A/N: Sorry for the delay, but Chapter 10! I honestly never though that this would make it past five of six chapters, but here I am at number ten with a group of loyal fans and reviewer, a newfound potential for humour I never knew I had, I even went through a Beta crisis and the story's barely begun! I only hope that you guys continue to stick with me, you're my motivation. And who knows, maybe you'll be around to see ten more chapters of my plot-lacking nonsense! As always, I hope y'all enjoy!

Your Obedient Servant,

SP

Disclaimer:

Black ribbon-tied roses are red,

A tortured fop turns blue,

I do not own Phantom,

So please, Andrew, don't sue.

Oh, and I don't own any of the PPNers either. To the best of my knowledge they all belong to themselves.

Chapter 10: Extreme MakeOver: Phantom Edition

C.C. woke up the next morning to utter silence. Not that the lair was usually Grand Central Station or anything, but that morning it was different. The silence seemed emptier than usual, and heavy, very heavy; she could almost seem to feel it. Slipping out of bed, she dressed quickly and padded out into the main alcove. It was empty.

"Erik?" she called tentatively into the oppressive calm. There was no answer.

Turning, she headed toward the back of the lair, slipping behind the velvet curtain as she entered the dank and gloomy hallways that had been hidden from view on the silver screen. Entering the drab kitchen, she instantly spotted the note lying neatly underneath a cup of quickly cooling coffee.

C.C. smiled down at the red wax seal, always the dramatist Erik hadn't neglected to add the trademark skull. Slipping the note out from under the cup, she ran a fingernail underneath the dried wax, trying to open the letter without breaking the grinning skull seal. Her smile grew wider as she unfolded the note and read what her ghost had written.

My Dear,

Pardon the informality, but you have not yet given me a name to call you by and have yet to prove yourself the "authoress" of anything.

I've decided to go out for supplies seeing you've already gone through what little food I had about the place and I don't see if fit to let you starve, yet. Please remain in the house until I return. I don't wish for a disaster such as yesterday's to occur in my absence. You may do as you wish about the house as long as you refrain from disturbing any of my work. I shall return as soon as I can seeing as I fear what "possible" things you might think to do while I'm away.

My Sincerest Thoughts,

Erik

As she read the name signed at the bottom, C.C.'s smile grew into an audaciously foolish grin. The Opera Ghost was opening up to her! She was in the lair, living in the Phantom's universe, holding a note he had written her, a note signed "Erik." She was certain she felt a Squee coming on any moment. Of course, some of her luck with the man might have to do with the fact that this was her story, but every phic author and authoress knows that the Phantom rarely bends easily to the will of the writer without the words "OOC" and "Mary Sue" getting involved.

Eyes darting around, the Authoress looked for a proper place to swoon, only to find that there wasn't one to be found. C.C. frowned to herself. The lair really did need some work. The front room was rather pretty in a "Dracula Meets the Price of Darkness" kind of way, but as she looked about her she realized that the rest was barely a step above hovel. The kitchen had nothing but a roughly hewn table, chair, and a single cupboard. The attached pantry was hardly more than a niche hacked into the stone wall. Most of the other rooms back there were rather the same. C.C. had never been into Erik's bedroom, but she some how doubted it was much better than the rest of the rooms hidden behind the velvet curtains.

The place needed work. Badly.

'Hmm . . . ' she thought to herself. 'What would Ty Warner do with the place?'

Call in his team for a start. her mental voice retorted.

'But I don't have a. . .' she started before the voice in her head cut her off again.

It doesn't have to be that way, you dolt! You are the Authoress, aren't you? Do some recruiting!

'But where am I going to get . . . ' suddenly she brightened. 'The internet would work!'

You don't have a connection, yet.

'I can fix that!' Dropping to her hands and knees, C.C. crawled around the edge of the room until she found what she was looking for. In the corner, near the floor, was a small glowing portal about six inches across. Swirling blues and purples shimmered across the surface of the vortex as the girl plunged her hand into it. . . and pulled out a phone cord.

'Wormholes,' she thought to herself, 'gotta love 'em!'

Whose line is that? The Voice asked.

'I dunno,' C.C. answered back with a mischievous grin, 'but they're gonna have a heck of a time with their phone for a while.'

Returning to the front room just long enough to grab her laptop, C.C. hurriedly plugged the phone line into the back and proceeded to sign onto MSN. Wincing at the low battery level, she made a mental note to see how good Erik was at splicing into the opera house's new electrical system they were experimenting with. After connecting to the web, she logged onto her currently favourite forum. (potophans dot net if anyone's interested.) After posting a help wanted ad of sorts the Authoress sat back and waited. Once they knew the opportunity was available, most phans wouldn't pass up a chance to cause a little mischief in Erik's lair.

C.C. didn't have to wait more than a few minutes before there was a large "wumph!" sound as if something big had fallen onto the swan bed from a rather great height. Running out of the kitchen, C.C. entered the main room just in time to see a young brunette climb out of the bed, brushing a few stray feathers from her jeans. "Bek!" C.C. squealed before launching herself at the new arrival. "Wow! That was quick! How did you get here so fast?" the Authoress asked as she gripped the Aussie in a spine crushing hug.

"Be . . . the pow . . . ees!" Bek squeaked.

"What?" C.C. asked, bemused, before finally realizing how tightly she was gripping her friend. "Oh!" she said with a start as she released her. "Oxygen. You need it. Right." Her cheeks flushed scarlet for a moment before she asked her question again. "So how did you get here? I only posted the request a few minuets ago!"

"Behold the power of cheese!" the second girl exclaimed, then off C.C.'s confused look, "I was on PPN, saw your post and decided to sign on, but before I did, I thought I'd grab something to eat. There was a big chunk or Swiss cheese in the fridge and I decided to see what would happen if I stuck my finger in one of the holes. Next thing I know I'm landing in a big bed shaped like . . ." Bek's eyes widened as realization struck her, " . . . a swan!" she squealed excitedly. "Squeeeeeeeee! I'm actually in the lair! That means that . . . Erik! Erik's here!"

"Actually he's kinda not." C.C. cut in quickly before Bek got too carried away. "He's out." she half smirked, half smiled, "If he wasn't I doubt you would have lived long enough to get a good Squee in."

"Oh, but what a way to go." Bek sighed. "Getting punjabbed by Erik would be such a happy death."

"But then you wouldn't have lived long enough to help me redo the lair," C.C. countered, "And then maybe get a proper introduction . . . eventually."

Bek brightened instantly. "Sounds good to me!" she chirped before dashing off toward the back rooms.

"Where are you going?" C.C. called after he looking rather confused by her friend's sudden action.

"The torture chamber!" Bek tossed over her shoulder with a grin, "It my first project."

The Authoress shook her head and tried to suppress a giggle. "You're goin' the wrong way then. It's four floors up and about a few dozen metres over." Then off Bek's perplexed look she added with an eye roll, "Movie version, remember? Don't ask me what Schumacher was thinkin'."

"Oh, well." the other girl chirped. "I guess I'll just walk a little further then!" Bek started to sprint for the back, but stopped suddenly, "Uh, where is the torture chamber exactly?" she asked sheepishly.

C.C. sighed. "Back behind the curtain, forth entryway on the right. Follow the tunnel for about ten to fifteen minutes then take a left when if forks, being a big room full of mirrors, it's hard to miss." Bek squealed gleefully and then rushed off to make whatever moderations she seemed to find necessary to the torturechamber. C.C. shuddered as she thought of how Erik was going to react to this. She didn't have much time to ponder her decision, however, in just a few moments her "crew" would start showing up in earnest.

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"I didn't mean to crush your parsnips! Honest!. . .What the. . .?" C.C. whirled around to catch sight of Blondie, another PPNer, sprawled awkwardly on the floor of the lair. Sitting up she blinked dazedly. "Whoa." she said, "That was some wall I picked to fall over."

C.C. decided not to probe any deeper into her fellow Englander's statement as she walked over and helped the girl to her feet. Dusting herself off in a less than amused fashion, Blondie surveyed the lair. "It's kind of dank,"she observed, "it could definitely use some fresh air, couldn't it?"

"Well, yeah," C.C. answered with a shrug, "the whole five stories underground thing doesn't exactly spell out flowers n' sunshine, but what can you do, ya know?"

"Well actually I was planning on . . . " Blondie's words were cut off by a sudden splash in the lake. "Uh, what was that?" she asked as she peered out over the lake, trying to locate the source of the splash.

"Just another sign up, probably. A lot of us seem to end up entering via the lake, it's not exactly comfortable, but it makes an effective visual." As she finished, C.C. noticed the odd look Blondie was giving her and shrugged indifferently. After all it wasn't her fault she had been born with a flare for dramatics instead of the common sense God usually gave a turnip.

A few moments passed in a rather awkward silence before the girls noticed something wasn't right. There were none of the splashing sounds that usually accompanied someone swimming toward the lair. Their gazes grew worried as they walked hurriedly to the water's edge and scanned the lake for signs of movement. "Do you think whoever it is is okay?" Blondie asked.

"I dunno," The Authoress answered distantly, her eyes still on the lake.

Go check the replies. Her mental voice inserted tiredly. It took C.C. a moment realize what the voice in her head was saying, but then rushed toward the kitchen. Blondie followed close behind, a quizzical expression on her face.

"What are you doing?" the grey eyed blonde girl asked.

"Checking the replies to my request on the forum." C.C. replied as she flipped open her laptop. "Whoever's there had to sign up at one point, didn't they?"

"Right!" Blondie watched over the other girl's shoulder as she scrolled down to the section of the forum designated for fan fiction and checked her message. She didn't have to read far to discover the identity of the mysterious lake lurker.

Reading the post, C.C. couldn't decide whether to laugh or sigh dramatically, so she settled for running her finger through her hair as she rose from her computer and headed back toward the main alcove. Standing on the edge of the lake, she yelled out over the water. "Erik's not here!" she shouted. "Sorry hon, but he can't really swim out and save you if he ain't around!"

"I'll wait!" Came the reply form across the lake.

C.C. couldn't help but roll her eyes. "Mia!" she called back. "Get your butt over here before you drown or catch pneumonia or something! I couldn't stand the thought of the death of another opera fan. And besides, you've got an Erik of your own at home who just might just render me into itty-bitty pieces if I sent you home anything less than alive, and I love me way too much for that!"

"Uhhh!" Mia protested in response, but almost immediately after the distinct sounds of someone swimming toward the entrance of the lair could be heard. A few minutes later the sopping wet teen crawled out of the lake, there was a scowl on her face as though she couldn't decide whether she wanted to glare or pout. Wringing out her ponytail she turned to face the other two girls. "Alright then!" she said with a small smile.

Returning the smile, C.C. took Mia by the arm and led her toward the back room where she kept her things. "Come on, I have some sweats that might fit you. You might have to roll them up a few inches," she said, remarking on the fact that Mia was nearly five inches shorter than herself, "but our build's not too different, so they might work. Anythin' has got to better then sittin' around in soaking wet things." Mia quickly nodded her assent and followed the Authoress behind the velvet curtain.

C.C. hadn't walked more than a few feet when she nearly smacked into Yavanna, who seemed to materialize out of nowhere.

"Oh my Hugh!" C.C. breathed. "You scared me!"

Yavanna grinned at her. "You know," she said, "I don't know exactly when they installed the setting for nineteenth century Paris in the elevator at my sister's place, but I am definitely not complaining. The communist road is all messed up, though, I could hardly make heads or tails of it."

"Movie version." C.C. explained for what would probably be the second of many, many times.

"I thought you were a fan of Leroux phics." Yavanna half asked, half accused.

C.C. smiled guiltily. "I am, but I couldn't resist being in the lair with the wearer of the Don Juan pants." Around her, the growing group of girls all nodded dreamily.

Yavanna was the first to snap out of whatever little phantasy had been playing in her head. "So, are we going to get going on this before a certain masked musical genius shows up and wrings out necks?" she quipped.

A rather startled expression on her face, C.C. looked up. "Huh?" she asked dazedly before returning fully to the there and then. "Oh, right. Um . . . as y'all can see, the place needs a renovation or two. Pretty much anything you need or want is probably somewhere in the huge pile my junk in the last room on the left. Just dig through it until you find what you need. So, yeah, go nuts. Oh, and if you value your lives I'd stay away from the organ and Erik's bedroom, he gets kinda touchy about them."

After the group stood around awkwardly for another moment, Yavanna was again the one to break the silence. "I'll start with the kitchen." she said. "I'm thinking a sunny yellow colour."

"Great." C.C. said, going into the director mode she used when organizing the tech crew at her university's theatre. "You might have to put a layer of drywall down first, but that's easier than it might look. Blondie, you said you had, er, something going, feel free to get started on that. The torture chamber's covered, Bek's already in there workin' on it. And I need to get you," she said as she turned to the dripping Mia, "those dry clothes. Does that about cover it so far?"

"Works for me." Blondie said as she and Yavanna left to go about their respective projects. C.C. led Mia into the back room where she kept her stash. After receiving a remark about her utter lack of organizational skills, C.C. left the other girl to change. She headed back toward the main alcove, she figured if there had ever been a time to flop on the swan bed and sigh, it was then. No such luck, apparently the PPN invasion still in full swing.

When she reached the alcove, C.C. found a slightly older boy leaning against the bed she had just moments before been dreaming on flinging herself on. "Hey, FAB," she called as she approached both the boy and the bed, "would you mind movin' for a minute?"

FAB gave her a questioning look and stepped back from the bed as the Authoress decided that his presence was no need to abandon her Throw-Self-On-The-Bed-And-Sigh-Spectacularly plan. The perfectly executed manoeuver got her another look from the boy behind her. "That was dramatic." he said a little awkwardly.

"Blame it on my mother's genes!" C.C. answered, burying her face in a pillow.

"Speaking of dramatics, has my sister shown up yet?" FAB asked, forcing C.C. to look up from her histrionic bout of sulking.

"She's in the back changing her clothes." she answered. This earned her a raised eyebrow, necessitating her to elaborate. "She showed up in the lake hoping to fulfill every phangirl's phantasy of getting rescued, but Erik's not here right now so all she got out of it was wet clothing."

"That's my little sister for you," he said with a bit of a smirk, "always a Drama Queen."

"I heard that!" Came Mia's voice from the back of the lair, causing C.C. to giggle.

FAB only shrugged. "It's the truth."

C.C. was saved from having to try and think of something witty to say by a flash of brilliant blue light. Suddenly a girl appeared wearing a broomstick skirt and a Happy Bunny T-shirt, she glanced around her, looking more than a little bit dazed and confused. "Masque!" C.C. squealed, instantly hopping up from the bed and running over to the new arrival. "Yay! It worked! I knew I'd find a way to get my twin slash beloved reviewer on here!"

Masque blinked bewilderedly. "Um, C.C.? What am I doing in the lair? I mean, normally I would squee to be here, but, uh, yeah. How exactly did I get here?"

"Oh, that! It was NASA's new satellite dish." C.C. explained. "There was this big malfunction that somehow managed to transport you here and vaporize my muse's pants." Masque continued to look confused. "Well," the Authoress clarified, "I wanted you here for my first cameo chapter, and I promised another one of my reviewers that I would have at least one actual case of an Erik getting his pants vaporized at some point."

"Oh." Masque said. "I are getting it now. So, how are things going?"

"Great. I'm redoing the lair while Erik's away and needed a little help, so I called in a few friends of mine."

"I guess that would explain the guy wandering around dressed all modern like." Masque said, gesturing towards FAB who had moved away from the swan bed and was inspecting a few of the things scattered around the room.

C.C. smacked herself in the head with the heel of her palm. "Oh, right, I forgot you don't know everyone! Hold on a sec." momentarily turning away from Masque she called "Hey FAB! Be a dear and come meet my twin!"

On the other side of the room, FAB looked up from the marble bust he had been messing with and trotted over to where the two curly haired girls were standing. "Masque, FAB. FAB, Masque." C.C. gestured between the two of them as a brief means of introduction.

"Hiya!" Masque said in the chipper bordering on insane way both she and the Authoress were prone to.

"Uh. . .hi." FAB offered, looking between the two girls. "You're C.C.'s twin?"

"Only in the sense that we have the same variant of insanity and are sound-a-likes." C.C. interjected quickly, having forgotten that just because she knew something, it didn't mean that everybody else did.

"We're also each other's loyal reviewers." Masque put in.

"Oh, and our Eriks have been spending a lot of time talking together recently." C.C. added. "Muse!Erik says that they're just discussing muse stuff, but I think there's something going on that I don't know about."

"How is Muse!Erik, by the way?" Masque asked offhandedly.

"Well," C.C. thought for a moment, "considering that I just arranged to have his pants vaporized, I'm going to guess that he's a little on the cranky side. You know how touchy Eriks get about their pants." She and Masque exchanged a knowing glance and nodded at each other. "Anywho," the Authoress continued, "I think that the rest of the girls are all in the kitchen area. FAB, could you take Masque back there," she gestured towards the curtain," and introduce her around while I stay back here to intercept any new arrivals?"

"Sure." The two headed off towards the back. They were almost to the curtain when FAB stopped for a moment. "Oh, C.C., do you have a spot where I can set up my computer?" he called over his shoulder.

"Already beat you to it." C.C. called back. "My laptop's set up in the kitchen. If you can get to it before Yavanna puts you to work, feel free to do pretty much whatever, I doubt you could do any more damage to it then my little cousins."

As the other two disappeared behind the curtain, C.C. began to wander around awkwardly wondering who would show up next and if there would have to be any damage control. So far the PPNers had shown up in interesting, but other wise non-damaging, ways, but whenever a large group of the happy phans got together something was destined to end up exploding. Not to imply that the site was stuffed full of happy little pyromaniacs or anything, but, like herself, many seemed to follow a "dramatic entrance first, damage control later" approach to things. It was only a matter of time before. . .

"Hey, guys! Look who just who decided to fall pickup truck first into the torture chamber with me!" From her spot in the main alcove, C.C. could hear Bek's voice as the girl reentered the lair.

Pickup truck? C.C.'s mental voice asked worriedly. That can't be a good thing.

'Agreed.' The Authoress thought back before rushing off towards the back rooms.

Reaching the kitchen in what must have been record time, C.C. shouldered her way past a couple people in order to get a good look at the newcomer. Allison, a young brunette who sometimes went by the name Arty, sat at the table, a guilty grin plastered on her face. "Hey, C.C.! I, uh, brought my own tools!" she blurted hastily as she caught sight of the older girl entering the room.

"And a truck apparently." C.C. said, trying hard to sound stern, but smiling despite herself. "At least tell me you didn't hit the mirrors?" she asked hopefully.

"Nope!" Bek assured her. "It was a straight drop accompanied by swirling lights and flashing electricity. It was quite pretty actually. Accept for the part where I was almost squished by a falling truck, I didn't appreciate that part as much."

"Sorry 'bout that." Allison said with an apologetic smile.

Having assessed the damage and greeted Allison, C.C. left the kitchen to return to her post. She had just reached the curtain when she noticed an odd smell in the air. If she hadn't known better, she would have thought it was. . .chlorine. But then, why would the lair smell like chlorine? In the next few seconds the air seemed to grow unbearably heavy while C.C. struggled to remember if someone on the boards had ever mentioned chlorine.

C.C. nearly jumped out of her skin as the sound of an electric crack reverberated through the room. She spun just in time to see a blue eyed blonde seemly just "pop" into existence on the lakeshore. C.C. could have hit herself. That's where she remembered chlorine, Spork was always going on about her antics on her school's swim team.

Spork took a moment and looked calmly between the lair herself and the lake, then she proceeded to have a "panic attack" and begin ripping off every piece of clothing she was wearing except her undergarments all while squealing some strange form of gibberish that seemed to be composed primarily of "ohmigod"s and squees.

Realizing how very quickly the situation could go down hill, C.C. immediately rushed over to the Texan and tried to stop her rather frenzied. . . disrobing. "Oh no, no, no! He's not here, Spork! I really don't want to know what it is you're planning, but whatever it is, Erik's not here!" The Authoress had used her keen grasp of the obvious to deduct that, considering they were in the lair, the girl's behaviour had something to do with the Phantom, so she tried the most obvious approach she could think of. Unfortunately for C.C., Spork was far to busy concentrating on her "hysteria" and jumping into the lake to pay attention to a single word she was saying. In light of this fact, C.C. decided to try a different, although rather ineffectual, approach: frenzied repetition.

"No! Spork, Sporky, Sporkifina, this is not good! Clothes are good! This is not! No, no, no, no, NO! Hey, that's a really cute panty set, I mean, no! Clothes are better! Does this look like a SI shoot to you? Get out of there before other people. . ."

"What's going on out. . .whoa!"C.C. turned around to see the other seven of her "crew members" huddled at the entrance of the alcove, all in various stages of shock, (or rather shameless gawking as the case might have been for one German boy in his early twenties who shall remain unnamed.)

"Too late." C.C. finished dumbly, throwing her arms up in defeat and frustration. However, the incident seemed to one positive effect. It appeared that Spork thought staging a panic induced drowning incident was far less fun when surround by eight people who all happened to not be Erik.

"Hi guys!" she said, grinning and blushing in the waist-deep water. "How's it going?" Luck for her she was saved by one of the embarrassment saving moments that happen seem to happen oh so often in the lair.

As it had a few minutes before the air grew heavy. There was a charge to it that seemed to play off everybody's skin and make it harder to breathe. There was another sudden and loud crack accompanied by a flurry of electrical charges, then as suddenly as it had started everything stopped and returned to its former state, with the exception that the group was now plus another member.

Katie stood in the centre of the alcove, her short black hair on end as it snapped with trace amounts of residual electricity. She giggled quietly to herself for a moment. "Look out European energy crisis." she said to no one in particular. "If I just built up enough static electricity speed typing phiction to time travel. . ." she let the statement hang and simply grinned pridefully.

After a moment of disconcerting silence, (see, it wasn't awkward this time!) C.C. slipped back into Director Mode. "Okay then," she said looking around to each member of the group, "I think we're all here then. I guess we should get started before Erik gets back and makes arrangements for us all to meet the siren. Does everyone have an idea of what they want to do?"

"I call looting, I mean rearranging Erik's pants!" Masque exclaimed from the back.

"I'm filling the lake with rubber duckies." Bek offered.

"I was thinking I might burn a few things." Katie said offhandedly.

C.C. sighed and resisted the urge to throw something. She wondered briefly if this is how Erik had felt since she had shown up on his, er, doorstep three days before. Oh well, insanity she could deal with. After all, she was just as insane, if not more so, as the rest of them. For better of for worse this was her crew. It was bound to be and interesting day.

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A/N: There you have it! The longest chapter I've ever written for anything, including the novel I'm trying to find a publisher for. The PPN invasion is going to last for approximately two chapters, this and the next, but who knows with me?

affirmedhope: Hey, Bek! Glad you got over your fear of reviews and decided to give us a shout-out! It's always great to get some feedback from someone I "know!" Please continue to keep reading, people like you are the reason I started this phic in the first place. -huggles Bek- And, I can't take credit for that disclaimer. It belongs to MasqueradingThroughLife who was nice enough to let me borrow it. All the rest of them are mine, though.

Muse!Erik: -gags- Will you give the touchy-feely stuff a rest, my dear, before I get "huggle" induced diabetes!

Trier1974: You can't believe how glad and relieved I am that you liked the way I did the "name" scene. I had originally written it rather goofy and farcical, but it didn't seem right. I laboured over the decision to replace it for days. It really means a lot to me to hear someone's approval.

Muse!Erik: There you go again! You're getting soft, girl, far too soft! This calls for me to go above and beyond the call of my usual muse-ly duties. -braces himself- Ehem, last night I went through your hard drive and deleted all your screencaps and audio files of Hugh Panaro and Gerard Butler. Those pansies are the last thing you should be drooling over if you want to write me properly!

C.C.: YOU WHAT! -suddenly a purple light saber appears in her hands-

Muse!Erik: My work here is done. -eyes the lightsaber nervously-

M.T.L.:Glad you enjoyed it! Yes, Muse!Erik tends to get a little touchy whenever I even think about drooling over Gerik. He stalks around the house for hours mumbling something along the lines of. ". . .can't sing. . . . isn't even deformed properly . . . blasted grease burn is all . . . if I ever get my hands on him . . . " Then I'm forced to make him sit down and have a long talk about his feelings. After all, it's bad for your health to keep things all bottled up inside! -smiles evilly- Oh, and I got your email, but one of our accounts wouldn't let me respond. Don't worry though, I got your profile and you'll still get your cameo.

Muse!Erik: -grumbles something about falling backdrops- -whispers- Hey, MY-Erik, the first meeting of the secret anti-authoress society is tonight. There's a torture chamber I just had installed in the basement that the girl doesn't know about. A little cramped, but it will do for headquarters for now.

Seized Sanity: Rubber ducks . . . now there's an idea . . .

Muse!Erik: Oh, no. Whatever you're thinking, no. I'm your muse and it is strictly forbidden!

CC: -aches an eyebrow-

Muse!Erik: Uh . . . please?

Momnonomous: Lose my patients? Me? I have the patients of a saint!

Muse!Erik: Ha! Maybe if said saint was four years old and hopped up on sugar.