Okay, I admit it. I completely forgot this was upload night, and I have already taken my night meds, so I need to quickly make this post while I can still be coherant, because when these puppies kick in, they kick in HARD. Think Raven in Chapter Eleven, only without the sexy alien, slightly less biting and a lot more drooling. So it’s going to be a short post where I just say that the next chapter of Everything Is All Right, Part IV: New Faces, Old Bones is up at fanfiction.net and archiveofourown.org and call it a night.

…well, okay, that really is too short for a post, but I’m rapidly losing my ability to word, much less type. (For real, you have no idea how long this is taking or how many times I have to go back and correct my spelling.)  So, um…okay, here’s a painting I painted!

Co-painted, I should say. The friend I went to visit a few weeks ago poured the background and I only painted the figure.

There. That’s a little better. It’s still too short for a blog post but my eyes are literally not focusing anymore and I still have to climb stairs, so I’m done for tonight. See you in two weeks and I’ll try to be a little more together (no promises).

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There were more parts in the basement of Mulholland Drive than sturdy plastic bags to put them in, so they had to get creative in their packing. Before long, they’d exhausted their options until Blue was filling the drawers from the kitchen cabinets while Ana rolled parts up in the Purple Man’s post-murder bath towels. When those were gone, Blue loaded the Puppet’s prop gift box from the prize corner into the truck and the two of them carried parts up in old mop buckets and just dumped them in. It made for a lot more trips, which gave Ana plenty of time to fail at thinking up an escape plan.

And then it happened. She found a part—a tiny hinged connector plate, perfect for repairing the real Bonnie’s pinkie finger—and couldn’t find any more.

“Is that it?” asked Blue from across the room, where he’d been leaning against the wall with his arms folded and ears at a relaxed forward angle, watching her check under cabinets and behind shelves.

“Yeah.” Ana dropped the part into her bucket with an unimportant plink. It should sound heavier, she thought. Final. Like the slamming of a cell door. Because she had no way out.

“You sure we want to leave his collection?” he asked. “We’ve got a little more room in the truck.”

“We still have to get the generator and stuff in there,” said Ana.

“So we’ll only take his favorites. I know which ones they are. Come on, admit it,” he said, grinning. “You’re just a little squeamish about having to touch them.”

Preoccupied as she was, that struck a nerve. “Fuck you, I’ve carried heads around when they were fresh enough to blink.”

“Suit yourself, sweetpea, but don’t be surprised when he sends us right back here to get them, and if you don’t think he will, you don’t know him like you think you do.” He picked up his mop bucket with the handful of parts he had gathered before rightfully concluding she was only stalling and letting her hunt out the rest of them without him. He beckoned her over, poured the contents of his bucket into hers, then tossed his empty over his shoulder and took hers, saying, “Let me get that for you.”

“Hey!” Ana grabbed for the handle with irrational possessiveness, but naturally failed to wrench it out of his easy grip. “What the hell, man? You saw me carry this thing up the stairs a dozen times when it was full! Now suddenly, you don’t think I can handle it by myself?”

“I’m sure you can,” he drawled. “But you see, when it was full, it was heavy enough that you could barely lug it around and I didn’t have to worry about you swinging it at me in a poorly thought-out bid for escape. Don’t get huffy at me,” he added as she did just that. “I’ve seen a lot of dumb ideas shining in your pretty eyes tonight. It’s not going to ruin my good time if I’ve got to rough you up a bit, but it’ll sure ruin yours, so I thought I’d be a nice guy and remove the temptation before you do something stupid. You’re welcome.”

She glared at him for a moment more, then let go of the bucket. “Thanks,” she muttered.

“Speaking of having a great night,” he said, leading her toward the door. “Guess what time it is!”

“Time to rock?”

He laughed and waggled his ears. “In a manner of speaking.”