a joke. Still, you’d try. For Steve, you’d try. “You’re my best friend too. But you already know that. You’re like the other half of me.”

“Like my soulmate.”

“Exactly. Soulmates.”

Steve shifted, moving to lie back down. You felt yourself moving with him, until you were lying down with your head on his chest.

“Sometimes I get scared I’m gonna lose you,” he said. “’Cause you’re going off to college. You’re gonna meet some smart guy and get married and have babies and I’m gonna lose you forever.”

“Steve…”

“The ridiculous thing is…” He laughed mirthlessly. “That was half the reason I wanted to work for my dad in the first place. So I could travel around a lot. I could be close to you. And I might not be a smart guy, but I’d be a rich guy, and that’s almost as good.”

“Steve.” You leant up on his chest, forearm resting across his ribcage. You pretended that you couldn’t feel his heart thundering beneath you. “You don’t have to lose me. And you don’t have to work for your dad. I just want you to be happy.”

“You make me happy.” His fingertips brushed against your cheekbone.

“I’m not gonna run away to get married right out of college. Especially not if I have someone to come home to.”

“Someone like me?”

You swallowed. Your throat was dry. “If you want me.”

“Be mine?” He said it so quietly that if you hadn’t been holding your breath, you might not have heard him.

You pushed yourself up so that you could press your lips against his. His other arm came to wrap around you immediately. You splayed your hands across his collarbone, savouring the flavour of his lips. You could taste the marshmallows he’d been eating earlier.

He broke apart from you for a moment, and you rested your forehead against his.

“I wanna be a teacher,” he said, breathlessly, and you couldn’t help but laugh.

“And I wanna come home to you every break. I want you to come see me at college. I wanna be yours, and I want you to be mine.”

“Baby…” His hands massaged at your waist, sending shivers down your spine. “I’ve always been yours.”

---

Notes:

Preview of tomorrow's fic: Set in the 'Even If It All Comes Crashing Down'-verse. You, Colin and the girls are moving house.

[wanderersrespiteblog]

Character Introductions and How to Fuck Them Up

In Rogue Trader, one of the earliest party members you meet and recruit is an unsanctioned psyker by the name of Idira, a retainer and servant to Lady Theodora von Valancius. In 40k, unsanctioned psykers are those who have not been given the literal and metaphorical seal of approval for their training by the Imperium and its bureaucracy, and as such are hunted down on sight by the Inquisition to prevent their latent arcane abilities from manifesting daemons and other monsters from the warp through negligence or intentional summoning. She's introduced practically within the first cutscene of the game as a devoted, if eccentric, member of Lady Theodora's retinue, and Idira owes the woman her life in more ways than one. She makes no show of hiding that she's a powerful psyker due to the immunity afforded by her liege's writ, and you see this expressed both in her gameplay and dialogue options; the woman's psyker abilities physically bend and break the fabric of reality around her, and if used too much in too short a timespan in combat can cause daemons to spawn out of nowhere as the wall between the material world and the warp grows thin to the point of being utterly bypassed by them, and in conversations she regularly advocates for a pragmatic yet heretical approach to dillemas and emergencies. She's with you all the way through the opening act and serves as your main psyker for the first half of it.

The woman takes Lady Theodora's death especially hard due to the history the two of them have, and following the conclusion of the prologue rumors begin to abound that Lady Theodora's ghost has begun appearing to crew members aboard the vessel. Given the nature of 40k as a setting, it's entirely possible her spirit is appearing, which while sweet presents an existential threat to the health and integrity of the crew due to the possibility of it being corrupted by the malevolent nature of the warp. During this time, Idira begins complaining of nightmares and visions of Lady Theodora beckoning to her, with others writing these appearances off as survivor's guilt from her unable to save her friend and master.

After a certain length of time and enough trips through the warp, a disastrous daemonic incursion appears on one of the main decks for your vessel, accompanied by reports of Idira in the midst of it. As your party arrives, you find the crew mutated and possessed by these malicious spirits as daemons feast upon those they could not turn, the twisted image of Lady Theodora mocking her once-servants and deriding you for your failure to lead them effectively. At the end of the encounter you find Idira having an absolute mental breakdown, her psyker abilities out of control as she grieves the loss of her friend. As soon as she spots you she confesses that she sought out the ghost intentionally, hoping that some way, some how, she might be able to give the woman peace, pleading for your assistance and forgiveness for her grievous mistake, all while the perverted form of her former charge demands you face her.

There, you are given a choice: shoot Idira yourself, have one of your party members shoot her, side with Idira and banish her from your ship right after, or side with Idira and work to save her.

In all of the above cases you as the player have genuine freedom for roleplay and agency within the story. Even prior to this point you at any time can expel her from your retinue, even sending her off for execution via the Inquisition once you pick up a certain character if you so please. You spend more time with Idira, see the pros and cons of her abilities for yourself, and are only put into a situation where she could plausibly end your life once you're familiar with the stakes of her condition and temperment.

Contrast this with Baldur's Gate 3's Astarion, who's introduction consists of him deceiving you and putting a knife to your neck to figure out what's going on, outright threatening to kill you himself if you don't comply. While this does establish him as a cutthroat - literally - it also immediately gives reason for not wanting any association with him from the in-world, PC perspective. One could argue the desperation of having a ilithid tadpole in your skull gives way to odd bedfellows, but with how the game immediately undercuts that possibility by asserting that those the party has are somehow different (and then immediately undercutting that undercutting, but that's a separate issue) there is genuinely little motive for a reasonable person to want to even be around him, let alone have him in their party.

Moreover, the actual "reveal" of him as a vampire is incredibly mishandled. By his own admission he feeds off of animals where he can, and while we can see evidence of this in the overworld of the game, but this does not suffice for his full strength. So, instead of targeting a random civilian or a downed enemy - the latter of which we have many of in Act I - he goes right for the person that already suspects and has reason to distrust him. Not only does this reinforce the above issue of "Why should my PC keep this guy around in-world?" it also comes off like he's a blathering idiot with no conception of self-preservation or ability to recognize when it would be a bad idea to try and feed off of someone who is aware he's prone to sneaky shit. If he went after an enemy, and we walked in on him feeding midway through, there's some more grounds for plausible deniability, those that can be surpassed with an Insight check, but also presents a moral dilemma to the PC: is it acceptable for an allied vampire to feed off of those who tried to attack you? Given the clear and present discomfort shown by the PC when Astarion feeds off of them it's clear the process is neither pleasant nor easy to shrug off, so that then places the burden of deciding where the line is on the PC. There your options could be stake him, allow him to feed off of enemies, allow him to feed off of enemies and strangers, or banish him outright. There's nuance and legitimate grounds for debate as opposed to the "do you consent to getting your blood sucked by a stranger who threatened to murder you at your first meeting" the game runs with.

I bring Idira up in this discussion because she, in essence, presents the same issue Astarion does, but handled in a far better way. Both possess a condition that makes them a clear and present threat to the player and the people around them. Both are immediately established as rule breakers. Both can and do put the party in peril because of their innate characteristics, albeit through different circumstances. Both then present the player with the option to kill them, banish them, or help them, but one is done in a far more interesting way than the other.

Bear in mind this is not an assessment of their overall character arcs, just how they are initially presented and the way their conflict is set up with the PC.

[denimbex1986]

'*****

No sonic screwdriver. No TARDIS. No city-razing destruction, nor stupefyingly cute alien critters. As Doctor Who episodes go, ‘Wild Blue Yonder’ couldn’t be more different from the show’s blockbuster comeback, ‘The Star Beast’, if it tried. Last week’s adventure was Who at the peak of its silly, sugar-rush sci-fi powers: a spectacular kick-off to the show’s 60th anniversary celebrations, precision-tooled to dazzle newbies (Whobies?) and dyed-in-the-wool Whovians alike. This week’s, however — essentially a two-hander — is an insular Gothic chamber piece that goes toe-to-toe with Alien in the spaceship-as-haunted-house stakes. Invoking everything from NuWho favourites ‘Midnight’ and ‘Listen’ to sci-fi horror classics Event Horizon and The Thing, Russell T Davies strips everything back here to remind viewers at home that there ain’t no bottle episode like a Doctor Who bottle episode.

Arriving under a shroud of sworn secrecy (even press didn’t see this one until it aired), speculation had been rife about exactly what ‘Wild Blue Yonder’ would be. Rumours of a multi-Doctor story — Peter Capaldi, Matt Smith, Jodie Whittaker: you name ’em and someone had an in-depth Twitter/X thread red-stringing together a theory — abounded. But while technically this is a multi-Doctor story (and a multi-Donna one at that), it’s not one in the way anybody would have expected. And honestly, amid a landscape of disposable cameos and inconsequential fan-service, that the secrecy is in aid of storytelling rather than stunt casting is a blessed relief.

A comical cold open sees the Doctor (David Tennant) and a newly memory-restored Donna (Catherine Tate) flung back to England, circa 1666. There, the duo catalyse Sir Isaac Newton’s (It’s A Sin’s Nathaniel Curtis) discovery of ‘mavity’ (a communicational mishap) and the Doctor’s discovery of bisexuality (“He was hot, wasn’t he?”). But a classic ‘Doctor-meets-historical-figure-and-hijinks-ensue’ caper this is not. And before long, the Doctor and Donna find themselves stranded aboard a seemingly abandoned spaceship harbouring a threat so terrifying that even the TARDIS has done a runner.

The eerie, empty (save for glacially slow Hitchhiker’s Guide To The Galaxy-homaging Chekhov’s robot Jimbo), seemingly endless spacecraft corridors and wheezing hydraulic pistons of ‘Wild Blue Yonder’ represent a stark counterpoint to the crashy, bangy, flashy Meepiness of ‘The Star Beast’. A sublime combination of pneumatic practical effects, soundstages, and nifty CGI made possible by that sweet new Disney dollar, the distinctly Nostromo-esque sense of isolation about the ship aptly evokes the abyss of the episode’s edge-of-the-universe setting. It’s a spatial oddity that serves the plot and augments the tone of the piece perfectly, centralising our focus on the Doctor, Donna, and their unique bond as the uncanny threat they face is slowly revealed. That threat? Why themselves, of course. Sort of.

Revealed in a properly creepy sequence that starts with the slow-dawning realisation that something isn’t quite right and climaxes with an injection of out-and-out Cronenbergian body horror, the ‘Not-Things’ are Weeping Angel-level nightmare fuel. Cosmic shapeshifters bent on universal destruction, the demonic doppelgängers — brought to life with palpable, dead-eyed menace by a multi-roling Tennant and Tate — are able to mimic the Doctor and Donna’s form, manner, and even memories.

This set-up leads to a succession of intricately written “I know I’m me but how do I know you’re you?”-type exchanges — including one particularly fiendish bait-and-switch — that really allow Tate and Tennant to flex their acting chops, underlining their inimitable chemistry in the process. It’s also an opportunity for Davies to really hammer home that this is the Fourteenth Doctor, not the Tenth — and Donna Temple-Noble with a family waiting for her at home, not Donna from Chiswick gadding about with a two-hearted spaceman.

One particular exchange, in which canon-reshaping events of the Chris Chibnall era of the show come to the fore, allows Tennant to really click through the gears as he embodies elements of the Doctors who’ve been and gone since last time around: Smith’s wistful longing, Capaldi’s bone-deep grief, Whittaker’s emotional vulnerability. In about 30 seconds, several years of head-spinning exposition is simply, beautifully reframed. The Doctor doesn't really know who they are anymore, running from reckoning with the weight of all that they’ve seen and done, hoping against hope for somebody else out there to understand — if even just for a little while. No matter whether you’re a hardcore Whovian or don’t so much as carry a provisional TARDIS licence, if you’re looking for a distillation of the show’s essential nature, you’d struggle to find one better than this.

‘Wild Blue Yonder’ is a brutally simple, slickly executed high concept that we’ve seen iterative versions of before in OG Tennant/Tate-era fan favourites ‘Midnight’ and ‘Waters Of Mars’. But, especially when considered in the context of Who’s recent turbulent history, its use here — in a conversation-heavy hour of TV that digs deep into the past 15 years of the show both on and off screen — feels utterly singular. Giving folks the Doctor, with their plucky companion and techno-babble and eccentric wardrobe is easy, Davies seems to be saying: anyone can do it. But without genuine emotion — without heart — all you’ve really got is a pale imitation of something truly great, iconography and nothing more. Lucky for us, then, that by the time the credits roll there can be no doubt. This bold new Whoniverse is the real deal, and nothing is wrong… nothing in the whole wide world. *Sniffle*.

Taut, tense, and frequently terrifying, this spaceship-in-a-bottle episode isn’t just an instant Who classic — it’s one of 2023’s finest hours of TV to boot.'

[betweenlands]

vikingpilot wearing a t-shirt that says I'M NOT LIKE OTHER GHOSTS -- I'M AN EXISTENTIAL NIGHTMARE on it

[cartoonnerdygoat]

EPISODE 2 REACTION

Abstraction nightmare!!!!

AAAAAAAA I LIVE THIS

Ragatha sounds weird (i watched the pilot too much)

STOP PPL PLEASING

CAINE MA BOIIIIIIU

BUBBLE I LOVE YOU

BUBBLE WHAT DID YOU SAY

NOOOO my inernet is shit

Candy bugs :333

CAINE IS GOD I LOVE THAT

the ooo violence line!!!

The key will fall into the wrong lines

Jax T^T

POMNI

JAX WHY'D YOU THROW HER

KInger I love you

"Now i jave no bridge"

Damnnn goose was right jax is a bitch

KINGER WITH THE KNIFES

AYYYY I CALLED THE RIVER

THE music is sooo good and creepy

Damn bro is gonna have an existential crisis

YESSS THE AIS MAY BE SOMEWHAT CONSCIOUS?

omg this is actually so good

AAAAAA HIS MUM -

FUCK FUCK THIS IS SO SAD

oh the porn addict monster

I love him

"Is it really murder if it's delicious" "You make a GREAT point"

I love the gator guy

This is going to end so tragically. They ain't gonna end up adopting him.

I'm shipping them but sadly. And forebodingly.

OHHHHH THAT'S WHY THEY WERE IN THE FLOOR THEY'RE GONNA DO THAT THING

The music is soooooo good

Kinger.

Jax i love you

Noo jax T^T

Omg omg omgomfg

RAGATHA THAT MAKES IT WORSE THAT WAS SO FUCKING SUDDEN

CAINE WHYYY I'M CRYING

kaufmo funeral :(

NOOO WON'T WE GET MORE INFO ON HIS CHARACTER?

fuck this ws amazing

[criolla-star]

Overwhelmed(Vinny x Garmadon)part29

(I suggest you check out parts 1-28 if you haven't already )

"What seems to be the problem? Did something happen between my brother? Or are you hurt?" Wu asked as he sat down in front of Vinny. "N-No...none of this has to do with Garmadon, I lied to him as to why I wanted to come here" The cameraman said guilt present in his tone of voice. Wu looked at him worriedly, "Really and what's the lie that you told him?" he asked, Vinny looked down.

"I sometimes itch my hand when I'm nervous or upset I was walking here with him and he noticed it, he asked me about it and I told him that I came to you to see if you have something for it and now he's waiting outside and I feel horrible" Vinny said out in breathe, Wu looked at him surprisingly, "Well you probably have a really good reason" He spoke out trying to make Vinny feel better.

"Yea..." Vinny said as he remembered why he was here and itched his hand because I decided he itched his hand when he's nervous. "I'm here to listen and help you with whatever's troubling you" Wu spoke out, Vinny smiled at him and looked at the ground.

"When me and Garm were resting I had a nightmare....I was trapped somewhere, at first I thought it was real, four walls one of them had a key hole" Vinny spoke out as Wu followed, "I kept shouting out for help, but no one there eventually a weird key appeared in front of me and then disintegrated, I continued to shout and the place began collapsing then I woke up...a-and t-then...." Vinny thought of the figure and went silent.

"Is everything alright? You can skip this if you want" Wu said trying to comfort Vinny, but he shook his head, "N-no this is the whole reason I'm here....I sat up and there was this figure they were wearing a black and red robe along with a mask that looked like a bird, I didn't recognise them, but they said I'm smarter than they thought their voice was distorted and then-" Vinny was cut off by Wu who looked absolutely confused.

"A figure wearing a black and red robe wearing a mask with a distorted voice?" Wu said out confusingly, Vinny nodded, "That's not even the weirdest of it!" The cameraman spoke out as he rested his head in the palms of his hands. Wu looked shocked, "I-I will ask questions at the end, continue" he said to Vinny who nodded.

"Well I was like 'what the fuck' so I drank some water and went to wash my face, I washed my face and looked down at the sink reassuring myself that I was tired and when I looked up, my reflection was smiling at me, but it had red eyes so I obviously grabbed the nearest thing and that was a fucking toothbrush because I panicked, the reflection asked me if I was scared then I kept saying it wasn't real but it said it was real and then it tried giving me and existential crisis by asking me if I was real" Vinny spoke out before taking a deep breathe, (Most of this is dialogue)

"And it kept saying it would go after everyone like Garmadon, Lloyd and Nya and it brought up Misako knowing how she upset Garmadon and that I'm all bark but no bite! The bathroom changed from blue and white to red and black and then the fucking reflection came out of the mirror and grabbed me before it left it mentioned someone else saying that 'he was right about you being smarter...and more aggressive than you look' did I forget to mention it knows about me and Garmadon dating" Vinny finally finished and took deep breathes.

[cromulentbookreview]

Fun with Fungi!

Huh, what's this? *cleans away dust* oh, yeah, this blog is still a thing. I probably should've written more reviews, but...

I mean, I could come up with an excuse, but I'm too lazy. Just as I am too lazy to continually update this book review blog that nobody reads. I mean, I just wrote a review *consults calendar* uh. In 2022. Dang, I have been lazy. Oh well.

I'm like a rug on valium, I'm talking lazy.

And by that, I mean: let's have a dual review of the Sworn Soldier series: What Moves the Dead and its sequel, What Feasts at Night by T. Kingfisher!

Those covers, man. They're awesome, but at the same time: poor bun bun. Poor horsie.

So technically, what I'm doing here is not one but two reviews. So I'm actually being really, really productive right now and not lazy in the slightest.

This is a legitimately true story, I swear. Long ago, in a galaxy far, far away...by which I mean, four or five years back or so, I'd never heard of T. Kingfisher / Ursula Vernon in my life until I got into a fight with her on Twitter* on whether or not the fruit of the hazel tree should be referred to as Filberts or Hazelnuts.

For the record, I am firmly team hazelnut. I mean, they're nuts from a hazel tree. Hazel+nuts = hazelnuts. Who in their right mind wants to eat something called a filbert? But, terminology varies as T. Kingfisher is firmly on team filbert. My parents also call them filberts on occasion which is weird to me as we live in an area lousy with hazelnut farms.

Mmmm, Hazelnuts...

Anyway! I had no idea who this person was but I got into a tongue-in-cheek gif fight on Twitter with them regarding hazelnut v. filbert. Feeling bad that I got into a fight with a random person online on their hazel tree fruit name preferences, I went to their profile, saw they were an author, looked up their books and bought the two books of the Clocktaur Wars series. I tore through them, and continued on, reading all of the World of the White Rat series (I just saw that we're getting a new one in January and I might have let out a bit of a fangirl screech), and the absolutely delightful A Wizard's Guide to Defensive Baking and Minor Mage. So far, every single one of T. Kingfisher's books that I've read has been awesome. Nettle & Bone? Amazing. Thornhedge? I'm a very slow reader, but I devoured it in an afternoon.

T. Kingfisher writes amazing fantasy novels and I absolutely love them. She also writes horror. Which is where I hit a brick wall because I'm a baby who doesn't handle horror well. I don't like horror movies. I don't often read horror books. Because the world is scary enough without ghosts and poltergeists and demons and jump scares. Also I watched The Ring when I was 12 and it scared the shit out of me. Anyway! Oddly enough, I've always found myself drawn to horror-type stories. I mean, horror fits so well in fantasy and sci-fi (looking at you, Doctor Who episodes that gave me nightmares). As an adult, I've found myself more and more willing to dip my toe into horror fiction. Season 1 of The Terror, one of my favorite-ever TV series is considered horror (maybe because it's not jump-scare scary, it's existentially scary. Also it's set in the past. Also it's got dudes-on-boats, my favorite genre). Part of me really, really likes horror stories set in the past - no horror like 18th/19th/Early 20th century horror, amirite?

Right?

Well, whatever, I just like horror to be ye olde timey horror, OK? Like Crimson Peak, The Witch, The Death of Jane Lawrence, Mexican Gothic, The Woman in Black, The Hacienda, Vampires of El Norte, The Hunger ... spooky-scary Gothic-y-Romantic-y-type stories that have a historical element to them. Those are awesome. I'm slowly - very slowly! - getting myself to read more contemporary horror stories. I understand that The Twisted Ones and A House With Good Bones are really, really good, but....what can I say, I'm a wuss. And contemporary stories aren't really my jam. I read to get away from the contemporary world, damn it!

(Me, too scared to read contemporary horror but not too scared to listen to 900,000 true crime podcasts).

Right, where were we?

Oh, yeah. The review(s). I'm starting to understand why no one ever read this blog and why I let myself be lazy.

-

In What Moves The Dead we meet Alex Easton, a Gallacian ex-soldier on their way to visit their old friends, the Ushers, at their delipidated estate in the rural countryside of Ruravia. Alex had word that Madeline Usher was dying, and they wanted to be there for Madeline and her brother, Roderick. Roderick had been a fellow soldier with Alex back in the day and -

Wait a minute, Roderick and Madeline Usher? Delipidated mansion? Unspecified 19th century middle of nowhere...

Yep, this story is, indeed, a retelling of Poe's The Fall of the House of Usher, and it does a much better job than certain series you might find on Netflix.

Moving on:

Alex, Roderick and Madeline were childhood friends, and Roderick and Alex even fought together back in the day. Alex is a "sworn soldier" - something unique to their home country of Gallacia, a small, backwater country located somewhere between Bulgaria, Hungaria and that other -Garia, a vaguely Central/Eastern European nation with a language somehow structurally worse than Finnish, Hungarian and Icelandic combined. The Gallacian language has seven sets of pronouns: there's one set used only when referring to God, a set used to refer to children before puberty, one set specifically for inanimate objects...and, as the Gallacians are a fierce warrior people (though they're not exactly great at it), there's a special pronoun set just for soldiers.

So, in Gallacia, anyone, regardless of gender, can waltz up to the nearest military recruitment post, declare themselves a soldier, and be given a sword and a new set of pronouns within the hour. Hence the term "sworn soldier."

Anyway!

Prior to arriving at the House of Usher, Alex encounters an Englishwoman, Miss Eugenia Potter, a mycologist studying the local mushrooms, and there are some gnarly-looking (and smelling!) mushrooms. In fact, the whole landscape around Usher House seems...off. Everything seems dead or dying. Random hares will stand up and just stare right at you.

And not in a cute way, either.

As if the landscape weren't bad enough, once Alex gets to the Usher House, Roderick himself barely resembles the soldier Alex once knew. His skin has gone bone-white and he's as thin as a skeleton. He seems terrified by something but can't quite articulate what. Madeline is still alive, but in bad shape. Not even Roderick's friend Denton, an American doctor, can say what is wrong with her and Roderick (Catalepsy? Anemia? Hysteria? Roomis Igloomis? Who knows?). Denton and Alex immediately figure it's something to do with their environment - the house is both rotting and falling apart around them - but Roderick insists that Madeline can't leave, and if she can't leave, he won't leave.

Determined to find out what's happening to their friends, Alex resolves to stay. But things in the House of Usher are starting to get weird. For one thing, Madeline sleepwalks far more than a dying woman should, speaking in a strange, child-like voice, there's a lake outside that seems to pulse and shine with odd lights, there's a legion of undead hares wandering around and, seriously, what is up with those mushrooms??? With the help of Denton, Miss Potter, and their trusty batman, Angus, Alex must figure out what the hell is going on with the House of Usher...before whatever it is starts to spread.

What Moves The Dead is short and sweet and the perfect book to read when it's cold and dreary outside - and definitely not one you want to read before eating a giant bowl of mushroom risotto. If you're looking for a fantastic, spooky-type read that reads like if Edgar Allan Poe and The Last of Us joined forces with an army of undead bunnies.

But!

Luckily for all of us, Alex Easton's adventures don't stop with the events at the House of Usher.

It's late in the autumn and poor Alex would much rather be in Paris. Unfortunately, Angus has successfully guilt-tripped them into a trip to Alex's family's old hunting lodge back in the Old Country, aka Gallacia. Nothing like good old Gallacia in the winter where everything is damp, cold, cold, and, you guessed it! Damp.

But the redoubtable British mycologist Miss Eugenia Potter wishes to study some Gallacian mushrooms, and Angus, who is absolutely sweet on her, pretty much voluntold Alex to come along to act as Miss Potter's translator and use their hunting lodge as a home base.

So instead of a beautiful late Autumn/Winter in Paris, Alex is stuck back home.

*Sigh* looks nice, doesn't it?

As much as Alex sulks at the thought of spending several weeks back home, it's not like they're going to say no to Angus and Miss Potter. Not after everything they went through with the Usher House *shudder*.

Unfortunately, when Angus and Alex arrive at the lodge to help get it ready for Miss Potter's arrival, the caretaker, Codrin, is nowhere to be found. A quick trip to the nearby village reveals that Codrin has been dead for the past two months. But the locals are being very cagey about what killed him - Codrin's daughter is very insistent that it was just a lung infection, nothing else, no further questions, goodbye.

Finding a replacement for Codrin proves difficult, as it seems none of the villagers want to go near the lodge because there's a rumor that Codrin wasn't killed by inflammation of the lungs, but by a creature called a Moroi - a woman who sits on your chest and quite literally steals your breath. And the rumor is, a Moroi has taken up residence at the Hunting Lodge.

Yikes.

After some effort, Alex manages to hire a new housekeeper: the ill-tempered Widow Botezatu, who brings her grandson Bors along with her. The Widow immediately hates Alex, thinking them a wastrel, but Bors is nice enough. Miss Potter arrives, complete with terrible Gallacian phrasebook, but it soon becomes clear things aren't quite right at the Lodge. Alex begins to experience strange dreams - dreams in which a woman is kneeling on their chest because, yep, the Moroi is very real, and it can get to you in your dreams, just like Groundskeeper Willie in Treehouse of Horror VI.

Which is to say like Freddie Kruger, but still.

When it becomes clear that the Moroi is after the residents of the lodge, it's up to Alex, Angus and Miss Potter to figure out how to defeat a creature that can infiltrate your dreams.

What Feasts at Night is just as creepy, eerie and atmospheric as What Moves the Dead - there is plenty of non-fungal body horror and, mercifully, no zombie bun buns. Kingfisher is fantastic at capturing the terror of having your ability to breathe taken from you, and of the dread of having to fight something you can't grasp while awake. How she manages to pack so much into two short novels, I have no idea.

RECOMMENDED FOR: Anyone in the mood for some short, sweet spooky horror.

NOT RECOMMENDED FOR: Anyone who gets easily queasy, someone in the middle of eating a nice mushroom risotto, someone who really, really, really loves bunnies being alive and living their best lives, anyone who might wake up in the middle of the night with their cat on their chest staring directly into their eyes...

RELEASE DATE FOR WHAT FEASTS AT NIGHT: February 13, 2024

RATING FOR BOTH: 5/5

ANTICIPATION LEVEL FOR SWORN SOLDIER BOOKS: Chigori

*

[imtrashraccoon]

Existential dream invaders anyone? No? Alright then...suit yourself...

@scrambledmeggys

First Day, Previous Day, & Next Day.

Day 22: Nightmares

You blearily opened your eyes and rolled over to glance at your alarm clock. With a groan, you buried your face back into your pillow in a futile attempt to go back to sleep.

No matter if it was the weekend or not, you always seemed to wake up around six a.m. without fail. Sure, you could probably stay up much later or exercise before bed, but your sleep schedule was so screwed up from years of getting up early for college and now your job, that you didn't have much faith you could improve it at all.

After a couple of minutes, you tossed the blankets off and got out of bed to start your day. At least you could relax today and not rush to work like usual. Maybe you'd even treat yourself and make a latte this morning.

So you made yourself a healthier breakfast than you normally had time for and sat out on the balcony to watch the sun rise with your coffee. As the first rays of light passed over the mountain that gave this city it's name and bathed the world in light, you got an odd feeling that you couldn't put your finger on.

Something just felt...wrong.

Before you could question this feeling further though, your thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the sliding door opening.

"Up early again, Ria?"

That voice.

You felt your breath catch in your throat and quickly turned towards the familiar sound.

There, still dressed in an old t-shirt and basketball shorts, was your best friend. He yawned and attempted to rub the sleep from his eyes, before flashing you a tired smile.

"You should really take care of yourself more," he chided softly.

A lump formed in your throat and you couldn't find the words to respond. "Terry..." you managed to croak out and went to reach out for him.

He didn't seem to notice how emotional you'd become all of the sudden and continued talking as normal. "Yeah, yeah, I know you can't control your sleeping patterns. Have you looked into getting something for that?" he asked.

"I... What? I sleep fine, what are you talking about...?"

"Eh, I'm no expert on that stuff. Forget I asked I guess." He ran his hands through his tousled brown hair and glanced out at the mountain thoughtfully. "Are you sure you're going to be okay while I'm gone?"

You stared at him as it occurred to you why he didn't seem to be listening to you.

This wasn't real.

It was in fact merely the memory of your last conversation together.

"Hey, don't worry so much, Ria. I trained for this climb for months and my instructor has been rock climbing for half his life. I'll be fine!" He turned and put a hand on your shoulder, although it seemed to phase through your body instead. "Tell you what, when I get back, let's do something to celebrate. I'll have finally achieved my personal goal!"

You wanted to scream and beg him not to go, as he wouldn't come back, but you couldn't. So there was no point; he couldn't hear you afterall. So instead, you just sat there numbly as he continued the one sided conversation.

The edges of your vision began to blur and mix together like static. You knew you were spiraling and yet, you couldn't bring yourself to surface. There was no point in going on. He was gone and here you were forced to sit through this pain.

Suddenly, you felt someone's hand rest on your shoulder. It was cold and wasn't soft like human hands were. For a moment, you felt a flicker of joy but as soon as you looked up to see who it was, your blood ran cold. While the hand belonged to a skeleton, it wasn't either of the two you knew, rather this was someone you'd never seen before.

He was fairly tall, maybe not quite as tall as Papyrus, but close. He was also less angular and while he had red eyelights like the brothers, his seemed to be more like a vermillion red. His mouth was lined with sharp teeth and his phalanges were far more pointy than either brother's were; they reminded you of needles or tweezers, although they were still thicker than human finger bones. He also had two cracks in his skull, one starting at his right eye socket and traveling up, while the other traveled down to his smile from his left, and his hands had holes in the backs of them. He appeared to be wearing a black trenchcoat with a red turtleneck sweater underneath, but you couldn't tell if he was wearing anything else.

The world had turned greyscale around you and time had seemingly frozen as well. Terence looked like he was mid thought but he still wore a happy smile on his face.

This was new...

Turning your attention back to the strange skeleton, you cleared your throat and managed to find your voice. "Who are you...?" you whispered.

He tilted his skull questioningly and his crooked smile widened at the sound of your voice. You didn't know if he could understand you but at least he could hear you.

He spoke slowly at first as if he was uncertain about doing so. Unfortunately, you couldn't even begin to figure out what he was trying to tell you. His voice came out heavily garbled as if his non-existent vocal cords had been badly injured at some point. He could also be speaking another language but you couldn't tell, as the closer you tried to listen, the more disoriented you became. For some reason or other, you began to experience an intense ringing in your ears that quickly had you doubled over in pain.

Thankfully, he seemed to realize how distressed you had become and stopped speaking. While it took a moment for the ringing to subside, you were extremely grateful when it did.

Pulling yourself together, you finally managed to stand up straight again. "I'm sorry... I can't understand you," you said.

He frowned slightly and crossed his arms. At first you thought he might be upset, and while that was still a possibility, he seemed more disappointed than anything if the way he looked down at you was any indication. It made you feel rather small, almost like a child, with the way his eyelights seemed to critically analyse you.

"Do you know sign language...?" you asked tentatively and signed the words as you spoke.

He narrowed his eye sockets as he studied your hand movements. After a moment, he brought his own hands up and began to slowly sign back.

"I am...a little...familiar..."

You looked around at the still monotone city before turning back to him. "Is this all just a dream then?"

"Of a sort..." He trailed off, seemingly trying to figure out how to explain it in a way you could understand. "You are experiencing a memory...within a dream..."

You nodded, "I figured as much, but that doesn't explain why you're here. The human brain can't make up faces without having seen the owner and I'm pretty sure I would remember meeting another skeleton..." You studied him thoughtfully as you trailed off.

His smile widened considerably but in an unsettling way that sent chills down your spine. "You...catch on quickly... I like that..." he signed.

You were about to respond, when a loud Crack sent you reeling and searching for the source of the sound. It turned out to be a quickly splintering tear in the middle of the air behind where Terence was standing, still frozen in place.

"What is that?!"

He turned to look and let out a stream of garbled words. "The dream is...breaking down..." he signed with a frown. "A shame really..."

"What do you mean 'breaking down?' Is that bad?" You tore your eyes away from the scar in reality, panic welling up in your soul, only to see the edges of his form had blurred and turned to static.

"It is...inconvenient... I will need to find...another way..."

"Wait!" You reached for him, but your hand passed through his body. "I never even got your name!"

He smiled slightly, "I am...the man who speaks in hands..."

You tried to ask what that meant but that same intense ringing from before began again, causing you to collapse from the pain. He lifted your chin to meet his gaze with the tips of his phalanges and once again spoke in that garbled tone.

W...D...Ga-

The pain became too much to bear and before you could figure out what he was saying, everything went black as the dream collapsed.

Find me...

< ~ - . - ~ >

The next thing you knew, someone was trying their best to shake you awake. Your eyes snapped open to meet the gaze of Frisk, although the first thing you noticed was that they were crying. That, and their eyes were glowing a bright red.

Your heart was practically pounding out of your chest and you felt like you could hardly inhale enough oxygen to keep up. Rather than worry about that, you pulled Frisk into a desperate hug in an effort to comfort them.

You didn't know how long you laid there holding them, but only once your heartbeat slowed to a more reasonable rate and their sniffling seemed to cease, did you relax your grip on their body.

Frisk pulled back so they could properly sign. "Are you okay?" they asked. You noticed their eyes had returned to their normal hazel shade now as well.

You giggled and poked their arm playfully. "I should be asking you that," you whispered. "I'm alright now, thanks to you."

Frisk smiled slightly and signed, "Good, you looked like you were having a nightmare."

"I guess you could call it that..." you murmured. "But what about you? You were crying and your eyes were glowing..."

This information seemed to surprise Frisk and they stared at you for a brief moment, before beginning to rapidly sign again. "They were?! What colour? Your eyes were glowing too! They were a soft purple!"

"Easy, one thing at a time, alright?" you chuckled. "Your eyes were glowing a cheerful red, but tell me why you were so upset, please."

"I had a nightmare too..." Frisk answered. Their excitement vanished as they seemed to recall what had happened, only to be replaced by a chillingly passive expression. "I don't really want to talk about it..."

"Are you sure?" you pressed gently, brushing some of their hair out of their face.

They nodded slowly. "I saw a bunch of bad memories...where you died a lot..." They paused for a moment before adding, "There was a skeleton with holes in his hands too but he scared me..."

You frowned slightly at that and rubbed their back in a comforting way. "I'm sorry to hear that...but it's going to be okay. You're safe here, Frisk."

Spotting movement out of the corner of your eye, you glanced over and made eye contact with Papyrus. He hesitated for a moment before approaching you and Frisk again. You sat up and pulled Frisk closer to your chest as you did so.

"Did we wake you up?" you asked him softly.

Papyrus shook his head slowly. "No, It Was Not You..." His voice sounded rougher than usual which was concerning to you.

Sensing something had happened to him as well, you motioned to the free space next to you on the couch. He sat down stiffly and after a moment, wrapped an arm around your shoulder.

"Frisk had a nightmare...and I did too," you murmured and Frisk nodded silently in agreement.

Papyrus reached over and gently raked his phalanges through Frisk's hair. "Ah, I Can See That..." Turning to them now, he smiled slightly and asked, "Would You Like Something To Cheer You Up?"

Frisk nodded again but didn't say anything.

You and Papyrus made Frisk a hot chocolate and worked together to comfort them. Eventually, they fell back asleep and so you eased them onto the couch, making sure to tuck them in as well. Only then did Papyrus pull you into the kitchen to talk.

"I Experienced A Nightmare As Well," he murmured.

You frowned slightly. "Did you want to talk about it?" you asked.

"Maybe..." Papyrus looked away for a moment. "I Think I Saw The Same Person As Frisk Though..."

"Wait, you did too?! A skeleton with cracks on his face and holes in his hands?"

He nodded slowly and so you asked another question. "Do you know who he is by chance?"

"I Do Not. I Would Remember Seeing Any Other Skeletons, Especially One Like Him."

You sighed and ran a hand over your face. "This is so strange. He tried to talk to me but I wasn't able to get his name before Frisk woke me up."

Papyrus was quiet for a moment but you could feel him watching you as you pondered what this all could mean. "Are You Alright?" he finally asked.

"Huh? Oh, yeah, I'm fine..." you answered quietly.

He gave you a look that seemed to suggest he didn't quite believe you but rather than press further, he pulled you into a warm hug instead. "You Can Always Come Talk To Me About Anything, Precious," he murmured.

You nodded and nuzzled your cheek against his collarbone. "Thank you, I really appreciate that, Papyrus..."

[rebelsandtherest]

Ghost Story

Words: 6,652

Summary: During a vacation to New England, a freak accident leaves Alfred in a tricky situation. Luckily, Matthew is there to help bail him out. Today's Halloween nightmare is tomorrow's urban legend, but sometimes, the truth behind the myth is just two brothers doing their best. A very belated Halloween oneshot.

TW: Death, dead bodies, mention of drunk driving and related accidents, general macabre themes—but it's more the spooky creepy variety than the dark and existential kind

Halloween? In December? It's more likely than you think! I'd meant to finish this in time for Halloween but it just wasn't meant to be. A VERY belated Happy Halloween, everyone!

I know literally nothing about how a morgue/medical examiner's office works. Whatever inaccuracies exist are just pure, indulgent campiness.

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

Friday October 30, 1990

Burlington, Vermont

It was a cool and damp Friday evening, as evenings tended to be this time of year. The moon was a middling sliver of light behind a blanket of clouds, which was anticlimactic all things considered.

The cool and the damp had leached indoors, and after a long and tiring workweek, Linda was entirely ready to wash up, hang up her coat, and return home where a pile of green and yellow fleece was waiting for a fairy godmother to turn it into a 10-year-old-sized t-rex costume. She'd promised her son it would be ready, claws, teeth, zipper, and all, in time to go trick-or-treating with his father, but the clock was ticking alarmingly close to midnight.

Linda's coat sleeves were down to her elbows when the phone rang. She sighed and glanced at the clock with equal parts annoyance and resignation before flipping her coat back on and falling into her creaky desk chair with deliberate aggravation.

"What," she griped into the receiver, wrestling with the tangled cord. The voice on the other end told her what, and she rubbed a hand over her face, worried that there would be no fairy godmother for costumes this Halloween..

"Aw, jeez," she sighed into the phone, sounding sad despite herself. She leaned away from the desk to look to where her assistant was packing up to leave. "Don't go anywhere yet, Jen," she said. "Got one coming in from Windsor."

"Oh?" Jen, who'd already done up her lipstick and changed into heels, the poor thing, was clearly trying to be nonchalant through her disappointment. Linda couldn't blame her. It was 8:45 on a Friday night, for Christ's sake, the girl should be out with her friends. Still, Linda hadn't made her take the job. If she was going to stick around, she might as well learn.

"Yeah," she sighed, pausing to let her caller finish his report before hanging up. "They're bound to be here in fifteen, twenty minutes. Go ahead and start filling out the paperwork so we can make this quick."

"Paperwork?" to her credit, Jen was swapping out her heels for clogs once more without complaint. "Did they give you the details?"

"No," Linda said sadly, standing from the desk and going immediately to clear off the exam table. "It's a John Doe." Jen frowned.

"Oh."

"You tag one of them before?"

"No."

"Well, it's depressingly uncomplicated. Grab a new folder and I'll show you how to start. We'll fill out the rest when he gets here."

Pedestrian deaths were, unfortunately, a common enough occurrence that Linda probably could've written the police report herself. Vermont drivers were confident even in the pitch black of an October night, sometimes too confident when rounding blind bends in the backroads. The driver in this particular incident was currently in Windsor county jail after blowing a 0.14 on the scene. But the poor soul who'd got caught on the passenger side headlight was here in Burlington, in a morgue on a slab looking considerably worse for wear.

"His face isn't in too bad of shape… I'm sure they'll want to put out a public notice to see if he's got family," Linda sighed, standing by as moral as well as clerical support as Jen recorded what little details were available. The body was blue-lipped and mottled with bruises, some pre-mortem but most of them wine-red stains of pooling blood. He was tall, handsome, and depressingly young. He also had a graphically broken arm and a skull cracked in two places. bloodying the back of his blond hair.

"Did he really have no ID?" Jen asked, looking up from the typewriter. "It's strange for someone to be out on the roads so late without a wallet or keys or something."

"Maybe he lived in the area," Linda shrugged. "I mean, I hope he's got someone looking for him." She glanced at the body, which they'd only just cut out of its clothes. "No wedding ring, though. Parents, maybe? Looks a bit old to be in school." She sighed. "Any which way, I'm glad I'm not the one who has to make that phone call."

"Yeah," Jen agreed quietly, click-clacking on the keyboard slowing to a stop. She reviewed the page before pulling it free of the machine. "I guess this is it," she handed the report to Linda for review, who trusted her assistant enough to give it only the briefest of skims.

"We'll have to call in tomorrow and ask if there's another photographer available while Jordan is out. But this is good for now. Come on, let's get him on ice and clean up."

"I can do it," Jen said confidently. "I know you wanted to be home tonight, go on ahead and go, I can finish up here."

"You sure?" Linda asked, hesitant to take the young assistant up on her offer, but preoccupied in equal measure by the tissue paper pattern that had been ingrained into her memory since her son told her he wanted to be a dinosaur.

"Yeah," Jen gave her a smile, "don't worry about it, I got it."

Jen cursed quietly, digging around in the top drawer for the White-Out. She'd grown adept at typing during her undergraduate degree, earning higher marks than her peers. Unfortunately, one summer using her boyfriend's desktop computer had ruined her for manual typing, and though she'd only had a "backspace" key for four months, she had no idea how she'd ever done without.

"If you'd gotten better grades in English, maybe this wouldn't be a problem," she grumbled to herself, fingers jittering in frustration. The sooner she finished up her notes, the sooner she could leave. "You know how to type, stupid hands, just do it." It was perhaps a bad habit, talking to yourself, but she worked in a morgue, and tonight she worked in a morgue alone. It wasn't as if her office-mates minded.

"Fuck," she hissed when the "E" key stuck for the umpteenth time. She pried it back to rights and resumed typing. : 5 8. R— the "E" key stuck again. "Oh, for the love of—

BANG

Jen jerked so hard she'd have to use White-Out for half the last line. She didn't notice, head jerking automatically to look at the locked door of the freezer room.

BANG

She jerked again, the creaky office chair wheeled halfway across the room from the force of her standing up.

BANG

Jen reached a shaking hand out toward the coffee mug full of pens and pencils, fishing around until she found the letter opener. The blade was only an inch and a half long, but she wielded it like a dagger in front of her, staring at the freezer room door.

BA—

She jumped again, and rushed to the door, keys in hand. Missing the lock several times, she had to hold her right hand still with her left to fit the key into the lock. Turn, turn, and the bolt unlocked. She pressed the handle down and pulled. Reached around the doorframe with her right hand, hit the lights.

She met eyes with the corpse heaving for breath on the floor, and screamed.

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

It was 1 am on October 31, and Matthew Williams was still sleeping off the inadvisable amount of cinnamon whiskey and chocolate he'd consumed at the office Halloween party the night before. When his phone began to ring, he thought it must've been his hangover headache trying to wake him up, so he dug his head deeper into his flannel-clad pillows and pulled the duvet up over his head.

When the phone rang a second time, he thought it was a phone in his dream, but it was the prime minister's job to answer it. The third time, he realized it was real, and that it was his, and that it might actually be something important. Unwilling to sacrifice warmth for the sake of whoever was on the other line, he shuffled into the kitchen with his duvet as a cloak, eyes opened only by a sliver with which to see. He was wincing when he got to the phone, not sure if the sound hurt because he was hungover or because he was tired. It was probably both. With effort, he yanked the phone free of the receiver, tucking his arm back under his duvet as he smushed it to his face.

"This had better be good," he groused, voice deep and groggy.

"Mattie,"

Matt opened his eyes fully. It was just a name, his name, spoken by a voice who'd usually receive an earful of colorful language for calling at this time of night. But tonight, there was a strange timbre in those two syllables that rang too many alarm bells to ignore.

"Alfred?" He asked, still groggy but now trying to rouse himself.

"Mattie, I need help," and Alfred Jones could utter no scarier words than those. "Thank god you answered, you didn't pick up and I thought–I mean, I only just remembered your phone number, I thought maybe I'd—I'm sorry to call you, I didn't know who else–I'm stuck in here, there's no way I can get out on foot like this, she's going to wake up sooner or later and I'm going to be even more in the shit—"

"Al, slow down,slow down," Matt's head felt like it was at sea, so he pinched the bridge of his nose to anchor himself. "What happened? Who's going to wake up? Are you hurt?"

"I'm in the morgue," Alfred told him. "I broke out of the freezer and scared this woman so badly she fainted."

"The morgue? Al what the fuck did you–"

"I got hit, I think? Didn't see him–look, we can talk when my brain is back online, I was—report said my skull's been bashed in, I'm not doing so hot at the whole thinking thing—god why does this always have to be so fucking cold."

Matthew was fully awake now. Head throbbing, mouth dry, entire body engulfed by a duvet, he looked around for his car keys.

"Where are you?" He asked, testing the length of the phone cord while he rummaged around his countertops.

"The city name is long, my eyes are patchy–starts with a B. Vermont."

"Burlington?" Matt found the keys buried under some potholders.

"Yes, that one. Morgue. Medical examiner's office I think."

"Okay. How long have you been back?"

"I don't know. I didn't–wasn't fully back

Until I turned and saw this chick screaming in the doorway."

"You're not still in the freezer, are you?"

"No, but it's cold as fuck in here. Or in my brain. Borrowed lab coat but they make them cheap and thin now."

"I'm going to be there in a few hours. Hang in there, okay?"

"Hanging sucks, I don't want–oh wait you meant. Yeah. Okay. I'll be here."

Matt hung up the phone and went back to his room, groaning as his headache intensified. Not changing out of his fleece pajamas, he pulled on jeans and a hoodie and shoved his feet into boots, tossing back three advil and a pint of water before he retrieved his keys.

"Honestly," he complained aloud, no real heat in his voice, "couldn't have picked a better time to die, could you?"

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

It was beginning to mist by the time Matt's wheezing Pontiac rolled to a stop outside of the Medical Examiner's office. The night was slowly turning into morning, but the human world would be slumbering for a while yet. Matt turned off his headlights but left the engine running, heat on full blast. Pulling up his hood and tucking some clothes under his arm, he followed the sidewalk up to the front door.

"Alfred?" He whispered into the night, glancing this way and that. As far as he could tell, he was well and truly alone, but this was a morgue, after all. Matt had seen his fair share of ghosts in his life and deaths. He had no doubts this place was home to a handful of unlucky souls, and normally he would've shown more respect than to go right up to the door and wiggle the handle, press his face against the window with hands cupped and leave fog on the glass. However, he was only here to fetch one particular ghost. When the back of his neck burned with the stare of something unseen, he resisted the urge to look over his shoulder and instead ducked down, quietly sneaking around the building.

Past the dumpsters and AC units, he found the back door had already been opened, a clipboard wedged between the door and its frame. Slowly, he pulled it open, not sure what to expect on the other side. The building was dark save for a few safety lamps and the red flicker of a smoke detector.

"Alfred?" He called, and let the slight echo hang in the air.

"Mattie?" came the response several seconds later. Matt followed it into a nearby office, where he found his brother: muddy, shivering, nude but for a lab coat and what looked like a white bedsheet, sitting curled up knees-to-chest right on top of the medical examiner's desk.

"Al, holy shit, are you okay?" Matt rushed forward immediately.

"The floors are cold," Alfred explained, aware of his bizarre perch. He let Matt come to him rather than attempt to move himself. "This building is cold," he added, bringing his legs over the side of the desk, shivering so violently it took a few tries to get his left leg out from under him. "I know I'm a wimp, I know your place is worse, but god I'm just cold, coming back didn't used to be this cold, I swear to Christ."

"You are a wimp," Matt said, shaking out a bulky flannel. "But not today. Come on, this is way warmer, give me the coat." Alfred struggled to do so, so Matt helped him. Absurdly, he was struck with a childhood memory of Alfred doing the same thing for him, when he was small. Alfred shucked the thin lab coat, but the bedsheet remained wrapped around his hips.

"I don't suppose you brought pants, did you?" he asked, nodding at the bundle of clothes.

"I did, actually," Matt looked his brother up and down. "Do you need help putting them on?" When Alfred did not immediately respond with indignance, Matt realized how nasty a return he must've had. Alfred heaved a sigh.

"My brain is still mush, let's just do it before I remember how to feel embarrassed." Normally one to tease Alfred for his puritanical sense of modesty, Matt only unfurled the clothes.

"Okay," he said, glancing at Alfred's bluing toes. "Socks first, though."

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

Matt ended up carrying Alfred piggyback to the car so as not to get his socks wet. He'd tried to lighten the mood by teasing Alfred about his weight, which was familiar and comfortable bickering territory between them. Alfred, to his credit, tried to bicker back, but ended up blacking out in the crucial few seconds where he'd usually be telling Matt that he was a vain bitch.

"Oh hey, there you are," Matt said, and Alfred looked over at his brother, disoriented for a moment to realize he was buckled into the passenger side of Matt's hatchback and they were moving. The outside world was a blur, and not only because of the rain, which was coming down heavier than before. His face scrunched and he rubbed his eyes, which were sore. Everything was sore.

"I want my glasses," he whined, knowing it would do no good.

"Sorry, bud," Matt said, looking over in sympathy but unable to help. "I've got some spares at my place, it's not the same prescription, but–"

"Your place? Alfred looked up, momentarily distracted from his pain. "We're going north?"

"Um, yeah," Matt said, glancing quickly between Alfred and the road, newfound concern putting a wrinkle in between his eyebrows. "Why wouldn't we be?"

"I don't have my passport."

"Alfred, you're with me. It'll be fine," Matt assured. Alfred stared at him for several long heartbeats, blinking as though to clear the blurry world around him, before his brain found the right synapses.

"Oh, right," he said, sinking down in his chair and enjoying the brush of the fleece against his neck as he let the lined flannel collar bunch around his chin. "Right, I forgot."

Matt chuckled, glancing over at him. "Forgot? You were the one who kept pestering me to carry those fancy-ass ID cards around with me in the first place." Matt's laugh faded, and, not hearing Alfred laugh or make some other comment, glanced at his brother. "Al, are you–ah."

Alfred, who'd forgotten that he and his brother were not human, had fallen asleep.

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

When Alfred next awoke, his whole body had woken up, too. They were only just over the border, Matt told him, and had crossed without issue. The Canadian began describing the rest of their route up through Ontario to his house outside of Ottawa, but Alfred was not listening.

His insides felt as though they were on fire, or frozen, or melted, or shot full of lead. He struggled to arrange himself in a position that was not excruciating. Eventually, he settled for sitting in his chair sideways, bent over his knees with one foot underneath him. Unfortunately, his regenerating guts were also stealing the heat he'd been enjoying in his hands and feet, and just as the cramps seemed to have passed, he started shivering again. He stayed huddled in his bent position, no longer out of pain, but against the cold.

It had stopped raining, so the cab was quiet save for the hum of the engine and tires. Alfred's shivering must've caused some amount of disturbance, however, because Mat reached over to him.

"Hey," he gave his brother's arm a gentle squeeze. "You okay?"

"Hungry," Alfred said quietly, curled in on himself. Matt did a double take and frowned at him.

"Are you ready for food yet? I brought a thermos of bread broth if you want some, it should still be warm."

"Bread broth," Alfred huffed out in surprise. "Jesus, Mattie, did I wake up in the Hoover administration? I want real food."

"Alfred, you were dead a few hours ago, you know food is a bad idea."

"I'm hungry."

"Al, you're not ready for–"

"The first vacation I've had in ten months on my property in my states, one of my stupid-ass, careless fucking idiot citizens beamed me in my own fucking driveway and landed me in a goddamn freezer, and now I'm going to be spending my remaining days off regrowing my guts and remembering how to count backwards from 100, I want a goddamn burger, okay?!" The outburst left Alfred winded, but his face remained pink and angry, glaring out at the out-of-focus road.

Matt chewed on the inside of his lip. He knew better. He knew that real food this soon was a doomed idea. He also knew that Alfred's habit of self-soothing with food was not something he ought to indulge. But Alfred hadn't done a very good job of hiding it when he wiped away his tears of frustration, and Matt knew the feeling acutely well.

"How about a breakfast sandwich?" He suggested. "There's a Timmies coming up soon, does that sound good?" Alfred nodded, and then, as if realizing he'd not spoken out loud, said,

"Yeah, that's great."

"Okay. I was wanting some coffee anyway." Matt flipped his blinker on to move into the right lane.

"Thanks, Mattie," Alfred muttered softly. Matt sighed softly.

"Let's just get you home, eh?"

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

In a few days, Alfred would be willing to admit that, in retrospect, the Timmies had been a bad idea. Matt had warned him, and had even talked him out of adding cheese to his order, but even so, Alfred had ordered two of them. They'd tasted divine and he'd felt immediately better after eating. However, even while he tried to drift off into a food-fueled coma, it didn't take very long for him to regret his choices.

Alfred was sitting up straight now, and was warm from head to toes, so Matt could finally turn down the heat (he'd stripped down to his t-shirt). He was coherent and talkative and, despite the lack of glasses, was at least able to figure out more or less where they were as they approached Ottawa.

Unfortunately, coming back from the grave—or freezer, in this instance—always came in fits and starts. It was still dark out, and in the light of the headlights, the trees and grass were like zoetrope figures, slip-sliding this way and that across Alfred's vision in a way that made the world feel tilted.

"Matt," Alfred said, staring at the dashboard in an attempt to ground himself. It wasn't working. "Matt, can you pull over?"

"Huh?"

"Pull over."

"Is something wrong?"

"Now."

Matt did, cursing as cars whizzed past him and honked as he threw on his hazard lights. They'd not yet come to a complete stop on the gravel shoulder before Alfred undid his seatbelt, opened the door, and threw up his hard-bargained breakfast into the grass. In the car, Matt sighed and rubbed his eyes. Undoing his own seatbelt, he reached into the backseat and dug around for a fresh bottle of water. Once Alfred was done retching and coughing, Matt tapped his shoulder with the bottle.

"Careful," he said, instead of the tempting 'I told you so' that rang in his mind. "Don't want you to start choking all over again." Al just groaned and took the water, sitting slumped halfway out of the car staring at nothing and trying not to gag.

"How much farther to your place?" Alfred asked, sounding desperate and exhausted.

"Not far. Little less than an hour." Alfred groaned pitifully, shoulders slumped.

"I know," Matt said, scratching his brow and thinking of his warm bed. "Almost there. You okay?"

"I fucking hate dying," Alfred said, spitting and rising his mouth out with more water. "But I think I hate coming back even more."

"I know," Matt said, not knowing what else to say. It had been a long, long night. "I'm sorry, Al."

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

A little less than an hour later, they were safely back at Matt's house. Alfred carefully tread across the path to the door, trying not to muddy his borrowed socks. By the time Matt followed him inside, Alfred was lying on the couch with an arm thrown over his eyes to stop the world from spinning. They showered and changed—Alfred showered again when he decided he still smelled like the inside of a morgue freezer. Matt dug out a small pharmacy of drugs for Alfred to take, and then made breakfast: waffles for Matt and a plain piece of white bread with a glass of water for Alfred.

Just as the sun was coming up, the brothers turned in for bed. Like they had when they were small, they bunked together. However, in a reversal of their childhood custom, it was Alfred who was snuggling into Matt's side for warmth. Matt, still awake and yawning, combed his fingers through Alfred's clean hair, which sent the American drifting toward sleep as fast as a rocket. Matt yawned again and looked down at Alfred's smushed, drooling face. He paused in his combing for a moment to appreciate his brother like this: alive, warm, close. He resumed moving his fingers and glanced at his clock—and beside it, the calendar.

"Oh, by the way, Al," Matt whispered.

"Mmnh?" Alfred grunted, only barely lucid.

"Happy Halloween," Matt told him. Alfred snorted softly into the blanket that cushioned his face against Matt's side.

"Should I go as a zombie this year?" he slurred. It was Matt's turn to snort, and for a moment both brothers shook with tired, contained laughter.

"I'm going as a bear," Matt decided through a yawn, hand slowing, eyelids heavy. "So I can sleep through the whole thing."

"Mmmm," Alfred groaned, falling alongside his brother towards a much needed rest. "Sounds good."

Matt's hand slipped from Alfred's hair and landed near his shoulder, where it would stay until they woke up in November.

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

Tuesday October 31, 2000

Burlington, Vermont

It was a cool and damp Tuesday afternoon, as afternoons tended to be this time of year. Alfred Jones had camped out at the diner booth for nearly an hour, and had for the past half hour or so been occupying himself with spinning his Nokia on the table like a top. He watched it spin and clatter to the table, before picking it up and trying to make it spin longer. Occasionally, he would look out into the parking lot, craning his neck this way and that.

"Did you want a refill, sir?" Asked a feminine voice, which distracted him from the cars outside. Alfred turned to the waitress, who was wearing striped stockings under her apron and a glittery witch's hat over a stern and uncompromising face. She was also holding a full pot of over-brewed coffee in one hand.

"Oooh, witch's brew, huh?" Alfred smiled up at her. Longsuffering expression unchanged, she blinked at him. His smile wobbled and he winced.

"Sorry, that was. Um, yeah, if you could just leave the pot, actually?" The waitress glanced at the clock—it was nearly four.

"Suit yourself," she shrugged, sliding the pot onto his table. As he was pouring himself a cup, the bell on the door announced a new arrival, who paused to wipe his feet at the door.

"Ayyy, there he is!" Alfred shouted across the diner, not caring if others stared. The newcomer rolled his eyes and took off his scarf and jacket. "Long time no see!" Alfred smiled as he approached.

"It's been ten months, Alfred."

"Is a man not allowed to miss his brother after nearly a year of radio silence?" Alfred asked, feigning magnanimity. He stood and hugged Matt hard before the Canadian could protest. Matt smiled and hugged back just as hard despite himself. Once they withdrew, Matt threw his things into the bench opposite his brother and slid into the booth.

"Radio silence," He scoffed,."You're the one who's been holed away at NASA this whole time, not me—weren't you literally in space last week?"

"Details, shmetails," Alfred waved him off, slurping at his coffee.

"Is that decaf?" Matt asked. Alfred regarded the mug.

"No, why?"

"It's an hour till sunset."

"So?" Alfred took another sip. Matt only tilted his head and gave his brother a quizzical look. Uncomfortable with such scrutiny, Alfred leaned back in his seat. "So, what's up with you?"

"Oh you know, same old hat."

"Aw come on, don't give me that. The Kiwi said you got your ass handed to you in some kind of drunken rugby match against uncle Alisdair?"

"Oh god," Matt winced, "she told you about that?"

"Not nearly enough. Spill."

The brothers launched into conversation as though they'd seen each other yesterday. The waiter came back around and seemed to appreciate Matthew's mild manners better than those of his brother, which gave the two something to argue about while she fetched them both a slice of apple pie. It was beginning to grow dark outside, and in between the ever-present rainclouds, shades of orange and pink peaked through to a hidden sunset.

"Thanks for coming down," Alfred said, drawing Matt's attention from the sky. "I know it's odd timing. I'm flying back down to Maryland on Thursday, Houston on Saturday, but I wanted to say hi before I left town."

"It's no problem," Matt demurred, holding back a comment about how Alfred ought to take a vacation. "NASA must have you busy to make you miss Halloween, you're not even dressed up."

"Ugh, I know," Alfred complained, pausing when the waiter arrived with their pie. "I thought about wearing part of a space suit or something, but apparently that's 'abuse of government property,'" he rolled his eyes, making dramatic air quotes with his fingers. "And 'a waste of taxpayer dollars.'" He took a bite of his pie. Still chewing, he added, "so I just went with this," he flicked the collar of his windbreaker, which Matt only just realized had an Apollo mission patch on the left breast. Behind them, the door bell rang and a gaggle of high schoolers piled into the diner, trying to decide whose parents' house was best suited to host a Blair Witch Project watch party.

"I mean," Matt said, fighting a smirk, "it's a better costume than the last time we did Halloween in Vermont." Alfred squinted at him for several seconds before realization dawned.

"Oh, shit, I'd nearly forgotten about that!" Alfred laughed, covering his mouth politely since he was unable to keep from smiling around a mouthful of pastry. "Oh, man, that was a bad vacation." Matt laughed, cleaning his plate of whipped cream before leaning back and propping his feet up beneath the table.

"Did you ever find out what happened to that assistant you scared half to death?"

"No," Alfred sounded disappointed, "I mean, I don't even remember what she looked like. I hope she wasn't too shaken up about it, I feel bad."

"I mean, I don't know, maybe the bump on the head made her forget about the whole thing."

"Maybe," Alfred continued eating, and did a double take at Matt's clean plate. "Did you finish your pie before me?"

"I had a light lunch."

"Do you want more?"

"God, no, I'm way too full."

"The owner's husband is Canadian, you know, makes a mean fried dough." Alfred told him, "they have some fresh-made beavertails up at the counter. Got little pumpkin and witch hat sprinkles."

"Wait, really?" Matt whipped his head around to look up at the counter. After a moment of indecision, he stood and scurried to the pastry display. The ensuing lack of conversation allowed Alfred to focus on his pie. It also allowed him to eavesdrop on the noisy teenagers who'd piled into the large corner booth at Alfred's back.

"Oh come on, it can't be that scary," a boy was saying.

"Have you seen it?" replied another male voice. "I don't know, man, I like that kind of shit, but it made me pretty jumpy, no joke."

"I didn't even realize how much it freaked me out until nighttime," said a fememine voice. "I got so paranoid, it really does get to you! I think you'll like it."

"I just don't get why fiction is supposed to be so scary," the first voice said. "There's plenty of scary stuff in real life! Like, make a movie about real horror stuff, if you really want to scare people."

"Oh, what, you're going to make a nature documentary about vampires in their natural habitat?" The group laughed at that. "Get real, Jamie."

"No but seriously!" Jamie insisted. "You don't even have to go that far. There's creepy stories everywhere—have any of you guys heard about the John Doe that disappeared from the morgue back when we were in elementary school?"

Alfred choked on his pie. Half the teeangers began to groan.

"Oh, come on, not this again."

"I knew it! I knew it would come back around to this."

"Jamie, it's just an urban legend."

"No! That's where my mom worked, there are pictures, it was like a whole–"

"A whole cover-up, we know,"

"Wait wait wait, I don't know," cut in a new voice, "What happened?"

"Please don't encourage him,"

"Okay so basically," Jamie began,

"Here we go."

"There was this hit and run accident down in Windsor county, and—"

"This thing is as big as my head," Matt announced, carrying over a truly massive beavertail. "You and your portion sizes. You're going to have to help me eat… this… thing…" Matt trailed off as he sat, because Alfred was shushing him with a finger over his lips and waving at him to stop talking. Matt frowned at him, glancing around.

"What?" He mouthed. Alfred, who was smiling and trying not to laugh, pointed over his shoulder at the booth behind him.

"–but in the middle of the night he just… disappeared. Literally walked out the door and was never seen again."

"What, were there like footprints or something?"

Matt took a large bite of his pastry and gave his brother another "what the hell" shrug. Alfred tapped his finger to his lips again and gestured for Matt to wait and listen.

"No footprints, but the freezer door was kicked open," Jamie said, pausing for dramatic effect, "from the inside."

"Oh come on, you can't just kick open a freezer door," complained a friend.

"No, I'm serious, look, there are pictures!"

"Oh my god, of course you would carry pictures around in your backpack."

"Only for Halloween," Jamie said, rifling through notebooks.

"So wait, when was this?" asked someone else.

"Almost exactly ten years ago," Jamie answered, and in the neighboring booth, Matt began to frown. "Midnight on October 30th—or Halloween morning."

"Ooh, witching hour," teased someone.

"Give me those. What the hell?"

"Right?"

"Come on, these have to be faked, right?"

"No one could kick that door open with just their feet," the most skeptical of the bunch said, "they'd break their ankles for sure."

"Yeah, if they were human," Jamie said.

"Oh my goddd," groaned the skeptic.

"So what, a whole ass dead body just. Disappeared?"

At last, Matt's eyes widened, and he fixed Alfred with a look.

"Are they talking about…?" he mouthed. Alfred began to nod his head rapidly, a maniacal smile on his face.

"Oh my god," Matt laughed, trying to muffle his laughter.

"So wait, how do you know it was at midnight?" Asked the girl who was unfamiliar with the story.

"My mom's assistant, Jennifer, she was staying late that night to finish the paperwork on this John Doe, she heard a big BANG, BANG, BANG, from where they keep the bodies," Jamie mimed, "she walked in to see what it was, and there was the dead body out of the freezer, standing up on its own two legs, staring at her."

"Oh jesus, so they stuck him in there when he was still alive?!"

"No, that's the thing, like I said, my mom was the medical examiner back then, they had to take photos whenever they got new bodies in, look at this!"

"Oh, fuck I didn't need to see that," someone complained, gagging.

"Wait is this a real photo?"

"Yeah."

"Oh my god that's so creepy."

"Aww, that poor man!"

"Damn, he was hot."

"Brittney, it's literally a dead body."

"Yeah but he was hot."

Alfred was biting his index finger, trying not to laugh. Matt rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, he'd be hotter if his brains were inside his skull."

"Ugh that's just… so gross—are you even allowed to have this stuff?"

"I mean, not really, but I made scans of it when I found it a few years ago. The police have the original file, but mom has a copy too."

"Wait, so the police investigated?"

"Yeah, but nothing really ever came of it. It never made it to the media, beyond a milk carton "have you seen me" kind of thing, they had a sketch artist do a portrait." Paper rustled as Jamie produced the sketch.

"Oh come on, that looks nothing like him."

"Eh, I see it."

"He's not nearly hot enough."

"Brittney."

"So did the police ever find anything?"

"That's where it gets really weird," Jamie said, dropping his voice to a loud whisper, "they started going through all the evidence—whoever this guy was he left the office a mess. They found hair and even blood, but before they could start testing any of it some people from the FBI showed up and shut it all down."

"Wait what?"

"Yeah, so no one even knows what all the police found, if they found anything. It never even made the evening news."

"Nuh uh," one of the teens snatched paper out of Jamie's hand. "This can't be legit. Someone would know something."

"I mean, my mom knows about it. Poor Jennifer was traumatized–she left mortuary school right afterwards."

"Ugh, I'm still mad he died, he's so cute."

"A reanimated corpse is covered up by the FBI, and you're worried about how cute the zombie is?"

"I have an idea," Alfred said softly, so only Matt would hear.

"What?"

"Just be ready to leave in a second. Not in a hurry." Alfred grabbed his phone and stretched out his right arm to rest on the top of the bench, tapping the Nokia idly on the wood.

"But if he wasn't actually dead, why would the FBI need to get involved?"

"He could be like, an informant or something?"

"He can't not be dead, you saw the photos! You can't fake those kinds of injuries."

"Yeah, unless you work for the F B fucking I."

Alfred dropped his phone over the booth, causing a few students to lean out of the way.

"Ah, shit, I'm so sorry," He said, bringing his knees up to the bench so he could lean over into the teenager's booth. "New phone, kinda slippery," he joked, making sure they could've gotten a good view of his face. The kid who Alfred assumed was Jamie had wide eyes and a suddenly-pale complexion. "Thanks so much, I'm so sorry," Alfred said to the girl who handed him his phone. He could see the moment when she recognized him, because her eyes went wide and darted immediately back to the photos spread out amidst their sodas and snacks. He followed her gaze and winced, which was not part of the act. He'd never seen the images before, and a part of him wished they didn't exist, but then again, this was going to be fun.

"Yeesh," he commented, eyes lingering on the photos. "I always hated those. Camera adds ten pounds, and all that. Anyway," he grinned at the group, "Happy Halloween!" He waved his phone at them and stood completely from the booth. Some of the students craned their necks and leaned out of the booth to see him better.

"Ready to go?" Alfred asked Matt, who to his credit, had somehow repressed his smile enough so that only the dimple in his left cheek gave him away.

"Yup," the Canadian said, holding his partially eaten beavertail in one hand and his coat in the other.

"Awesome," he spoke loudly enough to be overheard. "Just enough time to swing back by the house and change into costume."

"Oh?" Matt was willing to play along. "What are you dressing up as?"

"A ghost!" Alfred answered.

"Oh what, are you not already in costume?" Matt improvised, and Alfred burst out laughing. They left the diner with conspiratorial smiles, taking a moment in the parking lot to spy the group of shocked teenagers through the window.

"You're not going to be able to show your face here for a few years, at least," Matt commented.

"Worth it!"

"Alright, come on, Casper. I'll buy you a drink for your funeral." Alfred laughed as they climbed into Matt's aging Pontiac.

"Here, hold this," Matt said, handing Alfred his beavertail. Alfred took a large bite out of it, smearing chocolate across his mouth. When Matt looked over to check for cars, he caught Alfred's shit-eating grin as he watched the teenagers argue from a distance.

"Never even made the evening news," Matt tutted, ducking his head to follow Alfred's gaze. "It's a damn shame."

Alfred laughed, face and smile stained with chocolate and an errant pumpkin sprinkle. "I fucking love halloween!"

[ghostie-jakxy-gray]

The Rat That Feeds The Rattlesnake (32673 words) by Ghostie_Jakxy_Gray Chapters: 10/12 Fandom: Content SMP, Hadestown - Mitchell, no rpf - Fandom Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Characters: Folly | r4tmaid, Rat | doctor4t (Video Blogging RPF), The Fates (Hadestown), Hades (Hadestown), Other Character Tags to Be Added, Luxintrus (Video Blogging RPF), Persephone (Hadestown), Orpheus (Hadestown), Nudge the Poolfish, Flippy the Poolfish Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Gods & Goddesses, once again: SMPs ability to just Make People Gods?, that's Important here, Demigods, Inaccurate Ancient Greek Religion & Lore, Inaccurate Minecraft Mechanics, The Neverend (ContentSMP), Fish, Respawn Mechanics (Minecraft), Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, hopefully not painfully out of character, the Fates are the wind, BAMF Folly | r4tmaid, she's getting there at least, The Author Regrets Nothing, Major Character Undeath, Dreams and Nightmares, Potentially painfully out of character idk, Mind Manipulation, The Fates Are Not Nice, Whump, Existential Crisis, gods being assholes, Kind Persephone (Hadestown), Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Folly | r4tmaid needs a hug, Folly | r4tmaid gets a hug, Code and Reality and the nuances therein, Horror, eldritch horror, Oblivious Rat | doctor4t, Poolfish (Content SMP), Near Death Experiences, rated T for everyone is getting traumatized by the gods (even the gods themselves), Demigod Orpheus (Hadestown), Minor Eurydice/Orpheus (Hadestown), Morally Ambiguous Everyone Series: Part 2 of Gut and Idyll Summary: Hades is an old god spurned. Orpheus and Rat are builders after the same heart. Folly isn't much of anything for certain yet (but oh, she could be, couldn't she?), and the winds -The Wind- that of the fates blow like tides… in and out and over and over and over… ~ A (technically) continuation of my AU where Orpheus and Eurydice escape to the Neverend, and all the consequences that follow. Featuring actual CSMP characters this time! (Can be read without knowledge of Hadestown or first work in series, but I as the author would recommend both of those pieces of media :D)

[kisskissbanggang]

skz ship game 💕

tagged by @valkyriexo 💗

Send this to a stay! Have them describe themselves and see who their followers would “ship” them with in the group! <3 (no pressure baby)

this is so cute!!

✨a little about me✨under the break!

i'm bel 💗

🌞capricorn | 🌜aries | ⬆️gemini

year of the 🐓 rooster

infp-t

90s baby!!

currently reading: the dragon ball manga and house of leaves (but it's taking me a while because existential horror involving a house is actually a recipe for my nightmares which sucks because it's SO GOOD)

i have (1) tattoo and would love many, many more

i have (6) piercings but they're all in my ears and i would also love many, many more

i get my acrylics filled every three weeks and i've been seeing the same nail tech for years now

i'm re-learning french and super bad at it but i can't betray duolingo 💀

my favorite thing to write is currently high-concept adventure or thriller

cringe alert: married my high school sweetheart 🤢

i was a huge film nerd in high school and college so i thought i'd be a writer as a career, but my daily grind steered me into office work and that's how the cookie crumbles sometimes, i guess! i still love my movie and poster collection though 💗

i love camping, exploring new cities, coffee, cooking, baking, dying my hair, doing my makeup, playing video games, looking for shells at the beach, working out (but literally only leg day and yoga), crochet, drawing, and my dog!!

val made this a tag game so definitely try this, tag me if you do, and tag your friends! 💗

[negative-speedforce]

OC not-so-nice asks for Siv, Jessi, and Jay: betrayal, bound, break, future, skin, torture, and wound :)

betrayal: Has your OC ever been betrayed by someone they thought they could trust? Has your OC ever betrayed someone who trusted them?

Oh, sweetie. It'd be easier to list the people Siv hasn't either betrayed or been betrayed by than the people she has. They're basically a betrayal magnet at this point.

Jessi both has betrayed and was betrayed by Eobard, and she has backstabbed several of her business partners.

Jay has been betrayed by Siv MULTIPLE times (he really needs boundaries), and by several other people he believed were allies.

bound: Has your OC ever been imprisoned or captured? What happened? How did they get out? Did the experience leave any scars?

Siv was held captive by Eobard when she was 18 for ten days, and by Director Hawke's goons when they were 22, for 45 days. Both experiences made her paranoid, cynical, and added yet another layer of trauma to their already fucked-up brain.

Jessi was kidnapped and held hostage for about two weeks when she was 12, in exchange for $10,000 of her father's money. He did not pay the ransom, and she had to escape on her own wits, an experience which has shaped the dog-eats-dog philosophy which she lives by.

Jay was tied up in his own basement for a week and replaced by a shapeshifter. Because he was unconscious the whole time, he managed to escape with his mental health intact, however, if he ever tried to process what happened, he'd probably have an existential crisis. Soon after Cassandra rescued him, the shapeshifter captured her and replaced her.

break: What would cause your OC to break down completely? What do they look like when that happens? Has anyone ever seen them at their lowest?

Siv's lowest is an extremely dark place. The only thing that could cause them to break completely is for their reality to be completely upturned, which has only happened twice- once, when she found out that their father was Gina's murderer, and again, when they discovered the truth about her origins. Jay's seen Siv at their lowest, and Ember and Hailey have seen glimpses of her in that state.

Jessi's lowest is extremely destructive. So far, no one's seen her at that point, but essentially, she drops all guises of caring for others, cuts off all her connections, and goes rogue, usually on a killing spree or something.

Jay's lowest came soon after the injury that left him in a wheelchair. He went from a very active young man with a bright future as a secret agent to having to spend his days trapped in the house while Cassandra looked for a new apartment that wasn't on the second floor. After that, Jay became extremely depressed, since his prognosis said that it was unlikely he would ever walk unaided again.

future: What's the worst possible future for your OC? Are they taking steps to avoid that outcome? Are they even aware it's a possibility?

Siv's worst possible future involves them losing themself to their own rage and hatred. Her worst fear is becoming like Eobard, and a lot of their self-loathing comes from the fact that the two of them are undeniably similar.

Jessi's worst possible future involves her fading into obscurity. She can't imagine a future where no one knows her name, and in order to prevent this, she's become a criminal overlord/pop star.

Jay literally can't even imagine losing Cassandra. He has nightmares about it, where he's back at the prom where it all went down, but instead of finding Gina's body, he finds his fiancee's. Usually, when mid-March comes around (the anniversary of Gina's death), Jay becomes super protective of Cassandra, to the point of obsession.

skin: How comfortable is your OC in their skin? Do they grapple with anything that lives inside them—a beast, a curse, a failure, a monster? How do they face the smallest, weakest, most horrible version of themself? Are they able to acknowledge it at all?

Siv is terrified of losing herself completely, since they have to live with an entity under their skin at all times. Thankfully, she managed to get away from Eobard before he could bind her to it completely, but they're still very much connected to it, and occasionally lose control to it and it ends up killing a bunch of people.

I... honestly don't know if Jessi even knows how horrible she is. I don't really think she sees herself as evil, or even bad. She just kinda sees herself as "the ultimate girlboss", and doesn't really think about the people she hurts as people, only as assets.

Jay fears the version of him that he becomes when he's desperate. The darkest part of him comes out in the moments where he's out of options and the only choice is the death of his loved ones or to hurt other people.

torture: Has your OC ever been tortured? Would your OC ever torture someone else?

Siv was tortured for 45 days straight by a meta-trafficking ring, as they tried to extract her eldritch abilities to sell them on the black market. Siv probably wouldn't torture another person unless they really had to, like if someone she loved was in imminent danger.

Jessi's never been physically tortured, however, when she was held hostage when she was 12, she was kept in unintentional sensory deprivation, locked in an abandoned bank vault with no light or sound or anything. She doesn't personally torture other people, it's too messy. She has her goons do it instead.

Jay's never been tortured, but he would torture information out of someone in order to save someone he cared about. It's something he feels very guilty about, however, if it was the only way, he would 100% do it.

wound: How does your OC handle being wounded? Are their wounds mostly physical? Mental? Emotional? What's the worst wound your OC has ever experienced?

Siv's worst injuries came when she faced off against Eobard for the first time. Injuries included: several broken ribs, broken arm, broken wrist, shattered kneecap, sprained ankle, two teeth knocked out, punctured and collapsed lung, severe concussion, traumatic brain injury, crushed nose, and a whole lot more. They almost died, and never really fully recovered from that, despite their regenerative healing.

Jessi's worst wounds are emotional, from the parental neglect that she faced as a child. She never really had any support from a parental figure, and because of this, she grew up to become the absolute queen of the attention whores.

Jay's worst injuries came when his team was purposely sent completely unprepared to fight Zoom by Director Hawke, leaving everyone dead except him and Cassandra (well also Hailey but she's already dead so it doesn't count). He was struck by a bolt of speedster lightning, which threw him out a third story window. He basically shattered every bone below the waist and also received extensive nerve damage from both the electric shock and the injuries he received.