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itmighthavebeenintentional · 3 years

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Shadows and Pills - 2

Summary: Some people come away from the Battle of New York with scars and broken bones. Some come away with nightmares and years of therapy ahead of them. Some don’t come away at all. Alexa comes away with a shadow.

18+ ONLY, MINORS DO NOT PROCEED

Warnings: RAPE, Torture, Abuse, Self Harm, Negative Images of Psychological Services/Mental Health Professionals, Hallucinations, Stalking, Supernatural Horror, Prescription Drug Use and Eventual Abuse, Mental Illness, PTSD, Flashbacks of Violence, Flashbacks of Tragedy, Starving Oneself, Isolation, Physical and Mental Exhaustion, Denial, Self Neglect, Gaslighting, Mental Spiraling, Mental and Emotional Abuse

18+ ONLY, MINORS DO NOT PROCEED

Author’s Note: This is not a happy story in any sense, at any point. I could only write this at my lowest places, emotionally and mentally speaking, and I had a hard time coming back from it. This is dark, and it does not at any point get lighter. I relied heavily on my own experiences with mental struggles and took a few pieces here and there from my own experiences with mental health professionals. MY EXPERIENCES ARE MY OWN AND ARE NOT TYPICAL, NOT EVEN FOR ME. If you need mental help of any kind, please DO NOT HESITATE TO REACH OUT TO GET IT. This story was an exercise in mental exorcism, in a sense.

For all the Loki lovers out there, I do not shine him anything like a good or redeeming light here. He is evil incarnate, more or less. I love Loki, I love good Loki and redeemed Loki and misunderstood Loki and just about every incarnation thereof. I needed a villain, and he fit the story.

Above all, please be kind. This was one of the most difficult things I’ve ever written, and it took me years to work up the courage to post it.

A massive thank you to all my friends for support, especially to @glassjacket and @thoughtslikeaminefield . I say it a lot, but you need to know I love you.

18+ ONLY, MINORS DO NOT PROCEED

Word Count: 1 - 3785; 2 - 3513; 3 - 1068

In Case You Missed It: Part 1 ItMightHaveBeenIntentional’s Masterlist

...

Shadows and Pills

Morning Routine: Already woken up. Shut off alarm with a shriek of terror by heaving it across the room with enough force that it shatters against the wall. Breathing exercises for thirty minutes to lower accelerated heart rate. Shower until the hot water is long gone and hypothermia is close to setting in, but she still can’t get clean. The thick, mucus-like sensation won’t leave her skin, glue and ashes spread thick over her flesh in a foul assault to her tactile senses that leaves her dizzy and faint if she considers it for too long. Throw out every scrap of food in the apartment; just the sight of it makes her gag and retch. Choke down the meds (the only thing she can stomach, at this point). Throw on clothes she’s mostly sure are on the correct end of her body. Grab her keys, and…

Where…

She always puts her keys in the same spot. Dish on the tiny table by the door. That’s her key dish. She knows she put them there. They are always there. She can remember putting them there; it’s one of the precious few things she knows she can do right these days.

So…

Why aren’t they there?

Thirty minutes turning the entire apartment upside down looking for the keys, ignoring the shadow that follows her from room to room, skittering to a far wall whenever the shadow runs too near, pretending that she is still alone, searching, searching, where the hell are they, I always put them in the dish, I know I dropped them in there, I can hear the clink from when I put them away yesterday where could they possibly have got to it’s not like THEY’D WANDER OFF BY THEMSELVES WHERE ARE MY GODDAMNED KEYS-

A searing, ripping pain tears her from her spiraling thoughts and back to the present where her hands are clenched in her hair, her nails dug into her scalp, and something slick and hot slides between her fingers. She releases her clenched fists, but her fingers come away smeared with blood and clumps of hair, and her shoulders begin to tremble, her mouth quivering and eyes stinging with unshed tears.

“I just...need my keys. I need to breathe. I need my keys. I need-”

<clink>

Her head whips toward the sound, and there they are. In their dish. In the same dish she knows she left them in last night. Where they absolutely were not sitting seconds ago.

“But. I didn’t. They-“

No.

She snatches her keys and flees, followed closely by her personal nightmare.

...

The silence stretches out longer than even Alexa is comfortable with. The constant scratching of the doctor’s pen has quieted, and still Alexa sits, unnerved but unwilling to speak without direction. Answering questions is fine, but if she speaks on her own, she’ll start babbling. And there are a few things she needs to not say.

Like how she’s averaging about an hour of sleep a night, according to her clock. The nightmares start every time she falls asleep. She remembers less and less about any of them, to the point where the only way she knows she was even asleep is the inevitable rip back to consciousness.

And she’s not just missing parts of her dreams. Her days are beginning to blur, individual moments bleeding into others until she’s lost whole chunks of time, hours that are a smear in her memory with no real details. The loss, both of her days and nights, shakes her more than the lack of sleep. What else is she losing, along with her memory?

She can’t tell him why she’s wearing a hat or how she has to set reminders on her phone to stop tearing at her hair, how she has to clean her scalp and hold pressure at least once a day to stop the bleeding and try to repair the damage done by digging nails and ripped follicles.

She can’t tell him about how she can’t look in mirrors anymore. Two days ago, she was brushing her hair out into a ponytail with the intention of wrapping it into a skull-aching bun that might help hold everything inside her head and maybe possibly help her keep her fingers out of her hair, and then suddenly the eyes looking back out at her weren’t her own. Brown bled into ice blue then green in a flash; a wicked, cruel smile curved her lips, and she could feel herself smile, but she wasn’t smiling, and-

So, no, she shouldn’t lead the conversation today. Today Alexa needs a little guidance.

She feels the doctor’s gaze, but there’s less scrutiny than usual. His eyes feel a little more sympathetic than she’s used to, but she still won’t look up. He’s good at getting her to talk, and she needs every ounce of self-control just to keep herself held together and not exploding across his polished, pristine desk.

“Alexa, you don’t look like you’re...How have y-”

She must look pretty wretched if even the doctor is at a loss for words. She wouldn’t know. She has actively avoided all reflective surfaces for two days and has no idea of the state of her appearance. She can’ remember the last time she ate. What’s left of her hair is tucked under a knit cap; she’s cold all the time now, anyway, so the cap is a constant accessory. And it helps keep her hands out of her hair. If her looks are anything as bad as the state of her thoughts-

“I’m sorry it’s so bad for you right now.”

The statement is quiet, sincere, and wholly unexpected. Alexa almost drops her guards, almost meets his eyes. Her hands quake with the effort of maintaining her silence, clutching the edges of her chair with aching, creaking fingers. Her control is as brittle as her nerves; she wants to share, wants to not be alone with the shadow that’s her only company these days, but if the doctor knew…

“Are you sleeping anymore at all?”

She nods once, a sharp, staccato gesture that leaves out more than it says. It’s not a lie. One hour, however broken up in however many fragments, is still one hour, and sleep is still sleep.

“Are you following your medication schedule?”

Another single dip of her chin. She gives herself a little credit for not leaving anything out of this answer. She’s even remembering to follow the dosage increases. Maybe even a couple of increases of her own. Anything to numb, to shut out, to keep...it...away.

“Alexa, are you still with me?”

God, she wishes...everything feels muffled and thick, like her existence is coated in petroleum jelly. She's just so tired, and everything is so heavy and...and difficult…

“I can’t help you if you won’t communicate with me. Help me help you. Anything. Just the basic facts.”

Where to even start? Maybe getting locked up would be worth it if he really can help, can really make this...stop…

“I can ease your pain and get you on your feet again.”

She’s pretty sure nothing can help at this point, so really there’s no need to keep anything back. Being hospitalized can’t be any worse than living like this…

“Relax. Can you show Me where it hurts?”

No.

...no...not here, not…

“Your lips are moving, but I can’t hear what you’re saying. Is there something you wish to confess? The good doctor can’t reach you now, but I am ready to receive your prayers. Speak, Alexa. Tell Me everything.”

Get out, get OUT, I have to go, I can’t, you can’t this isn’t - GET OUT!

“ALEXA! Wake up! You’re safe! Come back!”

Fingers, firm in their grip, but warm and clean and so very present, clench around her hand, pulling her out of her mind and back to the office. The rushing noise in her ears fades until she realizes it is the heaving of her own panicked breaths. She clenches her fingers, catching the doctor’s hand before he can pull away.

She hasn’t touched another person since she left the hospital.

“Please...I just need...a minute.”

He sits in the chair closest to her, holding her hand resolutely, despite any personal protocols to the contrary that he has demonstrated in previous sessions.

“As long as you need.” There is no eagerness, no exasperation, only concern and calm, and it soothes her raw nerves in a way nothing else has. She focuses on the warmth, the sheer thereness of his grip, and breathes, squinting her eyes against the afternoon sun filtering through the blinds.

Too bright, too warm, too…

The fingers in her palm chill suddenly, their embrace tightening painfully. Her hand feels slick, not with sweat, and her teeth begin to chatter. Her eyes squeeze shut as her stomach shatters, and a pitiful mewling escapes her lungs.

“Take all the time you need. I possess the patience of millenia.”

Breathe. Breathe slowly, you’re asleep. You’re exhausted, you just fell asleep. Wake yourself up. You can do this. Just...just breathe and wake up.

And then her hand is free of all contact, and the air in her lungs comes easily. The warmth of the filtered sun returns to her frozen limbs, not overly bright in the least.

“I think our session was particularly productive today.”

The therapist's voice comes from farther away, and she opens her eyes to find him back at his desk, pen in hand, legal pad full of fresh notes. She blinks, swallows, and sits up a little straighter.

“You seem to be making excellent progress with your strategies. Go ahead and up your dosage to the next step. Remember, I’ll be out of town on Thursday and Monday, so I’ll see you again in ten days. You have the emergency number if anything goes wrong?”

She nods numbly, unable to process anything beyond the basic requirements of behavior needed at the moment. He eyes her, his forehead wrinkling in sudden concern.

“Don’t hesitate to call that number at any hour,” he finally says, his fingers steepled to show just how serious, how sincere, he is. “Anything at all, whatever you need to talk about, call that number. The nurse will transfer you immediately if it’s an emergency. Will you call if you need to?”

She nods, a little more vaguely than she intends but her throat is paralyzed, her tongue nerveless and useless. He accepts the gesture at face value, though, and dismisses her with wishes for “continued progress and a good weekend.”

…

Afternoon routine: Stay out as late as possible, put off the inevitable. Stay out all goddamned night if she has to. There’s no point in voluntarily returning home; she knows this with a sense of dread as acute and sharp as the pain in her scalp. So she shuffles on, unseeing and unseen in the city that never sleeps, one of a numberless mass who denies reality for the sanity that fantasy provides, pretending that she isn’t being stalked, that she isn’t haunted by a continuous loop of ghosts and flashbacks of the dead from that day reminding her over and over that she survived while they didn’t, that she must remember them, that she isn't losing her mind, that the shadow isn’t constantly whispering to her, commanding her over and over and over to simply let go.

She pretends that she isn’t blacking out and waking to find herself in bed, night after night, in the midst of torment and debasement that her ragged mind can neither handle nor shut out. The shadow rips at her in a thousand ways, and she feels all of them, every shred of her consciousness pulled apart and examined and manipulated until she can’t remember who she was before this fundamental desecration.

Release yourself. I can break you completely, help you forget the pain and the misery. Let Me shatter you, remake you in My Glory. Only then can you truly be free from pain.

She fights. It’s all she has left, this battle of wills, and she clings to the tattered bits of her remaining self with a tenacity that impresses even the shadow.

How you shine, even in My darkness. Let me turn your burn to an icy one, let Me freeze your pain, let go and drift in My adoration. I shall raise you up; only grant Me entrance, give Me leave, and I will bless you, bring meaning and solace to your piteous existence.

God help her, she’s starting to slip. She just wants everything to end. No one will miss her, no one is depending on her. The only noise her phone has made in weeks are the reminders that she has set. She hasn’t sent in an assignment for nearly a month, and no one has so much as emailed. What is she holding on for, anyway?

You have fought so long and so hard. I can reward your valor, provide you a balm for your suffering. I will keep you safe from pain, from truth, from choice, from other poison devils. I can take the very memories from you, just as I did before, save you from yourself.

What?

And then her mind is flooded with a scene, a memory of the attack, but she sees it from outside herself, as if watching a film with herself as protagonist. She flees as debris falls all around, narrowly missing pipes, concrete, and office furniture as it rains down mindlessly, destroying life after life. By the time she reaches the ground floor of the stairwell, everyone is packed tight and covered with blood, dust, unspeakable filth, and the wretched crowd bursts into the lobby in a blind panic. They reach the street in the same state and turn as one to flee in the direction of least resistance.

Alone in the crowd, Alexa is jerked to a halt, nearly losing her feet as bodies plow around and nearly through her, but she is frozen as if glued to the pavement. There is no safety anywhere. A battle rages around them, monsters everywhere, incomprehensible and terrible, and then the glass lobby doors behind them explode, and Alexa knows the brief but exhilarating sensation of flight.

And then she crashes, and she knows the timeless and terrible sensation of fire. And pain. And crushing weight.

Watching the scene passively, she remembers everything, she feels everything even as her other self does, but now she is also an outside witness to the anguish. She knows the lines of suffering etched on her face and knows that she wears them even now. She feels the words echoing through her mind from that day, a thought, a plea, a silent prayer to someone, anyone who can help, can end her suffering.

How long...minutes...hours...years...just help, please…please, I don't care how anymore, just...end it.

And then a figure drops from the heavens, it seems, falling from one of the monsters’ flying vehicles, and it crosses the street and sidewalk as if drawn straight to her by the waning strength of her silent screams.

An impossibly cold hand grasps hers, pulling her up from the rubble, sliding her from underneath the bits of building as if they aren't present and pressing the life from her, bringing her face to face with darkness. The sun dissolves, shadows descend, and she decides that, as deaths go, hers could be worse.

She is lifted as if she weighs nothing, the fingers pressing into her face. A bitter, gelid frost flows through her veins, and the pain is mercifully dulled, lessened to a mere phantom, and then the god (for surely her savior can be no less to have such power at hand) pulls her into an icy, terrible embrace.

I find Myself in need of a conduit. Grant Me some small space of sanctuary, and in return I shall heal your broken body. Allow Me entrance, now, woman, before you depart this plane entirely. I am your God, your only chance of salvation. Do you accept Me?

His voice is black velvet, midnight shadows slipping across the moon, and she can’t find the will to say no. Giving in is so much easier, hurts so much less, and she feels as if she’s been hurting forever, spent her whole life being crushed to death.

“Yes.”

His lips press to her, but there is nothing tender in the kiss. Ice, death, absence rushes into her, infecting a small fraction of every cell, sinking deep into her psyche before erasing all remembrance of its presence.

Alexa thrashes under the weight of the memories, the weight of the phantom debris crushing her down, only to find the man, the god himself lies atop her, pinning her emaciated form to her ruined sheets. His pale skin glows in the night, his ebony hair falling around their faces in an blasphemous mimicry of a halo. His painful beauty rips one last thing loose within her, and she remembers.

I would that you should allow Me leave to heal you once more, to form you into a proper vessel. I shall alleviate your anguish, and you may sink into My worship with euphoric, blissful abandon.

She is tempted, more so than any other time in her existence. She thought her imprisonment under the shattered building was horrible, but now she knows true torment. And yet, she resists.

Why do you continue to battle? You cannot prevail, and submission will bring you such pleasure as you have never known. Am I not your own personal God to worship? Do you not wish to drown in My blessing, to submerge yourself in My oblivion?

But he is the author of her suffering, as well, this would-be god who attacked her city, killed thousands of people for his ambitions and family squabbles. Who is she to tarnish the world’s grief for her own personal relief?

But he knows what is in her heart and her thoughts; it was there he planted the seed that has grown to strangle her sanity and reality, and he sends pressure through the roots of this vine to dig into her very soul. She shivers beneath him with wordless agony.

His face presses against hers, tongue snaking out to trace a tear track up her cheek, back to its source. Frozen lips ghost over her clenched eyelids, and she swallows the miserable moan that rolls up from her stomach.

I saved you once when I could so easily have allowed you to continue your half-life under the rubble until your flame sputtered and died, as it was meant to. And I shall show Myself once more a merciful, benevolent God. For you, My pet, a gift.

And suddenly there is a space in Alexa’s mind, a blank where something, someone, important once lived, someone vital stripped away. She gets a last glimpse of a smiling woman, proudly showing off a photo of a swaddled infant, of a filing cabinet collapsing, of a curling hand, before Brenda is ripped from her mind like so many strands of hair from her scalp. The pain of Brenda’s death, the horror of her last moments, yes, but also every bit of the love between them.

And then the name is gone, too.

Have I pleased you? Do you see now what relief can be had with submission?

“That...wasn’t...she wasn't yours to take-” But even the memory of the violation is fading, leaving only breathless, panicked horror and dull, aching want in its wake.

The shadowed god frowns, displeasure pressed into every line of his face, and his fingers tighten until the bones in Alexa’s wrists shriek in protest.

Must I nail Myself to a cross or rip out My eye to be worthy of your reverence? I grant you one more gift, then, of choice. One day to consider. Embrace My oblivion freely, willingly, joyously, as you know you should, and feel My pleasure. Or suffer in your belief that this pale, pointless realm offers you anything like what I can give. This shall be My last offering. Submission is sweetest when freely given, but so, too, can I revel in seizing what you so stubbornly withhold.

His lips seal over hers, stealing air and screams alike, and she feels him everywhere at once, emphasizing his threat, his promise. Her traitorous flesh, craving any tourniquet to stem the endless flow of pain, cleaves to his frozen form, curving against his body in a mockery of love making that leaves her stomach heaving.

And then he is gone. His presence, his pressure, his shadow, even his laugh lingers, but his form vanishes with her next thought. She falls from the bed, a perspiring, retching, wailing mess. There is nothing left within her to eject, but her digestive tract makes a resounding effort.

It’s hours until the sun comes up, and she counts every second from where she shivers, wedged tight between the bed and the nightstand. ...

3 (end)

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ranger-report · 4 years

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Theory: No One Is Real In Silent Hill 2

At last, for October, I present a Fan Theory nearly twenty years in the making. I’ve been thinking long and hard about this presentation, and for a moment nearly broke it up into a bunch of smaller posts. But where’s the fun in that? So below I present in its thirty-page entirety (I KNOW I’M SO SORRY) the idea that James Sunderland is the only physically “real” human in Silent Hill 2, and that everyone else is a manifestation created by the town. It’s a long, long, detailed long post, so if you’re here for it you have my thanks in advance. Go pee and get something to snack on.

Welcome to Silent Hill!

***

In the world of video games, true genre-defining experiences come few and far between. Often these benchmark releases inspire waves of imitators: some capture the spark of what made these masterpieces so memorable, most end up as cash grabs on a popular genre. Few games have inspired such imitation as the Silent Hill series. Provocative, psychological, and unafraid to tackle controversial content, the series is renowned for preying on player expectations, toying with perceptions of space and time and awareness. Many lesser games have made an attempt at reproducing the same magic, including later games in the same series.

Silent Hill 2 is singled out by fans and critics to be the best of the bunch. Hailed as one of the scariest games of all time, the story tackles the subjects of abuse (both emotional and physical), grief, and punishment. It does so in a very uniquely Silent Hill manner, in which nothing is real, and every step the player takes moves them closer to an abyss of terror. Developed by Team Silent, the group that created the first four titles in the series, Silent Hill 2 is categorized as a “survival horror” game, and the primary means of gameplay is that of tense combat with heavy emphasis on exploration and puzzle solving. Combat is by no means a “run and gun” escapade – the protagonist generally has a variety of melee weapons like a wood plank or a tire iron, and relatively few guns. Ammunition is sparse and requires constant management; the game recommends avoiding as many enemies as possible. Meanwhile, puzzles are mostly logic-based, involving riddles, the combining of objects to create a key, and choosing the proper item for the proper spot. The atmosphere is oppressively claustrophobic, even in its outdoor environments. Truly, this is an experience that is designed to make the player feel alone and isolated.

Despite this, Silent Hill 2 features a memorable cast; each character has distinct motivations and reasons for their journey to the town, but each person is also shrouded in mystery. After all, their purpose is not to tell their stories, but to enhance the journey of the protagonist. While at first it seems a given that these characters are all real – and they are presented as such – it is my belief that they are, in fact, manifestations of the town in order to provide extra torment for the protagonist, and also represent one of the five stages of grief: denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. This is a bit of a difficult pill to swallow at first glance, but the evidence is present throughout the game.

Before we dive into the reasons for this theory, let's first examine the story and setting of the game itself, in order to make sense of what is to come.

In my restless dreams, I see that town:

Silent Hill.

You promised you'd take me there again someday, but you never did.

Well, I'm alone there, now. In our “special place.”

Waiting for you.

-- Mary Shepard-Sunderland

In the opening of Silent Hill 2, James Sunderland reads these words, the beginning of a letter sent to him by his wife Mary. This is, of course, an impossible letter, as James quietly states that Mary has been dead for years, victim of a terminal illness. And yet, despite knowing this, James has come to the town of Silent Hill in order to understand how such an impossible letter could exist, and whether or not his late wife could truly be waiting for his arrival. For both the player and for James, this is an ominous way to begin the journey. Players familiar with the series will already know that the titular town conjures scenarios and creatures based on the psyche of the individuals in the town, making them see what it wants them to see. Those with, say, guilty consciences will see monsters and demons – innocents will only see an empty town. James, meanwhile, despite knowing full well that Mary is quite dead, is far too curious to understand what's going on here.

James begins his journey at a rest stop off the highway, above the town itself. This is the clearest view of the surroundings the game will give us until near the end. Forestry, tall trees, and waves of fog between them can be seen, with a large lake in the background beyond the town. Leaving the rest stop, James – and the player – is forced to walk a long path from the rest stop to the town, a full twenty minutes in-game. On all sides, the fog grows thicker, and the sounds of mysterious wildlife roaming the woods can be heard. As James enters the outskirts of Silent Hill, he cuts through a cemetery off the main road. Here he surprises Angela Orosco, who is sitting in front of a headstone, lost in thought. Immediately presented as anxious, cautious, stuttering and shy, Angela is a nineteen-year-old who claims to be searching for her mother – someone she accidentally refers to as “Mama” before correcting her choice of words to “Mother.” James tells her that he's looking for someone also, admitting that she may or may not be there. When he asks Angela if he's headed in the right direction of the town, Angela attempts to warn him off, saying that there's something wrong with the town, that he doesn't want to go there. James cuts her off, stating that he doesn't care if it's dangerous or not.

Returning to his quest, James finally enters Silent Hill. Here the fog is at its thickest, and the streets are clearly abandoned and in disrepair. James, thinking he sees someone walking through the fog in the distance, diverts course until he comes to a small construction site. A radio, blaring odd static, lies beside a dead body. James, cautiously, goes inside to pick it up, and turns around to face a strange, warped creature that looks like a shapeless human wrapped in a straitjacket made of flesh. In self-defense, James grabs a plank of wood and is forced to beat the creature to death. As he leaves, he thinks he hears Mary's voice coming from the radio, but the words can't be made out. He continues on. Now more of these creatures are walking along the streets, shuffling, shuddering, spewing acid from their gaping mouths if he gets too close. James can fight, or he can run, but out here where the enemies are multiple and fast, running is the best course of action.

James understands that his first objective is to reach Rosewater Park, where he and Mary shared an intimate moment during their vacation. But the streets have been cut off, so he decides to cut through the Wood Side Apartments. Inside it is dark, strange, and full of noises off-camera that exists solely to set James and the player on edge. In the apartment complex, he sees a key resting on the other side of some gated bars, which looks like it might be the one he needs to cross from one building to the next. As he attempts to reach through for it, an eight-year-old little girl appears out of nowhere. She kicks the key away and stomps on James's hand, laughing as she disappears into the darkness. This is the first living person James has seen in the town proper, and she has essentially made his life more difficult.

More creatures haunt the hallways of the apartment complex, including one that James sees standing on the opposite side of what look like prison bars in the middle of a hall. Tall, wearing a red triangular helmet and a flesh butcher's smock, this creature is called “Pyramid Head.” For now it merely stands opposite James, staring at him motionlessly. Later on, James will encounter Pyramid Head again, this time as it appears to be sexually assaulting another of the monsters. Hiding, James is forced to shoot at Pyramid Head with a gun he found in the apartments until it leaves on its own.

While searching through the apartment complex, James enters a room to discover Angela lying on the floor in front of a full-length mirror, holding a kitchen knife. As she gazes at the knife longingly, James tries to talk her out of whatever it is she's thinking of doing, stating that there's “always another way.” Angela's response is to compare the two of them, noting that it's easier to run away from their problems. She speaks in slow, exhausted tones, a stark difference from the stuttering hesitance of their earlier encounter. “Besides,” she concludes, still staring at the knife, “it's what we deserve.” James denies this, startled by the implication that he would consider such a way out. They continue to talk, James calmly and confidently holding Angela's attention, before they both admit to each other that neither of them have found the people they're looking for. James lets slip that he wouldn't be able to find his wife anyway since she's dead, which causes Angela to become nervous and animated again, and she gets up to leave. James says that they should go together since her warning about the town proved to be true, but she rejects the offer, claiming she'd only slow down his progress. James asks what she's going to do with the knife. Hesitating, Angela asks if James will hold on to it for her, that she's unsure what she'll do if she takes it with her. But when James reaches forward to accept the knife Angela screams and holds it out in defense. Surprised, James backs away as Angela has a near-breakdown, claiming that she's sorry and that she's “been bad.” She quickly sets down the knife and leaves the room in a flustered rush. James takes the knife, and it is worth noting that the knife cannot be used as a weapon in game, only as an item to be examined in his inventory.

James enters one of the apartments to discover Eddie, a portly twenty-something in an ill-fitting polo shirt and backwards cap, hunched over a toilet, violently throwing up. Eddie found a corpse inside of a fridge out in the living room after being chased in by some of the monsters, and a panicked Eddie became nauseous at the sight of it. In a difficult-to-stomach cutscene, Eddie continues to vomit while James talks to him. Eddie adamantly proclaims his innocence in regards to the dead body, claiming that he “didn't do it” and that he's not from Silent Hill. James, oddly, continues to converse with Eddie calmly, as though he's ignoring the man's explosive vomit. He asks if Eddie knows Pyramid Head. Confused, Eddie says he doesn't know what that is, only that he's seen some monsters that have freaked him out thus far. James infers that something brought Eddie to Silent Hill, but that whatever it is, he should try to leave town as soon as possible. Both men tell each other to be careful before James leaves Eddie to finish his business.

After several puzzles and strange occurrences, James is confronted by Pyramid Head, who is now wielding a huge knife that it has to drag behind it. Forced into a narrow room, the player must guide James back and forth, avoiding Pyramid Head's slow attacks, while shooting round after precious round into the beast. Eventually, an air raid siren can be heard in the distance; Pyramid Head descends a set of stairs that are submerged underwater, leaving James to his fate. The water drains, James follows – and the monster is gone.

Leaving the apartments, James finds the little girl who kicked him in an alley out back, perched on a high wall. Her name is Laura. She's precocious, bratty, and stubborn. James tries to get her to come with him, since there are monsters running around that could hurt her, but it seems as though Laura doesn't see the monsters. During their chat, she tells James that he “didn't love Mary,” and refuses to answer any other questions before running away into the fog.

As very confused James continues through Silent Hill, he arrives at Rosewater Park, hoping that this is where he will find Mary. But instead, James finds Maria, a woman who resembles Mary so much that he notes that she could be her twin. Yet Maria quickly establishes her stark difference from Mary. First, with her clothing: where the game shows images of Mary wearing a conservative pink cardigan and long skirt, Maria wears a revealing purple top and leopard print miniskirt. Her walk is sultry, her demeanor flirtatious, and her gaze holds a mischievous “come hither” look. Even her hair shows the change: where Mary had a darker auburn hue, Maria clearly has bleached hair, her brown roots prominent, a tint of red at the tips. James, taken aback by how different this woman is from his wife, at first decides to leave her be. But Maria quickly requests to come along with, wondering aloud if he was going to just leave her alone in a town surrounded by monsters. Guiltily, James tries to avoid this, but surrenders to letting her tag along. She asks if there's another place that Mary could be, and he realizes that they had stayed at the Lakeview Hotel, on an island in the middle of Toluca Lake. Together, the two of them set off to find a way there.

As the player guides James through the town, Maria follows at a decently close pace. Not quite as fast as James, but not so slow that she can't keep up. The artificial intelligence designed for Maria allows the player to not worry if Maria is nearby or not when running from or fighting monsters. In other games, the mechanics would force the player to worry about their companions, but not so Maria; she always catches up, and no matter how far away she is when James goes through a door into a new environment, Maria is immediately waiting on the other side. This ties in to the theme of Maria needing James to take care of her in the story.

Discovering that the highway leading out of town towards the docks has sunken into the earth, James turns around to seek out alternate means of getting to the hotel. Searching through the town, he comes across the Bowl-O-Rama, and decides to go inside just in case he can find any supplies worth taking along. Maria, notably, refuses to go with, stating that she hates bowling and would prefer to remain outside for him.

Inside, James hears two voices talking to each other: Laura, and Eddie. The scene cuts away from James, and focuses instead on these two characters. This is significant in that this is the only time in the game where two people who are not James are having a conversation, and their topic is significant. Laura mocks Eddie's weight, calling him a “gutless fatso,” and asks why he's running away from the police, why he can't just apologize for what he's done. Somehow he's gotten hold of some pizza, which he gladly eats while Laura sits beside him. Eddie states that he would never be forgiven for his transgressions, and continues eating. Laura mocks him for being a coward. Again, this is tellingly the only conversation in the game that James is not a part of, nor does it exist for his benefit in the game. It's only for the player to see and understand.

After this cutscene, James enters the bowling alley and finds Eddie. He asks Eddie if he's alone, which Eddie cautiously admits that he isn't. Laura rolls a bowling ball their way to get their attention, which causes James to see her briefly as she leaves the building. James tries to get Eddie to follow, but he declines, stating that Laura already said she was fine on her own, and that she claimed “a fatso like me would only slow her down.” James, in disgust, says, “Forget you!” before chasing after Laura. Outside, Maria tells James that she saw Laura headed towards the hospital, and they shouldn't leave her alone with the town being the way it is.

James follows Laura to Brookhaven Hospital at Maria's behest, and after Maria stops to rest in one of the rooms he goes on alone. Maria, it should be noted, has claimed to be hungover, but has developed a nasty cough and is taking pills from a prescription bottle. James, pressing on, eventually discovers the little girl playing with teddy bears. Laura is at first shocked to see James, but he assures her he is friendly and isn't going to hurt her or be angry. He just wants to know how she knows Mary. Laura, it turns out, shared a hospital room and nurse with Mary – only the week before. Hearing this, James shouts that Laura is a liar, which she brusquely receives, but she claims that there's something for James from Mary in the hospital and leads him to another room. Once inside, James finds himself locked in with a group of monsters hanging from the ceiling, tricked by Laura. James is knocked unconscious and awakens in an alternate form of the hospital to find Maria.

Maria is less than pleased that he left her alone, demanding comfort as she runs into his arms. But their reunion is short lived: as they attempt to flee the hospital, Pyramid Head appears and pursues them down a narrow corridor that leads to an elevator. James makes it, but the doors shut before Maria can get inside too. She is able to reach her arm in and flails for help as Pyramid Head stabs her to death. Grief stricken at watching Maria die, the woman who looks exactly like his late wife, James sees Laura running away through the front window, he decides to push himself onward. It's telling that as he exits the hospital, the town has changed from day to night, enveloped now in darkness as well as fog. After leaving the hospital, James attempts to find a way to cross Toluca Lake to get to Lakeview Hotel on a nearby island and find the last potential “special place.” In doing so, he discovers a hidden entrance to a strange underground prison beneath the Silent Hill Historical Society. Before this, however, James finds a painting in the historical society of an executioner surrounded by bodies in cages – the executioner looks exactly like Pyramid Head.

After a terrifying descent through impossible spaces – vertical hallways, vast drops into abyss-like blackness – James emerges into the underground prison. Eddie, somehow, is there as well. However, his aloof demeanor has been replaced with a chilling lack of empathy. Sitting on the ground brandishing a revolver, Eddie flinches as James shines his flashlight on him. He proceeds to smile vacantly, stating, “Killing a person ain't no big deal. Just put the gun to their head – pow!” He mimes shooting himself in the head as he does this. Lying on the table beside Eddie is a dead body with a head wound; Eddie claims it wasn't his fault, that the person was looking at him funny. James tries to rationalize with Eddie, telling him he can't just kill someone because of how they look at him. Visibly confused, Eddie asks why not, before continuing to reminisce about a “stupid dog” who'd also had it coming. After this, Eddie chuckles nervously, claiming everything he said was all just a joke, and that he needs to get going. As Eddie opens a door to go deeper into the prison, James asks, “You're going out there alone?” Eddie replies enthusiastically, “Yeah.”

Questing through the prison, James is shocked to discover Maria sitting on a chair inside one of the cells. Confused, James tries to speak to her, but her demeanor is odd: she talks about things that only Mary would know, including a videotape the two of them made together while at Lakeview Hotel. Stunned, James asks if she's actually Maria, to which she brusquely responds, “I'm not your Mary.” She implies a sexual reward if James finds a way around to unlock the cell, but by the time he discovers this path, Maria's body is on the cell's bed, bloodied, dead once again. Struggling with this, James forces himself to move on.

Angela appears in the prison labyrinth as well. Walking through a hallway, James finds scattered newspapers all over the ground, and if examined, reveal a news story about a lumberjack named Thomas Orosco, found with his throat slit in his own house. Moving onward, James hears Angela's voice scream: “Daddy! Please! No!” Rushing through a nearby doorway, James comes across a terrifying sight. Before him is a room made of fleshy material, with a television and makeshift furniture. Lining the walls are mechanical pistons which pump constantly and out of sync with each other. Angela is on her back, desperately trying to get away from a monster. Unlike anything else seen up until now, the monster resembles a person lying on top of another person in a bed, covered by a topsheet of flesh, and a twisted mouth emerging from the front. It shuffles forward on two legs with insidious humping movement. According to the game, this monster is called the “Abstract Daddy.”

James protects Angela and kills the monster; once this is done, Angela leaps to her feet, kicking the creature over and over before picking up the television and crashing it down on the Abstract Daddy, finishing it off. James tells her she can relax, but she screams at him, telling him not to tell her what to do. She accuses him of only wanting “one thing,” and that if he does, he should just force her and beat her, “like he used to do.” As she says this last part, she points at the dead Abstract Daddy, and breaks down, crying and dry heaving. When James tries to comfort her, she pushes him away, saying he makes her sick. She calls him a liar for claiming that Mary died from her illness. Departing with a sneer, she implies that James probably wanted to be with someone else.

Eddie's final appearance comes just before the end of the prison. James enters a cold storage room to discover Eddie standing over yet another dead body, but his mood here has deepened into something far more morose and morbid. James asks if Eddie killed this man as well; Eddie starts to shout about how it was deserved, how the man always called him a fat piece of shit, among other instances of verbal abuse. “It doesn't matter whether you're smart, dumb, ugly, pretty, it's all the same once you're dead!” Eddie shouts, concluding that “a corpse can't laugh.” James asks if Eddie has gone nuts; Eddie decides that James is just like everyone else, laughing at him behind his back, and points his gun at James. The player takes over, forced to fight Eddie, and after a few minutes of action Eddie retreats deeper into the meat locker.

The next room where Eddie has retreated is dark, foggy with cold air, and full of large meat slabs hanging from the ceiling. The meats are all wearing pants with suspenders. James proceeds cautiously as Eddie taunts him from the shadows. Eddie asks James if he understands how it feels to be made fun of just for how he looks. Eddie continues, ranting about how he'd shot a dog because it taunted him, before shooting the owner – his personal bully – in the knee. He laughs about how difficult it would be for the man to play football after that. James tries to tell Eddie that he needs help if he thinks it's okay to kill people, to which Eddie scoffs, telling James that the two of them are the same. After all, he says, Silent Hill called to James as well.

Eddie pops out of the shadows, and the player takes over for another battle. This time, once enough hits are landed, James kills Eddie. Once Eddie has fallen, James rushes over to his dead body, and shows remorse, shameful that he's killed a human being. From here, James leaves the prison and finds a dock with a rowboat waiting outside. He uses it to cross Toluca Lake and get to the hotel.

Startled in the hotel lobby by a loud noise, James finds Laura at a grand piano, having just struck a loud chord to get James's attention. Here they finally have a conversation about their purpose: Laura is here to try and find Mary based on a letter that Mary left for the girl, in which Mary says she's sorry for leaving and is in a beautiful place now. Mistaking this to mean she is in Silent Hill, Laura has come here to find Mary. Also of note in the letter is that Mary tells Laura not to hate James for being “surly” and for not visiting the hospital much, claiming that James is very sweet deep down. Mary specifically says that she had hoped to adopt Laura. James, learning Laura's age and recent interaction with Mary, is forced to admit that Mary couldn't have been dead for three years, and in fact may still be alive.

Upstairs however, James discovers the room he and Mary shared, as well as their videotape. It's a home video of a sickly Mary saying how much she loves Silent Hill before succumbing to a coughing fit. The image changes to one of Mary lying in bed; James leans over her, kisses her forehead, and then smothers her to death. It's this point in the game where both James and the player are confronted with the truth. All around the hotel there have been various video and audio cues that imply the nature of James and Mary's relationship during her final days: a tense, abusive atmosphere in which Mary constantly lashed out at James in anger due to her own negative self-worth, only to adopt a pleading, loving tone after fighting. James, bitter from years of slow decay and sexual frustration, opted to end Mary's pain. Was it a selfish act, or an altruistic one? The story leaves that to the player to decide. James is shown to be in torment over his actions, the memory of which he either repressed on his own or was altered by the powers of the town.

Contemplating the truth of his repressed memories after viewing it, James is found by Laura. He confesses his actions to the girl. Laura screams at James that she hates him, wanting to know why he did it, demanding James bring Mary back, telling James he never really did care about Mary. Filled with sorrow, James can only tell Laura that he's sorry, and that the Mary she's looking for isn't here. Laura leaves without another word. James is spurred on to keep searching for Mary when he hears her voice come from the final, static-filled moments of the video tape, calling for him, saying she's waiting.

Angela's final appearance is in the Lakeview Hotel. James enters a hallway that is engulfed in flames – something odd as the previous area had not been. Angela is here, standing at the bottom of a staircase, staring up into the fire that is consuming the hotel above her. At first she confuses James for her mother, and Angela is excited to see him before realizing that who she's seeing isn't real. She apologizes and thanks him for saving her before, but wishes that he hadn't actually done so. She says that her mother had told her once that she deserved the things that had been done to her, and when James refutes that, Angela simply asks for him not to pity her. After all, she says, what is he going to do? Love her? Take care of her? James doesn't answer. “That's what I thought,” Angela replies. She then holds out her hand and demands her knife back. James, showing genuine care for her, says he won't. She accuses him of holding onto it so he can use it, but James states that he would never kill himself. Hanging her head in sadness, Angela turns and begins to walk up the staircase, fire burning up part of the stairs behind her, effectively cutting off James from following. “It's hot as hell in here,” James muses. Angela's final words are, “You see it, too? For me, it's always like this.” Then she turns and ascends into the inferno.

Leaving the hotel, James finds a room with not one, but two Pyramid Heads, each holding a long spear. Maria is suspended upside-down on a rack, begging for James to help her, but the Pyramid Heads execute her in front of him. Up til now, James has slowly found more and more evidence of the town having supernatural properties, of the myths and legends surrounding it. Realizing that his entire journey has been placed before him by the town, he admits to his need for punishment and faces down the Pyramid Heads. Knowing that their purpose is complete, both Pyramid Heads execute themselves. James then climbs to the top of the hotel to discover one of two outcomes: Mary or Maria, waiting for his arrival. And, depending on his actions during the game, his ultimate fate.

This is an exploration of the psyche unlike any in gaming. Each place he visits holds clues to what is happening both to the town and to his fragile psyche, in the form of strange creatures and the humans he meets. At the end of his quest, James discovers that he has been searching for punishment for his actions this entire time, which has been granted by the strange power of the town itself. Established in the previous game, the town of Silent Hill has the ability to warp reality around those who are drawn towards it, people who are usually tormented by something horrific in their past. How this can be so is never really explained, only hinted at, particularly with the information that the land used to be a sacred place to native tribes that used to inhabit it. Previously, it had manifested a scenario based on the pain and suffering of a powerful psychic girl who been horribly burned as part of a ritual of the town cult. In this scenario, the Silent Hill has taken James's need for punishment and provided it tenfold, but because James is unsure of exactly what he feels he deserves, it also provides multiple angles with which to torture him. Even the outcome of the game itself is open-ended; based on the player's actions during the story, one of four endings will commence with a finale befitting James's decisions. None of the endings are considered the “true” ending by the developers, leaving players to define for themselves what should – or should not – happen to James. These decisions are based solely on items and characters James interacts with. Each decision is subtle, never overt, and first playthroughs often end with James leaving the town in peace. But each finale is very specific, and I believe is represented by each of the four characters James meets in the town.

MARIA

If, during the course of the game, the player has James spent significant time with Maria – including returning to the rooms she's either sleeping in or being held in to check on her – and if the player is careful to ensure Maria takes no damage from the monsters of the town, James will get the “Maria” ending, which is one of two endings that directly relate to one of the other characters.

This is the only ending in which James actually finds Mary at the top of the hotel. Realizing that he'd rather be with Maria now, he confronts Mary. Angered that he's choosing a lesser woman, Mary transforms into a monster, forcing James to kill her in response. After he does, he returns to Rosewater Park where he first met Maria, to embrace her once more and leave town together. As they walk back to James's car, the rest of Mary's letter is read aloud: Mary details her sadness at her stay in hospice care, her sorrow for being so terrible and mean towards James, and assuring him that their relationship was something she'd cherished over the years. She assures James that he had made her happy, and for James to live for himself and do what he needs to do to live.

After the letter is read, James and Maria arrive at his car. She begins to cough, much in the same way the player has seen Mary coughing in flashbacks. Ominously, James has this to say: “You'd better get that looked at.”

Through the events of the game, it is heavily implied that Maria is a construct of the town's powers, an idealized version of what James had wished Mary had been. Despite sensing this, James still chooses her in this ending. After his initial quest to find Mary, James, it seems, did not hold enough devotion to his late wife to see it through to the end. Knowing now that she's dead and gone and that nothing can bring her back, he has resorted to bargaining. He spent so long during Mary's sickness frustrated at being unable to have his life, that with the attractive option of Maria he has once again taken an easier way out – a way that he feels he deserves to have. “What if,” he must think, “I can have the Mary I always wanted without having to deal with Mary's death?” Yet, with the final moments foreshadowing a similar fate for Maria as Mary had, it seems as though the town is not as merciful as it might appear.

What further fleshes out this idea is a bonus chapter for the game that initially only came with the XBOX version before being added to the PlayStation rerelease. Titled “Born From A Wish,” the player assumes the role of Maria before she meets up with James at Rosewater Park. During the short chapter, Maria comes to understand that she was created for a single purpose: to try and entice James into being with her. She wrestles with this notion, even going so far as to put a gun to her head as her only option of getting out. After all, what if he rejects her? Will she be forced to stay in this town forever if that's the case? Finally, Maria accepts her fate and her purpose, and she begins her walk towards the park to meet James.

With the confirmation that Maria was manifested by the town in accordance with James's unconscious desires – even going so far as to reveal that Maria's look was based on a dancer at the local club Heaven's Night – this now opens the door to the possibility that the other characters in the game have also been manifested by the town to aid in James's torment. What's different about Maria is that it is explicitly stated in the game that she was created by the town, where it is naturally assumed by the player that the other characters are in fact real, and have been called to the town for various reasons.

Now that we have some details of the plot and the understanding of how these manifestations work out of the way, let's focus on the individual details of the other characters in the game.

LAURA

In many ways, Laura is a metaphorical hook on the town's fishing pole, bating James into going deeper into the town to discover the truth behind Mary's letter.

After viewing the videotape in the hotel, Laura is not seen again unless the player achieves the “Leave” ending. There are a few key actions one must take in order to get this. First, the player must examine the letter from Mary that James has been carrying since the beginning of the game. This item stays in James's inventory during the whole game, and can be examined multiple times, as it should be to ensure this ending. It's worth noting the fact that, late in the game, examining the note again reveals a blank piece of paper; there never was a letter written by Mary asking James to come to Silent Hill. He made it up in his head. Or, perhaps it was the town's influence.

James must also keep his health meter high throughout the course of the game, consuming items to keep his health from going too low, demonstrating a desire to live. Also necessary for this ending is listening to a lengthy conversation between Mary and James – a memory – that plays as James walks through a long hallway towards the rooftop. It's mostly dialogue from Mary; she is heard yelling at James for bringing her flowers, claiming to be disgusting after the effects of the disease and the medication keeping her alive, shouting at him to go away, that it would be better for her if the doctors just killed her. Then, the turn: crying, Mary begs James to stay with her instead, to tell her that everything will be okay. The player can ignore this conversation if they run quickly through the hall before the dialogue is finished, but in order to get the “Leave” ending, they need to listen to the whole audio. After fulfilling these tasks, James has demonstrated his devotion to Mary and his remorse for killing her.

When he reaches the hotel rooftop, he discovers Maria dressed as Mary, and he confronts her, telling her he doesn't need her anymore. She transforms into a monster and James is forced to kill her. In the cinematic that follows, James finds himself in Mary's sick room. Mary tells him that she wanted the pain to end and James tells her that's why he killed her, to take away her suffering. But, he continues, he admits that she'd said she didn't want to die, and that his actions were selfish. Mary sees the sadness in his face, and tells him to move on with his life, to live and to be happy.

Mary's letter is read aloud again, this time over a shot of the cemetery outside Silent Hill. It should be noted that the same letter is read aloud over each of the endings, taking on a different meaning with each scenario. As the reading ends, we see Laura walk confidently through the cemetery, following by James, and together they walk into the distance until they are swallowed by the fog.

“Leave” is considered by many to be the closest to a definitive ending for the game. James has faced his actions, committed to atoning for his sins, and finds redemption in the innocent girl who also came to find Mary. Since they are leaving together, it's reasonable to assume that James intends to adopt Laura in the same way that Mary had intended to. Or had she? Considering the manifestations of the town, and the fact that Mary's “letter” turns out to be blank by the end of the game, it's very possible that Laura's letter was also blank, something for James to see what he – or maybe the town – wanted. Laura represents moving on, similarly to how Maria did. But with Laura, James sees a piece of his late wife in the little girl, the daughter that they'd never gotten the chance to have together. According to the developers, Laura is a real person who came to the town, hinting that she'd hitched a ride with Eddie. The official novelization of the game follows Laura for a brief segment, seeing the town through her eyes. But this shouldn't stop us from considering that Laura is a manifestation of the town. After all, Maria told James multiple times that she was “real” and had a personality and memories of her own. Laura is also presented as an eight-year-old girl who somehow left the hospital she was staying in and found her way to this abandoned town, and is running around happy-go-lucky without a care. Even if we accept that Eddie gave her a ride into town, it still doesn't explain how a child so young could possibly have reached this place by herself without any other means. And let us consider Laura's role, drawing James deeper and deeper into the town to uncover the truth of his sins. Where Maria is happy to distract James and take him away from Mary, Laura's actions throughout the story are the catalyst for him to continue. She kicks the key out of his reach at the apartments, forcing him to find a new way around and encounter Pyramid Head. When she leaves both the bowling alley and the hospital, James follows her. Inside the hospital, it is here where James is first forced to consider that perhaps Mary hasn't been dead for as long as he thought, and after this Laura locks him in a room with monsters that forces him again to confront Pyramid Head. This is culminates at the hotel, where her words push James towards the truth, and her letter implies that Mary would have wanted to adopt this young girl. Finally, she judges him after viewing the tape, saying she hates him, and that he never loved Mary. She wants Mary back, and if James finds the “Leave” ending, it turns out that he does, too – but he can't have her. Here is where he must find acceptance. This spark of redemption, this eight year old girl, will have to suffice. Except she is just as false as the rest of the manifestations of the town, a fake promise of hope and happiness. James might believe he has found redemption, but at what cost? Notably, in the ending cutscene, Laura is the one leading James as they leave the town, as she has been leading him the entire game.

ANGELA

Utilizing symbolism and a “show don't tell” quality, this next story is one that the game trusts the audience to infer, but with enough detail as to make what is unsaid unmistakable. So, in order to understand the true meaning behind the “In Water” ending, we look to examine the story and interactions with the first character James meets on his journey: Angela Orosco.

Angela's knife is a key item for receiving the “In Water” ending of the game. James must examine the knife in his inventory at least once in order to trigger the potential of the ending, more times to ensure it. James must also let his health meter run into the red, staying at a fairly consistent – and dangerous – level close to death. This shows James's lack of care whether he's alive or not, which falls in line with the suicidal implications of Angela's knife. Maintaining a good distance from Maria and listening to the audio cues from Mary in the hotel are important. There is also a diary on the roof of Brookhaven Hospital, detailing the suicidal thoughts of a former patient there, that must be read. If these conditions are met, “In Water” will happen.

On the hotel rooftop, James discovers Maria dressed as Mary. Just like with “Leave,” he tells Maria that he's done with her, causing her to transform into a monster and he kills her. Once this happens, James finds himself next to Mary's sick bed, just as with “Leave.” But the dialogue here is different: James again admits that he didn't kill Mary to only ease suffering but to get his life back, however this time Mary doesn't bother pointing out James's sadness. Instead, she simply tells him that he killed her and now he's suffering for it, and that's enough. Mary begins to violently cough before dying once more, and a grieving James picks her body up off of the bed and walks off with her.

The screen turns black. We can hear the sound of footsteps, and a car door open and shut. James speaks aloud, a monologue, saying that he finally understands why he came to this town, wondering why he was so afraid to face it. In the background, the engine kicks over, revving to high speed. James admits that without Mary, he has nothing. The car is heard speeding down the road, growing louder and louder with intensity – before it abruptly cuts to silence. “Mary,” James says, “now we can be together.”

Mary's letter is once more read aloud, but this time over an underwater scene. Light from the surface can be seen, air bubbles rise past. It appears as though James has taken Mary's body back to his car and driven into the lake. There is no sight of him leaving, no further words from him, only the somber silence of the water and implication that James, after all of his confidence that he would never kill himself, has finally gone and done just that. It is one of the darkest and most melancholy endings to a video game ever written.

Now, we must examine the ties that Angela has to “In Water,” and what presents the notion that she is a fictional manifestation of the town rather than a real person. Firstly, it should go without saying that the theme of suicide is the most obvious tie. Angela wants to kill herself rather than face the trauma of her past, and so too does James. One of the implications hammered home over and over is that Mary was verbally abusive towards James near the end of her illness, something she addresses in her letter at the end of the game. She understands what she has done to him, and that he may hate her for it. James, for his part, admits that part of him killed her because he hated her, because he wanted his life back. Angela, too, did the same thing, only for her it was an act of survival. We can easily come to the conclusion that her father was physically and sexually abusing her based on the creature design and Angela's words. The sexual nature of the room where James fights the Abstract Daddy – with the pistons pumping in and out of the fleshy walls – brings this to a head. Killing her father, much like James killing his wife, caused a break in her. Wandering through Silent Hill to find her “Mama,” a source of matronly solace, is the opposite of James searching for his own wife, a woman who never had the chance to be a mother.

Reflections and opposites are what define the relationship between James and Angela, and I believe seals the notion that she is a manifestation. James has blonde hair, Angela has dark brown; James wears a dark grey polo under a green jacket with blue jeans, Angela wears a light grey turtleneck and red pants. When James and Angela meet in the apartments, most of their conversation takes place in a reflection. As she lies on the floor in front of a full length mirror, the camera primarily focuses on her, with James captured in the reflection. One shot in particular is telling: the camera looks down from the ceiling, Angela on the right, her reflection on the left, taking up equal sides of the screen, as she gets up off of the floor to turn to James. Before this scene, it's worth noting that Pyramid Head, James's own personal punisher, had been seen carrying no weapons whatsoever. But after Angela hands over the knife to James, when we next see Pyramid Head it is possessing a blade so large it has to drag the knife behind it. It's even referred to as the “Great Knife.” Angela provided James with more fuel for his own punishment, just as Laura led him closer to the hidden truth, just as Maria tried to pull him away from it.

For most of the game, James sees the town as water damaged from the fog. He sees wet environments, dripping water. The theme of water is present throughout the course of the game, except for one glaring instance: Angela's hallway of fire. For her, the world is always aflame, burning, the heat of her trauma a constant reminder. James, on the other hand, is always surrounded by water and drowning. At the end of their stories, when each of them decide to commit suicide, Angela does so by walking upwards into the flames, and James goes downward into the water. James has spent most of the game staunchly denying any desire or ability to commit suicide, but Angela has always known; in fact, she's embraced it. They are opposites in every capacity, down to gender identity, which is particularly of note in that Angela is the only female identifying member of the cast who has no relation to Mary. When we first meet James, he is introduced to us staring at his reflection in a dirty bathroom mirror. And when James and Angela first meet? She attempts to warn him away, to not go into the town, but James's reaction is exactly the opposite. He's going to the town to find what he wants, danger or no. Somewhere, a part of him was trying to get him to turn around, to run away, and that piece manifested in Angela's words.

It should also be noted that the game's creators have confirmed that from the opening of the game Mary's body is in the back seat of James's car. Her death is incredibly recent, within the last couple of days or hours. Perhaps James brought her here with the intention of committing suicide the entire time, having succumbed to the trauma of killing her, to the intense feeling of depression that he now carries.

But even if the previous evidence of opposites and reflections in the two characters has not been enough to convince you of their relation to each other, consider this: each of the first three Silent Hill games features a portrait of the main character on the front box art. Silent Hill 2?

The face on the cover is Angela's.

EDDIE

Up until this point it has been a relatively easy task to link the previous three characters to the endings of Silent Hill 2. Showing the relation of Eddie Dombrowski to the hidden “Rebirth” ending is a little more difficult considering both his story and the events necessary to unlock this ending. And yet, there is enough compelling evidence to demonstrate how this seemingly buffoonish man is essential to understanding the final ending to Silent Hill 2.

What's interesting about Eddie's story is how similarly it follows James's. While Mary did not bully James over his looks, she did verbally abuse him over a long period of time before he finally gave into his torment and killed her. So, too, did Eddie spend years being tortured verbally by those around him, the football player in particular, just because of his weight. Over a period of time, this harsh treatment turned the mild boy into a violent man, finally giving in to his urges and killing the bully's dog before shooting the bully in the knee. This is the event that Eddie was referring to in his conversation with Laura, saying that no one would ever forgive him for what he'd done; James no doubt felt much the same way after killing Mary. James laments his actions, aghast that he has killed a person. It turns out that Eddie is not his first murder, nor is it the only one done in “self-defense.” After all, with years of abuse stacked up, James wanted his life back and to not feel hurt anymore. In self-defense of his own emotions and life, he killed Mary, convincing himself that it was to end her pain as well.

But, unlike the other three characters we've examined, James's interactions with Eddie do not directly lead to one of the game's four endings. “Rebirth” is not an ending one can even achieve on the first playthrough of the game – it is only on starting up a new game after completing the story once can the player discover the necessary items to unlock “Rebirth.” There are four: the White Crism, the Obsidian Goblet, the Book of Lost Memories, and the Book of the Crimson Ceremony. Each of these items are found in locations scattered across Silent Hill, and without all four the Rebirth ending will not occur. If all of them are in James's possession, it will not matter what he did during the course of the game, or what ending was being led up to. “Rebirth” will take over, assuming James has been pursuing this course of action all along. As usual, James will find himself on the rooftop of the hotel, confront Maria disguised as Mary, battle her, and kill her. But then the player is treated to something unusual out of these endings: there is no scene of reconciliation with Mary on her deathbed, and Mary's letter is not read aloud. Instead, once Maria has been killed, the game fades in to James rowing his boat across Toluca Lake through the fog, with what appears to be a body in the boat with him. James narrates over the visual:

Mary. Forgive me for waking you. But without you, I just can't go on.

I can't live without you, Mary.

This town, Silent Hill...

The Old Gods haven't left this place...

And they still grant power to those who venerate them...

Power to defy even death...

As James speaks, the camera slowly pulls up and away from the row boat, which becomes more and more difficult to see in the swirling mist. But as it does, it reveals that James is rowing towards a previously unknown island in the lake. It is small, covered in trees, and has a dock for tying a boat to. As James approaches, he sighs, “Ah, Mary...” before disappearing behind the island, out of view of the player, the island the last thing we see before the credits roll.

What's chilling about this ending are the implications it delivers. First, is that the powers of the town are not simply metaphoric or metaphysical, but extend beyond the veil of the natural world. The first Silent Hill dealt with the cult who lived in the town, and their obsession with the Old Gods, but Silent Hill 2 chooses to focus more on the psychological horror of the town and the effects on the mind. While each of the monsters in the second game have horrific visuals, they can all be traced back to the trauma impacting James from his time during Mary's last days. Even Pyramid Head is explained through a painting found in the Historical Society of an executioner that bears the creature's image. But here, with this ending, Silent Hill 2 at last announces the connection to the first game in the sense of the Old Gods and the dark forces that inhabit the town. James is now crossing those lines, once a victim of them in his mind, now rising to the understanding of how to manipulate those powers to his benefit...if he venerates the Old Gods.

Secondly, this ending implies that James has been on this journey more than once. We can infer this from the simple fact that the ending can only be unlocked after any one of the previous endings have been seen. There's also the disturbing evidence left behind in the shape of the various bodies James finds along his journey. Both in the streets of Silent Hill and in the apartment complex, James finds bodies that wear clothing eerily similar to his own: black shoes, blue jeans, green jacket. Only the faces are bloodied and torn apart as to be unrecognizable. We could, of course, posit that this is just the town's way of predicting James's fate in the same way that interacting with Angela does. In fact, there are multiple ways in which the town predicts James's demise. One of them is found inside Neely's Bar (or, as it's listed in the game, Bar Neely's). A message written in what looks like blood reads “There was a HOLE here. It's gone now.” Later, when James returns to the bar after leaving the hospital, the message has changed: “If you really want to see Mary, you should just DIE. But you might be heading to a different place than Mary, James.” In multiple, subtle ways, the town is directing James towards one of multiple conclusions. It creates Maria, and pushes her in front of him as a means to have back a form of the woman he's lost. It creates Laura, who would have been Mary's adopted child with blessing, and with whom Mary implies she wants James to find reason to move on. It creates Angela, whose state of mind reflects his torment, who James sees is slowly preparing to die, and takes inspiration from. But it also creates Eddie, and Eddie's answer denies all three other routes. Once Eddie's method is chosen – the route which leads to a resurrection – then the story still unfolds, but refuses any other conclusion. Because the women in the game are there to add to James's torment, to force him to face his past and come to the conclusion of how best his punishment must be meted out. But Eddie, the only other male identifying presence in the game, represents what James has been doing before the events of the game: denial.

Eddie changes his story about his past multiple times. When we first meet him, he's vomiting, cowering, appears weak and harmless and denies doing any harm to the body in the next room. Next, he's having a pity party while confessing to Laura, however slightly, that he would be unwelcome by others after what he'd done. Again, remember that this is the only conversation in the game that doesn't involve James – Laura, the icon of moving on despite the past, and Eddie, the icon of denial. Eddie's denial deepens in the prison, when he claims that “killing a person ain't no big deal,” but then jokingly assures James that he was just kidding about causing violence. But his denial only goes so far: in our final meeting, Eddie has accepted the violence he's caused, but focuses the blame on those around him who made fun of him, who “had it coming, too.” Eddie has been hurt, his anger is justifiable, but his means cannot be so. It is extremely telling that the slabs of meat hanging from their hooks are all wearing pants and suspenders. Eddie has been pushed psychologically to the point where he sees the people around him as little more than meat. He understands what other humans are capable of, and has reached the point where he refuses to sit back and take it anymore. His gun, an oversized revolver, is symbolic of his power. James, too, has been pushed to the point of retaliation, but he still denies himself the truth, just like Eddie in the beginning. James is constantly pushed further and further into the realization that he has killed Mary, that he has done wrong, and that he must come to terms with it. In three endings, he faces this wrong. In the final ending, he simply denies the wrongdoing. He's been through this before, he's justified himself, he searched through his mind and come to the conclusion that he was justified in his actions. But how can that be? Well, James has searched through the town on his quest for redemption. He has searched high and low and discovered certain things about the history of the town that he didn't understand before. Books and information on certain items of mystical power. So perhaps when he eventually reaches his conclusion as to what he feels his actions require, a second thought forms in his mind. Perhaps he makes his way all the way back to the parking lot where he left his car – and Mary's body – behind. Maybe Laura is with him, or Maria is with him, or he goes to drive into the lake. As he goes to leave, he thinks, “This doesn't feel right. This isn't what I deserve.” Because he just wants Mary. He can't go on without her. But now he understands how to get her back.

So he turns around and heads back to town, but the town wants him to feel it all over again. He has to earn his wife back. And as the town resets all the players and the pieces, it knows it will get what it really wants: a new servant, someone willing to perform rituals to the Old Gods that have not performed in far too long. And James, calm, peaceful, finally comes to terms with himself as he rows out to the island where the ritual must take place.

Because when you can resurrect someone, killing a person ain't no big deal.

***

With video games, sometimes there are multiple endings one can achieve based on their actions during their playthrough, just like in Silent Hill 2. But oftentimes, the developers will state outright which of the endings is the “true” ending so players can have a sense of satisfaction knowing how the story truly ends. However, in Silent Hill 2 every ending is canon. Developers Team Silent have stated that it's up to the players to determine which ending out of the possible four is how James Sunderland's story actually ends. There are, of course, two joke endings that the developers wisely have ensured remain in the realm of satire, leaving us to wonder and marvel at how one game can present so much ambiguity, while still remaining a concrete experience.

This we know: if all endings are canon, if it's truly up to the player, then anything goes. This essay, after all, is a fan theory. At no point have the developers ever hinted that anyone other than Maria is not real. The official novelization shows backstory for some of the characters, and even goes into their heads. Based on this, why extrapolate information to support a theory that has obviously been shown to be quite the opposite? Because – and here's the fun part – Silent Hill has always been a series about misdirection. Illusion, hallucinations of visual and audio types, and concealed intention. Disguises abound in Silent Hill, in each game. Team Silent demonstrated that Maria is absolutely not a “real” person by any means, but still thinks and feels like one and has memories because the town created her to have them. She is presented as the only person in the game who understands who James is, what he's done, and her role in the story. It stands to reason that the town could have created these other characters, but simply not given them the awareness of their role to play. And, as I have hopefully detailed well enough, the compelling evidence linking them both to the town and to James is unmistakable and undeniable. Whether or not you, the reader, choose to support this theory yourself, well, there are many endings to this tale. Just as all of them are equally correct in their canon.

But the next time you play Silent Hill 2, perhaps you'll be invited to look a little closer, pay attention a bit harder, consider ideas that you hadn't considered before. One of the most beautiful things about this abstract masterpiece is that it opens itself to observation as well as deduction, and when a game this detailed and well-thought-out is kind enough to allow for this, it is only good of us to indulge.

Thank you all so much for your time.

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veterveter · 3 years

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YO MANU THIS FINALLY CAME THROUGH I'LL LIKE READ AND DO COMMENTARY AND EDIT THIS LATER BUT I WANTED TO POST IT WHILE I HAD IT!!!!

Bless, tumblr finally working for you.

Anyway, here's the post from @delirious-and-slightly-murderous

So seeing as Tumblr hates me, I'm trying this darling, hope it reaches you.

So just read rat king.

[You should all totally read rat king if you haven't yet, it's fun I promise :) But also read Manu's commentary on it!!]

Tuuli I hope you know I love you and completely adore you and I am in awe of you but right now I HATE YOU.

You broke me AGAIN. And I was just mending myself.

This was great and beautiful and fantastic and completely awful and the worst thing I've ever seen in my life.

I'm crying.

So now I'm going to make a habit of coming to scream at you on tumblr every time you post something.

You already know how I feel about your characterization and Andrés' POV and the angst. So there, it applies here too.

Here we go you awful and magnificent goddess.

“Martín,” Sergio clarified, moving up his glasses, the prescription of which was much too weak for his continuously worsening eyesight, “I think you should stop sleeping with him: Yes, Segio and his judgement. That couldn't not be there. But Andrés and Martín are sleeping together? I know this is going to hurt.

Martín was a constant in his life, something carried over from before. Martín? Martín wasn’t a problem; Martín was the only one thing that was good: at least here he appreciates him. Thank god.

Before, he would have found some entirely healthier way of loving his soulmate. Maybe they would have even had an old-world relationship, eventually. Andrés felt like he might have liked that, once. He knew Martín would have loved it: 😭 I want this for them and it hurts that it's simply not going to happen. I'm afraid of the MCD tag, Tuuliiiiiiiiiiii! Who did you kill, you murderous genius?

Andrés needed Martín, desperately. Too desperately to love him the way he should have: I'm going to die. He could at least try but nooooo, god forbid the day Andrés de Fonollosa makes things simple for anyone.

Andrés could see the way orgasms had loosened some of the tensions that so often gripped his body, and he hoped Sergio could too.😏

If Andrés had to choose only one, he would have certainly chosen— : repressed asshole. I hope that was going to end with the word Martín. Why are you even getting married? What's even the point. But I see Andrés will continue to be emotionally stunted even when the world is ending.

Martín and Sergio had gotten along well, before. Andrés could remember so many pleasant evenings, just the three of them and a bottle of wine. But ever since they had to move to this base, the tensions had been palpable. They were both desperately trying to keep them alive, but were constantly disagreeing on the how: I'm starting to like Sergio more than Andrés here, how is that possible? How? See what you do Tuuli?

He turned around at the doorway and left the room, because he had no doubts about it: they would listen to him: Andresito, you are being too egocentric, this is not going to end well, for anyone.

Andrés understood just enough to know he was proud.: I don't know how to feel about this Andrés. I can't.

Andrés always tried not to take the slights of this brave new world personally – it was cruel, but they all had to endure loss of unspeakable magnitude – but this? Having to choose between his Martín and his brother?: Oh no, Oh no, NO. This isn't fair. Why do I get the terrible feeling we already know who he's going to choose? Please DON'T do this.

Andrés knew with unwavering certainty that either one of them would be willing to do it, and that they would consider it a great big favour to Andrés, and not the horrifying curse it truly was. He was the one who would have to pay the ultimate price, and live, knowing how much it had cost: Everything always has to be about you, doesn't it Andrés. You fucking deserve it.

Andrés could appreciate such a malleable room, because it reminded him of Martín, who always became what Andrés needed him to be.😡😭💔

Martín had never cared about plants, before. Actually, he seemed to have held a certain disdain for them. He had always said they were stupid and lifeless. Now he was looking at these ones, their lifeline, and he was filled with reverence and sorrow. If Andrés could have given him one thing, he would have liked to return to him his complete disregard for flora, and all the things it had since then come to imply: This hurts, and not only for obvious reasons. But nature? Fuck right in the feels.

Martín was entirely too pretty to look like this. They hadn’t even been having sex, because suddenly Martín looked like his eternally calcium-deficient bones might now break from the strain. Pretty Martín yeah! And you are a genius. Now this is my official headcanon as to why Martín drinks milk, he has fragile bones, the poor baby.

The weird walking corpse at the table smiled, and it almost made him resemble Martín.: He's already halfway dead. The MCD tag is him isn't it? I hate you Tuuli.

Andrés had to remind himself that he was lucky to have this. He may have had so many better things, before, but now he had this, and that was good. They had it better than most, him and Martín, for they had each other. Andrés still had his brother, and now he would have his wife, too. He was lucky: Not for long, buddy. And you deserve it. Poor Sergio I normally hate him but gosh.

“No,” Andrés said without waiting for a single beat, because he couldn’t let Sergio think he considered it. Even though he almost— “No, I don’t. I want you two, both of you, to figure out a way. A different way.”: He loves them both and he accepts it? Why does the world have to be ending.

Andrés tried not to think too much about Martín from before, but sometimes he did anyway. That night, as he wrapped his arms around Martín’s pathetic, weak and shivering frame, he thought about his true soulmate, the one this body had once belonged to.: Now I understand Martín sacrificing himself is the only way. He's already dead. And because of Andrés no less. How tragic.

Andrés had never said it back.

That night, he didn’t say it back.: Now Martín is going to die and it'll be horrible isn't it? Tuuli I want to murder you.

I’m so sorry, Andrés,” Sergio said quietly, slowly reaching out a hand to touch his shoulder.

Andrés recoiled from it, sharply. “No,” he snapped, “No. We are all going to die. Say those words, Sergio. We are all going to die.” He had made his peace with death long ago. There were worse things, many things so much more horrifying—

“We are not all going to die,” Sergio said, “The generator—” His words were cut off by Andrés’s hand on his throat, squeezing.: You are the king of denial, bad decision, being stupid, emotionaly stunned and not appreciating your soulmate enough Andrés. You deserve all the pain.

“He doesn’t deserve that,” Andrés said, his voice breaking again as he thought of it, Martín’s body, his corpse, frozen and preserved like that for as long as they would live. Martín, out there, while Andrés was in here, unable to ever go and give him even a proper burial. He had always been able to give Martín so little, and in death he would fail him yet again: I really have no words for this. But Martín being forever preserved out there and Andrés knowing that and not being able to mourn him. That is genius and it hurts and it's the perfect ending for them.

Andrés had never told him. Not once. How could he be certain that Martín had known? How could he insist that Martín, the brightest of them all, had known, when Andrés had never told him? Martín operated in words – how could Andrés have forced him to read his love in a language he didn’t even speak?: Now you confront your feelings too late, like always you repressed asshole. You deserve all the pain.

God, he wished Martín hadn’t been so bright. That he had been an idiot, dim-witted and slow like the rest of them.

Then the two of them would have let all of humanity perish.: You already murdered me with 'stay a while' and now this. Tuuli I'm coming back as a vengeful ghost and haunting your perfect ass.

So yeah, I don't have words but that's what I could spit out.

And Tuuli, you know the thing I showed you about the spider? Well when I finished reading this I was crying and wailing. My professor came running because he thought it was another spider or something even worse like a serpent.

When he asked what was going on I was in such a state I could only say 'rat' like a dumbass.

RAT.

Like seriously? And when he asked again I said Rat king fic and pointed vaguely to my phone.

He thought I was talking about an actual rat.

So imagine this. We are there, at night (in Costa Rica nightfall is around 6:00pm all year round, so now it's 9:00pm and here in the tropical rainforest it gets Dark), camping in the middle of nowhere in the wild with a tropical storm falling over our heads and I start crying about Rats.

Congratulations Tuuli, you put me in such a state that I managed to send the whole of 9 biologists into a frenzy, frantically checking out the tents over an imaginary giant rat.

It was literally terror in the jungle.

I wanted the earth to shallow me. I didn't know how to explain that all that circus was because of a fucking fic.

I think now I no longer have satelital internet rights.

I hate you.

(P.S: But don't worry I still absolutely adore you, even if now I am the laughing stock of my fellows 🥰😘♥️)

Here have my friend the spider to show how I'm feeling.

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pluralismajestatis · 3 years

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Prior to having multiplicity suggested to us as an answer to an unspoken question, we had no clue that we were a system. Which makes a full total of no sense when you look at it, because the second we were told that hey, this sounds like multiplicity, we knew that it was. Of course it was, because nothing else made sense. (And still the first step towards acceptance was full denial. Yes, I know that it is; no, I am not going to acknowledge it. I did, eventually. Because I wanted to know Them.)

We've always been aware of each other. One particularly interesting thing about our presentation is that we've never really had any significant dissociative barriers. We've had communications and recognition going on for years and years and years, tracking all the way as far as my (shitty) memory goes. We've always known that we're many in here. It just didn't register as something that should have been explored further.

The covert nature of DID really comes out with that. I did my everything to keep the system away from the mental health professionals I've seen since I was 7 - I instinctively knew that talking about them would lead to Bad Things, and I needed to not mention that I had Others in here. But even as I know this was a conscious decision, I never recall thinking any more into it. I never questioned having these Others in here. I never questioned whether it was normal or not. It was and that was the natural state of things. At times I thought maybe everybody has Others, but they don't talk about them because it's childish.

I was remotely aware of DID existing for about a decade, but knew absolutely nothing about it, and it didn't interest me. I knew of the Jekyll/Hyde stereotype and that obviously didn't match what was going on with us, so why would I have been intrigued? My therapist noted that I never sought help with my system, and actively tried to protect them from being seen, because my presentation is overwhelmingly positive (with alters) and we've always gotten along and supported each other. My priority was to keep them safe, theirs was to keep me safe. My problems have never been with alters.

It's everything else that is the hard part. The uncontrollable moodswings, living without a functioning memory, and what I now recognise as flashbacks such as living in a constant unexplained state of utter terror with a sense of impending doom, that and everything that was diagnosed first as depression, then as anxiety, then as bipolar, then as psychosis, and finally as bpd. I don't think I have any of these things. I did have depression, but my inability to function was due to the trauma and missed developmental stages, not because of depression. None of the treatments worked. None of the medications worked. I've been on an endless list of pills, I've been locked up, I've been studied and interviewed left and right, I've been through every management course known to man, nothing helped.

If I'd known that looking into the Others was the key to untangling that mess and out of the cycle of one wrong diagnosis and a type of inefficient medication after another, would I have managed it earlier? It's hard to say now. I don't think I would have found help. I think it might have been worse. I can even see us discovering what we really were too early causing friction between us and breaking the system that worked, which we'd always had together.

It's a common consensus that the system waited this long to "come out" because we weren't ready to know yet. I just wish we'd had the support network to do that before. I barely survived this far. It came so close so many times. But we made it here and now it's going to get better.

#k post #life update #did

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douxie-casperan · 4 years

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💫 please

[This one kinda went to the entire vibe of the song and I kinda rolled with it as HEY WHY NOT.]

My heart’s fit to break - Stereo Alchemy

As I gaze up above at the stars that fill the night A frail blanket of jewels strewn across the sky Each star a memory of a life that's gone by

It felt like that within a single moment a day which was ordinary enough what with replacing the lost Slorr milk whilst ensuring that Master Merlin had the materials needed to work on his prized amulet, then within a blink the entire kingdom had fallen on it's sword, two of the greatest magic wielders of their age suddenly gone without a trace and he, at a mere 19 years old, was left to pick up the pieces of painfully vague instructions that would make little sense because he lacked the same sight his Master had wielded. Thus Hisirdoux Casperan was left to mourn the dead and lost with his familiar as the only company who could spoke in words whilst tending to a tomb so that the ancient wizard could rest peacefully. Even after completing his final assignment it was only the need for supplies that kept him functioning in a mockery of a living state, the tears of grief had dried years ago but the cracks in his heart never seemed to heal no matter how long it was.

This was until a day finally came that he felt ready to explore the world he'd left behind and finally begin to live again.

Centuries on from then the Camelot of old has been transfigured into nothing more than myth and legend as much as it's habitants existing only through name with barely a vein of truth surviving within the stories and like a living relic he watched it fade piece by piece quite unsure what to make of it. That was the thing about living beyond what you should do, it tends to make your perspective a little bit weird because you so much as get your hands stuck in dealing with a demon or six that refuse to grasp the concept of not being welcome and then boom! A whole decade swept past without you even noticing, countries have renamed themselves and a war is kicking off that somehow you're accidently ended up in the middle of through the bad luck of timing. It was alarming the first few times it happened until it became scarily normal to still be standing on ruins of what once had thrived.

He'd learned so many stories though from the people he'd met however, those who sparkled with life and were all to happy to share the amazing things that they were creating. Some would offer a place to spend the night not wanting to leave "such a nice young man" out in the cold or with an empty stomach, more than a few who asked to be called modridge or seanmháthair (The language varied so much it was often a struggle to keep up) who would show a special way of cooking or even give suggestions on how to properly charm a good lady, men who would bid the wizard to hold their secrets and children fascinated by a cat or demanding to hear what lay beyond the borders of their humble villages. While he would never consider giving up the pursuit for various magical artefacts or new spellwork, it was these snapshots who helped keep him grounded in being a simple human who appreciated the company of others who were like him but not. Some of the faces and names of the oldest ones are a little blurrier than he'd like now but he does his best to remember so that in a sense they can live on in a different form of immortality. They were owed that much for helping ease the pain in his chest, even a little bit.

Who knows? Perhaps there are little traces of a humble apprentice littered throughout his travelling history that nobody was ever able to put a name to. Not enough to blow his cover of course! But maybe someone who wasn't completely forgettable... It's a humbling thought.

Douxie is really not sure how he'd have managed without Archie throughout his life though, even the notion of doing all this while being completely alone was too terrifying a thing to consider. Heck, it was something that could haunt in nightmares between images of fire or brandished swords and more than once had made him wake up screaming in terror. Somehow the dragon would always know when he was having a particularly bad time despite any denials that were offered and would curl up on his stomach purring without complaint or more fragrantly would demand his attention for something he could do just as easily do himself because it gave him a focus on something other than whatever was rattling through his head. He is a reassuring constant that felt real to his hands whenever everything beyond that felt more like a sea churning in a storm with no sign of a shore in sight. While he would be told over and over not to and start putting himself first it wouldn't stop the extra tidbits being secretly snaffled his way like little thank yous that words couldn't quite express in the form of food.

They are truly closer than close whilst being incredibly in tune with one another, barely a word needs to be spoken be it on the road or having to fight back against an attacker making the act of an innocent wanderer and animal so much easier preventing any worry he might have otherwise had. As much as Archie may grumble or snark, he's certain that his familiar has never regretted making that pact with him for a second anymore than him making the pair a package deal if anybody truly wanted to try and befriend the other.

Where they had decided to stop on this particular night in the comfort of the warm summer air the view is magnificently peaceful for this time of year accompanying a feeling of being the only two beings for miles around here to appreciate it. The moon glows in full radiant colour decorated by smatterings of jewelled-stars that had escaped from behind wisps of clouds and absently he wonders aloud to his familiar wrapped around his shoulders if this sort of sight would be treated as a good omen to trolls if they venture up to see for themselves. Quite likely, comes the reply earning a gentle scritch.

It's silly, really, but being lucky enough to be here at just the right time makes him think of somebody else he wouldn't half mind being with them too. They of course being one of the few people who also knows what it's like being so out of place with the present, whom he'd received a raven from two days prior saying another stray had been found and rescued from a pyre so will likely be on the down low for a while so stay away from this area until things calm down. Busy as ever but more importantly too him still around which helps ease the ache for a while longer, it gives a soft reminder that perhaps he's overdue being around people again. It'd been a week since they had last seen even another soul on the road and that appears to have been long enough for the first signs of disconnecting to begin to sink in buoyed only by half day or week stops elsewhere along this trail.

"Would you be against settling down for a little while, Arch?" he says quietly keeping his eyes on the rapidly disappearing stars.

"Sorry, think I might be getting a little homesick again."

#nightrosebud #No facts truer than a good meme #900 years of wandering

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i-will-physically-fight-you · 4 years

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Drive Fanfic

Title: Drive

Summary: Lately, all Virgil has fantasized about is driving away to a place where the Year 2020 doesn’t exist. It’s illogical and ludicrous, because it’s not possible to physically escape it all. But try telling that to Virgil, who’s done nothing but try and run away from his fears since childhood.

Pairings: platonic moxiety

Word-Count: 1.3k

Warnings: Anxiety, Self-destructive habits, Dissociation Sleep-deprived, Sickness, Vague References to Covid-19, Crying, Some Comfort Mostly Angst, Ambiguous Ending

This is...kinda a vent fic? I’ve been wanting to write another fic involving present day events for awhile but this is not the fic I had in mind.

The moon greets Virgil with a crescent grin as he pulls out of his work’s parking lot late at night. It’s a comforting glow, soft and warm in ways that the artificial street lights could never achieve. He smiles back at the moon, taking his eyes off the road. Something he knows to be dangerous and his anxiety doesn’t waste time jumping at once to remind him.

He pushes these worries aside, tapping a rhythmic beat against his steering wheel. Normally, he’d be more diligent. But he’s exhausted and he’s driven the route between his work and home so many countless times that he could do it in his sleep.

Still, he has to watch himself when he almost makes a wrong turn. He’s lived at his new apartment for four months and yet it’s easy in this state to meander back to his old dwelling like a horse whose rider has fallen asleep in the saddle.

He thinks about turning on music to keep his mind awake, fingers twitching as he does so, but he does not do so. Instead, he gets on the highway, watching as the world flies past his car. So fast, almost too fast. He’s going at least five, ten miles past the speed limit. A younger version of himself would be freaked by that.

Once upon a time, he hated driving. No, he feared it. The idea of being in control of a machine that could, at any moment, kill himself or others used to petrify him. Now? The action of driving is almost as mundane and monotonous as brushing his teeth.

Physically, he is the one at the wheel, controlling the vehicle. But mentally, he is separated from the action. His thoughts of nothing and everything all at once. Just like the whole year has felt like. A year that has flown by faster than he can process, but has also plodded along sluggishly.

Lately, all he’s fantasized about is driving away to a place where the Year 2020 doesn’t exist. It’s illogical and ludicrous, because it’s not possible to physically escape it all. But try telling that to Virgil, who’s done nothing but try and run away from his fears since childhood.

He’s just tired. Exhausted of the world falling apart at the seams when it’s supposed to only be himself doing that. He can’t handle the numbers skyrocketing, the constant flow of new safety measures at work he knows are good yet so tiring to readjust to again and again. The angry dissents, the injustice and apathy of it all.

Exhaling, he flicks on the turn-signal and the car drifts towards the exit lane. Too far right, almost veering into the shoulder of the road and down into the gully beside it.

“Shit!” Virgil hisses, the loud vibration of hitting the line marking shoulder keeping him from becoming another highway death statistic. He pulls away from the line, his heartbeat accelerating. He continues off the highway without further incident.

Still, it’s enough to ignite his old fear of driving, enough to force his consciousness back into his body and focus on the road. The rest of his drive home is painfully boring compared to those exciting few seconds. When he does eventually reach his apartment building, he feels himself aching with relief.

Both his body and mind is craving for sleep, to escape from the conscious world for a few glorious hours. He both loves and loathes sleep for this very reason; loves it because it is a reprieve from reality and loathes it because it is but a temporary one.

After checking, and double-checking his car is locked, Virgil stumbles to his apartment like a zombie from a low-grade horror film. He fumbles with entering his key inside the keyhole a few times. Eventually he manages to get it in.

Prior to passing through the threshold of his front door, he had a task-list floating around in his head. A task-list he likes to call, “Virgil’s Agenda To Get The Fuck to Sleep As Soon As Possible”

It includes the following things:

Nab a quick late-night snack because he’s starving and experts be damned

Go to the bathroom, contemplate brushing his brush for five minutes before deciding the one-minute activity is too much energy

Collapse into bed without changing out of his work uniform

Spend an hour scrolling on his phone until he’s too incoherent for anxious thoughts to keep him awake all night

Sleep until his alarm wakes him up for work in the afternoon.

All of this is thrown out the figurative window when he spies his roommate and best friend Patton curled up on the living room couch. He’s still awake, half-disinterestedly watching an episode of The Office. Normally, this isn’t anything out of the ordinary. For as he chastises Virgil for dismal sleeping habits, the man is a hypocrite. Virgil has caught him on numerous occasions on a Netflix binge way past the witching hour.

Something about this time feels off. Virgil can’t decide if it’s his own anxiety or the existence of the virus-that-shall-not-be-named that causes him to feel this way. Maybe both, even. There’s just something about how Patton turns to look at him with a hint of dazed terror in his eyes.

“Hi, Pat.” Virgil says, taking his mask off. Honestly he’s gotten so used to wearing it that he sometimes forgets when it’s on his face.

“You, um, might want to keep that on.” Patton bits his lips.

“Oh?”

“I woke up from my nap today with chills.”

Virgil tries keeping his face neutral, “Any other symptoms?”

“M-my body aches all over, and--and I have a really bad headache--” This is where Patton dissolves into tears and Virgil’s heart breaks right then and there.

He takes a step closer and this freaks Patton out further. “Stay away! I don’t want you to g--get sick!”

Virgil complies, taking a few steps back even. He shakes his head though, biting back a harsh laugh. “I know you’re just trying to protect me, but let’s face it; you and I both know I probably gave it to you. You work from home--I don’t. And even if you didn’t get it from me, we both live together. There’s no way I haven’t already been exposed.”

“I-I know, but just to be s-s-safe--”

“Of course,” Virgil says gently, because while he sees taking precautions a moot point he still respects his friend’s wishes. “Listen, we’ll go to a testing site in the morning, okay? I’ll probably get quarantined from work so, um, at least now I’ll finally have time to rewatch Avatar with you?”

Patton nods but he’s still upset. All sniffles and hiccups with a broken sob here and there.

“Hey, hey, it’ll be okay, alright? Even if you test positive, things will be okay.” Virgil says, desperate to assuage Patton’s fears in some way, never mind his own, “let’s just watch The Office for now and worry about things tomorrow, alright?”

“O-okay,” Patton agrees, wiping tears and snot away with a corner of his blanket.

They watch the show mostly in silence, aside from a few forced laughs here and there. Even the antics of one Michael Scott isn’t enough to break the somber mood. Virgil’s heart beats sluggishly, as if he’s been put to cryosleep. He should be more devastated, his anxiety going to overdrive with presenting him all the worst case scenarios. Instead he feels nothing.

Maybe he’s in denial. Or maybe he has always known this was gonna happen eventually. Either to himself, Patton or both.

“Hey Patton?” He says, “when all of this over, let’s go on a road trip. You can pick the destination. I don’t care where it is other than it has to take a fuckton of hours to drive to.”

Patton is silent for a moment. He doesn’t teasingly ask Virigl to put a quarter in the swear jar. He breathes slowly, peeking above his blanket, “What about Yellowstone State Park? We could go there to see Old Faithful and the buffalo.”

“Yeah, okay we can go there,” Virgil nods, “let's invite Logan, I bet he’d like that.”

“Can we also--” Patton coughs, covering his mouth with his blanket, “can we also invite Roman?”

Virgil rolls his eyes good-naturedly, “Sure, we can invite Prince Insufferable if you insist. The more the merrier.”

So lost do they get in a hypothetical road trip, that the show and the world itself fades from the two’s thoughts for the rest of the night.

#thomas sanders #sanders sides #virgil sanders #patton sanders #kat writes

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sufferingsoup · 4 years

Text

More Pirate AU writing, but feat. ANGST this time around BOIS. She still very soft and kinda sappy tho ngl lol. I can’t help myself. Anyway, hi, it’s me, still obsessed with this AU. Hope you enjoy this! Also it’s unedited bc I’m lazy and barely want to post it as is lmao, so sorry about any mistakes! Check out more of this beautiful awesome amazing fantastic showstopping terrific gorgeous CRISP au @thenerdyalchemist

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The Truth

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So many months.

It had been so many months since they had stopped sending their letters. So many months of desperate searching anywhere and everywhere. So many months of confusion and anger and sadness. And yet, not a single trace of Tiadrin or Lain had been found.

Runaan had started shutting down a couple months ago. Ethari tried his best to keep him hopeful, he couldn’t bear to see him in such a pitiful state, but the search was seeming increasingly useless every added day that nothing turned up. It truly seemed as though they had simply dropped off the face of the planet, gone for good. But that was hard. Tiadrin and Lain were nothing short of family to them, especially Runaan. They had been inseparable growing up, even through the loss of their adoptive father and Runaan’s sudden succession to the pirate throne. Tiadrin and Lain had stuck by him through everything, and Runaan had stuck by them in return. And that love extended to Ethari as well.

Ethari could still remember the short-lived terror, followed by the massive wave of relief and happiness when Tiadrin dumped the bucket of water on him, revealing his deepest, darkest secret to them. They had been confused and a bit shocked at first, no doubt, but it didn’t take either of them long to start cracking jokes and messing about like normal. Their opinions of Ethari hadn’t changed at all, and they had accepted him fully for what he was.

He could still feel Lain’s comforting touch and hear his relaxing jokes and stories as he gave Ethari all of his necessary tattoos in one sitting. It was a rough day, but they had to get them all done in time for the wedding, and Ethari could think of no better person to give him these markings but Lain. He had a steady hand, a good eye for design, and an overwhelming amount of excitement for his best friends and their big day. He made sure Ethari wasn’t in more pain than was absolutely necessary, and did his best to keep his spirits up and nerves down in light of all the big life changes coming his way.

He could still hear the joyous sobbing as little Rayla was introduced to the world for the first time. Runaan had been clutching Tiadrin’s hand and aggressively encouraging her, just what she needed, and Ethari had been holding a trembling, anxiety-ridden Lain on the other side of the bed, trying to keep him as calm as possible. Lain, Tiadrin, and Ethari all broke down crying the second they saw her. Even Runaan’s eyes glistened with tears he stubbornly fought back, but he too broke down the second Tiadrin gently shoved the baby into his arms. All four of them welcomed a beautiful daughter into their hearts that day, and they all felt closer with each other than ever before.

But they were gone now.

Their big, happy family was torn apart, and nobody had any idea how it happened.

Runaan was taking it particularly hard. They had been siblings to him, and now he was left with their daughter and no explanation for her as to their disappearance. He was shutting himself out from everyone, even Ethari, in a desperate attempt to maintain some kind of control. He would be up all hours of the night, searching through his maps and notes and books in hopes of finding even the tiniest clue. He was exhausted and sad and angry and terrified all at once, but he would not allow Ethari - much less anyone else - to help him. He would snap at the crew over the tiniest of annoyances, and gods forbid any townsfolk get in his way when they were docked; if Runaan hadn’t been intimidating before, he was absolutely terrifying now. He would make mistakes and drops things when he was especially upset, which only made him all the more angry. He had given up taking care of himself almost entirely. His hair was always a frazzled mess, he would forget to eat until Ethari all but forced him to, and the bags under his eyes seemed to be carrying the weight of the world within them.

Ethari sighed heavily, clutching the tiny baby in his arms protectively as he swung lightly in his and Runaan’s hammock. Runaan was holding a meeting of sorts, calling all the pirate captains he could to see if anyone had found anything, and to try to come up with a new plan. Ethari scrunched his eyes shut tightly for a moment, shaking his head before staring back up at the ceiling.

/It’s useless, they aren’t gonna have anything new.../

His heart ached. Of course he wanted to find them, or at least an explanation, but it had been a year. If nothing had turned up before, it was extremely unlikely anything would turn up now. He just wanted Runaan to drop it. The constant searching was worthless, and it was doing nothing good for his physical or mental state. He just wanted to pull Runaan into his arms and hold him while he cried. He just wanted to help him come to terms with the death of their beloved friends. He just wanted Runaan to take little Rayla in his arms and acknowledge her as their new daughter. He needed to move on from this, but he refused to do so.

Ethari dragged a tired hand over his face before looking down at the peacefully resting baby in his arms. She stared back up at him with big, bright, lilac eyes, burbling at him. He offered her a sad smile and offered a finger to her. She grasped it firmly with her tiny hands and examined it quizzically for a moment before shoving it into her mouth. Ethari chuckled softly and allowed her to suckle on the tip of his finger for a moment before taking it away. He mussed up her soft tufts of hair as she watched him.

“Oh, Rayla, what’re we gonna do?” He asked her quietly.

She just stared back at him, enthralled by his deep, soothing voice.

“He’s killing himself over this. I don’t know how to get through to him this time, he won’t listen to me no matter what I say.” He sighed.

She prattled at him in response.

“Yeah? You should talk some of that sense into him.” He replied.

Rayla released a loud squawk and a giggle.

He chuckled and nuzzled their noses together gently, allowing her to tangle her tiny fingers in his ratty white hair and tug as she liked.

“You always know just what to say.” He sighed, smiling sadly as he watched her play with his soft, uneven locks.

The bedroom door slamming open told him Runaan was back. He snapped his gaze towards the entrance as his husband stomped into the room with steam billowing out of his ears. He threw his captain’s hat on the floor and chucked off his cloak. Ethari sighed softly and rolled out of the hammock, approaching him cautiously. Rayla watched Runaan intensely as they drew nearer.

“Nothing?” Ethari asked. Runaan rolled his eyes and shook his head.

“Don’t start.” He snapped, heading straight for his desk without sparing him a glance.

“I wasn’t.” Ethari stated, allowing his mild annoyance at Runaan’s dismissal to show on his face. He stared at his husband’s back as he leaned over his desk, “I don’t live and breathe just to hassle you, you know.”

Runaan sighed deeply, his shoulders tensing for a moment before he stood up straight and turned around, staring at the floor.

“Right, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t take this out on you.” He admitted, his voice gentler this time.

He walked back up to Ethari and took his waist with one hand, cupping his cheek softly with the other and pressing their foreheads together. Rayla stared up at them quietly from between their chests.

“Nobody has found anything, and...” he cut himself off, his grip on Ethari tightening a bit as his face scrunched up in frustration.

Ethari gave him a gentle kiss, wrapping a comforting hand around the back of his neck. Runaan melted into his touch, but he was still tense. Ethari sighed and pulled back a bit, sliding his hand up to rest along Runaan’s jaw. He tilted his face up towards his own with his palm and fiddled with Runaan’s earrings with his fingers, examining his tired face. Runaan looked back into Ethari’s eyes, his walls up and guarding his emotions, but Ethari was already behind those walls with them. He was sad and angry and deep in denial. Ethari gave Runaan a meaningful peck on the tip of his nose before tangling his hand into Runaan’s messy hair and pulling it out of its bun. It unraveled and fell to its full, glorious length, but it was still quite messy.

“C’mon, let’s get you straightened out. This is no way for the great pirate king to look” he said softly, taking Runaan’s hand and tugging him towards their hammock. Runaan resisted, sighing heavily and trying to shake his hand away.

“No, I’m sorry, I don’t have time. I need to look over-“

“No, you don’t.” Ethari gripped his hand firmly and gave him a stern look that softened after a moment, “You’ve looked over every piece of paper on this ship and all the others’ about a thousand times each now. I can’t even read that well and I could probably recite each one to you.”

“But I /must/ have missed something! I just need to-“

“No, you don’t. My shade, you have poured every second of your life into this, every ounce of your energy, for the past year. There is nothing you could have possibly missed.”

“But-“

“Come.”

“Ethari...”

“Come here.”

They stared into each other’s eyes for a moment, having the same silent battle they had had so many times over the past year. Runaan heaved a heavy sigh and looked down.

“Just once more, then you can have me for the night.” He bargained, hoping his usual excuse would work. Ethari stood his ground this time.

“It’s always ‘just once more,’ isn’t it? Then it’s all night and all of the next day and then you’re off on another false lead the next.”

Runaan remained silent, staring at the floor, his hand lifeless in Ethari’s grasp. Ethari stepped towards him again, pushing Rayla gently into his arms. Runaan looked away and tried to step back, but Ethari wouldn’t allow him to run again.

“You haven’t held her in weeks.” He stated.

“I shouldn’t. Not like this.”

“Why? Would you hurt her?”

“No! I would never!”

“Then take her.”

“I can’t.” Runaan hesitated.

“You can. You will.” Ethari insisted.

“I shouldn’t.”

“She is your daughter.”

Runaan stared into Ethari’s serious eyes incredulously. Ethari knew how Runaan felt about becoming Rayla’s father. He loved her with all his heart, and he promised them he would take care of her if anything happened. But he didn’t feel like he deserved it, didn’t think he could be a proper parent. He didn’t want to take Lain or Tiadrin’s place in Rayla’s heart. He didn’t want to accept that this was their new reality. A tiny voice from between them broke their silent argument.

“Wuni!”

They both looked down at the baby in Ethari’s arm. Rayla’s big eyes were set on Runaan’s, and her tiny hands were reaching out towards him desperately. She was squirming insistently, trying to get closer to him. Runaan teared up, his lower lip trembling ever-so-slightly, and Ethari caressed his cheek gently.

“She’s missed you.” He said softly, pushing her closer to him. As soon as she could reach, she grabbed at one of the long, loose locks of bright white hair hanging over his shoulder. “Take her, and let me take you. We all need this.”

Finally, Rayla had won. Runaan took her gently into his arms, nodding hesitantly.

“Okay.” He breathed.

Ethari pulled him into their bedroom, sitting him down in their hammock while he gathered up a brush and some ribbons. He eased himself into the hammock behind Runaan and began to gently work the knots out of his hair. He brushed softly for a long time, Runaan relaxing back into Ethari’s lap as he played quietly with Rayla. He made sure to massage Runaan’s scalp a bit with every stroke, deeply enjoying the feeling of running his hands through his husband’s soft hair for the first time in weeks. He left the piece Rayla had claimed for later, as she seemed to be enjoying styling it herself with her mouth.

“So, what did you all decide?” He asked after a while. Runaan sighed and shook his head. Ethari could feel him tensing up again.

“Nothing. They want me to call it off. Damned cowards.” He spat.

Rayla protested by swinging her fists a bit at his sudden intensity, yanking at his hair. He pulled back a bit, but he was still tense.

“You don’t want to?” Ethari questioned.

“Why on Earth would I do that?”

“Because it’s been a year, and you haven’t found anything.”

“But we could!”

“After a year of nothing?”

Runaan sighed frustratedly.

“Listen, I understand that the chances are low, but we can’t just give up on them!”

“It isn’t giving up if you tried your best.”

“How? We’d be quitting without finding a single thing just because we’re tired.”

“After a full year of looking in every corner of the world trying to find anything and coming up empty handed every time.” Ethari sighed as he laid down the brush and began to weave his hair into a simple braid, leaving Rayla’s piece and a matching one on the other side of his face hanging over Runaan’s shoulders, “You can’t just keep looking for the rest of your life, love. You’re already killing yourself over this, it isn’t healthy.

“Trust me, I know how you feel, my shade. I miss them, too. I want an answer as much as you do. I want to be able to tell Rayla what actually happened to them, better yet to actually see them again. I love them, and you love them, but at some point you have to let this go.”

“But what if they’re still out there, Ethari? What if we’re just overlooking some tiny detail and all it would take is just once more search? How can I just stop when we could find something tomorrow?”

“How do you know you’ll ever find anything? When will it be enough? Do you want your entire life to be dedicated to finding them again?” Ethari questioned.

Runaan stayed silent, looking down at little Rayla and lightly shaking the long, thin finger she was gripping. Ethari tied off the first section of the braid with a dark green ribbon and wrapped his arms tightly around Runaan’s waist, pulling his back flush against his chest. He rested his chin on Runaan’s shoulder and gazed down at the baby in his husband’s strong arms.

“I know you don’t want to hear it, but we’re her parents now.” He muttered against Runaan’s ear, “We need to take care of her. We need to be there for her, and you can’t do that if you’re wasting yourself away trying to find them. I don’t want her to lose another parent. I don’t want to raise her alone, Runaan.”

“I don’t want that either.” Runaan whispered, tears welling up in his eyes again as he leaned into Ethari’s touch, both to reassure his husband, and to comfort himself.

“Then don’t make me.” Ethari pleaded.

Runaan laid his head back against Ethari’s strong shoulder, staring up hopelessly at the ceiling.

“Just one last search. Just in case.” He offered half-heartedly. Ethari shook his head softly and pressed a sad kiss to Runaan’s neck.

“You know that won’t be it if you do.”

Runaan released a single, strained sob. Ethari felt the tears dripping onto his shoulder and held him a little tighter, his own eyes threatening to release the floodgates as well. Runaan turned his head towards Ethari’s, burying his face in his neck as Ethari gently rubbed his stomach.

“I know. I don’t like it either.” Ethari sniffed.

“I just want them to come back.” Runaan whimpered.

“I do too.” Ethari sobbed, crying with his husband.

They stayed this way for a long time, crying together in their hammock as Runaan finally saw the truth. Rayla watched them silently for a while, confused.

“Wuni? Dari? Oh no.” She whimpered, eyes pooling with tears. Runaan and Ethari looked down at her and shook their heads in unison.

“No, Rayla, it’s okay! We’re okay, little shadow.” Ethari cooed, wiping away his tears quickly and offering her a sad smile and a reassuring finger, which she happily grasped with one hand after letting go of some of Runaan’s hair. Runaan stroked her cheek softly, holding her a little tighter.

“We’ve got you, Rayla. We’re never leaving you.”

And that was the truth.

#long post #tdp #tdp pirate au #tdp ethari #tdp runaan #writing #ruthari #elf husbands #shit I’m in love with this AU #SOMEONE HELP ME IM DROWNING IN CONTENT #my writing

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detective-with-one-arm · 3 years

Note

👿: What are your muse(s)’ fatal flaws? Any wishlists to do with them?

I’m gonna explain these as ‘things that will inevitably be their downfall.’

Rachel

It’s either her toxic selflessness or her stubbornness. She will probably end up getting herself killed my overworking or straight-up sacrificing her life to save someone else’s. Or she’ll be so stubborn about doing everything herself and not accepting help that it’s gonna get her killed.

Howard

His pride. He wears it like a suit of armour not realizing that it’s incredibly weak and flimsy. He’s egotistical, overconfident, self-absorbed, and completely full of himself. But that is exactly what is going to get his ass kicked.

Serena

Her aloofness and refusal to open up. She keeps everything held tightly inside and lives in a constant state of denial, chasing something she doesn’t even know she’s chasing and caught in a loop where she won’t ever find satisfaction. That aloofness and closed off nature isn’t going to last her forever. And the moment her facade snaps in the presence of the wrong person is going to spell her doom.

Nathan

He’s an optimistic idealist. Despite his technology being sought after by higher agencies for nefarious purposes, no doubt, Nathan remains steadfastly against the notion of his inventions being used for war or terror. That is not what his creations are intended for and the last thing he wants is for them to be used as such. But unfortunately, his optimism and innocent view of people in general and the world as a whole is easy to exploit and he’s not a fighter.

I would love to explore all of these! Or at least the potential possibilities for some of them because I like me some angst. Even if it’s theoretical/hypothetical angst.

#the-wonder-wall #ooc #munday #answered ask #ask meme #ask #dbh ocs #{Rachel}#{Howard}#{Serena}#{Nathan}

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ithehellisbucky · 4 years

Text

Fairy Tale

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Requested by: Lunaseal92

Word Count: 1480

You worked at a coffee shop. From 7 AM to 9 PM every day. And then you went to work at a nightclub for 6 hours. For 3 years you had been surviving on 4 hours of sleep, but it was anything to pay the bills. You had gotten into the college of your dreams, had a perfect boyfriend, and everything felt perfect... But then your whole life came crashing down on you.

You didn't feel the same with your boyfriend, it was all emotionless. Then it dawned on you, this didn't feel like love, it felt like friendship. An intense friendship that involved... Benefits. And so you dumped him. You tried to be as kind as possible, but it still ended with screaming and a lot of harsh language. After you dumped him your whole life just spiraled out of control, your parents were in a car accident, and you had to spend every last penny of your college fund to pay for their medical needs, but unfortunately, only your mom made it. Even she had to take up permanent residence at a medical care center.

So you were stuck working two minimum wage jobs all to support you and your non-working mother. The dream life. Throughout your whole life, you've only wanted one thing: to be happy. To live in a mansion and have kids and be married and just be happy. But now it's all just a pipe dream.

It's 9 AM and your mindlessly doodling on a notebook while you're waiting for the next customer to come in when you hear a bell ring. A woman with straight blonde shoulder-length hair walked in. She was wearing a green jacket and black skinny jeans, black Ray-Ban sunglasses rested on her nose and when she walked her hips swayed in a way that made her look like she was in slow motion.

"Umm, could I have a black coffee, no foam." While she was thinking she put the edge of the earpiece on her glasses in the corner of her mouth. And it was surprisingly sexy.

"Yeah, um, sure." You reach for a cup and shakily knock the whole stack over. "Sorry, sorry." You exclaim, bending over to pick it up, a blush growing on your cheeks. When you stand back up she's looking at you with an amused expression on her face, in the exact position she in was before.

"So, um, what's your name?" You ask, my hand reaching for a sharpie in my apron, and reaching for a cup in a separate stack than the one you had knocked over.

"Natasha." Her smirk was growing by the second. You write it down, hoping that she won't notice my shaky handwriting.

"It'll be out in a second." You exclaim. It takes a little bit longer than a second, but no more than 2 and a half minutes.

When I hand her the cup she takes it. "I hope to see you around someday." She states, while you just stand there gulping like a fish.

~~~

After that day Natasha would come to the coffee shop frequently. At first, it wasn't consistent. After the first time, you met it was over a week until you saw her again. Then her visits began to be more frequent, but occasionally she would take a couple of days to 3 weeks off, all to come back covered in scrapes and bruises. But whenever she wasn't on one of her escapades she started to come to the coffee shop every day. So often that whenever the bell rang and you looked toward the door and saw her you would start making her coffee, you had gotten so good at it you'd be finished by the time she'd reach the counter. It was a year since that day, and you could probably make a black coffee with no foam in your sleep.

Natasha hadn't come back to the coffee shop for a couple of days, but besides being disappointed you felt no unusual concern. You had once asked Natasha what she did for a living. She didn't say anything. So you just assumed she worked in the CIA or something. But she wasn't that concerned. A guy once tried to flirt with you, but luckily Natasha was there and twisted his arm behind his back and that was that.

The word unusual in unusual concern was key. You were always terrified for Natasha's safety, as would anyone with a friend in the CIA; but at this point, it was more of a state of constant fear, so her being missing wasn't anything out of the ordinary terror.

But then the blip happened. You were sitting at the counter and one of the customers started screaming. You looked up from the sketch and you saw a woman with a toddler turning into dusk. You pressed the alarm button to alert the police that something bad was happening. You ran from behind the counter to try to calm the woman down when you noticed that people all around you were disappearing. You ran into the street to watch as people were fading away.

You heard screaming and panicking and crying. And worst of all you heard silence. There were some people, not a lot, but some, that weren't screaming or crying or anything. They simply held up their fading hands into the sun, in complete and total confusion and terror that they were dying, they were in shock, and so were you. You help your hands in front of your face, you were expecting to die as well.

But you didn't.

The numbers of people dwindled.

10 less.

20 less.

50 less.

Until there were roughly half of the people standing there than there were in the beginning.

And then you heard sobs. Loud terrifying sobs. And then you realized they were yours.

~~~

Your mother died. You went to her funeral, and you welcomed the hugs from relatives and friends and gave them back to the people who had lost as well, and everyone lost. No one wins in a game of death, not even the villains.

Your mother's death had hurt, but it didn't feel that different from when she was alive. Your mother's mind was broken ever since the accident. Her brain didn't work as well, and many days she couldn't remember her name. So her being dead hurt like a knife in the heart, but you knew that it was alright. She wouldn't have to suffer anymore.

That pain was joined shortly by more. The death of high school friends, colleagues, and more. And then one that shown like a star in your heart. A woman you cared about. A woman you loved. A woman named Natasha.

You were out at your job at the nightclub. You hadn't stopped working. Working took your mind off things. But you quit your job at the coffee shop, too many painful memories.

So you were standing in a mini dress with a platter of champagne glasses, walking around handing them to drunk people drinking away their sorrows. It was a month after they disappeared, and the people who survived choose 3 different forms of grief. The first one being the most obvious: crying, and being quiet and denial. The second was acting out, being loud and going rogue. Like everyone here.

And the third was the least common. Pretend like nothing happened. Which is what you're doing. Of course, you quit your day job, but you got a new one. At an art studio. After half the population died there were a lot of free slots.

~~~

It was exactly midnight. You were told to give someone in booth #12 four shots, so that's what you did. The woman had red hair that fell over her eyes and she was wearing a green jacket. You feel like you remember that jacket from somewhere, but you don't know where.

"Here are your shots ma'am," I say.

"Thank you-" The woman looks up and I'm shocked by who it is.

Natasha.

Natasha is alive.

Natasha is breathing.

Natasha is here.

And I love Natasha.

"Natasha."

"You're alive. You're alive! When I went to the coffee shop and you weren't there I thought you were dead!" She has tears streaming down her face and she's shockingly smiling. She starts to whisper: "I can't believe that I didn't know your name was (y/n)."

"I thought you were dead. That's why I quit; because I couldn't go back to the place where I met the woman I lo-" you stop and look at Natasha, she's smiling.

She doesn't say anything, just leans in and captures your lips in hers. And you smile, for the first time in a month, because of the small sliver of a fairy tale that Natasha had brought into your life.

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duhragonball · 4 years

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[FIC] Luffa: The Legendary Super Saiyan (121/?)

Disclaimer: This story features characters and concepts based on Dragon Ball, which is a trademark of Bird Studio/Shueisha and Toei Animation. This is an unauthorized work, and no profit is being made on this work by me. This story is copyright of me. Download if you like, but please don’t archive it without my permission. Don’t be shy.

Continuity Note: About 1000 years before the events of Dragon Ball Z.

[22 May, 233 Before Age. Interstellar Space.]

"Personal log, Dr. Topsas recording. Now then, where to begin...? I am still aboard the Emerald Eye in Federation territory. Luffa is long overdue to return for medical attention. What began as a supposedly 'quick' excursion to the Fedender System mutated into a tour across multiple planets that put my patient on the other end of Federation space. Luffa being Luffa, she has taken it upon herself to fight every battle on every planet along her way back to us. I have received some reports from hospitals in the field, and I am bracing myself for the worst.

"During Luffa's absence, I have stocked her star-yacht with medical-stasis fluid, and a healthy supply of regenerative medications. In the worst-case scenario, I will only have to keep her in stasis for two weeks, but I am constantly reminded of the old saying: "If you wish to make God laugh, tell Him your plans." No doubt, His Nine Eyes watch with great amusement as I prepare for Luffa's arrival, as I boldly tell myself that I have everything I need. Though, at the moment, I suspect there are a great many generals and warriors with haughty plans of their own, each producing their own fair share of divine laughter.

"Now that is a dark thought, that a benevolent God should find war to be humorous. I should really find something happier to dwell on in times likes these. Then again, it is my personal log, and I suppose I shouldn't run from a chance to express these kinds of feelings. Very well then. Let us talk about the war.

"I am hardly a military strategist, but it is my opinion that it goes poorly for the Federation. I would not consider any war to go well, but moral objections aside, this conflict seems specially designed to erode the morale of both sides.

"I know little of the so-called 'Jindan cult.' I have been told that Luffa's arch-nemesis, the Saiyan King Rehval III, founded the cult as a way to strengthen his hold over the Saiyan people. Using his arcane skills as an alchemist, along with the pseudonym "Trismegistus", he created a secret method to make Saiyans even stronger than they already are. This worked wonders for his cause, as Saiyans who would never serve a king were all too eager to trade their freedom for power. Now, he sends his followers into Federation space, launching senseless attacks on otherwise peaceful planets. His motives are unclear, though it certainly seems to be a continuation of his grudge against Luffa. As a Super Saiyan, she poses the greatest threat to his dominion over their species.

"What I have heard of these cultists is truly horrifying. Many are cynical warriors who only serve the cult for their own ends. Even so, they fear their master as though he holds their lives in his hands. I suppose that he truly does hold their lives in his hands, for Rehval has the power to withdraw the added strength he gives to his followers. At the slightest sign of defiance, he can drain their power, leaving then weaker than they were to begin with. In some cases, this process can be fatal, as Luffa discovered when Jolok was 'excommunicated' on Planet Quadzityz. Jolok perished, and a sizable piece of the planet very nearly shared his fate.

"The cultists who remain in Rehval's favor do so in a state of constant terror. Some have learned to mask their despair with religious zeal, while others rely on denial. All of them are experienced enough in the ways of war to know their true role in this conflict. They are not holy crusaders serving a higher purpose, as many of them claim. They are merely cannon fodder, a light brigade being sent to die as a mere diversion. Theirs is a simple choice: Die in service to their master, or die in defiance of him.

"I call them a light brigade because every battle fought in this war has resulted in a complete annihilation of Jindan forces. A one hundred percent casualty rate is unthinkable. Even the maddest of tyrants would blanche at such a statistic. It clearly is not sustainable, and yet Rehval continues to send his warriors, confident that he is safe from counterattack in his secret base.

"On the Federation side, a string of impressive victories carries little hope, for each battle leaves considerable death and destruction in its wake. Luffa and the Federation's other defenders have managed to halt the invaders at every turn, but they still manage to kill thousands, destroy important cities and military outposts, and cause ecological damage with their attacks. I think what frustrates the Federation in this hour is that they have no way to take the initiative in this war. They must simply wait for Rehval's forces to reveal themselves, and then absorb whatever losses they must until they can deploy their forces to fight off the invaders. Luffa's health is simply one facet of the bigger picture.

"Perhaps things will change if Luffa can find Rehval himself, but I have little confidence in this. She has already been searching in vain since-- eh?"

"Doctor! Come quickly!"

"What is it? I-- Ninth Eye!"

"Everything happened so fast that we didn't have a chance to fill you in."

"I should imagine. The rendezvous with the transport wasn't supposed to be for another twenty minutes."

"They got a distress call. Luffa convinced them to put her in an escape pod and drop her off so they could answer it. When I got the message, I pushed the engines as hard as they could go."

"Hey, I'm fine... really."

"Shut up, Luffa, and get on the bed."

"Okay, okay. Pushy lady. I guess that's why I married you. Hey, Doc. Sorry I keep... keep missing appointments."

"Please lie still. Would you hold that for me, Ms. Zatte? Please do calm down."

"I just... there's so much blood..."

"Yes, reopening old wounds, no doubt. I thought you were going to stay out of trouble, little mammal."

"So did I, Doc, but there was... was... an attack on Zerkus III and my transport was the only ship in the area."

"Zerkus III? Luffa, I'm so sorry, I, well, I had no idea--!"

"Relax, Dotz. They weren't Jindan cultists, so you probably... ow!... probably couldn't have predicted this. You were looking for Saiyan invasions, and this was a band of Zoons, trying to take advantage of the chaos. Thought they could pick on a planet further away from the fighting, but I made them regret it. Hah! You should have seen the looks on their stupid faces. Doc won't be putting them back together, that's for sure."

"I... I should have been able to predict that... even if they were Zoons, I should have..."

"Doctor, please, is she going to be all right?"

"That is precisely what I want to find out. I will get her stabilized and begin a complete examination. I think it would be prudent to take the ship somewhere safe, before any other enemies happen along."

"I can't just leave her like this--"

"Ms. Zatte, if there were someone else aboard who could handle it, I would not be asking you. With respect to Ms. Dotz's proficiency with the ship's helm controls, I do not believe she has the tactical knowledge to keep the ship out of danger in case of an attack."

"We don't need to run. I don't care how banged up I am. I'm still the Super Saiyan. No one would dare come after... ah... huh... and even if they did, I'd.... I'd...."

"Come on. You can't help her right now. The best thing we can do for her is to get back to the bridge."

"Dotz...? Okay. I know. You're right."

"Hey.... hey, where are they going...?"

"Not far, I assure you. Now, please. Lie still."

"Hey, Doc?"

"Yes?"

"I've gotta... gotta get back out there.... soon..."

"Yes well... I will see what I can do."

*******

[23 May, 233 Before Age. Interstellar Space.]

There was a small desk in the back of the star-yacht's sickbay, and Topsas positioned himself behind it while he spoke to them. As he lacked the necessary anatomy for it, he gave Zatte the chair, and she sat next to the nearest bed, with Luffa in it. Despite Luffa's objections, Zatte held her hand while he gave them an update on Luffa's condition.

He had repaired the most serious injuries, and she was in no immediate danger. One of her lungs had been punctured, and there had been a hairline fracture on her skull, and a few other life-threatening issues. That still left a lot of smaller ones that could worsen if they weren't treated properly. The young women looked at him eagerly, hoping for some quick answer that would allow them to get on with their lives. Being an arachnoid life form, he wasn't completely familiar with humanoid body language, but he had seen their faces on thousands of patients over the years, all silently pleading for him to tell them how long it would take to return their lives to normal. At times, he felt like a judge sentencing a convicted criminal.

"Two months of stasis," he began. "That is my first and most robust recommendation. You will be sedated and kept in a bio-regenerative chamber to promote proper healing. I would take you out of the chamber for an examination, and if all goes as expected, we could begin localized therapies on the damaged tendons."

"Two months?" Luffa gasped.

"In stasis?" Zatte said.

"Let me be clear,that would be a total of sixty days of unconsciousness," Topsas said. "That time need not be consecutive. Many patients do this for a few days at a time, coming out of the chamber to attend to personal affairs, be with their families, and so forth. But since your personal affairs always seem to involve extreme violence, I believe it would be best to keep you under until the treatment is complete. Better sixty days in a row than a hundred or more in and out of the chamber."

"Doc, the whole war could change in sixty days," Luffa said. "If you take me out of circulation that long, it could--"

"Ah-ah! Let me finish that sentence for you. If I were to take you out of 'circulation' for that long, it could prevent your enemies from taking you out of the war permanently. Where would your Federation be then?"

"He's right, Luffa," Zatte said. "If you keep throwing yourself into these battles, you're just going to get worse. You'd be playing right into their hands. You knew it from the beginning."

"Yeah. Yeah, I know," Luffa said. "Look, I'm sorry. To both of you. I said I'd try to pace myself, and I really did try. But these attacks keep on coming, and every time I try to let someone else handle it, people get killed. I can't just stand back and watch... I mean, I know I have to, but..."

She screwed her eyes tightly, as though fighting back tears. When she opened them again, it was clear that she had failed. "I can still do more," she said. "I feel like crap, but I still have so much power that I can tap into. More than enough to make a difference out there. How can I stand by while people out there need that kind of help?"

"Luffa, some would say you have done more than enough already," Topsas said. "No one is asking you to resign from the war altogether. You mustn't feel obligated to risk your own health and safety like this. Not for persons you don't even know."

"Why not? It's what you would do," Luffa said.

"I?" Topsas thought she was joking. "You must have me mistaken with some eight-legged war hero. Perhaps a fantasy creature from one of the tales of your ancestors."

"Your modesty is sickening sometimes, you know that?" she said with a frown. "You remember the Tikosi planet, don't you? Because I sure as hell can't forget it."

"I don't see what that unpleasantness has to do with--"

"You rescued me... you barely knew anything about me, but Keda went to you for help and..."

"Merely keeping tabs on a patient," Topsas said. "I had used a considerable amount of webbing to stitch you back together, and I could hardly let that go to waste--"

As he said this, the gentle tone that represented Luffa's pulse began to speed up. Other readouts of her vital signs began to fluctuate. She began to breathe harder. Zatte tried to calm her down, and Luffa pulled her hand away from hers. And just when Topsas was about to move to check on her, she spoke again.

"I know... we don't talk about that day very much around here," Luffa finally said. "And that's mostly because of me. I was weak, and I have to live with the consequences of that weakness. But when it was all over, I turned into that thing for the first time, and I didn't know if I could turn it off, and you reached out to me, offering to help. I think that might be the bravest thing I've ever seen, and I refuse to listen to you brush it off like it doesn't matter. It matters to me. It matters a lot."

He didn't know how to answer that, and it was clear that she had nothing else to say. At last, it was Zatte who spoke. "Luffa, you've got to listen to Dr. Topsas. You can't go on like this. And if he had a better way, don't you think he would tell us?"

She looked at Zatte, then back at Topsas, and then turned her head away. "How soon can we start?" she grumbled.

"Today, if you wish," Topsas said. "I had the necessary equipment loaded on the ship while you were away."

"Hold on," Zatte said. "If we're doing this, we need to figure out where to take the ship while Luffa's under. We'll be vulnerable in the meantime, and if we set down on an inhabited world, we'll risk getting caught in an invasion."

This was not unexpected from her. Zatte came from a survivalist culture, and her she saw nearly everything as an arrangement of threats and safeguards. She was somewhat extreme in her thinking, but in this case her beliefs all converged on the most sensible course of action. She was certain that Luffa was destine to do good for the universe, which meant that Luffa had to be protected until she was healthy enough to resume that work. "Very well. I suggest you and Ms. Dotz devise up with an itinerary," he said. "I can sedate Luffa as soon as you feel it's safe."

"There's an asteroid field in the Pillimede System," Zatte said to Luffa. "We'll start there, and if Dotz doesn't foresee anyone following us, we can do a silent running for a few weeks." She stood up to leave. "I'll come see you before you go under, okay?"

"All right," Luffa said. "Just... all right. Let's get this over with." As soon as Zatte left sickbay, Luffa leaned back in her bed and let out a despondent sigh.

"I know this is difficult for you," Topsas said.

"It doesn't matter," Luffa said. "It's the only way, right? Sorry I blew up at you. If you don't want to brag about what you've done for me, that's none of my business. I just wish you saw yourself the way I see you."

"Ah, and that is my burden, little mammal," he said. Ambling over the desk, he crossed over to her bedside and began tucking her in. "With eight eyes, I have more than enough to see my flaws, as well as my strengths."

"Huh. Maybe you can see better than me, but the rest of my senses are pretty sharp. Maybe it's a matter of smell."

Eventually she drifted off to sleep, leaving Topsas to consider everything they had discussed. Later, he checked an experiment he was running on some tissue samples, and spent the rest of the afternoon monitoring Luffa's vital signs, while he wondered if he was doing the right thing.

********

[26 May, 233 Before Age. Pillimede Asteroid Belt.]

Zatte was true to her word, and when she was satisfied that the ship would be safely removed from combat, she returned to Luffa's side as Dr. Topsas placed her in the eight-foot-long chamber which would be used for the procedure. The equipment was somewhat bulky, but since there were only four of them on board, Topsas wasn't concerned about the space it took up in sickbay. He simply moved the beds away from one wall and placed the chamber on the deck. Once Luffa was inside, he filled with with a blue liquid commonly referred to as "stasis fluid". This was designed to not only surround the patient with the regenerative drugs he planned to use, but it would also sustain Luffa's metabolism while she lay in the chamber. Once she was sedated, the fluid was allowed to fill her lungs, as it contained oxygen-saturated perfluorocarbons. Topsas then went to the desk, where he began reviewing biofeedback data relayed from the chamber's sensors. Zatte knelt down beside the chamber for the next hour or so, before she finally stood up to leave.

"Sixty days of this," she said aloud.

"I do not wish to give you false hope," Topsas said, "but it is possible that she may fully recover sooner than expected. I will keep you informed, of course."

Zatte looked down at the chamber. "It shouldn't be like this," she said. "She should be out there, fulfilling her destiny. And I should be helping her, not just sitting around waiting for her to come out of this box."

"You are helping her," Topsas said. "It may not be glamorous, or even satisfying, but it is absolutely necessary."

"I'm sorry," Zatte said. "I don't mean to sound ungrateful, it's just that... it's not enough. It's not fair."

"I thought your species was averse to risk," he said. "Keda always spoke so highly of being careful."

"I'm not like other Dorluns, Doctor," Zatte said. "And Keda wasn't being careful when she died. She saved my life."

"Of course."

"She never really saw Luffa the way I do, as a xan-nil'Dor, but I like to think that maybe Keda realized it at the very end. Either way, I think Luffa inspired her more than she wanted to admit. Well, Luffa can't do much inspiring from here, I guess."

She excused herself to check on the ship's systems, and Topsas thought he would welcome the silence. He did not. The gentle chirps of the biofeedback readouts only reminded him of the responsibility he now shouldered. And sooner or later, she would return, and the dilemma would follow. He had no consolation he could offer. Part of him wanted to tell her about the test results, but what good would that do? There were far too many unknowns to consider. He thought that Zatte of all people would appreciate that, but no. It seemed Luffa's wife would welcome a bit of risk if it meant getting her back on her feet.

Later, he checked his messages, and found that one of his children had attempted to contact him a few days ago. The terminal on his desk allowed him access to the subspace radio, and Zatte's encryption codes allowed him to send a message with little chance of it being intercepted or traced. Within minutes, he was looking at one of his own kind, though younger, and with a browner coloration.

"Dad," he said.

"Turner. This is something of a surprise," Topsas said. How are you, son?"

"I'll feel a lot better once you're out of Federation Space," Turner said. "There's a war on, or hadn't you noticed?"

"Now that you mention it, I had begun to suspect as much."

"I'm sending a ship to Woshad. I had to pull some strings to get it across the border, but I know some people, and the captain owes me a favor. They'll arrive next week. That should give you time to get to Woshad and get on board."

"Whatever for, son?"

Turner regarded him through the viewscreen and tensed his pedipalps in exasperation. "I'm trying to get you out of there, dad. Please, just get on the ship. Or if you've got some other travel arrangements, we can set up a rendezvous somewhere else. Just tell me when and where and we'll work it out."

"I'm afraid I can't leave at this time," he said. "I have a patient who needs me."

"Luffa," he groaned.

"You know I'm not at liberty to discuss--"

"Oh, come on, dad," Turner said. "It's the Federation, the one she founded, and you haven't stopped talking about that mammal since you gave up your practice on Plutark VII. And you know, for a while I was grateful to her for pulling you away from the Deathmatches, but now you've followed her into something a thousand times worse."

"It is hardly like that at all--"

"Then tell me what it is," Turner insisted. "Tell me why the almighty Federation needs Dr. Topsas to play medic in their warzone."

"She is badly hurt," Topsas explained. "The fighting has been very fierce, and if I do not mend her injuries from time to time, it could jeopardize countless lives."

"And they need you for that? You're telling me that you're the only qualified doctor in the entire Federation who can work on her?"

"I am the best qualified," Topsas countered. "Honestly, very few doctors are familiar at all with Saiyan medicine. And Luffa is a unique specimen among a unique species."

"And that justifies you running around in the middle of a war? Where are you right now?"

"I'd prefer not to answer that at this time," Topsas said. "It's not that I don't trust you, son, but if the enemy were to intercept and decode this message, they might find out--"

"Wonderful. Wonderful," Turner groaned. "So it's a matter of national security, is it? Should I contact the Federation Embassy, then?"

"I doubt they even know of my involvement," Topsas replied. "My presence here is somewhat unofficial. I've been told that my modesty is rather 'sickening'. Perhaps I should have requested a field promotion..."

"Enough! Dad, I've had all I can stand! Listen to me, you're not even a Federation citizen. This isn't your war!"

"She is my patient," Topsas argued.

"So what, then? You'll follow her until she dies?! Until you die?! Do you even care what that means?"

"Turner, please calm down," Topsas pleaded. "I appreciate that you are upset, but--"

"I'm upset because you care more about that Saiyan than your own family! Chelik and Lister called me, you know. They never call, but they heard about this war and no one had heard from you in weeks, and sure enough the last letter you sent was from Federation coordinates, just like before!"

"I assure you, son, I am quite safe here. If you like, I can contact Chelik, Lister, and the others to make certain they understand."

"Oh, they understand just fine, dad," Turner said. "That's why they called me. Because that's how this family works. Someone does something reckless or stupid, and then it's time to call in Turner to fix it. And why not? I've got Turner Polymer Industries, and all the resources that go with it. I can just hire a ship to go into a war zone and fetch you, no trouble at all. It's not like I have any problems of my own to worry about!"

"Son, if you need my help..."

"What I need is my father to stop running off on these ridiculous adventures!" Turner thundered. "I need you to listen to me, just once. Just once, and do the sensible thing." He held up one finger on one of his forelimbs as he said this. Topsas could see the desperation in his eyes very clearly.

"I promise you that I won't take any undue risks, Turner," he said. "I have friends here who are very careful about this sort of thing. But I must ask you to understand. I cannot leave just yet. There is simply too much at stake."

"This is about Nwitt, isn't it?"

"I beg your pardon?"

Turner drew a short breath before continuing. "I know it was hard for you. It was hard for all of us. Ninth Eye, she was my sister! I miss her every day. We all do. But ever since she died, you've been getting mixed up with these lost causes, trying to save people that just aren't worth it! And maybe I should admire that. I've tried to, believe me. But I can't. If it's selfish of me, then I'm selfish, but I just want my father to come home and stay alive."

The words bothered him more than he liked to admit. "Son, I cannot just abandon others in their time of need. I swore an oath, and besides, we have a higher duty to people like Luffa. We have too many eyes to look away, and too many hands not to--"

"I know all that!" Turner said, very nearly shouting. "I read the Scriptures too, you know! I know Nwitt's in the heavenly web, and that one day we'll all be there to join her, and that we have to help where we can, but not this, dammit! If she were here, do you really think she'd want you to throw your life away like this?"

"I'll be all right, son," Topsas said. This was the most he had spoken with him in some time. Turner was normally so reserved, so quiet, ever the picture of the successful entrepreneur. And Turner had been angry with him before, but never quite like this. He regretted that he had caused his son such anguish, though he didn't fully understand how. He wished he knew some way to convince him.

"Yeah. Yeah, you'll be fine, probably," Turner muttered. "But what about next time, and the next? One of these days you'll go somewhere that even I can't get you out of. All for some 'Super Saiyan' I've never even met. And when the law of averages finally catches up to you? Well, I guess I'm just supposed to suck it up and pretend it doesn't bother me."

"I'm sorry," was all Topsas knew to say. It didn't seem to be enough. Turner had been an adult for a very long time. All of his children had grown up ages ago. Suddenly, Turner looked very much to him the way he did as a child, inconsolable over something that most would call trivial, but Topsas always knew meant the world to him.

"I don't want you to be sorry," Turner said, his voice now low and weary. "I just want you to get on that transport next week. Just come home, dad. Please. I don't want Luffa to suffer, or anyone else but... please. Just get on the transport."

"Turner, I--"

Turner looked somewhat embarrassed now, either by his outburst, or his pleas, or the emotions that had motivated them. "I have to go," he said. "I... Well, I've already said what I have to say. Just... I have to go."

And with that, he closed the transmission, leaving Dr. Topsas looking at his own reflection in the viewscreen.

*******

[28 May, 233 Before Age. Pillimede Asteroid Belt.]

"Am I doing the right thing?" Dr. Topsas asked. It was a loaded question, kept purposely vague, but he asked it over breakfast, as casually as one might ask for another glass of juice.

Dotz looked at him, and her eyes widened with anxiety. "Er, um... yes? I don't... well..."

She was a humanoid, middle-aged, with brown hair that was well on its way to grey. She claimed to have an ancestor of the Kanassan species, though Topsas had found no physiological evidence to support this, aside from her clairvoyant abilities, which could have been entirely coincidental. Taller and heavier than Luffa and Zatte, Dotz was far meeker, and it seemed that she was always pulling her arms close to herself and stooping her head, as though she was worried about taking up too much space. Her loose muave garments seemed designed to conceal herself further, and she was always adjusting her shawl like it was showing too much of the sides of her face.

"I'm speaking of the treatment I prescribed for Luffa," he explained. "I can't help but wonder if this is the right course of action."

"Well, I'm no doctor," Dotz said. "I'm sure whatever you've decided is the best. I know you've taken very good care of me since I got here."

"No, that's not..." Topsas paused and collected himself before continuing. "You've made some very accurate predictions, from what I understand. About the war."

"Oh, well... I didn't catch those Zoons attacking Zerkus III," Dotz said regretfully. "Luffa said it was okay, but I can't help but feel responsible for what she's going through right now."

"Yes, but the battles you have forseen have all come to pass," Topsas reminded her. "Luffa has spoken very highly of your talents, though I am at a loss to explain them. What I'm wondering is whether you've seen any major combat in the next two months. Something that only Luffa would be able to handle."

"Well, uh, you should really talk to Zatte about that," Dotz said. "There are battles going on all over the Federation border. She's been keeping track of them all, so we'll know where Luffa will be needed when she's ready."

"Yes but--!" Topsas steadied himself. It wasn't Dotz' fault that she wasn't understanding what he needed. She was only trying to be helpful in her own, unassuming way. "I don't wish to trouble Ms. Zatte," he explained. "I have just been having... second thoughts. I was hoping that you might be able to predict whether my decisions will turn out for good or ill."

"Oh, you want a reading," Dotz said. "I'll need to look at your palm for that."

"Fortunately, I am well-supplied in that regard," Topsas said as he extended one of his forward limbs across the table for Dotz to examine. It was supposed to be a joke to lighten the mood. He thought humanoids were easily amused by the notion that he had so many hands and eyes, but Dotz didn't seem to notice what he had said. She simply took his hand and cradled it in her own, staring at it like a jeweler inspecting a diamond. While he waited, Topsas resumed eating with his other hands.

"You'll be going on a journey soon," Dotz said.

"That is rather self-evident," Topsas replied. "As I am on board a starship, and travel is inevitable."

"Mm-hmm. Family trouble. They're upset, but they aren't angry with you, just worried. And you'll be fine. One day they'll see that."

"Yes, well, that was hardly what I needed to--"

"In the end... oh, it looks like your wishes will come true. I wonder what that could mean. It sounds like a very happy way to die."

"Yes, but I have more immediate concerns," Topsas said. "The war. How long will it take for Luffa to recover? How many will die during that time? How many deaths could be prevented. You can see this, can't you?"

Dotz looked up at his face and shook her head. "I can't forsee Luffa's fate at all. I think that's why I missed the Zoon attack, because I was, uh, looking for visions of Saiyans in general. I should have been checking for Federation planets, but there's so many of them that it's hard to follow all of them."

"Are you saying that you can predict certain battles, but not whether Luffa will participate in them personally?"

"Uh, well, yes, that's right. And I can't always get the details right. Luffa's told me that sometimes there's more enemies on a planet than I predicted. Sometimes less. I can usually get the date right, but not always the exact hour. But she likes it that way. It makes things 'interesting', is the way she put it."

"Then you have no idea how long it will take her to recover," Topsas groaned. "Or whether I end up using some other treatment."

"Of course I know that, Doctor," Dotz said innocently. "You said it would take about sixty days, didn't you? And what other treatment could there be?"

"What indeed?" Topsas said. He began scraping sauce from the bottom of his bowl, determined not to look her in the eye.

"Something about meeting Luffa increased my psychic abilities," Dotz said, "but they still have, um, limitations. I learned a long time ago that there's a lot you can predict just by paying attention to the present. And I know you're a good doctor, and that you put your patients' welfare first. I don't need to look into the future to know that you'll do the right thing."

She stood up and started gathering their dishes. "Here, let me get those for you. You probably want to go back to sickbay to check on Luffa. Tell her I said hi. Not that... I mean, she probably wouldn't hear you, right? Unless she can hear people while she's asleep? I don't know all her powers."

Topsas handed off his bowl and steepled some of his fingers. He had just run out of people to talk to.

NEXT: Second Opinion

#dragon ball #fanfiction #super saiyan #lssjluffafic #luffa #zatte #dr topsas #dotz

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