#THEY PUT FUCKING DEMONS IN THE FARTHEST PART OF THE BACKGROUND

[pickedpiper]

Nintendo games be silly as hell then put an easter egg like this:

#nintendo #nintendo games #super mario #legend of zelda #pikmin #splatoon #animal crossing #not off #shitpost #I was talking to a friend about the crazy shit Nintendo added in mario games #mostly Super Princess Peach about the ending text #I remember watching so many scary easter eggs videos when I was younger #specifically Nintendo ones and goddamn those mfs were EVIL #THEY PUT FUCKING DEMONS IN THE FARTHEST PART OF THE BACKGROUND

[deathfrisbeeinthetardis]

Bliss 7 and 12 please ;-;

Thank you anon, I absolutely adored writing this prompt, but being me I ended up with more angst than I planned to write for such a sweet prompt, but the ending is soft I swear. I hope you like it

Prompt Bliss 7. “Look at you… Goodness, you’re so cute.”

Ryan doesn’t know what they are even doing at this point.  

This is the tenth time this month that he had lingered at the office after work, throwing himself into doing and redoing his editing as people trickled out and the buzz faded away. His neck is straining and his eyes ache, but he catches himself before he rubs them, not wanting to jostle the contacts. The office is not the pinnacle of comfort and luxury, but he would give up his bed and all his jerseys if it meant he could be spared from his mind.  

There is no use thinking about it really, what’s done is done, but he can’t help his reluctance. It’s just an apartment, his rationality says. But why does every empty space hurt to look at, his heart whispers.

There are so many of them now. 

So he had hung back, and Shane had stayed with him, the two of them editing their various projects side by side, a giant bucket of Chicago Popcorn™ Shane’s parents had sent between them.

The problem, as it usually was, is that Shane’s company and some good old fashioned sleep deprivation don’t mix well, and productivity took the fallout, their work ethic gradually sliding off the table until they’re positively undoing efforts that they’ve already put out. 

Yes, maybe Ryan had something to do with Shane’s elbow and back crashing onto his laptop keyboard and deleting nearly two hours of editing, but it’s Shane’s fault he doesn’t save the videos every two minutes like Ryan does, non-compulsively of course. 

So their nights aren’t the most productive, but it’s off-hours so no one can really tell them off. The office is empty, unflipped light switches plunging patches of desks into shadow between the bright spots in mesmerizing patterns. The warehouse desk layout leaves much space for the mind to fill, but Ryan’s worked here for so long that he knows every twist and turn. He’d bet good money that he’d win in a ghost race through this organized mess. 

Ryan’s pretty sure the only person doing actual work tonight has chosen to evacuate from their desk to one of the corners farthest away from the pair of them. He feels a little bad to bother him with the un-moderated volume of their conversations and the not-so-infrequent giggling fits, but right now he’s too relaxed and happy to care. It’s the only time he gets to feel like this anyway. 

The Unsolved title card flashes, pulling his attention back to the screen, a white bar inching through the multicolored blocks of carefully compiled video and audio files at the bottom of the monitor. Ryan’s quite proud of this one, the crew were able to get some stellar shots on-location and there was probably one of the clearest spirit box replies they’ve gotten, no matter how hard the other man tries to discount it. 

“Aww you cut that part out again?’ Shane pouts beside him, headphones perched precariously on his big head.

"You can’t just go and tell ghosts they’re gonna be on Youtube every time.” Ryan swivels his chair to face Shane, a lofty air in his voice as he does his best to look down his nose at the other man, even going so far as pumping his seat up a few inches. Shane’s lip trembles like he’s holding back a laugh. It’s an argument they’ve had before, and Ryan knows how it’s going to go almost down to the line, but it’s always fun, so he plays the game. 

“And why not?" 

"They’re not from this time, they don’t even know what electricity is!”

“So you are admitting the spirit box is wack.” Shane rubs his hands together evilly, smiling so wide he could have been in that truth or dare movie, no special effects needed. “Oh, this is very good.”

“I did not say that,” Ryan protests, nudging Shane’s leg with a foot and feeling intensely satisfied when the boot leaves a dirt mark on the other man’s dark jeans. Jeez, they are literal children sometimes, but Ryan never has this much fun. 

“It’s just, they’re ghosts, and they’re making the effort to reach out to talk to these two idiots, cut them some slack.”

“You’re the only idiot here. I, Shane Madej, am a man of science.” Shane doesn’t even have to level up his seat and he’s still taller than Ryan. It is so, so not fair. 

“This is science!”

“Uh-huh,” Shane says, deadpan. There is movement just out of Ryan’s periphery, and he cranes his head to see the guy leave, wincing internally. He should probably apologize for being loud, but that can totally wait a day. Maybe two.   

“There has been plenty of evidence on ghosts and you know it.”

“From what I’ve seen? You really want to go into that?” There’s a challenge in Shane’s posture, and Ryan feels a rush in his chest that overruns the empty ache there, sees the trap but he jumps anyway.

“Hell yeah I do, we’ve caught some pretty good stuff along the way, Waverly, ‘brown and white’?  The freaking Sallie House?" 

"We both know the whole flashlight test is horseshit, Ryan.” Shane smirks, leaning back in his chair languidly with his hands behind his head, “As to the rest of those, the demons and ghosties gotta work harder than that, cause right now they don’t seem very interesting.”

  “How dare you! They’re more than interesting. They were all people once.”

“Let’s list what they’ve done, hmm? Jostling toothpaste, nudging bouncy balls, whispers so gentle you can’t even–”

“Nope I’m not letting you trivialize the evidence, it was fucking creepy to hear those on location.”

“That’s ‘cause you’re a wimp.”

“Fuck you.” Ryan shoots back, but there’s no real feeling behind it. He pulls a serious face to match Shane’s, squaring his shoulders and oh watch how fast he folds now. 

The other man’s joy is infectious, and soon Ryan is joining him, their laughs swallowed up by the high ceilings and far walls. Ryan’s eyes catch on the lights shining down on Shane, tracing golden lines along the edges of his lanky figure against the shadowed monotony of conference rooms. Breathless and curling into themselves, their gazes meet and linger across five feet of space.

They’re just two guys working into the small hours of the night, just another aspect of their life that their ghost hunting career has bled into, it’s all normal. 

Except it isn’t. 

Neither of them needs to be here to work, least of all Shane, and really, Ryan thinks with a twist in his chest, it has just been the two of them spending time in each other’s company. And Ryan does genuinely enjoy it. He loves the ease of their interactions, how they can hound each other mercilessly and bicker, how Shane can poke that special unhinged laugh out of him and make him forget about everything else. 

And how he, in turn, can make the big guy’s eyes all curvy and bright like no one does. 

But there’s no use thinking about things like that. 

There could be, a small voice says, a light shining weak in the churning abyss. Ryan passes a hand over his face and keeps it there, not trusting himself to not let his heart spill right out. 

“Ryan?”

He had thought he found the one with Helen, the person in the world he’d like to spend his life with, but then things had started falling apart, and she had left. It wasn’t anyone’s fault, Ryan knows, but he had gotten used to having someone to come home to, someone who knows him for who he is. 

You can have that again, the voice goes on small and determined, and Ryan wishes he could block it out. Isn’t he always good at that on their investigations? It was basically in the fucking job description. 

You just have to let yourself see.

Shane is safe, someone to trust, someone to rely on. No one else would have born with him all the times he lost his mind in those haunted places. No one else would have hummed Mama Mia to him constantly in those first days when Ryan hid the pain so well on camera, knowing the familiar tune would take the tears away, if only for a minute. Just one Shane Madej hailing from the Land of Lincoln, his co-host, his best friend, and the most important constant grounding him while the rest of his world is turned up-side-down. 

“You okay buddy?” There is a sharp tone in Shane’s voice, and Ryan belatedly realizes his eyes are wet. Shane’s face is flushed from laughing, but now he leans forward and there is suddenly so much care in the slight tension of his shoulders that Ryan wants to cry. 

He can’t risk losing this, he doesn’t know what he would do if he manages to fuck up this last good thing in his life. 

“Yeah,” He gives the other man a small smile, turning back to his screen to start up the video again, and he feels Shane relaxing back into his chair reluctantly. 

Soon he’s leaning forward again, attention rapt on every little detail Ryan had painstakingly compiled. 

“Hmm, didn’t you make a face at that point?” Shane taps a finger against his chin, eyes narrowed in concentration as Ryan reaches out to pause the replay, the lines of blue and yellow stark against the black background. 

“Oh, that? I didn’t think it would anyone would be interested to see it.” Ryan’s fingers tap at the keys for a few seconds, pulling up the clip from the front camera and overlaying it on the video. 

"I didn’t know it was gonna scare ya.” Screen-Shane says, tipping his head to the side and schooling his face into an impressive mask of innocence as he batted his eyes at screen-Ryan.

In-real-life Ryan feels warmth coil in his chest at the memory, and he smiles as he watches himself sputter for a bit, finally settling on a determined, You know what you did. He actually huffs out a laugh at his piss poor attempt to look intimidating, when the camera angle in the VO booth put Shane so much clearly taller. 

On the screen, Shane’s looking down at Ryan with a grin, though he at least has the self-awareness to look a little sheepish. Their eyes lock, and with an appropriate pause for dramatic effect, “I do.”

The clip takes another few seconds to end, their raucous laughter sound from his speakers. Then Ryan’s left with the still of both of them looking at the camera, frozen grins bright on their faces, captured in time. 

And Ryan’s caught in fucking limbo again, his free hand flexing in on empty air at the edge of his desk.  

“Good stuff huh?” Shane’s voice is quiet. 

“Yeah.” Breathe, just breathe, how is that so hard? It shouldn’t be this hard. 

“You considering switching the text out for this?” There’s a smile in Shane’s voice, and Ryan clears his throat and drags in a shuddering breath. 

“No it's—I’ll uh, I’ll put it in.” He hears Shane wheeling close on his chair, but he doesn’t turn to look, locking his eyes on the monitor and busying himself with the familiar shifts and adjustments. He just needs a bit of time to clear his head, then he’ll recover the ability to be a half-decent friend again, he’s sure of it. 

Ryan’s got his cursor hovering over the clip, leaning forward to keep an eye on the time markings when Shane loses a soft breath, his voice an awed murmur. 

“God, you’re so cute when you’re focused." 

And Ryan’s world freezes over. 

Around the edges of his vision, he sees realization, surprise, and something like fear flit across the other man’s face. But Ryan doesn’t do much, just holds as still as he can, like he can stamp down the giddy hope in his chest before it even has a chance to rise, so he can convince himself that it’s all just a freakishly detailed fever dream, because Shane can’t have just said that. 

Shane saw him as a friend, nothing more. Ryan does want that to be true, he really should. 

Breathing is becoming such a fucking bother again, he thinks absently. Maybe if he didn’t do it, life would be much easier. 

"Oh-oh god I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to spring it on you like that, what kind of shitty friend am I—just,” Shane breaks off, dragging both hands through his hair and tugging in frustration. When he finally speaks he sounds broken, voice thick as if he’s holding back tears, “I’m so sorry.”

It’s all too much, there’s a loud rushing in Ryan’s head. He bolts out of his chair, needing the freedom in space to think, to process. His chest tightens when Shane flinches at the sudden movement, eyes wide, fingers white where they’ve wrapped around the arm of his chair in a death grip.

He needs air, Ryan thinks, and his feet start carrying him away, faster and faster. But Shane follows him, and it has always been like this, he supposes. Ryan takes the lead and Shane hops on for the ride, for better or for worse, always a steady presence at his side when he needs him the most. Sometimes even when he doesn’t want to.

Shane’s steps close in and he catches at Ryan’s arm, “Ryan wait, please.”

Ryan blinks hard, but he doesn’t get to wake up this time. Shane’s fingers are burning points of pressure on his mind. 

He opens his mouth to speak but there’s a strange taste, two cool lines trace down his face and his vision is swimming, and oh wouldn’t it just be perfect if he blacked out, poor little Ryan, can’t even take a fucking joke without fainting—

“Oh god, don’t cry Ry, please, I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have-”

“Was it a fucking joke.” Ryan bites out, voice barely louder than a whisper but it still comes out harsher than he means. He can’t look at Shane, so Ryan keeps his eyes down, stares at the mud on Shane’s boots from their last shoot. He needs to know. 

“No,” Hurt, that’s what it is, and there’s far too much of it in Shane’s voice for it to be right. “No it wasn’t.” Shane lets go of Ryan’s hand to curls an arm around himself, and Ryan aches for the burning contact like it’s a physical wound. 

“Oh.” It’s more a punched out puff of air than a word. Oh.

“I-” Shane swallows, eyes shifting then settling back on Ryan, “I was looking at you, and it-it slipped out, I’m sorry.”

The silence isn’t complete, of course it isn’t. The sound of traffic exists at all hours of the day here. But it still envelops Ryan, wrapping around his throat and trying to suffocate the words he’s struggling to form. 

“Don’t be."  

"What?” Shane breathes, hesitant, almost disbelieving, his eyes dart to search Ryan’s face, “you’re not saying—do you—”

“I think I can.” Ryan says, and he tastes truth on his tongue. 

Not now, not even tomorrow, but maybe next week, or the week after that.

“You do?"  

"I do.” He affirms, and Ryan’s throat closes up with something warm when a lopsided grin starts to form on Shane’s face, small and hopeful, a gentle flush creeping onto his cheeks. They’re just standing in the office looking at each other, and Shane’s hand lifts up a little as if to reach out, but he catches himself before it makes it into Ryan’s personal space. 

“You wanna head back home? I’ll pack the popcorn.” Ryan can’t really breathe, so he just nods and offers Shane a watery smile. 

Their fingers brush when Ryan hands Shane a blanket for the couch, the corners of Shane’s eyes are crinkling and Ryan is breathless. He’s been feeling like that a lot tonight, and it seems that life is determined to keep him that way with all the curveballs it’s been chucking at him. 

But this time it’s not a bad feeling. Not at all. 

He fiddles with his sleeve and watches Shane settle down, making his way around his apartment with a familiarity accumulated over years’ worth of movie nights and beers and popcorn. 

It’s still too soon, and he doesn’t think he can do anything about this whole thing he’s got himself into. But he’s got Shane with him, and for once Ryan’s not afraid he’s going to leave. 

And maybe, Ryan thinks. Maybe one day he won’t need to hide from his apartment and its empty spaces. 

#this took way too long to write #sorry for the wait anon #i was 1.5k in and then my brain was just like fluff??? have some angst instead #but it's hurt/comfort I guess #things are okay at the end #shyan #bliss prompt #how did I twist it into something that i cried to write #i love dying and being dead #alex writes #also I am very proud to have used that 'oh' trope after ryan has that realization #i do love that one very much

[quatschmachen]

Driftwood

The 2020 arc continues!

Continuation of Sparks Masterpost

XXXXX

This was a two- step he didn’t know the tune to. Maybe more like a three and a half step, with him acting as the ringleader with two idiots who didn’t know their ass from their tail. It was a situation, granted, which he had created, but he hadn’t accounted for feeling like the third wheel of a chuckwagon.

He was glad for the darkling sky and the warm light of the fire, which gave him some space to let his face rest in the shifting shadows. If there was some level of hell where you slept with the people you were confused on how the hell to act and be with, with no escape at all, he certainly seemed to have invented it. He had purposely sat to the side, using Mac and Caroline as a love-strewn buffer to give himself some breathing space.

He had not at all thought that the two men he had been trying to get to “kiss and make up,” who had literally been moving like glaciers, would suddenly meet global warming and melt down into the spring. What the hell? He honestly thought all they would do was talk and decide to stop avoiding each other or hug it out. Fucking on top of the mountain had not been it.

On one level he appreciated that Edward took him seriously enough to disclose the necessary information, that there was no sneaking around or having affairs. Still he felt a little uneasy, there was a part of him that felt like he should be acting in a jealous possessive manner… and the fact that he wasn’t made him confused. Yes, he knew he had worked on that aspect of himself, and he had known Edward long enough that if he had never made up with Étienne he would be on some level sad for eternity, and he knew logically he could trust the other man, but but but.

But what about me? The small doubtful voice seemed to whisper. It was the one he tried to ignore, managed to put a lid on. Ignore and walk away. Keep corralled up in the farthest field of his brain.

Sipping on his lukewarm beer, he looked over to Edward and Étienne, who were sitting close together, but not too close, both conscious enough not to act like lovers quite yet. The conversation had turned to one of Mac’s tall tales. It was one of those tales where he seemed to have merged something from Ben’s never-ending vault with some original content, and managed to make it hilarious and unbelievable. There was no way that Mac had been out wrestling bears, but the details were entertaining.

Maybe the best resolution was to get drunk enough to pass out in the tent, so he could be oblivious to what decisions had to be made, he thought. Standing up, he walked over to the RV to grab another beer and was surprised when Caroline followed him.

“Did you need another beer?” he asked her as he unlocked the door.

“No,” she paused letting him root around in the cooler. He could tell she wanted to say something, and he took slightly longer than necessary, not really feeling up to a heart-to-heart conversation.

Behind them the others were laughing hard about something Mac had said, and as he pulled out his beer and shut the door, he looked towards his sister, who was backlit from the fire. He couldn’t read her face, and nearly jumped when she gently placed her hand on his upper arm.

“Honey, are you doing ok?”

“Yeah?”

The grip tightened.

“Mostly?”

“You seem sort of off, I know you don’t really want to cause a big scene, but I just wanted to check in.”

Calvin forced his face into a smile, “Shoot sis, I can’t be Las Vegas lights twenty-four seven, y’know.”

Rolling her eyes, Caroline huffed, “Usually while camping you’re snuggled up to Edward! But you’re not even sitting on the same log!”

“Thought I’d let him sit with his - - friend.” Calvin shrugged, “I get him most of the time, figured maybe he wanted some Étienne time or something.”

“I don’t know why, but I’m not buying it.”

“Caroline,” Calvin sighed, knowing that she was like a terrier when it came to these issues, and that she would not back off unless he gave her something. Glancing towards the group, his heart tightening as he saw Edward and Étienne’s heads bent together in some sort of private conspiracy, he decided to carefully plod out a half truth of sorts. “I’m just being a little insecure about Edward’s friendship with Étienne… they go way back, and I just sometimes forget Edward has a whole life outside of me…” The half truth was actually a truth. Probably for the better, he thought as his sister relaxed her grip.

Giving him a pat, she smiled, “If he breaks your heart, I know ways to make him pay.”

Calvin laughed, “Caro, it’s not that serious – anyway ain’t I supposed to be the one issuing threats with your big lug over there?”

Snorting, Caroline shook her hair out, “Please, Mac may not be book smart, but he ain’t an idiot. He’s smart where it counts… plus do you really see him breaking my heart?”

“No… most likely it would be you breaking his heart and him camping out in my basement crying into every alcohol and junk food imaginable.”

“That’s the ticket!”

“Caro! Can you gets us the guitar?”

“Sure thing, Piggy!”

Heading back to his spot, Calvin was surprised when Edward got up and disappeared. Looking over to Étienne, who was also looking over in Edward’s direction with slight amusement, he wondered what the hell was up.

As Mac settled in with the guitar, Edward appeared with his fiddle. He handed off a set of spoons to Étienne, and then spent a moment tuning.

“Any requests?”

“How about Old Town Road?” Calvin joked.

Giving him a steady look, Edward raised an eyebrow and looked over to Mac, “Sure?”

Not realizing that Edward would actually take him up on it, Calvin was entertained when after a few tentative strains, Edward actually managed to get it, with Mac in the background playing, and finally, after a few bars, Étienne joining in on the spoons. Calvin begun to sing, taking up the challenge Edward was throwing down to him, as he slapped his thigh to keep rhythm, and before he knew it with Caroline on the harmonica, they had moved onto other songs, the mood mellowing between them.

Edward continued to subtly challenge him, choosing songs to play that he knew would purposely provoke him, a slow tease in music, enough to make his heart race. Edward also would change the rhythm, his eyes locking onto Calvin’s as with a smirk he did a slight arpeggio, attempting to throw Calvin’s singing off. However, Calvin kept up, counter balancing Edward’s playing as he knew the songs well enough to not just sing them straight. Despite the flirtatious playing, Mac, Caroline and Étienne managed to keep the rhythm, their sound gelling together. He barely noticed as the evening grew cooler, the heat from the fire dying down as he sang along to the songs, their voices joining in various levels of harmony – not production worthy, but good enough.

As he struck the last note, Edward lowered his bow, making a face, which Calvin knew meant “fingers cramping” and that he would end up being the one to rub his hands. His stomach twisted as Edward glanced at Étienne, and he worried that he had miscalculated. Was that going to be Étienne’s job now too?  His stomach unclenched as Edward crossed the short distance between them and sat on the log next to him. Carefully he set the fiddle and bow down, and then held out his hands expectantly in front of him. Wordlessly, Calvin took one of the hands and began to massage it.

“God, I haven’t played that long in a while,” Edward lightly complained, “I would have continued on, but the quiet time is 11… and I realized its 11:30.”

Calvin’s massage had moved up Edward’s arm to his shoulder where he knew the greatest strain tended to be. Edward relaxed into his touch with a happy sigh.

“Geezus dat late already, Chucky boy?” Mac stood up, stretching as the guitar lay strung across him. “Guess it’s time for me and Caro to hit the hay. Lotsta see tomorrow.”

As Caroline and Mac drifted over to the RV, Calvin worked on Edward’s other hand.

“Shoot I gotta pop the fiddle into the truck while I still can,” Edward muttered as he pulled away from Calvin. “Then I guess washroom and bed, eh?”

“Euh…  yeah sure.”

Watching Edward jog over, Calvin cast a sidelong glance over to Étienne who was decidedly not looking happy. The fire was dying out, and realizing it was best to fully kill it, Calvin pitched the water bucket onto it, the coals hissing in displeasure.

Except it wasn’t the coals hissing, he quickly realized, but Étienne hissing. His eyes were still adjusting to the dark, but he could make out the huddled form of the other man clutching at his arms.

“Hey, are you ok?” he asked setting down the bucket and carefully stepping toward the other man.

“No!” Étienne stood up, looking around frantically, “Where are our clothes again? I’m fucking freezing.”

“Oh! Yeah, let’s go to the washrooms and get ready for bed.”

“I mean I need clothes now,” Étienne seriously replied, “What temperature is it? Minus ten?”

“No,” Calvin replied amused, “More like eight.”

“Eight?! In August-” Étienne paused, then let out a breath, “I think I mentally blocked this part of your province from my mind for my own sanity.”

“Blocked?”

Étienne had subtly moved closer to Calvin, his body brushing against the other man’s no doubt in an attempt to acquire more body heat.

“Crunchy grass in August,” Étienne muttered the words out as if they were an ancient Latin curse meant to summon a demon from the seventh tier of hell.

“C-crunchy grass?” They had reached the tent where their stuff was, and Calvin unzipped it, grabbing the toiletry bag. “Did you wanna change in the tent or in the washroom? Are you uh – gonna shower?”

“There is no way in hell that I am going to shower, that’ll make me feel even more cold.” Étienne grumbled, “I’ll change in the tent. Is my toothbrush with your stuff?”

“Yeah.”

“Wait for me.” Étienne climbed into the tent and zipped up the door. There was rustling, and some cursing.

“Cal…”

Calvin jumped slightly as he realized that Edward had caught up to him.

“Why are you staring at the tent? And – why is it cursing?”

“Étienne’s changing,” Calvin explained, his free hand instinctively moving over to gently rub Edward’s shoulder.

“Isn’t he showering?”

“He said something about crunchy grass? I guess not?”

“Hmmm, well I need a shower at least… why are we waiting?”

“He asked me to wait.”

“…When I ask you to wait you just tell me it’s going to be a race.” Edward lightly accused.

“It works, doesn’t it?”

“If your thumb wasn’t feeling so good in my shoulder I would punch you,” Edward sighed.

Their attention was brought to the tent as the door unzipped, and Étienne tumbled out wrapped in thick sweatpants and a long sweater. “Changing in the dark is terrible.” He grumbled. “Let’s hurry up so I can get warm.”

“Yeah but let’s get our clothes to change,” Edward responded as he dove into the tent, knowing exactly where he had packed his and Calvin’s pajamas. Popping out in under two minutes, he zipped the tent back up triumphantly, the clothing and wash bag tucked under his arm.

Étienne’s pace was brisk, with Calvin easily keeping stride. Edward was half a step behind as they went to the communal washroom. The caged lights were covered with the struggling bodies of moths trying to touch the burning bright, the bugs swarming around the brilliance, not paying attention to the trio of men pushing through into the washroom.

The brilliant fluorescent lights blinded them momentarily as they opened the door, the smell of disinfectant, plastic and that forever camping washroom smell that permeated every variation.

Mac was zipping up his toiletry bag and nodded to them as the set up shop at the sink. “G’night guys, see you tomorrow, hey?”

“Yeah, goodnight Mac,” Edward replied, as the other two simply chorused a goodnight.

Calvin efficiently handed out toothbrushes, along with the toothpaste. Tiredly, in almost a sleepy synchronicity, they scrubbed. The bright light blanched their reflections in the mirror, and as they spat in the sink and completed their ablutions, it was almost… comfortable.

Washing their faces and putting the toiletries away, Calvin took his stuff from Edward and disappeared into the change room. The floor was still damp from someone else’s shower, and he eyed the curtain wondering if it was one of those pay showers – the one where it’s like a dollar a minute and which only spouted cold water. Undressing, he stepped into the shower and let out a sigh of happiness as he realized it was not pay. He heard Edward in the next stall over turn on the shower, he did the same and let out a small yelp as ice cold water hit him. He felt unmoored by everything and half of him wished he had been bold enough to ask Edward into the shower with him. Too shy with Étienne sitting right out there waiting for them, making sounds of impatience – sounds as if he was about to freeze to death while waiting. Plus, every word said would echo in the shower, this was not the best place for intimacy. Unwillingly his mind remembered Edward’s tease about fucking Étienne in the shower, and he frowned wondering how the logistics of that would work out, before he quickly decided he probably should not be mentally visualizing this. It was a situation he was not invited to.  

On the river with the fresh turmoil of spring, when he took those long walks with Edward through the freshly budding canopy, he remembered watching the broken logs float upon the silty brown waters. He had wondered aloud to Edward at the size of a particular log, the limbs broken and smoothed down from its tumultuous journey, and Edward responded most likely it had come from the mountains. The journey down incline across prairie to appear at that moment before them, a journey that would continue until inevitably the log would wash up somewhere. A somewhere where it could be in someone’s way, or perhaps come to rest and rot gently in piece or perhaps become the home to someone or something. Endless possibilities, but whatever happened to the log it was away from its place of birth.

He had read an article about how trees had feelings and built networks to support each other, where trees would keep the stump of a dead friend alive by feeding it nutrients. It was one of those internet articles which you read and contemplate, not truly believing the claims, but which stuck in the back of the mind, emerging now and then in a pleasant haunting. Torn away from networks and home, he half wondered if the wooden carcass would have a memory of life, or if it had been so leeched of whatever plant sentience it had that as its body bobbed down the river, there was no need to mourn.

At the moment Calvin felt like that log, torn up by the roots by forces outside of his control and bobbing along to an unknown destination.

The soap got into his eye and he blamed that for the stinging sensation, it was simply that and nothing else. He just wanted some goddam alone time with Edward to really process, to really connect, but at the moment for the upcoming few days that was unlikely to happen unless he… kidnapped his boyfriend or something. Turning his face up into the water he let it run down his face and chest, working to numb the turmoil in his chest.

What’s done is done, he thought as he turned the water off, the horse has left the barn and is literally in a different province at this point.

Goosebumps spread across his skin as he toweled himself off, feeling clean but cold as hell.

Perhaps Étienne had been right to not shower before bed, he thought as he finished changing. Carefully folding his clothes up, he ran his fingers through his damp hair and gave himself a tiny pep talk. It was going to be fine. Everyone was going to sleep and Étienne would kindly not snore.

Exiting the stall, he looked over to Edward who was leaning against the sink, talking to Étienne. Edward’s hair was slicked, and he was wearing his old thick Oilers hoody and matching sweatpants. Étienne was pouting as he was touching Edward’s damp hair in disapproval.

Edward looked over to Calvin, and grinned, “Took forever, didn’t ya?”

“Aw fuck off,” Calvin grumbled as he walked towards them.

Lightly punching him in the arm, Edward said “Manners, McCall.”

“Manners, McCall,” Calvin imitated, earning himself another punch – which he dodged as he nimbly pushed through the door into the dark night.

Edward gave chase and gave a whoop as he reached Calvin and grabbed his arm, forcefully linking them. “Why you being a little shithead?” He let out a small groan and rubbed his lower back, “Running is a regret.”

Hearing Étienne behind them, Calvin simply tilted his head and raised one eyebrow.

“You guys nearly forgot your toiletry bag!” Étienne huffed as he caught up.

“Hmm? I just knew you would get it, sweetie,” Edward responded as he reached out with his free arm and grabbed Étienne’s hand.

Étienne’s mouth opened once, twice, as he attempted to find words, caught the eye of Calvin, and shut his mouth deciding not to respond.

As they reached the tent, there was a momentary pause, and then Edward suggested, “I sleep in the middle?”

There was agreement, and as they climbed in Edward snuggled up into the middle, as Calvin plopped on his right side and Étienne on the left. The air mattress wheezed slightly as they settled in.

Giving Edward a kiss, Calvin closed his eyes, willing sleep to take him. He heard Étienne give Edward a goodnight kiss, his stomach feeling a little odd about that, his emotions still not quite stabilized.

He was drifting off when there was movement on the other side, and then a whimper.

God they weren’t, were they? He thought, his eyes popping open in annoyance.

“Eddy…” came the soft whine.

Edward sighed. “Mmm?”

“I’m… cold.”

Calvin could sense Edward turning to look at him, so he immediately shut his eyes and pretended to sleep, curious as to how this would play out.

“Cold cold?”

“My ass is cold, there’s like a breeze.”  Étienne’s voice was one reminiscent of a small child.

“Hmmm, I suppose we should move you to the middle… Cal?”

Calvin simply grunted.

“I’ll take that as approval then.” He felt Edward give him a small kiss on the cheek, and then a gap in warmth, and shuffling, until he felt Étienne beside him, snuggled up tight in the middle.

“Is that better, Teddy?” Edward murmured.

The only response was the even breathing of the other man.

Calvin’s false sleep was disturbed as he was unable to contain his question, “Wait, did you just call him Teddy?”  

Edward snorted, “Mmm yeah.”

“How many nicknames do y’all have for each other?”

Étienne sighed, and turned away.

“Uh – I dunno like at least five,” Edward responded.

Calvin was quiet for a moment contemplating, “So like can I call you two my two teddies?”

Étienne groaned in response, as Edward snorted. “Calvin and the Teddies sounds like a band.”

“Teddy One wants y’all to shut up and move in closer so I don’t freeze to death,” Étienne grumbled.

“How are you still cold?” Calvin asked as he shifted so that instead of laying beside Étienne he was more snuggled up.

“Don’t try to divine that answer, Cal,” Edward responded, “Étienne’s body works in mysterious ways. Fairly certain he is part cryptid.”

“Only part?” Étienne cheekily responded, which had them giggle.

“Honestly if I were a cryptid I would probably be a Sasquatch,” Edward confessed, “Live in the mountains all the time and not have anyone bug me.”

“I’d be Mothman,” Calvin added in.

“Why Mothman?”

“He’s so cool!”

Étienne snorted, “Please Calvin, wouldn’t you be a centaur.”

“Uh Étienne, I don’t think you quite understand what a cryptid is.”

“Is there a horse one? Cuz that’ll be you.”

Calvin hummed as he tried to think of one, “I don’t think so.”

“I swear I just read an internet post about one last week,” Edward murmured. After giving a frustrated sound, he then added, “But fuck me, can’t remember it.”

“Well he’s that one you can’t remember.” Étienne decided.

“So cryptid, doesn’t even have a name,” Calvin joked.

He was silent a moment, and then, began to hum.

Edward growled. “Calvin Brisebois McCall I swear to god-”

“Mothman! You’re a moth and a man,” Calvin began to sing aloud to the YMCA theme. Beside him Étienne made a sound of surprised laughter, while Edward wriggled so he could glare at him better.

“I swear if you’re going to continue –”

“I said Mothman! You’re a man who’s a moth-”

There was an eruption of action as Edward lunged across Étienne to attempt to strangle Calvin. It resulted in all their limbs tangling, with Edward laying half across a rather squished Étienne, Calvin working to wiggle out of the grasping hands as he continued to sing. However, Edward’s actions were hampered somewhat by Étienne, who was holding back one of his arms, as he began to hum the tune in harmony with Calvin’s singing.

“Boucles!! How could you betray me-” Edward exclaimed as the two men began to chant “M-O-T-H”

They continued to chant M-O-T-H until Edward, his struggles long turned into gasped laughter, gave in and began to mumble the lyrics to this stupid song Calvin was singing. Étienne didn’t know all the lyrics, supporting vocals, and then got inventive by creating verses which hadn’t even existed.

“Mothman! He swam the sea of Japan!” Étienne sang, Calvin cracking up beside him.

He then sang a different verse in French, barely able to get through it due to laughing at how funny he was, and then at the end mumbled to Calvin “I know you didn’t understand but it’s much funnier in the original language.”

To which Calvin responded “I got some of it-”

And Edward deadpan responded, “I know French and it wasn’t that good.” Which earned him an elbow in the side.

“Come on Neddy show me if you can do better,” Étienne challenged.

Huffing, Edward finally joined in making up some ridiculous lyrics, “Mothman! Annoying as you can-“

“Edward that doesn’t even make sense!” Calvin interjected.

“I just – let me finish!”

This went on for some time as each tried to top the other with more and more ridiculous lyrics, until finally, in what felt like an eternity, with Edward nestled on Étienne’s chest, the singing wound down.

They would be silent, until someone would start whispering some of the lyrics, and they would giggle, or join in. Edward made to shift off of Étienne, only to be trapped there by an arm firmly wrapped around his waist.

They all laughed slightly, and then let the silence of the night surround them. It was that mountain silence, where the wind rustled in the trees and you hear the night creatures scurrying. The type of sound where the crunch in the distance could either be a bear or someone heading to the washroom. The calming sounds as Calvin found himself gently lulled to sleep, his worries slipping away, as he felt Étienne shift next to him, his body warm. He half wished he was next to Edward, not entirely sure as to the boundaries of touch with this other man, and he nearly let out a small scream when he felt a hand ruffle his hair. Managing to keep it in he turned into the touch and realized it was in fact Edward.

With a sigh he peered in the gloomy darkness across Étienne to see Edward looking over at him with a sleepy smile, and his heart began to beat in rhythm again. That warm rhythm that seeped down into his stomach and down into his toes. Tilting his face enough he gave Edward’s wrist a small kiss in response, as his view then became obscured by a mass of curly hair as Étienne shifted once again, breaking their connected touch.

#quatschfic #2020 #pc: calgary #pc: edmonton #pc: montreal #pc: ft mac #pc: fort mcmurray #pc: bowness

[sp00kybrit]

prtctr: demon!shane fic

[Chapter 1]

“Ryan, that sounds like the wind! How can you not hear that?”

“You’re so quick to debunk, I bet you didn’t even listen to it!”

To avoid more bickering, Shane rolled his eyes and with a huff put on his headphones giving the “sound” another listen. This was not some of the most “credible” “evidence” that Ryan had ever posed to him. It was obvious that there was some interference, of what he was not certain. Shane shrugged and gave a bemused expression.

“Every time you do that, I take it as a win,” Ryan replied full of pride.

Shane gave a small chuckle, letting his friend have this one. Sometimes it was fun to play along with Ryan as he chased whatever “monster” it was that week. Fortunately for Ryan, he had no idea what horrors lurk in the darkness -- and how they can mask themselves as your best friend.

“Let’s go back inside and explore the second floor, I heard there’s some good activity up there.”

For a moment Shane had gotten lost in his thoughts, he mentally shook himself like an old school etch-a-sketch. With a clear head, he was ready to follow Ryan into whatever darkness he dragged them into.

“Right behind you!” Shane called back, adding some enthusiasm.

The duo walked upstairs and were met with a long, dark, forsaken hallway that could make most horror movie sets look like playgrounds. With doors on either side, it reminded Shane of a typical chase scene from Scooby-Doo. He chuckled at this thought, which startled Ryan who jumped in front of him.

“Dude, don’t do that!” He spoke between breaths. “This is the worst time to be giggling like a kid.” Ryan’s camera shone brightly in his face and Shane instinctively moved his arm to block his eyes. This was not the first time this would happen, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last. “Roger that. No more giggles.” Ryan pointed his camera at the floor which now lit up the area between them. “Let’s just keep moving, there’s a lot of ground to cover here.”

Ryan began to tell the story of a family that met an unfortunate end at the hands of a crazed ax murderer. The police never caught the perpetrator and there have been several theories as to who it could have possibly committed the act. After reading off a lengthy list of characters, each with their own incriminating backgrounds, Ryan concluded with his own theory.

“I’m just saying, it’s totally possible that it could have been the Men in Black. The family had some shady history of their own. You never know who they were involved with.”

“So you’re saying. . . That Will Smith showed up to this families house. . . and murdered them?”

Ryan let out a wheeze of a laugh. Even he had to admit it sounded crazy, but it all made sense in the grand scheme of things. Shane joined him in laughing, Ryan believed in such wild theories that it was comical.

“I’m just imagining Will Smith, [wheeze], breaking in. . .wait what year was this?”

“It was 1923,” Ryan replied between spurts of laughter.

“Oh, even better! So roaring 20’s era Will Smith breaks in and. . .”

A sharp, high pitched metallic noise pierced the air and stopped the duo in their tracks. Ryan’s expression was that of absolute terror. “What the hell was that?!” he yelled, waving his camera around him. They were still in the middle of the hallway, so it was a guess as to where it could’ve come from. Shane laughed lightly, these kinds of situations happened often. When they did, he was there to add some comedic relief and to possibly prevent Ryan from scaring himself half to death.

“Maybe it was Will Smith?”

“Dude, this is not the time! That was really freaky.”

“It was probably just an animal scurrying in the vents, or maybe a noise outside.”

“We’re in the middle of nowhere, dude!”

“Fine, let’s go, I’ll show you it was nothing. Maybe we’ll even find the cute little animals making the noise too.”

Shane walked past Ryan and started to investigate. He prided himself on debunking these little noises that frightened his friend so much. Ryan caught up to Shane just as he entered the first room through a door on the right side of the hallway.

“I almost couldn’t catch up, you walk two steps and you’re there!” Ryan joked in an attempt to ease himself. “I would laugh at that, but you told me no more giggling,” Shane replied wittily. This caused Ryan to roll his eyes with annoyance, but a grin reached his lips. “Let’s see what’s here.”

Their lights shone around the room, illuminating parts of the past. Wallpaper covered most of the walls, some was torn off or in the process of detaching itself. A once ornate desk sat in the middle of the room, papers scattered amongst the top. It was clear this room had not seen life in quite some time.

“That’s a creepy picture,” Ryan said, pointing to one framed piece hung in the center of the far wall. It was an old painting depicting a war. “Huh, nothing more inviting than an illustration of war and death,” Shane spoke. The lanky man moved throughout the room, still hot on the pursuit of that strange sound. After searching high and low, the two moved to the room across the hall.

“Are we going to check every room? There’s gotta be like. .100 doors in this one hall alone.” Shane spoke hyperbolically, he didn’t mind looking, however, it was simply quite tedious.

“I just want to know what that noise was, that’s all.”

“Then I think we’ll cover more ground if we split up.”

“Oh no, none of that Scooby-Doo shit. It never works for them, why would it work here?” Ryan retorted.

Shane couldn’t help but laugh out loud. Ryan never liked being alone in places like this and sometimes Shane couldn’t blame him. These places gave off a major “creep factor”, but it was his job to be skeptical. Skeptics didn’t get creeped out or scared because they know there’s some scientific reason behind everything. Or maybe being an actual demon alludes to that reason as well.

“You’ll be fine, I’ll just be in next room over.”

Shane left before Ryan could continue his protest. He knew he had to find something to explain the noise. Anything that would prevent Ryan from blindly approaching something supernatural. The room he walked into was blasé, it was the typical “scary, dated looking room” in almost any horror movie. Shane made a displeased huffing noise as he scanned around in a lazy attempt at a search. His eyes landed on the corner of the room farthest from him; his camera light illuminated the area and he was met with a dark figure. He was certain it was not his own shadow even though the dimensions matched up perfectly. The figure turned around, suddenly filling out its features. The figure took shape of what appeared to be an older gentleman. While this would scare practically anyone else, it was not unusual for Shane to meet another of his kind. Shane broke the silence with the goal of sending this demon off.

“Alright, buddy. I’m going to give you the quick low-down. . .”

The older gentleman guffawed, cutting off the beginning of Shane’s speech. The man opposite of Shane rubbed his belly in a way that reminded Shane of a TV show Santa Clause. However, the eyes that met Shane’s were dark and hollow. Okay, Shane game face. .Let’s be serious now, he thought to himself.

“Was something I said funny? I don’t remember dropping a punch-line.” Shane edged on taunting as situations like this grew more accustomed. “Watch your mouth, boy. Yer speaking to an elder.” The old man's speech was more of a growl than anything else. Instead of a quick comeback, Shane decided rather on dropping his point and then closing out this conversation.

“Okay then old-timer, what I need you to do is bippity-boppity-back the fuck up to wherever you came from.”

The man was furious at this commandment, but even more so since it was derived from Shane. He jolted himself forward, arms forward ready to strike. Before the man could even come close to bridging the gap between the two of them, Shane raised his hand up and muttered a few words. He watched as the old figure dissipated with ease. Shane ran his hand through his hair as he berated himself silently for not doing that from the beginning. These encounters with others like him were getting slowly more serious. It wasn’t just the sight of his dark being that scared others away anymore. He was having to fight them more often now. He was thankful most of them were on verbal playing fields instead of physical ones.

“Dude, did you find anything? The other room’s clear.”

Ryan’s voice dragged Shane out of his thoughts and back into reality. The shorter man was staring up at Shane with a half-smile0 draped across his face. Ryan made Shane feel more human, he felt like he could be comfortable around him. He felt like he could be himself, even if that self-was a demon.

“Uh, yeah I think there’s a cat living here,” he pointed to a group of boxes and newspaper that littered a corner of the room, “that must be what we were hearing. It must’ve gotten into something it shouldn’t.” Shane added a shrug to end the sentence off.

“A cat. . .”

“Yup.”

“You’re something else, Shane Madej.”

Ryan laughed, turned on his heel, and left the room. Shane watched as his friend’s flashlight bounced along the wall in the hallway, distance growing between them. Ryan had completely disappeared from his view.

“Hey! I think I found something!” Ryan’s voice reverberated through the hall and into his room.

For your sake, bud, I hope not.

“Alright, I’m on my way!”

As he left the room, Shane felt a pressure building in his chest. A tension that he was only able to attribute to one factor. It was getting increasingly more difficult to protect Ryan.

#buzzfeed unsolved #bfu #bfu fandom #fandom #fans #buzzfeed true crime #buzzfeed unsolved supernatural #ryan bergara #shane madej #demon shane #demon shane madej #demon!shane #shane is a demon #but hes supposed to protect ryan #idk its dumb #writing #reading #prompt #bfu fanfiction #ryan bergara edit #shane madej edit #stories #story #someone read this #reader #me #brittany wirtes #tags #follow