I've been having a really crappy week and need to be cheered up any snippets you'd like to share?
hi darling!! i’m sorry you had a bad week :( here’s a haunted apartment snippet for ya:
Louis hangs up with a flourish, vengeance mighty in his veins.
And then he collapses onto the sofa, tears bubbling over and spilling down his face in an instant.
It’s so unfair, so, so unfair—Jason is the one who cheated, Jason is the one who was ashamed of having a boyfriend, of being different, so he went out and hooked up with girls behind Louis’ back so he could banter with his moron “lads” like he’s just another straight guy, Jason is the one who owes money on his bills and to his dealers and to his mum, even, debts that Louis always ended up paying because he is a good fucking person. And yet it’s Louis that had to move across town to the scary new flat with the paper-thin walls and the leaky windows, the one that was most likely a crime scene at least three separate times in the last century.
Louis’ chest aches as he lets himself dissolve into heaving sobs, stuttering hitched breaths that he can’t control. He refused to let himself ever cry in front of Jason—bad enough Louis had made the ill-advised decision to hand his heart over to the world’s slimiest cuntbucket, better not throw him any more ammo as well—but here he’s all alone, no judgmental eyes searching for weaknesses, no sharp ears listening for words to be weaponized.
So he cries, because he can.
Quite out of thin air, there’s an interruption to Louis’ unscheduled breakdown. From the corner of the half-scrubbed room there comes a loud beep, a clacking sound of plastic against plastic, and then a high-pitched hum.
Well, this is it. Miss Havisham has decided to murder Louis and eat him and—
Wait. Is that… his printer?
Louis slowly sits up, holding onto his throw pillow like a shield, and peers over the back of the sofa. Sure enough, his printer is lit up as it powers itself on, the internal thingamajigs (Louis has no idea how printers work, you know, inside, but that’s why he works with babies all day—he doesn’t have to know that sort of shit) sliding happily across the page and dispensing ink like there will be no tomorrow.
A minute or so later, there’s a brightly colored image waiting for him in the printer tray, ink drying in the cool air.
Louis creeps over to check out what his printer magically decided to make for him, and then stops short.
He takes a moment to process, but when results don’t appear in his head for explanations of why his printer decided to come to life and cheer him up, Louis panics a tiny bit.
“What the fuck!” he yelps, scrambling away as though the printer has started spinning like an extra in The Exorcist. He throws a shoe in the vicinity of the demon-possessed office appliance, shouting, “My printer is haunted!” like a gallant tech support knight will gallop in to rescue him from the clutches of the evil printer.
As though in answer, the printer lights up again. Louis watches from behind his pillow-shield, horrified, as another picture appears.