#using my hands using wood cutouts using cardboard anything really

[softhe4rted]

some experimenting i did for my airbrush class

[animation-recaps-by-sean]

Gravity Falls Beyond the Woods Chapter 15

Dipper and his children learn the truth.

<- prev next->

The clone paced around his prisoners. “Stan’s party,” Dipper said. “ The clones I made. But they all died.”

The clone wagged his finger. “Not all of us. We were the ones who stole Robbie's bike. Remember.”

Dipper’s eyes widened. “Quattro! You look good. You haven't changed.”

It was true. His face looked like Dipper’s did when he was twelve. Although, he looked far more faded. “No I haven't.”His suit started making willy noises as steam emerged from the breast plate. The chest of the suit opened, and the clone walked out. It was Dipper when he was twelve complete with shorts and vest. “I remember the first time you and Mabel came back. The second summer. It was barely a year, but you both were so…tall, Mabel lost her braces, and you had Wendy’s old trapper hat. You had it longer than this old thing.” He gave his hat a tug. He looked down at his tiny hand. He opened and closed it. “I…We didn’t age. You just grew and grew while I was stuck as the awkward twelve year old.” Without the helmet, he spoke in his young cracking voice of a twelve-year-old. But there was a cold bitterness to it.

Rose noticed something. “Two of you stole Mr. Valentino’s bike. Right?” She turned to her father for confirmation.

“Tracy, I think he called himself.”

Quattro was silent for a moment. “Do you know what it's like to look at your own face on someone else everyday,” he whispered. “To be reminded that you are not you. He was gonna kill me. I had to do it first. I had to. He made me.” His voice was pleading, despite. “But it's okay. I don’t need him. I never did.” From an unnoticed corner he pulled out several cardboard cutouts. Stan, Soos, Mabel and Wendy. Even Pacifica and Ford. Crudely drawn. He took the Mabel one and shook it around. “Hey Dipper, long time no see!” “Yeah dawg. Wanna see me test a ramp I made.” Rose and the others looked on in terror. He moved on to the Ford and Pacifica ones. “Yes, indubitably.” “Whatever.” “I was made before you met them. I don’t really know what they're like.” The clone admitted.

Dipper could feel the terror coming from the kids. At least his first encounter with the supernatural was with goofy gnomes who didn't even know what marriage really meant. But Rose, Tyrone, and the others tripped right into the deep end. Out of all the times Dipper had almost died, this was the scariest. So he thought it was best to get right to the point.

“What do you want?”

“I want my life back. I've been stirring the pot so to speak. Attacking the fairies, getting the government involved. All to get you back in here in good old Gravity Falls. Of course I had to promise the men in black something in return for delivering you to me.” Quattro threw back a pair of dusty curtains. There was the statue of Bill Cypher, hand extended.

“Cypher. Quattro, I don't know what you think you're doing but you can't trust him. He's using you.”

“Well, let's see what he has to say!” The clone grabbed Bill's extended hand. Everyone shouted in terror, but nothing happened. Quattro removed his hand. “He didn't say anything. He can't. He's just a statue. If the government wants to waste time on a hunk of rock, that's their prerogative. As long as I get you brother.”

Dipper gritted his teeth. “Well, you have me. Let the kids go.”

“Eh, I didn’t want them here. The faye got them involved. But they've seen too much at this point.”

“And whose fault is that?” Spat Tyrone.

Dipper sighed. “Why do you want me?”

Quattro ran his hand over the wall. “Do you know this place father? I have been told you’ve been here before.”

Dipper took a second look around. “It's the ship.” It was the place Ford was almost taken that first summer. Where they glued the riff containment.

Rose's eyes lit up. “The ufo!”

“UFO stands for unidentified flying object. A) it's not flying. And B) it's identified. It's a spacecraft.”

“Regardless. Stanford and McGucket mined this place for parts for their inventions. The carpet, the mind ease gun, the photocopier that made me. We found this place hiding from the rain. Just a drop of water could maim us, or even kill us if it hit the right spot. But that won't matter soon. With the right tools, I've been able to make this!” He pulled down a shagged carpet. “Once I get this baby working like the original. I'll get to be me again.”

“You’re stealing my body.”

“Steal it, dump you in the rain and watch you melt. Once I'm you I'll wipe the brats memory. Easy peasy.”

“Okay. Quattro, I can only imagine how hard everything's been for you. Listen, I can help you find a new life.”

“I DON'T WANT A NEW LIFE, I WANT MINE! You, you can't understand. You who got everything. You found the author, who was a relative, you're a respected paranormal researcher.”

“Respected is a strong word.”

The clone held Dipper’s arm. “Look, are these muscles? How did we get muscles?” Dipper thought about the variety of near death experiences that lead to his current physical state. “You even got Wendy! WENDY! You don’t get to pawn me off when you got everything you ever wanted. I, I miss Mabel. I miss my mom. And I will get them back!”

Wendy Was driving around the back roads when Puck appeared in her front seat. She nearly hit a tree as she came to a stop. Wendy reached for her ax when Puck raised her hands.

“Peace, peace. Why would you hurt your friend?”

“Friend? You took my daughter!”

“That was the Queen's orders. Couldn't disobey those. And it was your own people who took your husband. But I know where they are. They are both in the same place.”

Wendy narrowed her eyes. “Why should I believe you?”

“Well, I can't do anything to make you believe me. All I can do is tell you and the choice to believe will be yours.” Puck leaned close to her ear. “They are where the metal star hit the Earth.” And with that the imp was gone.

Wendy rubbed her eyes. If Dipper lived through this, she was gonna have time fairy proof the car. Metal star…Like a meteor? Or like a��Ship! She remembered Dipper excitedly explaining about how he and Stan 2 explored a crush space from like the paleozoic era or something. She backed up onto the road. ‘Don't worry’, she thought. ‘Mama's coming.’

[hoodie-prince-kid-archived]

Huey (rant invitation)

When Port Prisma got the paint stars stolen from the fountain, Huey was what emerged from the fountain's emergency system. He introduced himself by saying "let's get burgers, your treat" before letting Mario drain his color in order to fight off a stray shy guy in the town. At the ends of the game, after everything theyve been thru, Huey thanks Mario just before the final battle, and then in the battle turns himself into a card to become a solid object again, which made it go full circle. As the guardian of the paint fountain in Port Prisma, he realized his job wasnt to get the paint stars, but to get rid of the black paint that Bowser inadvertantly created. He told the others he would be right behind them as they escaped the castle, which was a lie, and proceeded to squeeze the paint out of the *entire castle*.

He's never seen the ocean before, but he loves it.

He's never been to a circus but he was so excited to go.

He's bad in front of crowds. (He tried a tin can impression and no one liked it [i liked it], said it would kill back at the recycling plant which?? Are there other living inanimate objects like Huey??? Hello?????)

He "speaks Draggadon" but he hasnt used it since college and his Draggadon speak is just SIMPLE SENTENCES IN ALL CAPS. (He also told the Draggadon "WE LOVE YOU.")

He's been to college, apparently.

He loves paint and values friendship.

He called shenanigans when the giant coin in the Mondo Woods was only worth one coin upon being picked up.

He was excited to see the fossil at the excavation site and told Mario to go ahead, he'd catch up.

He started a "if anything happens i will protect you" speech just before a chain chomp rolled in out of nowhere and interrupted him (i guess that was foreshadowing, looking back).

He steams and whistles like a tea kettle when he's mad.

He finds Toads adorable but also mumbled to Mario "Why can't we ever meet anyone normal?" upon meeting the lighthouse Toad.

His 3D model uses more triangles than the entirety of Super Mario 64.

He can smell paint stars (the green ones smell "minty fresh", apparently).

He wanted to fight at the coliseum but realized Mario would be the one doing the fighting and sounded it a bit disappointed. (Now thst i think abt it, they could very much have called it "The Colorseum". Missed opportunity.)

He makes bad paint puns and tries to use one to add levity to the situation after the battle with Kamek.

Mario had to whack him with a hammer several times (only once did he get truly upset abt it, in which case he was freaking out abt i mini goomba stuck on his back and Mario really had no choice ["You BETTER not have dented my can, fur face" will live rent free in my memory forever.])

His handles come apart which is something ive never seen a bucket or paint can be able to do but clearly it was solely so they could give him an equivalent to hands because he can clap and "dance".

He absorbed Bowser's black paint at Sunglow Ridge and told Mario to close his eyes and "never speak of this again" (i guess thst was foreshadowing too huh).

His little mask thing changes colors based on his emotions.

He sank into quicksand once and i panicked and when I finally got to him the game said "Huey's not breathing!" but we whacked him with the hammer and he was fine, just full of sand and stating that it's a good thing paint cans dont need to breathe.

Clearly has a sense of fairness, called out the scam at Bloo Bay Beach and got mad when the "legendary mountain sage" turned out to be a cardboard cutout.

Saved Mario from falling in lava and shouted "I got you, bud!"

If you lose a boss battle without the right Thing card he'll pop up on the game over screen and tell you.

He's so encouraging and cheerful, lots of times he cheered Mario on when he was struggling, including in the boss battle.

Apologized for forcing Mario to come with him to recover the paint stars which no, he didn't, Peach told Mario to go and Mario always listens to Peach because he loves her. Plus Mario's a hero and he'll always do what's right for the greater good but now that i think about it probably does need a break.

Thinks the Toad Rescue Squad scarves are "choice".

Wants to buy Birdo's album.

Thats all i got rn and already i know it's a lot so here ya go jdbsndbdb-

[randomly-a-fan]

‘IT’ is Vacation Time

From “Space Clown Baby Sitter” [Link to the Prologue] Pennywise and Aquarius have found a ‘trusted’ Clown sitter to look after their eight-month son. So they decided to spend the weekend alone, just to have the time for themselves for once.

After saying goodbye to Archie, Aquarius took Pennywise to her old wagon where she used to live before she met him. It was a long walk, but it was worth the moment. The woods that Aquarius lives in is off limits, due to poisonous plants, snakes and insects. But Aquarius was immune to infections and can’t get sick and die; and Pennywise can’t be effected by the human world’s natural sources, so he can’t get infected either.

When Aquarius and Pennywise made it to her old circus wagon, her cat came out from under the wagon. “Hi Laverne!” Aquarius said as she crouched down to pet Laverne. She then noticed that Laverne was fat, so she assumes that Laverne has been eating well. Pennywise crouched down to pet the cat as well, since he had the love for animals. “I think Laverne likes you Penny.” Aquarius assumes. “Of course, animals look upon me all the time.” Pennywise explained.

After awhile, Aquarius took their bags and put it in her old wagon. The door was sticky and stiff at first, but she managed to open it to let the dust out. “Man... my shelter hasn’t changed a bit since I’ve left. Aquarius said as she was putting the bag on her double-twin bed. The first thing Pennywise noticed was a cardboard cutout of Heath Ledger Joker. “I’m assuming that you used to be The Joker fan?” Pennywise chuckled. Aquarius looked back at him with a smirk. “Still am... Whoever came up with the character description and characteristics is a genius.” Aquarius said before she blew the dust off the cardboard cutout, which causes them both to cough and sneeze. “Let’s go outside for some fresh air!” Aquarius choked. 

Aquarius thought that since the inside was dusty, she would clean her wagon a bit before night comes, or else they’ll be sneezing all night. While Aquarius does that, Pennywise thought it’d be a good time to call Papawise, to check to see if Archie is alright. So he borrowed Aquarius’s cellphone and call home. Only Papawise didn’t answer, but he did hear a squeal and coo. “Archie! Is that you? It’s daddy!” Pennywise said. Archie cooed after hearing his dad’s voice. “Dada?” Archie was confused, how did daddy get into that little talkie thingy? “Where’s Papawise?” Pennywise asked. Then he heard the background noise, “Archie, hand over the phone! DON’T LOOK AT ME!!!” Papawise shouted from the background. Pennywise was shocked to hear him shout at a baby. “Papawise, you better not yell at my boy, he’s only a baby!” Pennywise warned. “You don’t know half of it, son...” Papawise said. “I’m calling to see how he’s been doing; to what am I hearing, it sounds like you’ve got everything under control...” Pennywise said sarcastically. “Yeah yeah whatever... When does Archie have his nap?” Papawise asked. “We gave you a list... Read it and find out!” Pennywise advised. Then he heard Aquarius calling out to Pennywise. “Just read the care instructions carefully; because if anything happens to my son I’ll tare your head off!” Pennywise threatened before he hung up the cell.

After Pennywise returned the cellphone and the wagon was cleaned, Aquarius decided to gather up some food for dinner in the woods. “Feel free to relax while I go out to gather some food.” Aquarius offered. “Actually, I kind of want to see how you gather food; I’m actually curious.” Pennywise rushed over towards his wife. “Besides... I never want you out of my sight.” Pennywise added with a wink. Star blushed and took Penny’s hand to show him around the woods while looking for food.

***

The first thing that came to mind are fiddleheads, she remembered an old hermit-friend of hers that planted fiddleheads in her day before she perished, so Aquarius now owns the fiddlehead field. “See the curved green sprouts? they’re called fiddleheads. They’re really good and good for you.” Aquarius explained. Pennywise snorted by the name of the plants. “I’ll show you how to pick the good ones...” Aquarius showed Pennywise the ‘crowns’, they’re for holding the fiddleheads together while the others still needed more time to grow. “We can only take half the sprouts, so they can still continue growing each time. I’ll show you how to pick them properly.” Aquarius demonstrated on how to pick the fiddleheads; she carefully snapped one stem from two inches from the curved top and put the fiddleheads in the plastic bag for later. “Are you ready to try?” Aquarius asked with a smile. Pennywise crouched down and followed her instructions carefully. It took some crouching and lifting the legs, but they managed to get the amount of fiddleheads they needed.

The next thing on the menu are Wild Carrots, which are very hard to find the edible ones and not mistake them with other plants. “Wild Carrots in the woods are known as Queen Anne, but they look a lot like the other plants that are not safe to eat, such as Hemlock... So to make it safer for the both of us, we’ll do it together.” Aquarius explained.

She then picked one of the plants that are wild carrots; she showed Pennywise and explained to him what the flowers should look like and how he can tell Queen And Hemlock apart. “Why not just check their anatomy charts?” Pennywise joked. Aquarius laughed at Pennywise’s dirty joke that she gave him a gentle punch. 

Pennywise finds this survival lessons quite fascinating, yet nervous at the same time. He wondered if Star have ever fell into the wrong plants and nearly cause her life. “An old friend of mine was a hermit; she taught me everything I need to know about surviving in the woods. She taught me how to pick wild carrots and know which are safe. Thank heavens I have met her, or I would have starved to death.” Aquarius explained while she observed the plant carefully. Pennywise has so many questions to ask Aquarius, but since Aquarius has to concentrate on picking the right plants, he has to wait until later.

There are so many kinds of nature’s food that he didn’t know were edible; they’ve gathered bulrush roots and chestnuts. It was exhausting, ‘how does Aquarius do it all her life?’, “I don’t know how you could possibly gather everything for a meal everyday.” Pennywise observes. “Not everyday, just every other day when I needed to gather more food. If not, I try to make money by preforming for people by singing, so I can go by groceries.” Aquarius explained. Pennywise couldn’t help by smile fondly, he felt like that she’s been working too hard for him; both here and at home. Pennywise helped her up as she was feeling stiff. “Let me carry the bag of food for you and we can both rest.” Pennywise offered and suggested. “I guess we can have a rest before we go fishing.” Aquarius agreed. Pennywise raised his eyebrow, they didn’t pack any fishing gear, how can they catch fish without them?

***

While Aquarius gets herself ready in the wagon, Pennywise was just chilling sitting next to Laverne. “So you’ve been Aquarius’s pet for a long time, haven’t you? always keep each other company.” Pennywise said as he gently pets Laverne. Laverne wasn’t always connected to anybody but Aquarius, but she has sensed that something about Pennywise made him somehow... not so human. “Laverne seems to really be a fond of you...” Pennywise looked back seeing Aquarius in her Midnight-Blue Bikini. “...Laverne wasn’t always a people cat since I’ve seen her with other humans...” Aquarius added. Pennywise didn’t exactly pay attention to what she’s saying for the obvious reason. “Penny? My face is up here clown!” Aquarius smirked. Pennywise shook his head quickly to get a hold of himself. “Uh right... sorry love... It’s just that... I’ve never seen you in a bikini before... Forgive me for being observant, but you really lost a lot of that baby weight; you look like a teenager before pregnancy.” Pennywise said in shock. Aquarius knew that Pennywise was only trying to make a compliment, so she decided to accept it. If he said that to anybody else, he’d get b***h-slapped.

Aquarius was on her way to the waterfall to go fishing, with Pennywise coming along to watch... only... he wasn’t watching her fishing... but something that really catches his eyes. “Pennywise, quit starring at my tattoo! (located on her lower back)” Aquarius snapped before she got into the water. Pennywise only smirked while leaning against the tree watching Aquarius fish. 

It’s hard for Aquarius to fish with Pennywise lusting, so she decided to make a plan, but she had to wait until she caught a fish. When Aquarius saw the fish, she grew her vicious wildcat paw with claws and waited for it to get to the spot. Then she swiped the fish and let it fly towards Pennywise, “HEADS UP” Aquarius called out. Pennywise looked and didn’t notice the fish flying at him and hit his face; he tried to catch it, but then it somehow fell into his pants. “That’s for starring at my non-face flesh!” Aquarius laughed. But her laughing ended when she saw him tumbled into the thorn bushes. “OW” Pennywise yelled out. Aquarius rushed out of the water and helped Pennywise out of the thorn bush. “Penny I’m so sorry, I did not attend to make you fall into the thorn bush.” Aquarius said as she removed his outfit that is covered in thorns. “You go back to the wagon and I’ll wash your clothes... And the fish.” Aquarius offered with a smirk after pulling out the fish.

***

While Pennywise’s clothes are being dried up by the fire, Aquarius was removing the thorns from his butt and put on some ointment to relieve the sting. “There, that’s the last of it... Feeling any better?” Aquarius asked while rubbing it to sooth his pain. “Well... it hurts a little still, but maybe I’ll feel a lot better once you kiss it better...” Pennywise chuckled. “Get off!” Aquarius snorted before she shoved him off her lap. They both have a good laugh for awhile, until they heard the cauldron bobbing as the water is boiling. “Sounds to me that our dinner is ready, I’ll get our bowls, be right back love.” Aquarius said as she went into the wagon to fetch the bowls and soup spoons. 

After Aquarius grabbed the bowls, she went over to the cauldron and carefully scooped up the ‘natures gumbo’ into their bowls, including Laverne. Before she serves the bowl to Laverne she pours some cool water so she wouldn’t burn her tongue. “I hope it’s okay... It may not be children’s flesh... but--” Pennywise raised his hand to quiet her as he was drinking and eating out of the bowl. “No need to make excuses... I think it’s fantastic... Because you made it for me... Anything you make really makes me feel full... from my heart, my stomach and my--” Aquarius covered his mouth as he was about to blurt out the last sentence. “Don’t make me lose my appetite love.” Aquarius smirked as she was eating her dinner.

***

After dinner and cleaning up, Aquarius answered all of Pennywise’s questions about her life before and after she became a demon clown. The story was long and the skies are getting darker, however, Aquarius is worth listening to. He does feel grief for her to what she has been through; like her lack of rents at her cousin’s place, her first kills, and learning how to survive in the woods alone. “...If it wasn’t for my dear hermit friend, I would never have survived from starvation or/and food poisoning... I missed her, but she lived a long good life.” Aquarius ended. 

Pennywise was fascinated by her story, he’s glad that he got to know more about Aquarius’s life. He knew that he can trust her when his life depends on it. “It is getting rather late, I think I’ll go hit the sacks, if you don’t mind.” Pennywise said. “That’s fine, I’ll just hang the grub further into the woods; we don’t want any animals like bears to come to our nesting grounds to steal our food.” Aquarius replied while she goes out to hang the food.

***

While Aquarius was out, Pennywise called home to see if his son is alright. But there is no answer, either that both Papawise and Archie are asleep or that they went out late; Pennywise hoped that everything was alright. A few minutes later, Aquarius came back feeling exhausted, so she stripped out of her jumpsuit and put on her nightgown; to prevent Pennywise watching her nude, she removed her bra under her nightgown. “You’re acting like we’re not a married couple, yet you still feel self-cautious.” Pennywise smirked. “I just didn’t want to turn you on since I’m very sore and tired from all the forest work...” Aquarius said as she climbs into bed with Pennywise. “Of course... we’re on vacation soo...” Pennywise made a devilish grin and right away got on top of her.

After a hot throes of activity, they fell right to sleep. That is until after a few hours, Pennywise and Aquarius were awakened by Laverne’s cries. “Something’s wrong with Laverne Penny, I’m going to check out to see what’s going on.” Aquarius said as she put on her robe and grabbed an oil lamp. When Aquarius looked under the wagon, she nearly dropped her oil lamp by something quite shocking. It turns out that Laverne wasn’t fat because she ate a lot...

Laverne just gave birth to kittens. “Aquarius... Anything okay?” Pennywise asked. “Honey, come here... You’ve got to see this.” Aquarius said in a smile. Pennywise rushed out and noticed Laverne with her little fur-balls. “She was pregnant the whole time?” Pennywise asked with a smile. Then he spoke to Laverne. “So you’ve been busy lately, haven’t you?” Pennywise asked the cat while petting her head. Then he turned towards Aquarius, “Star, we can’t leave these kittens out there, it’s too cold and some wild animals might come and eat them.” Pennywise explained. Aquarius was worried. “I don’t know how; the mother cat might get angry and possibly eat one of her own children if our scent affects the kittens to their mother’s liking.” Aquarius replied. “I know how to communicate with animals; you get the cat basket and clean gloves, I’ll take care of Laverne and her kittens.” Pennywise instructed.

After Aquarius came out with the basket and gloves, Pennywise got Laverne to understand what it was that they needed to do for her and her babies. “Okay... Lets get the kittens into their basket.” Pennywise puts on his gloves and took one of the kittens out from under the wagon, they were meowing so cutely. “Hi little guy...” Aquarius said in a low tone to one of the kittens that she picked up. Pennywise picked up the last kitten which is a ginger kitten, the only one that turned out different from its siblings. “You look like a Brutney if I own you...” Pennywise said to the little ginger kitten. “Lets get them inside the wagon.” Pennywise said to Aquarius.

Thankfully, Laverne still loved her kittens and did not want to eat one of them. Then they all went to sleep. “Penny... I’m so glad you’re here with me, if I’ve never known you, I would not know what to do with Laverne and her kittens.” Aquarius said as she kissed her husband passionately. “Well, you’re pretty smart when it comes to survival.” Pennywise replied. “What are we going to do with the kittens?” Pennywise asked. “I think Laverne can take good care of her kittens, and just come every Saturday to check on her and the kittens, until they’re eight weeks old, I’ll see if we can find them a home.” Aquarius thought. “Cassandra might be able to find some people that might like a kitten.” Aquarius added. “As much of a foolish human she is... that’s clearly the best plan... I’m glad you didn’t thought of taking them to the kitty kennel.” Pennywise responded with a yawn. “Never in my life... they deserve a loving home... Like me when you took me in.” Aquarius replied in a soft tone. Pennywise didn’t respond, he went right to sleep, so Aquarius decided to get some sleep too. 

For a vacation away from their son, they have to deal with four more babies that were born under the wagon... What more could they ever ask for? 

[annab-nana]

Are You Fucking Stupid - Colby Brock

The guys invited y/n to tag along with them as they went to Witches Forest, but after a scarring and emotion-filled event or two, she contemplates this trip being her last with the boys.

Warnings: some curse words

Word Count: 3.9k+

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

“Let’s go camping, guys!” I shout happily as I skip along the way towards the tent, even though I could barely see in the misty dark forest and I don’t really know where I am going.

“How is she so fucking happy and excited? Does she know what we are doing?” I hear Corey ask someone behind me. I stop skipping so that I don’t drop all the supplies in my arms and keep walking next to Colby.

“Corey, you got to remember this is her first trip with us. She doesn’t know what we do, but she will find out soon,” Colby says to Corey as he maintains his attention focused in front of us.

“I’m not an idiot, Brock. I did my research. I watched the last series. I still don’t know why you two decided to trust that Jennifer girl. She was giving me weird vibes in the Stanley videos. And, it might be scary, Corey, but I am really excited,” I tell them all. 

“Don’t question her, brother. She’s probably the least scared one of us all, except for maybe Sam because he isn’t scared of anything,” Jake comments, receiving chuckles from the whole group.

“Wait, where’s the tent?” Corey asks, worry and concern laced within his voice.

“No, you got to keep going, bro,” Sam informs him from the back of the group. Colby and I were leading the crew with Corey close behind, then Jake and Sam were at the tail end of the pack.

“You sure?” Corey questions him, but Colby reassures him that we are on the right track. We all get slightly worried until we see the beautiful blue thing before us.

“Oh God, what is that?” Sam asks as he points the camera off to the side of the tent. When my eyes follow the same direction, they see nothing except darkness and trees.

“What was what?” Colby inquires.

“Shut up, Sam,” Jake pushes it off as a joke.

“I don’t see anything,” I add.

“I-I thought I saw an animal or a figure or something,” the blonde informs the group before shrugging off the thought.

“Yo dude, I sw- I swear to God I saw the same thing like a shadow go that way, right?” Colby mentions as he points in the direction that he saw the shadow go with his head since his arms and hands are occupied with water and other things we will need tonight.

“Yeah, I thought- Are there-” Sam tries to start a few different sentences before a noise from the forest interrupts him. It came from the same direction of where the two said the figure was. “Are there animals?” He whispers.

“Did you hear that?” Colby asks him, to which he says yes.

“That could be an animal,” I say. I hope it was an animal. It sounded like one, but the way that their minds immediately think it was something other than that, makes me want to think it was something else too.

“Oh, we didn’t even think about that. There’s like bears and stuff out here,” Colby says as he realizes it might not be the worst thing he thought it could be and it might just be an animal. After that, we put the supplies into the tent and set everything up.

...

“This dude claims he’s a fucking eagle scout,” Jake tells the camera after Colby spilled lighter fluid all on the side of the pot and on the grass around it. He got more of it on the outside than the inside. The claimed boy scout ignites the wood with a lighter and the small flames begin to grow. As it grows a little more, we back our chairs away from it to keep a good distance from the growing campfire. After it settles down a tad, Sam whips the camera back out to continue filming.

“Jake, I got you a snack brother,” Colby says as he rummages through his bag and pulls out a blue bag. He passes it to Corey, who passes it to me, and I hand it to Jake after reading the bag. It is a freeze-dried ice cream sandwich. Jake takes a bite of it after opening the package and we watch as he deliberates what he’s tasting.

“I don’t taste anything,” Jake says as he passes me the ice cream sandwich to taste. Colby only got two, so we are going to have to share. I take a bite as does Corey with the other one.

“It feels like a Lucky Charms marshmallow but with no taste,” Corey figures out and I hum in agreement as my mouth is still full. We finish the ice cream sandwiches and joke around for a bit before Colby and Jake head to the car to get the sage and a few other things. They do not take long at all and are back in what feels like seconds.

“So while he’s doing the sage, this next step is gonna be…” Sam starts to explain what we will be doing tonight as Colby dips the top of the sage into the fire until it gives off a light smoke. He then pulls it away from the fire and goes over to Sam to begin to sage the group. He finishes waving the sage around Sam and moved to Corey who was holding the camera to film Sam’s explanation.

“So, I just hold my arms out?” I whisper to Colby when he moves onto me. Today was the first day I have ever been saged at all and I just copied what the guys did when we went to the witch’s house. Colby let out a small giggle before nodding his head.

“Yeah, just to make sure I get all of you,” He answers as he waves the sage around my arms, making sure to get the sage’s smoke all around me.

“You’re good,” He whispers to me before taking a few steps towards Jake who was snuggling his small stuffed Shrek. I try to focus my attention on Sam and what he is telling us we will be doing, but I can’t help but notice Jake stick Shrek out for him to be saged as well. I snicker as Colby sages Shrek and then does a small dance as he sages himself.

“I think we’re ready to go, guys,” Colby announces as he sets the sage to the side and returns to his chair.

“I say obviously the first one is Lucy, right?” Sam says before writing that name on a slip of paper.

“Wait, y’all think that Lucy and the cowboy and stuff is attached to us from the Stanley?” Corey asks as he points the camera to Sam and Colby.

“No, we’re just trying to take every single precaution we can,” Colby assures Corey but filming Sam again so he can explain more. He explains more in-depth what Colby just said and writes ‘The Cowboy’ on the next piece of paper.

“What else do we think is here? We need three. Is there anything else you think that could be possibly haunting us or that-” Sam starts as the rest of us think and Colby cuts him off with an idea.

“The shadow man?” Colby suggests as he looks over to Corey. I have known these guys for almost a year now and I don’t know much about the shadow man, but I know that is something that Corey does not like to talk about. My eyes go from Colby to Corey to see what he has to say. I’ve never heard him talk about and to be honest, I don’t really know what it is. The only bit I know is what I saw in their last series.

“Bro come on. Bro, why did you have to just bring that up?” Corey sighs, seeming slightly aggravated at what Colby mentioned.

“Because what other story have we ever told?” Colby explains to him. Even though it might freak him out, it might be best for Corey to do this cleansing fire ritual.

“Bro, in the woods? You have to bring that up out here?” Corey adds. He is visibly scared. From what I’ve seen, he gets scared the easiest, but whatever this shadow man thing is really freaks him out.

“Let’s say we saw a shadow person. If we turn off every single light, there can’t be a shadow.” Jake mentions, lightening the mood a bit.

“I’ve been talking about the shadow man a lot lately and I’ve been like-” Corey starts, but Jake finishes it for him.

“Manifesting it.” The whole group agrees.

“No, dude, that’s probably it!” Sam loudly speaks as the realization of it hits him.

“Wait, you’re blurry,” Corey mutters, trying to focus the camera on Sam. Before anyone can say anything about that, I hear a low grumbling noise come from behind me. I turn around to see if anything is there, but there isn’t. “Did you hear that?”

“The rumbling?” Jake questions, meaning he heard it too. I nod to let him know I heard the noise as well. We disregard it as an animal and get back to the fire ritual that Sam has been talking about the whole time.

“We’re gonna wrap these ghosts around our personal objects and then toss them into the fire,” Sam continues with the rundown of it all, but Corey has some problems with the camera. We stop filming for a minute to check it but get right back into what we were doing.

“You guys know what I’m burning?” Corey asks as he reaches into his pocket. He has a smile plastered on his face which makes us even more curious of what he has to burn. He pulls out one of the iconic black stickers with the big white X on it and shows it to the camera. I cannot help but to bust out laughing.

“Our XPLR sticker?” Sam wonders and Corey nods at him. “Why?”

“Because ever since I stopped playing with the Ouija board, the only thing that has made my life fucking haunted is you guys. If it wasn’t for y’all, I wouldn’t have brought back all this Ouija board crap, so I think it’s best that you know,” Corey explains as he gestures the sticker towards the fire.

“Look what I’m burning,” Sam begins, looking down in his wallet before pulling out a white card. “I’m burning the key to the Millennium Biltmore Hotel.” Gasps fall from the rest of the groups’ lips, shocked that he still had that key. “Because that’s what started it all.”

“Well Samuel, you aren’t the only one who brought a hotel key. I did, too. This is a hotel key to room 311 of Hotel Millersburg in Ohio. My older sister and I stayed there one night and it was honestly the scariest night of my life,” I say as I pull the key card out of pocket and show it to the boys. Colby shows us that he chose to burn a large cardboard cutout of his face and Jake is going to burn a Shrek VHS tape. Sam passes Corey and Colby two of the three pieces of paper that have ghosts written on them and we begin the fire ritual.

“I’ve never done this one before so let’s just for it. Ready? Three. Two. One,” Sam tells us before we all throw our items into the fire. I watch as the flames take over the hotel key card and begin to melt it. The fire dances over all our things and burns them. “That should really help us out.” Sam tries to explain before Jake let out an ungodly noise from his bottom half.

“Brother,” Colby says as we all laugh at the guy who just ripped one. The laughter dies down and we all stare at the fire. “So, this is a good thing? It feels good.”

“Shrek’s not burning. That means we should take it out,” Jake notices and I look down. It is letting off smoke, but it is not burning. As soon as Corey starts to comment on it, Colby gasps and flips out of his chair. He falls to the ground before struggling to get back up.

“Sam!” He shouts when he is finally to his feet.

“What?” The worry is Sam’s voice is evident.

“There’s a- Look, look, there was a shadow over there,” Colby states frantically as he points into the dark foggy forest behind Jake and I. We all look in that direction but do not see a thing.

“No, there fucking wasn’t. No, there wasn’t, bro,” Corey denies as he stands up and backs away from where we were.

“No, it just went across in the background behind Jake and y/n. I swear to God,” Colby spits out as he walks closer to where he said he saw it. Sam has not said anything, Corey is trying to leave, and Jake is making sure everyone is okay. I don’t really know what to say. I believe that Colby saw something, but I didn’t see anything myself. “Did you see?”

“No, I feel like you’re fucking with me,” Sam finally speaks, and it isn’t what Colby wants to hear. I know it. Colby hates when people think he is lying because he hates when people lie to him.

“No, why would I fuck with you? There’s no reason for me to do that. Dude, it literally ran across. This is our time to go capture it. Come on,” Colby encourages as Sam, Jake, and I stand up from our chairs.

“No, no, no, no, fuck no,” Corey starts, but Sam and Jake are grabbing their bags and flashlights, ready to investigate. I do the same because I figured we were all going. “Guys, guys, I don’t want to go.”

“We need someone to stay and watch the fire anyway so just-” Colby tells Corey quickly as he is eager to go see what he saw earlier.

“I’m not staying here by myself,” Corey protests.

“Dude, we literally think that someone is spying on us. You literally just said someone has to be fucking with us on the phone,” Sam tries to convince Corey, but Colby is getting impatient.

“Let’s go! You stay here if you’re scared. We gotta go,” Colby tells him as he grabs a lantern.

“Bro, what the fuck. Someone take the camera. I don’t wanna be here by myself, bro,” Corey frets as he shakily passes the camera to Sam.

“You three go. I’ll stay here with Corey,” I say as I hand Jake my flashlight and set my bag down on the ground.

“Are you sure?” Sam asks me quickly before Colby almost goes insane.

“Yeah, I’m sure. Just make sure you don’t lose him,” I say as I nod towards Colby who has almost left the group entirely. Sam gives me a nod before running after Colby alongside Jake.

“Thanks, y/n,” Corey sighed as he plopped down into his chair.

“No problem, brother. I know you were scared, and I am too, so I don’t mind. I just hope they don’t lose Colby. Did you see how far away he was?” I ask him and he nods before a silence settles between us as we stare into the flames.

“So, what happened that night in the hotel in Ohio?” Corey wonders as he looks up from the fire to meet my eyes. I take in a deep breath before answering.

“I don’t want to go into the details while we are in the middle of the forest because I’ll just scare myself, but to make a long story short, lights flickered, and beds shook. I heard noises and had terrible nightmares. My sister had a scratch on her side that was not there before she went to sleep. It just wasn’t a fun night,” I tell him as his mouth hangs wide open.

“Can I ask why you kept the key?” He asks and I nod before replying.

“Yeah, I used to keep it to have something from that night, but then I kept it as a memory of something my sister and I did together.”

“What happened to her?” He further inquires.

“She died in a car accident two years ago,” I whisper.

“Oh,” He mutters.

“Yeah, but now, I have this to remember her by,” I say as I show him the ring I wear that adorns my finger with a small sunshine on it.

“It’s pretty,” He compliments, and I smile at him.

“Thanks. It makes me happy when I look down at it, so I wear it every day like she did,” I tell him, and he nods.

“COREY! COLBY! Y/N!” we hear Sam yelling in the distance.

“What the fuck?” Corey whispers before standing. I turn around and see Sam and Jake running towards us, but there is no Colby. My heart drops as I get up and worry and fear take over me.

“Did you hear that scream?” Sam pants as he attempts to catch his breath.

“The only screaming I heard was you,” I tell Sam.

“Where’s Colby?” Corey questions the boys.

“Wait, where’s Colby?” Sam asks and looks around him for his counterpart. My eyes widen when I realize that he lost him.

“Wait, Colby’s not with you?” Corey asks, wide-eyed as well.

“I thought he came back here,” Sam states and I feel like my world is spinning.

“Are you joking?” Corey wonders.

“If this is a joke, it’s not fucking funny. Where is Colby?” I scoff. I don’t know why, but anger fills me. How did they manage to lose him? He had a light so they could see him and from what I have been told, Sam was pretty fast in high school, so he should have easily caught up to Colby.

“He ran off,” Jake says so nonchalantly.

“He said he wanted to go the other way, so we went towards this baby thing,” Sam freaks.

“Wait, so you left Colby?” Corey questions in disbelief.

“We tried, but he ran off by himself,” Jake pretests.

“What do you mean he ran off by himself? Why?” Corey asks, trying to make sense of what is happening as my anger rises.

“He saw a shadow figure and we saw something another way,” Sam tries to justify himself.

“Are you fucking stupid? Do you realize you left your best friend in the pitch-black woods by himself for some baby thing? All that I am hearing is that you think that baby thing is more important than Colby, your ‘everything I have’. I asked you to do one thing while I stayed with Corey and that was to not lose Colby and look at what you did. You left him. I-I can’t deal with this right now.” I storm away from the guys to look for Colby.

“Where are you going?” I hear Jake ask from behind me.

“To look for Colby,” I say bluntly as I pull out my phone to use the flashlight.

“Wait, let me come with you,” Sam offers, but I snap at him once more.

“I think you have done enough. If you can leave Corey and Colby by themselves, then leave me alone too.” I turn around and continue on the path that they took earlier. I hear footsteps come from behind me before they catch up to me.

“Hey, are you okay?” I hear Jake ask me. I look at him before shaking my head.

“No, I’m not. Colby is fucking missing and I-” I stop myself from saying any more, but Jake is too curious to let it slide.

“You what?” He asks sincerely. I let out a sigh before continuing.

“I’ve never told anyone this, but I love him, Jake. And I’ve never got to tell him before and now he is lost in this pitch-black darkness,” I say as I shine my flashlight all around me. Thankfully, Jake brought the lantern with him so we can really see.

“I’m sure we will find him y/n. Don’t worry,” Jake whispers before pulling me into him to comfort my worried self. We continue to shout his name in hopes he will hear us, but it feels like no use.

“Are you sure we will find him?” I ask Jake as we continue on the path.

“Yeah, if we stay on the path, we should find him.” We walk a little farther before I ask him something else because my mind is going everywhere.

“Do you think he even likes me back or am I wasting my time on him if I tell him?”

“We’ve always thought you two would end up together. It’s just a matter of when.” I nod and we walk a while more before hearing something.

“Did you hear that?” I whisper to Jake and he nods at me. It sounded like some stepped on a twig, but it wasn’t us that did it.

“Y/n?” I hear Colby’s voice ask before I see him. I run over to him and wrap my arms around his waist.

“I thought we had lost you,” I say, and his arms wrap around me too.

“Nope, I am right here. Where’d you guys go?” He asks Jake as we let go of each other and began to walk back to the camp.

“We tried to get you to stop, but you kept going,” Jake tells him.

“Yeah, we are going to have a bit of a talk when we get back to the camp,” I say as I lead the boys back. Once we are back and everyone is settled, I begin to talk.

“Okay, now that we have all cooled down and Colby is found, I want to say sorry to Sam because I was sort of rude to you earlier. I know being scared does not justify it, but I was terrified. Colby, I understand that you were scared and really wanted to get the shadow person you saw, but you can’t abandon everyone and Sam, I know you saw that baby thing and wanted to capture that as well, but friends come first. We are all in what feels like a horror movie and we need to act smarter and think before we do. Okay?” They all nod before we talk about what we each experienced when we split.

...

“Colby?” I whisper to the guy next to me, hoping he isn’t asleep. The others definitely are sleeping, but I can’t sleep, and Colby has been tossing and turning the whole time.

“Yeah,” He groggily answers before turning around in his sleeping bag to face me.

“I need to tell you something because if anything like what happened tonight happens again, I’ll hate myself for never telling you and honestly, I don’t care if this messes up our friendship. I have to say it.”

“Whatever it is, you can tell me, y/n.”

“I like you, Colby. I always have and I haven’t known how to tell and when you went missing, I thought I’d never get to so-” My sentence gets cuts off by a pair of lips pressing against my own. I am taken by surprise but soon melt into the kiss before we pull away.

“I like you too, y/n,” He says breathlessly. A smile spreads on my reddened lips as one does on his too.

“I thought Sam said no kissing in the tent,” I hear Jake pout. I blush in embarrassment and I lean into Colby to hide.

“I did say that, but for those two, I’ll allow it,” Sam speaks. I thought they were asleep, but they heard it all.

“Can I join?” Corey jokes. I shake my head before realizing that I am going to be picked on about this for the whole two-hour car ride home.

[poptod]

hi! can i request an ahk x reader fic where reader was an air force pilot for some time and they and ahk exchange war stories? not to glorify war or anything but i’m interested to see how that would play out. thanks!

notes: hey! sorry that this might be a  bit late, i was spending the day with my friend and had to write the bulk of it before 11.30 and i woke up at 9. sorry I kind of strayed from the prompt, but i hope you like it anyway

WC: 1.5k

+

He hadn't ever considered himself a survivor of a war. Fighting and death came so natural to him, and to many of the people from his time – simply put, it was as unavoidable as death, and would live for just as long. That being said, your logic did make sense; he was still a participant in a war, no matter how small it was.

"Did you stay to fight?" You asked in your soft, low voice. Every now and then he wondered if that's what you sounded like when you were alive.

"I was fifteen at the time, so no," he said with a chuckle, earning naught but a bittersweet smile. "In later years I did, though. My brother and I had rule over our own separate battalions. When it came time for us to make our move against the Nubians, I couldn't do it. I tried to hurt someone, but it's hard when you see their face, and you think of their mothers."

"War has changed a lot since then," you hummed, nodding thoughtlessly along to his story. "I didn't see a single person's face."

"How?"

"Remember Amelia?"

"Oh, yes," he said, recalling her flying contraption.

"You drop bombs from there that explode with fire, and depending on the size, a single bomb could kill thousands," you said as your voice once more turned soft, memories playing out behind your eyes.

It was true that Ahk had trouble picturing modern warfare. The methods that lasted eons were still imprinted in his mind, and as hard as he tried to imagine it, he still had difficulty. Planes that crowded the sky. Tanks that rolled over hills and mountains. Deep trenches and gunpowder. Chemicals and bombs. You thought to show him a movie – something more modern, not from your time, where the special effects would be better and the picture clearer. The first time you suggested it he turned you down, but perhaps he'd changed his mind.

"I could show you one of those movies," you said, watching his expression carefully for any sign of distaste. He showed nothing – blank eyes staring at the floor as he pondered on the state of the world, and the state of you.

"I'd rather spend my time talking to you, honestly," he finally said, a deep sigh following his words, "but does it ever bother you? How many people you may have.. hurt..?"

"I try not to think about it," you mumbled as you stared down at your fidgeting fingers.

"I don't blame you."

You never talked much. Not about yourself, or others, or the time period you came from. While you weren't a reanimated corpse like Ahk, you retained all the memories from a life you lived a couple decades ago. In life your name was (Y/N), but in the museums, most people referred to you as Screwdriver.

Your presence in the museum of natural history was not one that was actually supposed to happen. Actually, you belonged in the aviators museum, where planes hung on hooks, and wax statues and cardboard cutouts waved empty hellos to museum-goers. Due to some error not on your behalf, you were kept in the archives far below the earth's surface. Ahk had found you there one day, looking for silence amongst the many boxes, and not realizing that carrying the tablet with him everywhere was causing everything to come to life, and thus eliminating his hopes of quiet solitude. You were the most human there, so he sat down and talked to you.

For the first couple weeks no one knew you existed, but Ahk soon introduced you to the others. Despite your reluctance you agreed, offering firm handshakes and curt introductions to those gathered, and giving nothing more than your name. He didn't really expect you to talk to many others, and you didn't – your relations with other living people remained quarantined to him, to his word, and to his stories.

The two of you talked every night but for some reason, he knew very little about you. Just that you flew a plane – that thoughts of your sins were avoided, and that you were protective of free ideas and people. What a wonderful friend you were; always listening well, always there for him. Still, he did wish you would open up a little more, but he didn't hold his breath for it. You were still quite solitary, and he doubted he'd ever learn what exactly you did during the Vietnam war.

On a late winter evening he tucked his tablet underneath his arm, unlatching the door to the basement and wandering down the steps as music pounded from above. As he moved slowly along, boxes of exhibits and statues began to come to life, a few of them beating fists against the wood keeping them in place. He paid them little mind, if any at all, and continued his search for you, in the farthest corner of the first basement floor.

Rarely did he ever come here. Most of the time he took a few steps away from the staircase and you were already there, waiting for him. This time, however, you might've gotten stuck in your box, or perhaps were facing some annoying exhibit whose nature wouldn't let you pass. Nonetheless, he made it his short mission to help you.

Once he reached the box with your name painted onto the side, he halted, the sight of a posterboard catching his eye. According to you, you were the only part of your exhibit – that's what you told him, but the image of your face was on the poster, accompanied by several paragraphs of information. He looked to your little coffin, wondering if he could afford to leave you in there long enough to read it.

Nick had been teaching Ahk how to read English for a little while now, and it came time to put those lessons to the test. Finally, he could learn about you.

(L/N) was a decorated war hero who went into hiding soon after their tour duty ended. They never told anyone why, but it is generally assumed that it had something to do with the greatest feat of power they exercised: leading the Rolling Thunder operation. It is also possible that the adverse reaction of the public towards the Vietnam War drove (L/N) into hiding, like many soldiers from the time.

The tactics and morality of the operation has been critiqued harshly, but there's no denying the effect it had on both the war and the people of Vietnam and America alike. The CIA privately estimated that damage inflicted in the north totaled $500 million in total damage. They also estimated that by April 1967, 52,000 casualties including 21,000 deaths had occurred as a result of the operation. The CIA estimated that 75 percent of casualties were involved in military or quasi military operations including civilians working on military and logistical operations.

There is only one existing interview with (L/N), occurring several months before they went into hiding.

"You don't see very much, from up there," they recounted. "All you see is the damage of property. You don't see the kids. You don't see the blood. You don't see the abandoned cribs and you can't see the shattered windows. I think that's the part that really gets me – I'm not proud of what I did. I don't think I ever will be, which is how it should be. What we did was an crime against human nature and I wish it never happened at all. If I had to do it again I'd desert."

"Ahk? Are you out there?" You asked, knocking on the wood door.

The noise brought him out of his imagination, picturing you in a cushioned chair, talking to some journalist. He left the posterboard and undid the latch, helping you out of the wooden case.

"(Y/N)," he said softly, his hand still holding yours. You looked him up and down, a confused and suspicious look in your eye. "I... I read about the, um, Rolling Thunder operation."

Your eyes widened and you stopped breathing.

"... oh."

"It doesn't make me think any less of you," he murmured, cupping your cheek to hold reluctant eye contact with you. His touch was a welcome one, warm and soft, like everything you loved about the Pharaoh.

"I wish I was more like you," you said in a broken, cracking voice, trying to swallow down the lump in your throat. "You at least had the morality to stop before it started. I didn't even stop in the middle of it."

"That's because I could afford to. I didn't face any consequences, but you would've, and I know you regret what you did," he assured you, brushing away the couple tears that made their way down your flushed cheek.

"I can't use 'following orders' as an excuse. Atrocities against humanity have been excused with that."

"You can't carry guilt with you forever," he said softly.

"I can deal with it, on my own time," you mumbled, leaning into the warmth of his hand. "Just... don't tell anyone. I'll do it when I'm ready."

"Of course."

[artnerd1123]

Chapter One

All Moving Pictures End

——————————————

Chapter one is always quiet. Until the end, that is. Henry knows this better than most. That doesn’t necessarily make it any easier. 

DTRH!AU masterpost AU askblog

——————————————

This is my first fic for BATIM, and my first fic i’m posting anywhere! I’m a lil nervous, but mostly excited! Hope y’all enjoy!!!

                                                   ————

Chapter one was always quick. Sure, he could drag his feet if he wanted. The breathing room did him good some days. But there was only so much to do. Only so much to explore. The only other “person” up here was a wolf’s corpse. Not exactly the most welcoming environment. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t seen it all a hundred times, anyways. He could do the whole thing blindfolded if he wanted. Not that it mattered. Everything in this place ground to a halt eventually. Every movie has its credits. Every book has its final page. And every chapter has its ending twist. It was as inevitable as his next loop around this godforsaken studio. Might as well get it over with.

                                                  ————

Henry Ross strolled slowly down the halls, gaze flicking around him. He knew it was safe. Old habits die hard, though, and so would he if he didn’t keep an eye out. And he was pretty sure there’d be a cutout jumping out somewhere soon. He eyed the end of the hall suspiciously. “Last thing I need is to get startled into fight or flight early,” he mumbled to himself. One more step. Nothing yet. Another. Still nothing. Huh, he thought, brows furrowed. Maybe it was down the other hall? His mind was drawing a blank. Always an encouraging sign. Or not. The toon shrugged. Whatever. He had a valve to turn. He took one last step, and the sharp trill of a violin sent a violent chill up his spine. His hand flew to his chest as his body shivered comically. A hollow grin peeked out at him from around the corner, ducking back around before he could do anything more than gasp. “Oh- oh c’mon, that wasn’t even fair,” Henry complained. “Cutouts don’t even do anything. Sheesh.” He rubbed his temples as he caught his breath. It’s still chapter one. The scriptwriter just wanted to throw him off his rhythm. As per usual. Once he quit his toonish shivering, he resumed his stroll down the hall. The cardboard cutout earned itself a slightly stern look as he rounded the corner. “You best behave yourself,” he told it simply. At least he still remembered the projector room’s tricks. Henry strode right in. He didn’t even blink as the projector suddenly sputtered to life. Its light spilled onto the wall, ready for an audience long gone. The animation was simple. Just a cheery demon doing a jaunty dance. Unseen speakers crackled along with it, an old recording whistling over the sound of film spinning. Henry couldn’t help but smile. There he was. The little devil darling. “Right on cue, bud.” The demon kept right on dancing as Henry ducked under the projector. Sure, he could’ve walked through the light. But it’d been a long while since he’d seen bendy dance. He wasn’t about to stop that, even if it was just a fleeting ghost of the past. Henry whistled softly along with the recording, straightening back up on the other side. The valve was right where it should be, next to where he’d grabbed the plushie earlier. Not for the first- or last- time, he wondered why he couldn’t have turned it earlier. Why Joey has me running all over kingdom come is beyond me, he thought. Gripping the sides of the valve wheel, Henry gave it a strong yank to one side. It loudly protested the movement, the grating groan of old metal ringing out. He grimaced at the sound. “C’mon, you can’t be stuck now,” he huffed. Though the racket made his ears want to bleed, Henry pulled harder. The groan resounded again, rusty joints straining as much as the toon, before they finally gave up. He let out a satisfied grunt as it spun a few slow turns. “There she goes.” The valve ground to a stop after a moment or two, clanging as the pipes above it started to rumble and creak. They might have been old, but they held the pressure of rushing ink well enough. Henry gave it a nod of satisfaction. Good. Ducking back under the projection, he gave it a thumbs up. “Step one done, bud,” he told it. “I’ll see you in a b-” What more he had to say was cut off by a very loud pop. A mini monsoon of ink burst out of a pipe directly overhead, gushing onto the toon below it. Henry gasped and sputtered like an angry cat as he scrambled out from the ink. He tripped over the step on his way out, flopping onto the floor with a wet splat. He was utterly drenched. Soaked gloves slapping against the floorboards, the poor toon tried to prop himself up. “Augh- that stuff’s spoiled- uck-” he choked, hacking up some ink. It burned on the way out. As if it was trying to stick to him. The sensation made his muscles tense as he struggled to get his feet under him. No. Not now. Not ever. His breaths wheezed as he swiped ink off of his arms, shaking out his legs and hair. Ink flew everywhere in a haphazard fashion- as if a dog was shaking itself off instead of a man. It was all gone in moments. He was clean again. Never had Henry been more grateful to have a trope at his disposal. “Eugh… talk about a bad time to be short a shower…” Henry said shakily. Looking over his shoulder, he could still make out little bits of light through the spurting ink. The cheerful whistling still reached his ears over the little waterfall roar. The sound eased some tension from him. Even under all the ink, Bendy was still there. Let’s hope that stays true, he thought grimly. Henry’s footsteps quickened as he traversed the halls again. The noise of the machine grumbled along behind the walls. Just one switch to flip, then he could really get this nightmare started. And he was gonna do his damn best to make this loop count for something.

The relic room was the same as he left it. Well, almost the same. Everything sat silently on its pillar. Dust still sprinkled over the floorboards. The screen next to the lever, however, flashed with a single word- READY- in big, bright letters. The rumbling of the pipes confirmed as much. Henry stared grimly at the screen from the doorway. Sure, the machine was ready. And him? “... ready as I’ll ever be,” he said softly. Time to start the show. He crossed the room without another thought, setting a hand on the lever. Despite the state of the studio around it, the metal was warm to the touch. As if someone- or something- had put it to recent use. He didn’t care to think on it further. Henry tugged it down with a grunt. The screen darkened for a moment before the letters changed. “RUNNING,” they declared. At once, the machinery along the wall sputtered to life. Slow at first, but getting faster as ink oiled the worn gears. Henry felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up when the lights suddenly dimmed. The only light left in the room was a bright circle- illuminating the machine’s life-giving power source. And, of course, the toon standing before it. He turned to the door as the clanking, rumbling, and groaning of old mechanics and ink ticked up louder. Step two was over. Now, he had a meeting to keep. The halls- once lit brightly- were now as dark as a tomb. More fitting, he mused, than the false mirth the old lights had given off. All that was left now were candles and emergency lamps. He passed by them quickly, trying to ignore the way they flickered and dimmed. Just one foot in front of the other. Another turn to the right, and a sign greeted him. It proclaimed itself as the “ink output schedule.” As he neared it, a couple other signs came into view. “EXIT,” one said. “DANGER, KEEP OUT,” cautioned another. He slowed to a stop before them. The ink machine was close. One more turn. “... this thing’s gonna need some serious updating,” Henry muttered, giving the output sign a tap. “As for the rest of these…” He snorted, shaking his head. If I could actually follow them, I’d be set, now wouldn’t I? But no, he’d ignore them. Again. He peeked around the corner instead. The way to the machine was boarded up already. How the boards got there, he wasn’t sure. But he supposed a little protection from what was in there didn’t hurt. The fact that he needed it, though, did. Could the demon see him? Did he know he was here? Was he already out of the machine, lurking just out of sight? Was he just a whisper of script? Words yet to be written? Or rather, words yet to come to fruition? He didn’t know how to answer any of those questions. Answers or not, the toon still knew what he had to do. He took a deep breath. Let it out slowly. Fists clenched at his sides, he stepped over the pipe before him. The floorboards creaked lightly as he closed the gap between himself and the boarded up doorway. He raised a hand, forcing his fingers to flatten out. Though the determined look on his face couldn’t hide how he shook. Behind the boards, the room was quiet and calm. Deceptive as the rest of the studio. Just touch the boards, Ross, he thought to himself. Get it over with. You’ve done harder. It’s not like you can go back now. His hand wavered. Moved forward, pausing again. Trembled. And quickly, before a moment more passed, he pushed his hand against the old wood. The studio around him instantly burst into inky chaos, a devilish grin erupting before him. Clawed gloves swiped out from the gap between the boards, a loud shriek accompanying their deadly strike. Demonic talons dug themselves into Henry’s chest before he could so much as flinch. The movement knocked him off his feet, the toon crashing backwards into the floor. He let out a strangled wheeze, stars bursting across his vision. All the wind had gotten knocked out of him. He couldn’t get in any air- he couldn’t breathe- oh g- fuck- c-c’mon- By the time he managed to suck down a breath, the demon was long gone. The remnants of its appearance, however, were still very much in effect. Henry’s chest heaved as he lurched to his feet, clutching his torn shirt. Morphing stains laced over the walls as ink poured from the ceiling. There was so much- too much- that it was flooding the halls. Move move mOVE MOVE, his mind screamed, nothing more than wheezing coming from his mouth. The ink was already lapping at his feet while he struggled to get over the blasted pipe in the hall. Dark liquid clung to his legs, splashing up against the walls the more he struggled through it. He just did what he could to keep moving. Each new crash of ink rupturing old planks made him flinch. But he didn’t need the herding of inky waterfalls to get to his destination. The toon pressed on towards the door he knew was waiting for him. Henry caught a glimpse of a scrawled message on the wall- DREAMS COME TRUE- before another cascade of obsidian sludge obscured it. The irony wasn’t lost on him at all. The only dreams that come true here are fucking nightmares. He let out a strangled chuckle, grabbing onto the corner to pull himself through the rising ink. It was up to his waist now. A slow burning sensation on his legs spurred him on, the toon now throwing himself around the next corner. His hands scrabbled desperately against a chest of drawers against the wall, breaths hitching in his throat. He could see the main room to his left. The exit would be right around the corner- right there! He was close! Just a little farther, Ross! Chest leaking ink, ceiling overflowing with sludge, and spoiled liquid eating at his form, Henry splashed his way around the last corner. The sliver of light shone enticingly in the darkness. Once again, he couldn’t help but wish he could reach it. So he tried. Lurching forward, Henry all but jumped towards the light- -only for his foot to pass through nothingness. His outstretched hand was illuminated for only a moment before the rest of him pitched downwards. He let out a cry- both of fear and of rage- as he tumbled, once more, into the depths of the studio.

                                                  ————

A loud splash and a stream of curses announced Henry’s arrival at the bottom of the pit. He sat up with a groan. Ink still leaked down from above, pattering against his dark stained clothes. He swatted at it halfheartedly. Frankly, he’d already had enough of it. His free hand reached to gingerly rub his back, the other keeping him from flopping backwards. He got up as carefully as he could. How in the world he didn’t break his spine from that fall was beyond him. But, he thought ruefully, it wouldn’t be much of a story if the protagonist died right away, would it? At least the pain and injury would fade quickly. The trope of animation errors at its finest. “Alright… alright,” he grumbled to himself. “I better get a move on. Where’s those blasted valves…?” A glance around the room didn’t reveal much. It was a simple space. What wasn’t cut off by a small ink waterfall was still half flooded with the foul sludge. A metal shelving rack sat against one wall. A pipe with a valve was against another. Easy enough. Henry was about to wade to the pipe when something flashed in the corner of his eye. He whipped his head towards it, not caring that his neck protested painfully. What looked like a thin box glowed softly on one of the shelves. Henry’s brows furrowed. If it glowed, it had to be important. He paused a moment to see if he could recall… “… Oh!” he snapped his fingers eagerly. “Right! Tapes!” He splashed clumsily over to the shelf, giving the “box” a look over. It was an audio log. He could see that clearly now. A little beat up and stained, but unmistakable. A small smile twitched at his lips as he ran a hand over it. He couldn’t quite remember who this one was… but he didn’t think it mattered. Any trace of his old friends was good enough for him. The voices made him feel less alone. He could do with a little less loneliness. Henry gently pressed the play button, watching the little machine come to life. The tape clicked softly into place. There was a moment of quiet whirring before a grumbling voice rang from the speaker. “It’s dark and it’s cold, and it’s stuck behind every single wall now. In some places, I swear this godforsaken ink is clear up to my knees! Whoever thought that these crummy pipes could hold up under this kind of strain either knows something about pressure that I don’t, or he’s some kind of idiot,” a man barked gruffly. Henry recognized it instantly, his smile widening into a grin. “Tom!” he said brightly. “Good to hear from you, old friend.” Ah, yes. Thomas Connor. The studio’s repairman. Henry shook his head as the tape continued, the memories of Thomas complaining about pipes drifting up in his mind. … of course, a few choice phrases in the recording made the toon’s smile slip. “Like a dying dog on its last legs,” Thomas said about the pipes’ noise. He wasn’t wrong, but the mention of a dying dog… “This whole darn thing… just isn’t natural,” Thomas grumbled uneasily. “You could say that again,” Henry muttered darkly. Of course, it was the last phrase that really sobered him up. “You can bet, I won’t be doing any more repair jobs for Mister Joey Drew.” The final click of the recording echoed in the silence. Henry gave the log a long, hard look. “... well, you weren’t wrong, Tom,” he finally sighed. “You certainly weren’t wrong.” Reaching for the log, he flipped it onto its back. If he remembered right, he could probably get the tape out of there… a muffled click let a smile flit across his face. “There you are. C’mere, you.” He slid off a panel in the back to reveal an old tape. It had a labelled transcript taped to it, thankfully. That’d help keep track of names. He carefully slipped the tape into his pocket, setting the empty audio log back on the shelf. With the tape listened to and taken care of, Henry turned his focus to the task at hand. Draining all this awful ink. He slogged through the black sludge that stuck to his knees, making his way to the first valve. It turned easier than the one upstairs, but still made the same godawful groaning noise. “Geez Louise, you were right about the noise, Tom,” he winced. The ink level was falling, though, so he didn’t complain more. He was just glad the valves worked. “One down, two to go.” Glancing around, he spotted the door to the stairwell through the waterfall of ink. Because… of course it would be back there. Where else would the door be but behind more ink? Henry put his arms over his head as he jogged through the inkfall, shuddering at the feeling of old ooze on his limbs. He continued his jog down the steps, grumbling as yet another waterfall blocked his path. Stepping through this one gained him more than a shudder, though. It was a downright uncomfortable grimace. His foot had splashed right down into another deep puddle of ink. “Aw, c’mon now,” he sighed, wading down once again. “Can’t ever leave things simple and easy, can we?” At least this valve’s right in front of the stairs…

Another two rounds of groaning pipes, descending ink, and running down steps deposited the now soaked-and-grumpy toon in a rather cramped room. Calling the space a “room” was almost too generous. It was more like a glorified broom closet. A very drippy, very busted up one at that. “We’re gonna need a dozen teams of restoration architects in here,” Henry said flatly. “And that’s at a minimum.” Ink dripped slowly down from his hair before he flicked it away. A quick shake off had him relatively clean, minus some staining on his shoes. Once he was satisfied, the toon turned to the one other defining feature of the room. A closed door. It didn’t remain that way for long, the knob turning easily in his hand. He knew his way clearly from here. The door swung in to reveal an old workshop. Henry strolled right in, gaze sliding over the sparsely furnished area. All that was of note were a few stacked barrels, and an old workbench, and a boarded up doorway along the far wall. The bit of graffiti spattered around- a venomous declaration that “THE CREATOR LIED TO US-” drew a soft snort from the toon. Yeah, you could say that. Overall? The room was nothing of interest. No, what he was really looking for sat on top of the workbench. An axe lay out on top of it, its blade glinting dully in the dim light. Henry picked it up, testing its weight thoughtfully. It looked pretty sharp. Pretty durable, too. An axe had always served him well… “Hmm… yeah, I could go for a new one,” he said decisively. Swapping the axe into one hand, he shoved the other into one of his side pockets. He pulled out another axe a moment later. This one was slick with damp ink, its blade blunt and its handle full of hairline cracks. It had certainly been through the ringer. He gazed at it fondly as he set it on the bench. “So long, bud,” he sighed softly. “We had a good run.” Henry took a minute to swing the new axe around. This room was as good as any to test it out. It was a little different than he was used to- no doubt because it was newer- but it swung and balanced well. He gave it a pat of approval. Approaching the doorway, he glanced it over, sizing it up. “Now-” grunting, he hefted the axe over his shoulder- “new friend of mine-” tightened his grip- “let’s get-” and swung hard at the boards before him- “to work-!” The splintering of wood made a wonderful soundtrack as Henry chopped his way through the final hall. The work went quicker than he liked, but it still felt good to swing a proper axe again. Breaking boards was easy. Breaking boards was kinda fun. And, most importantly, breaking boards meant progress. At the end of the short hall, he leaned on the wall to catch his breath. The new axe really was nicer. Hopefully it’d last a few loops. One last door was before him, three boards holding it shut. He eyed it somberly. At long last, there it was. His entrance into chapter two. The toon straightened up slowly, rolling his shoulders. The axe dragged against the floor as he walked purposefully over. One more door. One more room. And one more unfortunate headache. Flipping the axe up, he promptly slammed it into the old wood. All three boards gave away like butter to a hot knife. Satisfied, Henry tucked the weapon behind his back. It was better to save things in his hammerspace than to trust that a certain scriptwriter would provide him another axe later. The door opened with a slow creak after he turned the knob. Before him was a small room, lit only by candlelight. Some sort of large ritual circle was drawn in the center of the floorboards. Candles sat flickering at six points around its edge. Edging in, Henry kept an eye on his feet and the circle. That thing might be his ticket to chapter two, but he didn’t want to jump on the train early. The location didn’t feel fuzzy as he looked around, but… well. You never know what could pop up next in this studio. At the wall across from the entrance, two coffins leaned side by side. A boarded up door was to their left. On the right side of the room, three chairs were set up. On the left side, there was an empty shelf. Whom the chairs or coffins were for, Henry couldn’t say. The sight of the door, at least, was reassuring. All that was left now was to step into the circle. “... you better make this quick, Joey,” he muttered.

Without further ado, he planted a foot squarely in the inky circle.

The pain he felt was immediate, surging up through his leg and into his head like a lightning strike. He couldn’t help but gasp, hands flying to his head as he doubled over. An image of the ink machine flashed before his eyes. By the time he squeezed them open and shut to dispel it, the pain had lurched him sideways. An image of a wheelchair greeted his newly opened eyes, and he groaned desperately. The pain was cranking higher- higher- so much he could barely see straight. He fumbled around, vision clouding up as he tried to turn back to the door. All that greeted him, though, was one last horrifying image. The ink demon was standing there. Illuminated by the light of an open door behind him. Reaching for him. Some distant part of Henry felt his body stumble backwards. His mind finally fell into darkness. And then… Then… … Nothing.

Nothing but the dark of the ink.

E̶̷̸̮͍̮̤̪̠͔͚̬̻̼̰̤͉̱͔̝̰͠Ņ͈͉̙̣͙̜̣͖͔͍͍̯̟̬̭͢͠ͅD̷̨̼͇̖̮̙ ̶̴͎̪͓̯̮̲̼͠O͏̶̸̸̞̣̦̟̫̦̞̪̳̤͎͚̯̦̝̳F̶̵̥͚̘̣̮͔ ̣̫̞̰̬͚͞͞C̭͎̥̠͔̩͕͕̯͉͍̤̬̩̙̟͎̱͉̕͠͠͠͞Ḩ̢͜͠҉̲̥̮̫A̴҉͕͚̬̳̲͙̮͙̝͡͝P̵̩͎̩͓̲̬̕͟Ţ̯̱̠͍̝̲̠̗̼͜͜E͏̷̮̬̪̬̠̙R̷̡̹̖̥̖͘͜ ̧̪͈̥̝̞̘̰̬̻̺̞̠͎͟͟͞Ó̠͙̲̞̰͔͕͡N̵̬̜̣̜̬̻̖͈̙͍͍̻̰̤͎̙̜͜͝ͅĘ̰͎̩̺̙̱̯͈̭̬͙͇͔̕.̸̸̧̳̱̣̠̺̭̖̦̹̳͙̼̳̠͠͡ͅ

.

[alovelylight]

(P/O) love is a wild thing

AO3

When Oliver sees Percy again, he is standing in front of the Woods’ cottage, legs plastered together in the most awkward stance Oliver has ever seen. From the side view, his fiery curls have grown longer and darker, but his freckles are mapped in the exact same places Oliver remembers.

“Percy?” he asks, careful not to stutter. Percy gives a slight jump at his voice.

“Oliver!” he says, turning towards him with a nervous smile. “I thought I would drop by to say hello—so, hello.”

Olivia tries hard not to stare at him. It’s unfair, really, how feelings can come rushing back at the slightest peek of him. George has warned him that Percy would return home from Oxford for two weeks, and since then he has been bracing himself against the inevitable.

“Well, hello,” says Oliver. It’s a deliberate choice not to pull him into a hug right away (which is what he would’ve done if he knows how to treat Percy as any other friend). “Do you want to come in?” It seems rude not to ask, especially when Percy took it in himself to come over.

“I don’t want to intrude...”

“Perce, we’ve known each other since we were four.”

Once they’re situated in the kitchen, there is more ease between them. Percy rambles on about his classes while Oliver prepares the tea, plain Earl Grey and peppermint, just the way it’s always been.

University has brought Percy even more out of his shell; he is surrounded by people—worldly and clever people—who loves to debate laws and regulations and abstract schools of thought as much as he does. Oliver is saddened by the thought that he no longer needs him, but sitting close to him and listening to him talk (even if he doesn’t always pay attention; Percy’s lips are always a lovely distraction) brings back fond memories.

“What about you?”

Oliver blinks. “Me?”

“Yeah,” he blushes, obviously embarrassed now. “What have you been up to?”

“Working at my dad’s auto repair shop. Keeps me busy. Other than that, I’ve been reading and, uh, writing a little.” He doesn’t mention the obvious: he has suffered from a broken leg right before he was supposed to embark on a rugby scholarship to Loughborough. Though he was forced to stay at home while his mates went off to various corners of Britain, he’s been gaining most of his mobility back over the past five months. Enough to get him off the crutches.

“Good for you.” Oliver searches for any hints of sarcasm in Percy’s tone, but he is beaming at Oliver as if he’s truly proud. As if his reckless injury never happened. “What have you been writing?”

“Nothing much to show, really,” he shrugs. “Do you remember all those murder mystery novels we used to trade?”

“How could I forget?” Percy smiles, revealing a few deep dimples that distract Oliver. “Is that what you’re writing—murder mystery stories?”

“With more queer representation, of course,” he says with a wry smile. “But I don’t know if they’re any good, and at this early stage I’m too shy to show anyone anything.”

“Oliver Wood, shy?” Percy raises his eyebrows. “What has the world come to?”

“I’m a man of surprise.”

“Evidently.” He takes a sip of his tea. “You can show me what you’ve written. If you want, I mean. I know I’ve got the reputation of a razor-tonged critic—”

“I distinctly remember you telling six-year-old Ron that his drawings look as if Satan possessed his body, got drunk off vodka-spiked slushies, and vomited all over the paper.”

“I’m always nice to you.” Percy taps Oliver’s feet with his own. “Besides, I was only ten. I’m a changed man now; I even stopped signing my name off in text messages.”

“I noticed,” Oliver laughs. “I wish you wouldn’t stop doing that. It was endearing.”

“Endearing?”

“Yeah, you know, cute.” He thanks the dark complexion he inherited from his dear mum for hiding his blush.

Percy’s eyes widen from behind his glasses. They’re still brilliantly, beautifully blue and Oliver hates him for it. “Listen, I hate to end this conversation, but I promised Mum I would be home for dinner. Can I see you tomorrow?”

“I can come by after work,” Oliver offers, trying not to sound too eager. “I haven’t been to your house since the twins’ birthday bash. I think everyone from that party got implicitly banned from entering again.”

Percy’s laugh leaves him feeling warm and tingly.

#

Percy’s room looks more or less the same. This is the domain of a boy with worlds at his disposal, tucked into neatly aligned novels and books of poems. A model of the solar system takes center stage on his desk. There is a cardboard cutout of Colin Firth as Mr. Darcy in the corner—a gag gift that Charlie knowingly got him on his fifteenth birthday—but everything else is nothing less than scholarly. Except, maybe, an IKEA candle burning on his bedside table.

Percy pats the spot beside him on the bed, and Oliver plops down next to him.

“Are you still dating Flint?” he asks Oliver, tilting his head in inquiry.

The question is unexpected enough to make Oliver feel hopeful. “Haven’t seen him since he went to Sheffield. We weren’t even dating, really, more like fooling around. He got bored while I was recovering. Good riddance, really. What about you? Are you seeing anyone?”

Please say no. “Not since Penelope. We’re mates now; we’ve been encouraging each other to participate in social events at Oxford and we live in different colleges so things don’t get too awkward.”

“That’s good to hear,” Oliver slowly nods, relieved by the news. These two weeks wouldn’t change a thing between him and Percy, but he feels better knowing that the object of his pining is unattached. “So. Anything planned to do while you’re crashing back home?”

“Spending time with family, mostly.” He winces. “God, I forgot what it’s like to live under the same roof as the twins. No peace or privacy. But I quite missed it, strangely enough. It’s also nice to catch up with Ron and Ginny, though Ron acts like I’m the dreaded third parent. But Ginny’s been sending me emails ever since I left; I think she thinks no-one at home has time to listen.”

“That’s lovely of her to write,” says Oliver. “I’ve been trying to keep in touch with you too, but after a while...”

“You don’t have to explain yourself.”

“No, wait.” Without thinking of the implications, his hand closes over Percy’s, which was lying on the space-patterned duvet between them. “Seeing as how we left things off, I thought it would be...well, I thought we needed some space.”

“I think about you every day, Oliver.”

“Y-You do?”

“Of course I do,” Percy says, colder this time. He pulls his hand free from under Oliver’s. He misses the warmth immediately. “When you keep ignoring my texts, I suspected that you wanted to forget about me, that you didn’t care about how I was doing. I don’t expect you to drop everything else to pay attention to me, of course not, seeing as you’re in recovery—but it still bloody stings.”

“Oh, fuck, Percy,” Oliver groans, “I’m so, so sorry. I thought—I thought I was doing you a favor. I mean, you’re brilliant. You’re brilliant and wonderful and you are going to take the world by storm. You don’t need a boy from home holding you back, you know?”

“That,” Percy narrows his eyes, “is the stupidest pile of shite I’ve ever heard.”

The profane remark is a hurtful surprise; Percy only swears while watching EastEnders or when he’s really upset. “I’ve been selfish, but not because I don’t love you enough,” says Oliver, gently. “It’s because I love you too much for my own sanity.”

It’s an overly dramatic declaration that belongs in a soap opera about infidelities among the rich, but he wouldn’t take it back if he could.

Percy gapes at him as if he’s gone mad. “Did it ever occur to you that I may love you too, you absolute idiot?”

Oliver couldn’t believe his own ears. “I’ve asked you out three times while we were at school. You’ve had plenty of time to prove that.”

“The first time, you were so intoxicated you forgot the word ‘date’—”

“Drunken me is still honest and true!”

“The second time was over text. With typos!”

Oliver squeezes his eyes shut. “That text took me about ten minutes to compose, and my fingers shook from the nerves. But the message was very clear.”

“Well, I thought you were teasing. Or drunk-texting. Or meant to send it to Flint or some other bloke.”

“But the third time,” Oliver insists, “couldn’t have been clearer. Face-to-face and sober and flowers in my hand and on your bloody doorstep while it was raining. And my hair was gelled. God, Percy, my hair was gelled.”

“I was at the brink of moving across the country.” He averts his eyes. “It wasn’t the right time. I can’t treat our relationship like a summer dalliance.”

“It never seems to be the right time, does it?” Oliver sighs, touching Percy’s hand again.

“I’m sorry, Ol.” Unexpectedly, he takes Oliver’s hand up to his lips to press a kiss against his fingers. “I’m really sorry.”

#

The kettle begins to boil in earnest just as the knocks on the front door become more and more insistent. Cursing under his breath—he had expected a free night in to work on his novel, it was raining after all—Oliver walks up to the door.

He is met with the sight of Percy Weasley, drenched in rain and armed with yellow flowers.

“These are for you, you’re welcome.” Percy hands the flowers to Oliver. Despite wilting from the rain, they're still very beautiful, which causes an unfair riot in his heart. “Jonquils. I think they signify love and desire? The florist could be spouting bollocks for all I know; she listened to me talk about you and chose these, so I hope you like them. Or don’t hate them, at the very least.”

“You know I love them. They’re from you, after all.” He looks at Percy in the eye and gives him a smile—tentative, slow. “And I know nothing about floral meanings, so you’re safe. Is this why you came? To give me a bouquet?”

“I noticed there’s a new natural history museum on Godric’s Road, but they still couldn't get a bloody planetarium.”

“Yeah, I know about that. I live in this town.”

“It still looks enticing. I thought we could go on our first date there, then get lunch at The Three Broomsticks and buy each other gifts from the bookshop like we used to.”

“Perce...I don't understand." He puts a hand on Percy's shoulder. "What changed?"

“Two weeks may not be much, but we’ve known each other our whole lives." Percy raises his chin in defiance. "Something as inconsequential as physical distance couldn’t stand against the both of us.”

Percy pushes their foreheads together until there is not so much as a breath between them. Hell, Oliver couldn’t even breathe. His heart gallops in his chest and his world narrows until there is nothing else outside the boy in front of him. “Are you going to take me to a planetarium next?” he asks with a chuckle. 

“If you’re ever so lucky.”

[snarkybluechristian]

Hazbin Hotel: Satan’s Plan Part 5 (Collab with Dinobot King)

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Delilah entered the shower and turned on the water.  She flinched a bit as her scratched skin tingled in the warm water.  She lathered her hair, her wings, and her body with soap and turned around to rinse off.  

Delilah screamed as the water touched her back.  She gritted her teeth as she continued rinsing off and wondered aloud, “Why is this happening to me?  God, why can’t I just conceive and get him to leave me alone already?”

Meanwhile, Sir Pentious was lingering on the stoop of his mansion while waiting for his Egg Bois to walk down the front steps.  He couldn’t stop thinking about the succubus taking a shower in his room.  

“Boss, are you coming?” one of the Egg Bois asked.

“Yes,” Sir Pentious said snapping back to reality.  “Listen up, Bois!  We are about to infiltrate the unknown, a place filled with the princess’s delusions and fantasies.  She may not be as diabolical as her father, but she is still dangerous.  Do not let her insipid dreams into your empty heads.  Our mission is to find out the hotel’s budget, guest capacity, and whatever else the Devil needs to know about what makes it tick.  You Bois need to focus and not let anything distract you.  Do I make myself clear?”

“Sir, yes, sir!” both Egg Bois replied before marching out in front of their boss.  

Sir Pentious looked back at his home one more time before he slithered behind them.

Back in the kingpin’s bedroom, Delilah was done with her shower, wrapped herself in a towel, and opened the bathroom door to see that the bedroom was all clean and tidy.

“What the…?” Delilah said in surprise.  “Did those Eggs clean up this room already?”

“Yes!” she heard one of them reply out of nowhere.  

“Huh?” Delilah asked pulling out her talons and looking around for the source of the reply.  “Who said that?  Where are you?”

“Down here, miss,” the voice said.

Delilah looked down and saw that it was only an Egg Boi holding a rolling stool.  

“Oh,” Delilah said retracting her claws.  “You startled me.”

“Sorry about that,” the Egg Boi apologized while pushing the stool in front of him.  “Would you like to get some clothes to wear?”

“Please.”

“Then sit down here.”

“Why?”

“Just do it.”

Delilah gave him a confused look before she sat down on the rolling stool in front of him.  

“Let’s go!” the Egg Boi said as he started pushing the stool quickly out of the room and down the hall.

“What is going on?” Delilah asked.  “Where are we going?”

“Well, we can’t leave you without clothes.  Can we?”

“Uh, no, but why can’t I walk?”

“You’re injured.”

“I can fly.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.  It’s no trouble at all…Here, we are!”

Another Egg Boi appeared, opened the door, and stepped aside while Delilah was pushed in.  The room was so dark that she couldn’t see the hand in front of her face.

“Why’s it so dark in here?” Delilah asked.

“Just a moment,” the Egg Boi said flipping a light switch.  “Here, we go.”

Delilah’s eyes grew wide in amazement.  The entire room was filled with racks and racks of Victorian clothing for women and wardrobes covering the walls with even more.  It was quite bizarre.

The most bizarre part was that there were Egg Bois everywhere scrambling to pull open the curtains and pulling out white garments.

“As Sir Pentious’ new house sitter, you need to look your best, so we have to make you look fabulous!” the Egg Boi pushing the stool said flamboyantly interrupting her thoughts.  “It’s standard protocol to work with our boss.”

“Yeah!” another Egg Boi said.  “It’s not like we ship you two or anything!”

“What was that?” Delilah asked raising an eye brow.  

“Uh…” the Egg Boi said searching for the right words.  “We got you breakfast.  It’s waiting in the dressing room.”

The Egg Boi pushed her stool into a small room located just off the larger room.  The Egg Boi flipped on the light switch to reveal a wood-paneled room furnished with a white-cushioned chair, a matching vanity and stool sitting beside the window, a matching wardrobe, and a divider screen with peacocks on it.  On almost every wall were mirrors.  On the other side of the room was an open door leading to a small bathroom with a cardboard cutout of Lilith sitting in front of it…Wait, what?

Delilah couldn’t believe her eyes.  The Egg Bois quickly realized what she was staring at and knocked over the cardboard cutout as quickly as they could before carrying it out.

“Oops,” an Egg Boi said pushing a silver covered cart in front of her.  “Pretend you never saw that.  We got you breakfast!”

He removed the lid and revealed a small cart with pancakes, bacon, assorted fruit, and orange juice.  

“Thank you so much,” Delilah said excitedly picking up the fork and knife.  “You have no idea how hungry I am…”

“Not yet,” an Egg Boi said shutting the lid over the cart.  “You need to get dressed first, silly.  A lady doesn’t eat naked.”

Delilah grimaced, picked up the lid, and said, “I don’t care.  I’m starving.”

“But you don’t even have underwear on,” the Egg Boi said shutting the lid.

Delilah did not have the energy to continue the argument, so she relented, sat back on the stool, and said, “Fine, but what is this room for anyway?”

“Would you stand up please?” an Egg Boi asked holding measuring tape.  

Delilah silently obeyed.  As soon as she stood up, the Egg Boi measured her bust, her stomach, and her height all within the span of ten seconds before he ran out of the room screaming, “I got her measurements, guys!”

Delilah looked after him as her face twisted in confusion.  

“This is a dressing room for Victorian ladies,” the Egg Boi standing by the cart said.  “All wealthy British women used to have them.”

“Is that right?” Delilah said sitting back in her chair and looking around the room.  “It’s absurd.  Why would any woman need an entire room to get dressed?”

The Egg Boi scratched his head and said, “Well, don’t women like to have privacy when they get dressed?”

“But why an entire room?”

“Uhhh…I don’t know, but these rooms were meant to be gifts for a secret crush of Sir Pentious’.”

Delilah smirked and asked, “Do you mean Lilith?”

“Uh…” the Egg Boi said searching for the right words.

“Ha.  No wonder he was reluctant to offer me clothes at first.  That doesn’t surprise me.  Most incubi would die for the chance to be near her.  It’s kinda sad.”

“Yeah, well, you were hungry, right?” the Egg Boi said as other Egg Bois came in with the linens.  “Let’s get you dressed.”

“Finally,” Delilah said standing up from the stool and suddenly noticing the other Egg Bois pouring in.  “If you’re all here to watch me strip, you have to pay in advance.”

“That’s disgusting” an Egg Boi in the crowd said.  “We’re here to help you get clothes on.”

“Why would I need help getting dressed?”

“All Victorian ladies needed help getting dressed.”

“Why?”

“Because Victorian clothing is complicated,” the Egg Boi who pushed her in said pushing her behind the divider and handing her a loose white dress and black garters.  “First, you need to go behind here and put these on.”

“Don’t I get underwear?”

“This is the underwear.”

“I mean for my ass!” Delilah snapped.

“Victorian women didn’t wear underwear,” the Egg Boi said calmly.

“What?!”

“Just put the clothes on.  Gee, you’re quite cranky today.  Are you okay?”

Delilah winced as she pulled the shift over her wings.

Then she sat down on the floor to pull up the garters and said, “Let’s just say I had a bad night last night.”

“I’ll bet,” the Egg Boi said as he was handed the linen drawers.  “The Devil sounded really scary.  Here are your drawers.”

Delilah smiled appreciating that he didn’t want any details and looked at the strange pants she had been given.

“Why do they have such big holes in the back?” Delilah asked.

“That’s so you can go to the bathroom,” the Egg Boi said handing her the drawers.  “Come on.  Step in and I’ll tie them back for you.”

Delilah took the drawers, held them up in confusion, and said, “Do I wear them under the dress?”

“Oh, no, you stuff the shift into them.”

“Why?”

“Because that’s how Victorian ladies wore them.”

“Victorian women made no sense,” Delilah said stepping into the drawers and stuffing the shift into the pants before she tried tying the pants shut behind her back.

“Allow me, miss,” the Egg Boi said running behind her and tying the pants shut for her.  

Delilah felt strange having someone else help her out with clothing.  She hadn’t had a servant since she was living in ancient Israel.  It brought back some memories she hadn’t thought of in a long time.

When the Egg Boi was done tying the drawers, Delilah looked at her outfit.  It was strange but functional, minus the fact that she didn’t have a bra.

“I guess this is okay,” Delilah said walking in front of the mirror and heading back to her stool.  

“Where are you going?” an Egg Boi said.  “You’re not done.”

“What?!” Delilah asked.  “What else do I need to wear?”

“Well…” that Egg Boi said before an Egg Boi ran in with a ladder and a white skirt.

“You need to wear a petticoat,” he said throwing the skirt over Delilah’s head and pulling it down until he tied it in the back.

“And a corset,” said another Egg Boi simultaneously climbing up the ladder, wrapping a black corset around Delilah’s chest, and tying it up around her chest.

“And a bustle skirt,” said another Egg Boi throwing the white item over Delilah’s head so quickly that it got caught on her wings.

“Owww,” Delilah said as she flattened her wings against her back so she could pull the heavy skirt down.  “Watch the wings please.”

“Sorry,” the Egg Boi said as Delilah finally pulled down the skirt and looked in the mirror.

Delilah rubbed out the wrinkles of the skirt as she looked at herself in the mirror feeling flustered by all the attention the Egg Bois were giving her.  She had seen this style of dress but had never worn it herself.  The skirt was heavier than she was used to, but it was manageable.

“Alright,” Delilah said breathing a sigh of relief.  “I’m looking good.  Now, all I need are shoes to wear and I will be…”

“You’re not done yet, silly,” an Egg Boi interrupted.

Delilah’s relieved smile slipped into a frown of exasperation as she said, “You’re kidding.  This is more than enough clothing.”

“Yeah, if you still wanted to be a prostitute,” an Egg Boi said before one of his colleagues elbowed him in the ribs.  “Oh, sorry.”

“What do I have to wear for you to consider me ‘modest?’” Delilah asked using air quotes.

“Just a few more things,” an Egg Boi said as they started filing out of the small room.  “We still have to pick something out.”

The other Egg Bois left before Delilah could respond.  She felt her head spinning, so she sat down in the chair.

The Egg Boi who pushed her in pushed the cart in front of her and said, “You can have some food while you…”

“We found the perfect outfit!” an Egg Boi yelled as his colleagues filed back into the room.  

Delilah glanced at the three-piece black outfit and said, “Isn’t that a bit dressy for helping out around the house?”

“What are you talking about?” said two Egg Bois as they pulled her out of the chair and into fancy black boots that they tied around her feet before pushing her in front of the mirror.

“You should always dress to impress, Delilah,” said another one climbing on a ladder that seemed to appear out of nowhere to throw a black skirt over the one she was already wearing.

Delilah barely had time to flatten her wings for the first skirt before another Egg Boi threw another heavy bustle skirt over it and said, “Sometimes in life, you need to dress for the job you want, like if you want to be a wife.”

“What?” Delilah asked raising an eyebrow.

“Nothing,” the Egg Boi said pushing her backwards onto the stool she was rolled in on while two other Egg Bois pulled over an ottoman and started combing her hair.

All Delilah could do was roll her eyes, cross her arms, and say, “If this is some kind of fetish, you have to pay me.”

“What do you mean by a fetish?” one of the Egg Bois asked as he put a hair piece in her hair to hold it up.

“Never mind,” Delilah said unfolding her arms just as another Egg Boi put the black long-sleeved, satin blouse on her from the front.

“Almost done,” said the Egg Boi as he walked around to button up the blouse.  “Oh, dear.  How do you wear this with your wings?  I can’t close it all the way.”

“You could button up the top and the bottom and leave the middle unbuttoned,” Delilah suggested.

“That’s brilliant,” the Egg Boi said doing what she suggested.  “You’re a genius, just like our boss!”

“You figure out some things when you’ve been a winged succubus for 12,000 years,” Delilah said with a slight smile as she stood up to look at herself in the mirror.

The dress was heavier and more fitted than she was used to.  She could still walk, but her movements felt constricted.  It would take some getting used to, but at least, the Egg Bois would leave her alone now…

“Hmmm…” an Egg Boi said.  “I feel like something is missing.”

“You can’t be serious,” Delilah said in exasperation.  “What could be missing?”

“How about make-up?” said another Egg Boi.

“Yeah,” said yet another Egg Boi pushing her back onto the stool and rolling her in front of the mirror.  “Don’t worry, Delilah.  It’ll only take a minute.”

Delilah rolled her eyes and complied.  What choice did she have?  

A couple of Egg Bois put some powder on her face.  Delilah shut her eyes and waited for them to finish.

“There, you go!” the Egg Bois said in unison.  

“You look more beautiful than Queen Elizabeth on her coronation day!” exclaimed another Egg Boi.

Delilah looked at herself in the mirror.  The whole outfit felt awkward, but it looked beautiful.  She looked like a Victorian lady in mourning, except for the fact her blouse had flowery patterns embroidered into it.  It felt like a fitting metaphor for what her life had become.

Oh, well.  At least, she could always make adjustments when the Egg Bois left her alone…

“Thanks for the help…Wait, do any of you have names?” Delilah asked.  

“We give ourselves names,” said the Egg Boi who pushed her in turning around to show off the number on his back.  “But we also go by the numbers on our backs to make things easier.”

“Number 22?” Delilah read.

“Yeah, but you can call me Toulouse if you want,” the Egg Boi replied.  “I’m okay either way.”

“Okay, Toulouse,” Delilah said with a smile as she struggled to walk with her long, heavy skirts back to her chair.  “If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to eat before I join you.”

“Okay,” all the Egg Bois said at once.

Delilah sat down in her comfy chair, lifted the lid off her cart, picked up her fork and knife, and prepared to devour her pancakes, but she got the feeling she was being watched.  She slowly looked up to see all the Egg Bois watching her.  It was unnerving to say the least.

“Can I help you?” Delilah asked raising an eyebrow.

“No, we just like watching you,” Toulouse said sincerely taking a picture of her with his smart phone.  

“You have nothing better to do.”

“Not really.”

Delilah’s face fell completely.  It was going to be a really long day.  

[creativeashproductions]

Endless Search // Steve Rogers

Summary: Over centuries you’ve always been killed mere weeks at the most before meeting your soulmate causing endless pain. Having been at every social standing possible, from a princess to a servant, you can’t think of another you could be. The current life as a bestseller doesn’t allow the endless circle to stop but can your soulmate finally meet you?

Characters: Steve Rogers x Reader, and Avengers (implied)

Words:1249

Disclaimer: I do not own any Marvel characters of plots. Nor do own any gifs, images, songs, jokes or videos that may appear. I do however own anything original in this work and if this appears anywhere off Tumblr I didn’t post it.

Warnings: Death, angst and fluff.

Author: Caitsy

A/N: Dreamt of this without knowing which fandom I should put it in. I haven’t done anything other than Riverdale or Dolan Twins in the last few months therefore I decided to give Steve a little loving and pain.

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If there was anything to be assured about it was the knowledge about soulmates being real. In the beginning of time, as stories have been passed down, people worshiped the ideal of having a soulmate, one would pray for the perfect one. Over the centuries mentalities formed on ‘forced love’ and the belief was cast aside.

When the world was starved of love the belief of soulmates returned with greater oomph. Historians brought it back into teachings along with recounts of centuries where, even when the ideal was welcomed, royals denied their issues soulmates in turn for more ‘suited’ ones on a social hierarchy base.

Being a published author with many novels under your belt you used your knowledge of your life’s experiences with heartbreak. Basing your main characters life on yours searching through many lifetimes for the almost always unattainable love. As a little girl you had always said you wanted to be a teacher until that first night you dreamt of your first past life.

You tugged at the stiff material holding your body in an uncomfortable and frankly unattractive hour glass figure. Marcie had an undeniable talent of tightening the corset up to the point of no return, you weren’t sure if your organs were in the right places but appearances were everything. Especially as a high ranking member of society.

“Miss. You’re needed in the throne room.” The meek voice of Marcie sounded from the hallway. In her hands of a freshly cleaned chamber pot, the one you had used only an hour ago.

“Thank you Marcie.” You smiled kindly at your servant before heading towards your father’s study. The large oak wood was polished to a perfection along with the doorknob that you could easily see your face on.

“Good afternoon Miss.” Carson said with a small smile on his face. One of your father’s royal guards Carson had grown from the boy you played with, albeit to your mother’s disdain. The difference between child Carson and adult was the crude yet tasteful arrowhead hanging on his neck.

Carson was an expert marksman with a bow and arrow handed down by his father. He was an exception to the rule all guards followed due to the fact that he had saved your mother and you when you were a little girl. The arrow pierced through the enemy with just enough time for Carson you catch you from the saddle of the now deceased man.

“How is he?” You murmured towards your oldest friend.

“It’s one of the worse days.” He returned.

Your father’s health declined when your little sister Winifred was killed on the annual family horseback tour. Something that was considered unsafe for the royal family but it was important to see Winnie smile when she was always sick. Born sick with ailments that were incurable despite the many trial treatments attempted.

Even in the present day you had managed to track down information about a European royal family back in the 1700s. The dream had caused a spiralling effect to research if it was true or simply a break in your mental state. You found out that the royal family was tragically assassinated on the family horseback tour a mere year after the youngest, Winifred, died fighting what appeared to be a number of illnesses.

Even know you vividly remember that painting of the entire family dressed impeccably where your face was easily recognized in it. You had been the oldest of the King’s children about to meet a neighbouring country’s Prince the following day. It was Prince Silas that eventually discovered your family’s bodies.

That dream during your pre-teen years opened your mind to having more dreams of past lives. You had lived many lives of heartbreak with only dying days before meeting a potential love interest. The second life you remembered was being the daughter of a tailor in the 1800s living around of area of Whitechapel in London. You were murdered by the later infamous serial killer Jack the Ripper.

The night was cold as you walked from your best friend’s home back to the apartment you lived in above your father’s business. You were on the notoriously known corner used by prostitutes when you were pulled into the alleyway by an unknown man. Above you was the man you knew you were going to be killed by.

“P’please don’t!” You screamed before the entire experience clouded as you slowly died thinking of the sweet son of the local baker. You were sure that Stanley was going to ask to court you.

Shaking your mind off the shocking dream you signed one of the books with a grin as the little girl spoke of how it made her feel.

“How did you come up with the idea!”

“I was drinking lemonade on my balcony when it come to mind how beautiful reincarnation sounded at the time.”

“Next please!” The security guard announced making the young girl shuffle along.

Even as the day went by you thought of all the past lives you had come to know over the years from being a princess, to the murdered daughter of a tailor, to being the heroic personal servant that sacrificed her life for her employer, to the young woman that died from cancer and to your current life as an author.

“Get down!” The guard shouted just as a bullet slammed into his forehead.

You screamed scrambling behind the bookshelf as many were injured and killed. You peeked out to see some man holding a strange weapon with a sadistic grin. You had never seen him but the way he was glaring at the cardboard cutout of you, you had a feeling he knew you.

“Come out, Y/N.” His gravelly voiced announced stalking the building with a fierce hatred.

You had always known that at any chance you could be physically assaulted by someone that took your work too seriously. Who painted themselves as your ever lost soulmate. You just ever really believed that you could be the cause of someone’s death.

To be honest you didn’t think the cops could stop this one seeing as the assailant had no problems killing anyone in his way. When the man placed the muzzle of the gun against your forehead you closed your eyes to accept another life where you didn’t meet your soulmate.

Almost like it was a story the muzzle of the gun fell from your forehead leaving no trace other than mental pain and blood splattered on your forehead. You were shaking when you felt hands on each side of your face shifting it to see for any injuries. The hands were gentle but rough at the same time.

“Sorry I took so long. I got a little caught up.” The voice replied. The familiarity of the voice caused you to open your eyes to expressive blue eyes.

Before you stood the one person you could recognize anywhere with his blonde hair that spoke of someone both neat and the epitome of the all American boy. The boy you were meant to meet in previous lives.

“That’s okay.” You mumbled breathlessly, “I had a couple things to do.”

He chuckled deeply before his gripped a handkerchief to wipe the blood from your forehead just so he could placed a kiss against your forehead. 
“Steve Rogers.”

“I guess your soul loves names starting with s.” You giggled.

“I guess your soul always loved a scrawny man.” He laughed back.

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[mikeysnipes]

I Am Alive 🖊 (Bendy x reader)

Chapter 1 - "Go away!"

Published (1730 Words)

Publish Changes Cancel

▶

Chapter 1 - "Go away!"

Your POV:

"Mm?" I opened my eyes, looking around at where I was. I found myself sitting by a desk with a drawing of a cute creature, smiling back up at me. To the left of the desk there was a cardboard cutout of a full-body character, with a smiling face and a bow tie to top off his friendly look. I snorted and stood up, searching for anything hinting as to where I was. Eventually I found a note, crinkled and ink fading. I curiously picked it up and read it.

Dear Henry,

It seems like a lifetime since we worked on cartoons together. Thirty years really slips away, doesn't it?

If you're back in town, come visit the old workshop. There's something I need to show you.

Your best pal,

Joey Drew.

I furrowed my brow and pocketed the note. Apparently I wasn't the only one here, or maybe I was? It doesn't matter, all that does is the fact that I don't know this Henry person whatsoever. More importantly, I don't know who this Joey Drew is either. Could they be good? Bad? I don't know.

I looked around the area, determining within the first five seconds that this place was too creepy for my liking. Very little light came into this supposed workshop, and ink stains were everywhere. Not only that, but the color scheme wasn't very enticing. The only colors were brown and black, and a little bit of white every now and then. There were more cardboard cutouts of the creature I had seen before, which didn't help give me a reassuring feeling.

Nope, that's it. I have to leave, and I have to leave now. This is no time for games. I started to wander the building, hoping to find some sort of exit by the walls. Eventually I found a room with a wolf-looking creature, chest cut open and ribs exposed. It had no organs or a heart, which I found to be surprising. However, I still cringed when I saw the body of whatever this was meant to be.

I looked closely and saw that this wolf was tied to an operation table, hinting that some sort of experiment was in progress. I looked to the right and saw a quote, scrawled with something black. Ink, I assumed. My hand immediately flew to my heart when I saw what phrase was listed.

"Who's laughing now?"

I backed up and ran out of there as fast as I could. At this rate, I didn't care where I ended up, as long as I got away from that creepy quote. I eventually bumped into one of those cardboard creatures, creating a red bruise on my cheek. I stared at the creature in front of me, wondering why the cardboard didn't fall like anything else would. My fears started to rise even more, and I glanced up.

I saw multiple posters, ads of certain shows. The first that caught my eye was a printed body with a tutu, with the advertisement where the head should be. It read "Bendy in The Dancing Demon", giving me the assumption that the creature in front of me was called Bendy. I could tell because this body sported gloves and a bow tie, which nothing else I had seen had.

The second poster I saw said "Bendy in Sheep Songs, with Boris the wolf!" From here I could guess that the half-dissected wolf was called Boris. Boris the wolf held a clarinet, so I also predicted that he could play an instrument.

The third poster featured Alice Angel, a smiling girl with both devil horns and a halo. Beside it, there was one last poster, showing Bendy's gloved hand. Each poster had their own show title.

I gaped for a moment, before continuing on my way. At least I had a general idea of who the characters were, but then what was Boris's supposed body doing here? Cartoons aren't alive, they're drawn and put together in a quick-paced movie. It doesn't make sense.

I walked into another room and saw some sort of machine, with a note on the top. I snatched it and saw that this was titled the Ink Machine, along with instructions on how to turn it on. First I had to go to the Power Room and turn on the machine. I followed what the note told me and eventually found the Power Room, with six pedestals and a sign that said 'Low Pressure'. There was a caution sign above a switch, and a big ink stain on the ground.

Wondering what to do now, I consulted the instructions. I was told to find six items. I shrugged, then looked at the items I needed to gather.

I needed to find a cogwheel, a Bendy doll, 'The Illusion of Living' book, an ink bottle, a record, and a wrench. After this, I had to put the items on the pedestals, then go to the Projector Room to restore the ink flow. After I was done doing that, I had to return to the Power Room and flip the switch.

I rolled my eyes. My work was sure cut out for me. Oh well, better get started.

-o-+-o-

After I found all the items, I set them on the pedestals, wiping my hands on my jeans. The ink flecks stained my clothing rather than my hands and I let out a puff of air. I then regarded the note once more and head to the Projector Room. The projector was on, and displayed on the wall was a continuously crouching Bendy character. I smiled and rolled my eyes, then felt around the walls for a lever of any sort. Instead I found a button, which had one bold word shown.

Flow, in all caps.

I pressed the button and heard a whirring sound, shuddering at the new noise. I then walked back to the Power Room, walking up to the lever. I took a deep breath before flipping the switch, resulting in all the items on the pedestals conveniently disappearing.

Eyes wide, I thought about what to do next, and eventually decided on going back to check on Boris. I passed the ink machine and heard water-like sounds, but ignored it. I just assumed the Ink Machine was working again, nothing to be worried about.

I reached Boris's room and saw a sight that made me start freaking out again. Ink was squirting from where Boris's heart should be, and splattering on the floor. It never seemed to stop. I stared for a moment, then shook my head and walked out. I continued to wander the workshop, forgetting the main task at hand.

Well, until I saw the solution.

The exit door was down a long hallway, as if it were taunting me. My jaw dropped and I started bolting towards it at full speed, focusing only on my way out of this creepy place. It was a mistake to eliminate any other features of the area around me, for I fell down a trapdoor and scraped my legs.

"Ow!" I hissed, rubbing my knees. I looked up and saw an axe hanging from hooks on the wall. I stood up and ignored the stinging pain in my knees, then snatched the weapon from its holder. I weighted it in my hands and focused on some wooden boards in front of me. They were blocking another exit, which could or could not be beneficial.

I decided the axe would be useful and started to chop through the area, finding planks after planks. I continued at my work, clearing a path, until I came to a strange room. It had a pentagram on the ground, with small candles surrounding it. The lights were dim, and there were three coffins around the area. There were a few chairs, as if this would be a place to rest.

I tried approaching the satanic drawing, but when I did, the ground started to shake. When a piece of wood fell from the ceiling, I backed up, staring at the floor with eyes wide. When I was at a safe distance from the devil's circle the building stopped shaking, and I released a breath I never even knew I was holding.

Suddenly, I heard the sounds of soft, distant chuckles. I tried turning around, but something stopped me from moving.

"Well, well, well, what do we have here?" A voice asked, from the darkness. I turned my head so that I was looking over my right shoulder, face contorted with fear. I looked down and saw something black and sticky at my feet, looking fairly similar to...

Ink?

I started to struggle, hopelessly thinking that I might be able to get out of these restraints. The snickers just got louder as a figure emerged from the darkness.

"Go away!" I snapped, launching my axe into the gloom. Laughs followed the clumsy aim, and I guessed that I missed. No surprise either, as I didn't have a good structure to throw and I couldn't see the target in front of me. Either way, it was a feeble attempt.

The creature appeared from the darkness again, advancing on me faster than before.

I saw horns, a tail, and a pointed smile.

When the person lifted his head I knew exactly who it was.

Bendy, the cartoon devil.

---

Hey guys, thanks for reading the first chapter of this book! The whole story is being edited on my Wattpad account, where my username is LovesitGirl. However, if you want to see more here, then I'll post sneak peeks and chapters as they come out!

Thank you all!

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[runjakkrun]

I am my “TBI brain,” but my “TBI brain” is not me…. This is a screenshot from a link my neurologist gave me…. First, I suppose I should catch you all up on the situation…. I am a 24 year old U.S. Army vet- turned- Paramedic, with severe PTSD, addiction issues, and as of Nov. 8, 2016, a traumatic brain injury that changed my life…. I am a K9 handler for my local K9 search and rescue team, and I’d let my K9 SAR prospect puppy- a 4 month old long coat Sable GSD named Godric- out to potty around 2200. It was dark. He was young, clumsy, and unrefined. At the exact moment I started uptown concrete back porch steps and issued him the “come” command (hier!), an uncharacteristically large Virginia opossum came tromping out of the woods, looked in his direction, and spooked him. He then darted, at full speed and weighing in at a good 40lbs vs my 110lbs, across the yard, up the steps, and between my legs. I started to go down, reaching out for the hand rails that weren’t there due to the remodeling we were in the process of completing, and slammed both the top of my skull and my forehead on the edge of what I believe was two or more concrete stairs…. The events that followed are a blur…. 
The next thing I remember (which is a pretty solid indication of me losing consciousness for an unknown period of time), is trying to sit up. My head was pounding, I was a bit disoriented, and Godric was pacing back and forth, alternating between licking my face and pawing at the sliding glass door. I’m a medic, and everybody knows we make absolutely terrible patients, so of course I truly believed that I was no worse for the wear…. I stood slowly, let myself and my boy back in the house, crated him for the night, and went into the bathroom to clean myself up. I was bleeding pretty heavily from my forehead and upper lip, both my upper and lower lip were starting to swell, and I’d completely shattered my glasses frames and lenses, so I couldn’t really see much of anything. I popped about 4 ibuprofen and climbed in the bed.
My girlfriend at the time got home from work around 0200 that next morning. Shortly after she got home and snuggled up against me in the bed, I began violently vomiting, losing chunks of time, and drifting in and out of consciousness…. About 8 hours later, I started stuttering and having difficulty recalling things from my short term memory. At that point, it became chillingly apparent that something wasn’t right…. I had my girlfriend drive me to our local emergency department, where they did an MRI and CT scan. I was given norco and fioricet to help alleviate the excruciating headache, zofran to tackle the nausea and vomiting, and a dark and quiet room to await my results. About an hour later, a PA came in and informed us that my scans showed swelling in my frontal lobe, damage to my Broca’s area, multiple skull fractures, and were 100% consistent with a grade three concussion and TBI…. By this time I was sporting a small cut and a lump the size of a golf ball above my right eye. My speech was barely understandable. I was having severe lapses in memory…. I was absolutely terrified…. I spent the next few months rushing between appointments with my PCP, my neurologist, another neuro specializing in frontal lobe TBI’s, and repeat CTs, MRIs, EEGs, and follow ups with all of the above. It’s all honestly extremely difficult to keep straight…. Now, let me give you a quick run down on how all of this has affected my life…. Now.... Before you judge me or blame me for some of the things I do or say sometimes (POST- frontal lobe TBI/ last November), understand that it’s just as frustrating and unappreciated on my end as it may be on yours…. 
A lot of the time, I’m extremely reckless and impulsive. Not because I’m an idiot or don’t care or because I have no self control, but because the part of my brain that controls impulsivity is physically damaged. I’ve done and said several things extremely out of character for me, because if it even crosses my mind, the TBI brain grabs it and runs with it. (reference Jack Sparrow “I’ve got a jar of dirt” scene where he’s running down the beach from the savages.) Sometimes what it runs with makes no sense whatsoever…. 
My moods are all over the place from one minute to the next, for no reason whatsoever. Sometimes I’m overwhelmingly manic and nothing can bring me down, sometimes I’m so depressed I can’t see straight, and a lot of the time, I’m just really, REALLY numb. I’m on several medications to help balance that, but there’s only so much modern medicine can do. 
I get unbelievably angry over the stupidest little things. Today, I was going to ride with my grandparents somewhere and I could hear the trailer chain rattling as we drove, and it literally made me so agitated and emotional and stressed out that we had to turn around, go back to the house, and I had to take my own car. 
I lose focus easily and I forget things. All. The. Time! Especially “short term memory” things. A conversation I just had not five minutes ago. Details I should remember. Names. Faces. Dates. I tell someone I’ll call or text them back in a bit then I completely forget until I’m reminded again or someone gets butthurt. 
I stutter due to damage to my Broca’s area (controls speech) and not only strangers but people I’ve known my whole life look at me like there’s something wrong with me now. They try to pretend they don’t notice but I’m well aware that they do. It takes me a full minute to get a single sentence out sometimes. Sometimes I get hung up so bad on words that I’ll find another word I can get out easier instead. A lot of times, it takes me too long to get things out and whoever I’m talking to will get impatient and finish my sentence or start throwing out words that MIGHT be what I’m trying to say. I can’t stand that. I KNOW exactly what it is that I want to say, it’s just that it gets mixed up somewhere between my thoughts and the physical action of speaking them. Because of this, I barely talk any more. Some people take it as rudeness, me not being very polite or personable, or aloofness. I can assure you, it’s none of the above. If you went from being the articulate whiz kid with a way with words to your own brain being the reason it takes you 20 minutes to say what would’ve taken 2 or 3 before, all while somebody stared at you with a fake politeness, how would you feel? So yes, it’s physically and emotionally easier on me to text, write, or sign. 
I get super frazzled and nearly melt down when things change or don’t go as planned. Any little hiccup in routine or plans or how things should be sends me into a full blown rage or panic attack. It’s just extremely hard to adapt sometimes. 
I hit things…. Which I’ve always done, but it’s gotten so much worse since the injury. Any sudden emotion whatsoever, I get overwhelmed and can’t handle it. I have never and will never hurt anyone else, but lord have mercy on any door, wall, mirror, car, tree, or life-sized cardboard cutout of the Biebz within striking distance when something trips my switch because it’s done before I even realize what’s happening. Yeah, it’s all frustrating for you, but it’s even more frustrating for me. When I have to live it every single day. It’s been a huge adjustment and I still have no idea what’s going on with any of it half the time. These are only a few of the every day struggles somebody with a traumatic brain injury faces. You wouldn’t hold having asthma or a broken arm against someone…. So please, don’t judge me for what I can’t help, either…. -KBW, 2017