what are the chances my dad (known music nerd especially when it comes to bass) would be aware of any of the context or lore around Dark Alley

Anyway, best grandma story. So, this is not cocaine grandma unfortunately, but to set the scene.

My Dad and my grandma bully each other. Love each other to death but tease and poke fun at each other all the time. Cannot spend more than two weeks in a house together but also hug and cry when they have to part. That is my Dad and his mom's relationship.

Also, my grandma, while definitely not a conservative person (she curses like a sailor) was a product of her time. She holds more... presentable views. She's not an asshole, she believes that everyone deserves to live and have rights, along with marry who they want. (she's been to many a protests.) She was also... well. A white women from the early to mid nineteen hundreds.

Anyway, this was probably over a year ago when this started. My grandma, being my grandma, had worried about him after his divorce as she had gone through the same thing.

Well.

It had finally been about three years, so everything settled, and my grandma (and my dad) had sort of come to heal a little bit more with the divorce.

So my dad, obviously, decided to mess with her.

So he calls her up one day, completely uncalled for. And they chat for a while about random little things, exchanging "how are yous" and "how's lifes" before my dad stops.

He takes a deep breath, and in a completely genuine tone goes.

"Mom, I'm seeing someone."

Now, he most definitely was not at this time. This would not be funny and would kind of be sad. However, he kept going, with this little charade, but the plot thickened.

Well of course she responded with "Honey I'm so happy for you, I know this has been so hard on you and I'm so glad that you were able to heal and keep yourself out of depression..." etc etc.

"So, what's she like?" My grandma asks, completely unaware about what is to come.

"Well," my dad said, "Her name is Cinnamon, and she's a professional dancer. I've never really seen her dance before, but she tells me that she's really popular with certain groups. She gets money at pretty random times, and she's never told me where she works before, but never mind that, she's drop dead gorgeous. She's only had time for a single with me, since she's really busy, but I think this is gonna work out."

Now I don't know if you've picked up what he's getting at, but my grandma had a couple of alarm bells ringing in her head when she heard this.

"Do you know.... what kind of dance she does?"

"Oh, not really. I mean like I said, I haven't really seen her dance before, but I found her uniform and I'll admit, I was a little suspicious. It was more revealing than a lot of leotards I've seen, along with some... interesting details. But she told me that it's easier to move around in. Especially on a pole!"

My grandma, despite her usual spitfire, no nonsense personality was silent. Because my dad was just gushing about this girl so obliviously that my grandma did not have it in her to tell him that she might not have him in her first thoughts. So instead she said,

"Oh that-that's great honey! I'm so happy that you're happy..."

And the thing is, my dad didn't come clean after that.

No, he kept the game going, and kept dropping bigger and bigger red flags that definitely went against my grandmother's beliefs.

But she never said a word.

In fact, when my dad actually got his current girlfriend, she would sign any and all cards sent to my grandmother with Cinnamon neatly written after my dad's name.

They kept up this charade until my grandmother met my dad's girlfriend.

And let me tell you, my dad's girlfriend is one of the most boring looking people ever. Not in a bad way, but literally you would have to call her name in a crowd because literally none of her traits stand out.

Anyway, they came clean at that meeting, but it was one hell of an introduction to my dad's girlfriend. I personally choose to believe that he threw off my grandma's expectations with this crazy kickass woman who was most definitely a stripper opposed to.... a normal woman with a southern accent.

My grandma now tells all of her friends this story, to let them know the type of humor her son has.

That's absolutely fantastic okay

PatB Oneshot: A Whole New Life for You and Me

For the air mice nyoom’s server Secret Santa for @deez-art! Decided to gift them a fic for the wonderful Brainladdin AU cause it’s so pure and I live for found family. I decided to go with the happy ending for the movie, cause Genie’s reaction upon being freed melts me every time.

@nuttersincorporated came up with the fun idea of Wakko calling Brainladdin ‘Dad’ and Brainladdin denying it every time. I thought it was cute XD

Summary: The evil Snowballjafar has been defeated, but there's still some loose ends that need to be wrapped up. And really, there are way too many emotions going on here for Brainladdin's comfort. 

AO3 Link (No FFN post cause AO3 has easier x-over system). 

No power, however grandiose and terrifying, could go unchecked by the laws of the universe. Snowballjafar had forgotten there were unseen forces far greater than himself, even with phenomenal cosmic power at his fingertips.

The price to pay? Itty bitty living space inside a cramped magical lamp.

Brainladdin stared down at the black lamp that now contained his former friend turned enemy. While part of him would always remember Snowballjafar as a fellow young orphan on the streets, he also knew that this fate was karma for all of the hamster’s cruelty.

Jaspinky wouldn’t be forced into a union he didn’t want. Yakko wouldn’t be forced to hurt the people he’d come to regard as his younger siblings. Wakko and Dot wouldn’t be forced to live in an ACMEbah under Snowballjafar’s iron command.

ACMEbah was restored. Everyone was safe.

Brainladdin gave the lamp to Yakko, now back to his normal self, or as normal as could be for a wisecracking genie with a penchant for cartoonish humor.

“Allow me,” Yakko said, winking at Wakko and Dot as he zipped towards the palace balcony that overlooked the city. The kids eagerly scrambled over to the balcony to watch the proceedings.

In a flash of light, Yakko now wore a backwards blue cap, Wakko sported some strange armor that covered his chest and face, and Dot had a pink helmet with her trademark yellow flower painted on the side. Wakko and Dot grinned up at Yakko with adoring expressions, hanging off the balcony a little too eagerly for Brainladdin’s peace of mind.

“Wakko! Get off that railing at once!” Brainladdin shouted.

“Yes, Pops,” Wakko said in the universal ‘exasperated teen’ tone, which Brain suspected he’d picked up from Yakko. But Wakko planted his two feet on safe ground anyway, settling for standing on his tiptoes instead.

“I’m not—oh forget it,” Brainladdin sighed. It wasn’t worth arguing about, and he’d rather just take the defeat now instead of prolonging it.

Jaspinky giggled, his jewelry swaying gently with every movement. His blue eyes sparkled once again, a much welcomed change from the abject terror he had experienced while drowning in the sand-filled hourglass. And really, he looked much better in blue and gold than seductive red.

It was an objective fact.

Yakko held the lamp in his left arm, then wound it so fast that it resembled a blue whirlwind. “This is it, folks! The real teeth-clenching, nailbiting, game-winning swing of whatever century we’re in!”

Another magical burst, and Brainladdin found himself holding a tiny triangular flag emblazoned with Dot’s flower. Jaspinky screamed in glee, waving a giant pointing foam finger that now covered his right hand. Brainladdin rolled his eyes, but held the flag as high as he could in a silent show of support.

Dot readied her large mallet as Wakko crouched behind her, punching his fist into the palm of his hand. Yakko zipped to the other side of the balcony, then hurled the lamp towards Dot with all his might.

THWACK!

Dot’s mallet connected with the lamp and sent it soaring high into the blue sky and far beyond the walls of ACMEbah, straight into the heart of the vast desert.

“THAT’S FOR JASPINKY, MY BROTHERS, AND BRAINLADDIN CAUSE I FEEL LIKE BEING GENEROUS, YOU STUPID HAMSTER!” Dot screamed as she dashed around the balcony at high speeds, high-fiving Jaspinky’s foam finger as she passed him.

“And it’s outta here, thanks to my new sister sib! What a swing!” Yakko ruffled Dot’s hair as she threw herself at Wakko, knocking him down from his crouched position. The two laughed and embraced, laughing in joy and relief that their ordeal was really over. The duo began an odd victory dance that involved a lot of stomping both of them and rude hand gestures to the horizon on Dot’s part. “He’s looking at uhhhhhhhh…about a ten thousand year sentence in the Cave of Wonders. Without parole or bail, unless some poor shmuck decides to release him in a cashgrab sequel. But that’s a problem for another time.”  

Brainladdin allowed himself a tiny smile. And Jaspinky smiled that bright, silly smile that always seemed to make Brainladdin’s chest flutter swiftly and strange, but not in a wholly unpleasant way either.

To think this entire business had started out as a way to ascend to the throne of ACMEbah. Leave poverty behind him. Get Wakko some actual food and not worry about amputated limbs courtesy of angry shopkeepers.

He hadn’t counted on falling head over heels for Jaspinky’s gentle spirit. Who wanted to marry for love and not for power or fame or wealth. Nor had he counted on striking up a genuine friendship with a powerful magical being, who had wishes of his own yet was bound to the desires of his master.

Wakko lived by the rules of the street rat like Brainladdin, but he’d found a kinship with others willing to show him the affection Brainladdin couldn’t offer him.

Dot could finally be a child, a rather clever and self-sufficient one, and now she had brothers who would watch her back from this point on.

And Brainladdin found himself back to square one. There were other methods to take over ACMEbah, but he couldn’t continue perpetrating this lie.

Jaspinky deserved someone better than him. Wakko should be taken care of by people who would provide for every physical need and show him the love he deserved. He didn’t get along with Dot, but she was protective of Jaspinky, and it was by far her most admirable trait.

Most importantly, this quest would’ve been doomed to fail from the beginning if it hadn’t been for Yakko, who supported the endeavor in his snarky, playful way, entertained with his magic, and didn’t seem to begrudge Brainladdin for not keeping his promise when he’d been blinded by power.

Really, Yakko never should’ve been locked away from the world, only to come out when someone wanted to use him.

“Pondering again, Brainladdin?” Jaspinky asked. He took off the foam finger and set it down gently, then carefully pried the flag out of Brainladdin’s hands. His fingers were warm and gentle, much like how they’d held hands on that whimsical carpet ride just a few starlit nights ago.

“Yes,” Brainladdin said softly. He swallowed the lump in his throat, then took Jaspinky’s hands in his and tried not to think about how this would be the last time he might ever see him. “And I’m sorry I lied to you about being a prince.”  

Jaspinky teared up, his impossibly blue eyes reflecting the sky above. “It’s okay. I know why you did,” he whispered, like the lie was easy to forgive, just like that.  

A street rat couldn’t hope to change a centuries-old law. Street rats had no power, no connections, no respect. And the Sultan-CEO wouldn’t approve of any match but the ones she selected for Jaspinky, regardless of his wishes.

“I suppose this is goodbye.” Brainladdin squeezed Jaspinky’s hands, just to prolong releasing his hands for a little longer.  

“It’s not fair,” Jaspinky whimpered. “I love you.”

Brainladdin had seen those words float around in every step, every touch, every look from Jaspinky. But to hear it spoken out loud…

Well, it seemed he would be yearning for much more than power once he returned to the street.

A few teardrops splashed down from above. Yakko sniffed into a handkerchief, and Wakko and Dot stopped dancing, the reality of the situation sinking in, judging from their crestfallen expressions.

“Sorry. Never been this invested in a love story before,” Yakko said, poofing the handkerchief away as he drifted down next to Brainladdin. “But ya still got one wish left. Might as well use it. Just say the word and it’s riches, elephants, an entourage, and the whole prince shebang.”

Even after I went back on my promise to set you free? Brainladdin wanted to ask, but the words caught in his throat. You still want to offer me a chance to be with Jaspinky?

“Eh, what’s an eternity of servitude to love?” Yakko stretched casually, as if he could read Brainladdin’s thoughts. He bumped noses with Jaspinky, who smiled despite his tears. “You only come across someone like Jaspinky…well, never actually. Then again, trying to score a date can be pretty hard when you’re stuck in a lamp.”  

Brainladdin cupped Jaspinky’s cheek in the palm of his hand. He wouldn’t feel his warm, luxurious fur ever again.

“Jaspinky…while I-I reciprocate your affections, I can’t fabricate an entire persona to make you…you know.” Brainladdin looked down, unable to meet Jaspinky’s tearful gaze.

“Um…” Jaspinky just sounded confused.

“He stinks at admitting he loves you even though it’s completely obvious cause he actually wants you to be happy unlike all those other rotten, no-good, stuck-up jerkwad princes!” Dot shouted.

He could’ve done without the insult, but he nodded his thanks to Dot for the translation to Jaspinky terms.

“I understand, Brainladdin,” Jaspinky murmured. He kissed the back of Brainladdin’s hand, soft lips pressing against the calloused skin. Brainladdin allowed a moment for the kiss to settle, then pulled away to take care of one last piece of business.

“Yakko, I wish for your freedom,” Brainladdin declared.  

This was his chance to set things right. So that Yakko would have his freedom, never be forced to serve a cruel master again, and fully become the loving, questionably responsible brother he was meant to be.

“Right away! Vipers, monkeys, gold, coming right-” Yakko said, dusting off his gloves and cracking his knuckles. He raised his arms, then paused in surprise, the final wish not quite registering yet. “-wait, what?”  

Brainladdin held the lamp up to Yakko. The forever-teenager’s powers would be his own, never subject to anyone’s whims again.

“Yakko, you’re free.”  

Blue smoke poured out of the lamp as it rose out of Brainladdin’s hands, swirling around Yakko’s body as he looked on, completely speechless for probably the first time in millennia. His eyebrows drew up in shock, his arms making odd, meaningless motions as if he didn’t know what to do with his own body. Bolts of cosmic, ancient magic weaved around Yakko in indescribable colors, sparking clouds of massive energy that had never been witnessed before or ever again.

Jaspinky rested his jaw on top of Brainladdin’s head, not caring if he squished his fez. Wakko’s tongue lolled out happily, and Dot bounced up and down in sheer amazement before catching herself and settling for a joyful grin. Together they watched the golden shackles around Yakko’s wrists break and vanish into a cloud of magical sparkles.

Yakko stared at his own bare wrists, rubbing them and feeling the fur beneath his bonds, probably for the first time in his long life. He turned them in every possible direction, his mouth making movements that were heavily reminiscent of a fish out of water.  

“I’m free?” Yakko asked in disbelief. He gingerly picked up his lamp by the handle, tapping it a few times in case it had any power left. But the lamp had lost its golden sheen, its exterior now a dull brown. Yakko’s chest heaved up and down rapidly. “I’m free.”

His voice was tiny, not at all full of confidence and bravado as Brainladdin had admittedly grown fond of throughout this whole ordeal.

Then he cleared his throat, thrusting the depowered lamp into Brainladdin’s arms and startling Jaspinky enough that his arms slipped off Brainladdin’s head. Jaspinky laughed it off, and Brainladdin nudged him with his foot.

“Quick! Wish for something outrageous! Wish for denial!” Yakko begged as he covered his eyes, turning away from Brainladdin. “That’s it! Denial!”

Brainladdin shrugged, but obliged anyway. “I wish for denial?”

“Psych! Like you really need me for something you’ve already got!” Yakko shouted in Brainladdin’s face, giggling uncontrollably.

Brainladdin sighed and pushed Yakko’s face away from his, but Yakko’s glee was absolutely infectious, and even he couldn’t help but smile as Yakko bounced off pillars and roofs and the ground below, reveling in his newfound freedom. Whatever Yakko planned to do, Brainladdin had no doubts that the genie would use his liberation from the lamp well.  

“I’mfreeI’mfreeI’mfree—I’M FREE!” Yakko chanted the mantra over and over. He lifted Wakko and Dot onto his shoulders and nuzzled their noses, and they returned the gesture with huge smiles. Wakko leaned a little too far over for comfort as the trio celebrated in midair, but it seemed that Yakko’s magic allowed him to stay on without worrying about the laws of physics.

“You know, I’ve always wanted to see the world! You know how boring lamp interiors are? It’s good that you don’t, cause you’ll be bored if I answered that!” Yakko exclaimed as he conjured a long, blue slide that allowed Wakko and Dot to safely return to the balcony in style. Then he broke out an enormous suitcase, packing clothes, toys, and other items with a ridiculous amount of arms.  

So Yakko planned to leave too. But Brainladdin tried to hang onto the joy of Yakko’s freedom for a little longer, trying not to linger on how his life always consisted of saying goodbye to anyone he met that he’d grown to…tolerate.

“Well, off to see the sights! Tahiti, China, the Galapagos, Pennsylvania, Switzer-“

Yakko paused and looked down, a bag of apples in one hand and a potted cactus in another. His mouth opened in surprise. He was watching Brainladdin.

Then Brainladdin’s vision blurred. He wiped his eyes, and his fingers came away damp. No one else had commented yet, though Jaspinky’s hand was on the small of his back, but Brainladdin said nothing. Best to ingrain the memory of Jaspinky’s soft touch in his mind while he had the chance.

Yakko wiped away a few tears of his own, his form shrinking until he was just a head taller than Wakko.

“Poit. I’ll let you have a moment,” Jaspinky whispered. Brainladdin only registered his words just as the gentle pressure vanished from his back. Dot knelt, taking Jaspinky in her cupped hands. She was silent, only giving Yakko an odd look before retreating into the palace for her own private conversation with the princess, leaving Wakko and Brainladdin alone with Yakko.

A case of déjà vu swept through Brainladdin. He and Wakko alone in the Cave of Wonders. Wakko bouncing along to a bombastic musical number, where he could have a fun childhood experience that ACMEbah refused to grant. Yakko’s excitement over simply talking to living beings.

At first, Yakko was just a means to an end. He was powerful, and it wasn’t difficult to work within the boundaries of his genie limitations. Maybe he could’ve took things more seriously, maybe he could’ve stopped jabbering for just a few seconds so Brainladdin could get a word or two in. Although Yakko had been trapped within a role, he still made everyone smile, he was protective, and he was kind.

“Hey.” Yakko tapped Brainladdin’s forehead. “You really oughta stop that brooding habit of yours.”

“I don’t brood. I ponder,” Brainladdin shot back, ridding himself of the watery veil in his eyes. Yakko provided him with a handkerchief, and Brainladdin blew his nose. The item poofed away. “Thanks, Yakko. For everything, and not just for convenient items you can create without obeying the laws of physics and other scientific fields.”

“Are you really gonna see the world?” Wakko asked, his eyes shining with wonder.

Wakko had expressed a desire to see the world many times before, but only so he could earn enough money to help Brainladdin put bread on the table. One of Brainladdin’s regrets about this elaborate plan falling through, really. Nobody, especially a child, should ever have to worry about rationing one loaf of bread and an apple to last a week.

Here was a prime opportunity for Wakko to experience the world without financial woes dragging him down from truly enjoying it, since Yakko could just create money and food as needed and serve as a somewhat responsible guardian for him.

Brainladdin didn’t ask though, but only because he didn’t know how to broach the topic. Wakko would never follow his own dream if he was constantly worried for Brainladdin, and it didn’t feel quite right to request something of Yakko so soon after his new freedom.  

Yakko nodded, wiping away a stray tear from his cheek. “Well, more than what I’m seeing right now, anyway. And really, it’s no problem-o. At least you guys aren’t boring. Can’t say the same about all the other masters I’ve had.”

“I’m gonna miss you,” Wakko admitted. He held up his arms, and Yakko scooped him up in an enormous hug. Wakko flopped like a sack of potatoes, nuzzling into Yakko’s fur.

“Heh, you too, kid,” Yakko murmured. “Boy, have you been filling up on the palace’s sweetcakes or something since we started this whole thing?”  

It wasn’t healthy sustenance by any means, but if Wakko was truly putting on weight, then Brainladdin saw no reason to complain.

Yakko shifted his brother so that he was secure in one arm, then set his other hand on the ground next to Brainladdin, who stepped into the offered palm. Yakko set Brainladdin on his shoulder, a gentle brush of magic preventing any accidental falls.

“Yakko…” Brainladdin could barely look him in the eye. “Though your antics could be somewhat over the top, you go about them with a certain degree of charm. And I suppose…I’ll miss you as well.”

“Awww, only somewhat over the top? Looks like I gotta up my game.” Yakko cracked a grin. Then he pushed his nose against Brainladdin’s, and while it was an odd feeling to be nuzzled on the nose, he didn’t push Yakko away either.

Wakko made an angry noise in the back of his throat.

Brainladdin shrugged. His dignity had been torn to shreds anyway. “I can learn to tolerate one more.”

And Wakko immediately closed the distance, his knee digging into Yakko’s smoky tail and somehow making him go ‘oomph’ even though there shouldn’t have been anything with substance there. Wakko’s nuzzle was somewhat rougher than Yakko’s, but it wasn’t anything Brainladdin couldn’t handle.

And this was long overdue, Brainladdin thought as he patted Wakko’s cheek. Had he ever done this while Wakko was awake and conscious to feel it? He wasn’t sure, but as Jaspinky taught him…it wasn’t too late to start.

“Who cares what anyone says? You guys are always gonna be royalty to me,” Yakko declared.  

Wakko closed his eyes and almost melted right there, and Yakko had to set him down carefully since the kid’s body composition seemed to be made out of shifting sand with all the physical contact. Brainladdin carefully climbed down Yakko’s arm and tried not to tear up again at his words.

Just as Brainladdin’s feet touched the ground, there was a furious scream from the door on the far side of the room.

“The Sultan-CEO is just…AHHHHHHH!” Dot shouted as she stomped across the tiled floor and slumped against the balcony railing, her head smacking against the metal bars. Her brothers threw their arms around her instantly, and her ire diminished, though she was still wracked with tension.  

Jaspinky trailed behind her, his shoulders and tail drooping, the golden band around his tail making sad tap-tap-tap noises.

Shoot. He was still crying.

“I’m sorry, Brainladdin.” Jaspinky twisted his tail between his hands. “Sultan-CEO-Mom’s still awfully mad. Some dictator from the kingdom of Dunlikus was supposed to meet with her but got caught in a whirlywind from Snowballjafar’s evil magic. She wouldn’t listen to us. But…Dot tried to convince her about you. She really did.”

“I believe you, Jaspinky,” Brainladdin quietly said as he patted Jaspinky’s back. Jaspinky sniffed once, twice, then intertwined his tail with Brainladdin’s. While Brainladdin’s tail was crooked and stiff from the amount of times he’d been roughly grabbed while stealing, Jaspinky’s was smooth and unblemished. “Did she say anything to Dot in particular?”  

It was rather interesting to watch Jaspinky’s tail flow with every unrestrained emotion. Yet it also served as a reminder of their very different social statuses.

Jaspinky nodded sadly. “She said Dot doesn’t have any good ideas cause she’s just a kid who doesn’t know how the real world works. But then…neither of us have really seen the world outside the palace. The magic carpet ride was my first time, and it really was a magical wonderful memory I’ll treasure forever. But Dot-well, how do we know how the world works if we’re stuck here?”

For all his oddities, Jaspinky could ask the most profound questions.

“You won’t.”

But Jaspinky couldn’t live in the city either. Brainladdin didn’t want Jaspinky’s kindred spirit snuffed out by the cynicism and roughness of the streets.  

Jaspinky winced, hurt shining in his blue eyes. Realizing his reply came out blunter than he intended, Brainladdin rubbed a circle into Jaspinky’s hand in a silent apology. Jaspinky lifted Brainladdin’s fez and planted a kiss on top of his head, then made a show of adjusting the fez.  

Brainladdin took Jaspinky by the hand and led him to the siblings. He wondered how exactly he’d come to have more physical contact in the past day than what he’d given and received in years. Truth be told, it was a terrifying yet exhilarating change. But it would also be tinged with bittersweet.

After Jaspinky, he doubted he’d be able to ever touch anyone like this ever again.  

“It’s okay-“ Yakko tried, hands held out to placate Dot.

“No, it’s not!”

Wakko was silent, but he was the first to spot Brainladdin and Jaspinky joining them. He gently turned Dot so that she was no longer glaring daggers into the buildings of ACMEbah. The fur around her eyes was damp with tears.

Jaspinky climbed up the skirt of Dot’s pink and white dress and perched on her shoulder, humming comfort into her ear. Dot stroked his head with her finger, and his foot kicked rapidly. She gave a tiny laugh.  

Which was excellent, because Brainladdin was rather weary of all the crying. “Jaspinky explained what happened with the Sultan-CEO,” he said. “Though it didn’t have the results you wanted, we’d like to commend your effort regardless.”

“What Brainladdin said!” Jaspinky chirped. “Remember that mean ol’ Chance O’ Ler from Turkey? He was so scared of Sultan-CEO-Mom that his pants changed colors! But you didn’t even flinch in front of her!”

“Hey, how come nobody invited me to witness all this?” Yakko pouted, holding up a dramatic Greek mask with an exaggerated frown. “I would’ve drawn pictures of that moment, you know! I’m getting really good with my sketches!”

He snapped his fingers, and five large scrolls materialized, each containing a drawing of everyone in their group. Brainladdin thought it was a surprisingly accurate representation of himself…

…except his hands resembled a lump with misshapen sausages for fingers attached.

It was the most glaring flaw in all the other scrolls too.

“Are those chain-link sausages?” Wakko asked, pointing to his own sketch. Brainladdin was just glad he wasn’t the only one who thought so.

“I like them!” Jaspinky said, wiggling his own fingers.

“It was mostly proportionate. But the hands leave a lot to be desired,” Brainladdin added.  

Dot only covered her mouth and ducked her head.

Yakko shrugged, the scrolls disappearing. “Private tutors and art references are hard to come by when you’re stuck in a lamp.”

Then Dot burst into laughter, Jaspinky chortling alongside her as her shoulders rapidly bounced up and down. She lightly struck the railing with her fist multiple times. There were tears again, but they came from joy rather than sadness.

“Those—ha! I can’t—Yakko, you really captured my good side…but oh my gosh-“ Dot could barely speak between breaths, a huge smile breaking out on her face.

Yakko winked at her. “Figured that would snap you outta it.”

Dot just hugged him back, and Yakko let out another ‘oomph’ as tiny yet strong arms encircled him. “Geez, what do you mice feed these kids?” he wheezed.

Jaspinky stood up, dusting his clothes off and trying a small test jump. “Zort! Brainladdin, catch me!”

A mass of fur, clothing, and narf crashed into Brainladdin, knocking him to the ground with no chance to prepare. He spat out a tassel from Jaspinky’s sleeve. The princess was way too cheerful about his impromptu belly flop.

Then Jaspinky sprang back up, helping Brainladdin to his feet as well. “Dot, I’m really happy to be your friend,” Jaspinky said. “But if Yakko doesn’t mind, I think it would be amazingly fun and wonderful if you could see the world for yourself.”

“Course I don’t mind!” Yakko exclaimed as he threw Dot into the air and caught her. “I’ll have to redo my travel itinerary, but it’ll be more fun that way! If I put Tahiti before Pennsylvania, we can go snorkeling with dolphins on a nice sunny Friday, no hold on a sec, China should be first cause it’s been way too long since I’ve had dumplings, and Greece can-“

“YAKKO, HOLD ON A SEC!” Dot shouted just as Yakko prepared to throw her again. She dangled somewhat precariously next to Yakko’s legs, but she didn’t seem to mind her position all that much.

It surprised Brainladdin that Yakko was willing to accept a new responsibility so readily, and he caught the wistful look on Wakko’s face when Yakko happily declared he’d love company on his trip, but he knew Wakko wouldn’t accept. From Dot’s forlorn expression as she glanced at Jaspinky, she wouldn’t take her chance either.

ACMEbah had a way of robbing everyone of a happy childhood. It appeared sadly common to every social class.

“I don’t take orders from anyone, not even princesses,” Dot growled. “And I’m not leaving you to the tender mercies of the Sultan-CEO or anyone who just wants a pretty face with money, Jaspinky.”

But Jaspinky shook his head. “You won’t have to worry about me though. Cause I’ll live in the city with Brainladdin and Wakko. So I won’t be alone!”

What? That is possibly the least reassuring thing you could’ve said right now, idiot!

Dot’s expression turned stormy. She was thinking along the same lines too.

“Did-did I say something wrong?” Jaspinky’s ears drooped. “I can do some good in the city. I-I never knew things were so bad. And I wanna help.”

“Put that fluff between your ears to use and think, Jaspinky!” Brainladdin snapped. Jaspinky’s mouth quivered. Brainladdin took a deep breath, mentally counting to ten before clasping Jaspinky’s hands between his own. “I…I’m sorry. For my outburst. But remind yourself of our first meeting in the marketplace. You meant well when you took the apple off the fruit stand and gave it to Wakko, but you barely understood the concepts of money and payment, and you completely froze when the shopkeeper barbarically tried to chop off your hand.”

“You saved me though,” Jaspinky said.

“Yes, but if the shopkeeper had been faster with his sword? If I was too far to help you? And your lack of a disguise was another issue. You waltzed into the marketplace with all your finery and no protection. Someone would notice eventually. The best case scenario? Your clothes and jewelry would’ve been stolen, but that’s all. And if someone chose to kidnap you for ransom or worse, the palace and royal guards would’ve been in an uproar. If that hypothetical situation came to pass, guess which group would be suspected first.”

“N-no,” Jaspinky whimpered. “I-I didn’t mean-“

“I know why you did though. You weren’t malicious, just naïve. There’s nothing to apologize for or forgive.” Brainladdin pulled Jaspinky’s head down until their cheeks touched. Jaspinky’s fur was a different sort of warm, not blistering hot like the desert sun, but more of a soft ray of light.

The princess had walked among the commoners for the same reason Brainladdin had disguised himself as a prince. Because he’d felt trapped by a societal role and just wanted to be free.

“Brainladdin?” Jaspinky’s voice was oddly distant.

“If you leave the safety of the palace—if they realize you’ve taken the lifestyle of a common street rat—they’ll hate you. Nobody will see you. But you’ll be blamed. For things you didn’t do…or just for trying to survive. And you’ll lose your good heart, Jaspinky. I can’t even protect Wakko from the consequences. But he’s already figured out some of it. So please…don’t…l-leave…”

Don’t leave the palace…don’t leave me…

Wakko’s hand rested against Brainladdin’s back. The child was always too generous for his own good. It was a quality that Brainladdin couldn’t bring himself to force Wakko to lose, as much as it was a detriment to his survival.

Brainladdin’s vision blurred, and he felt water leak out of his eyes against his will. He was going to die of dehydration at this rate. Jaspinky nuzzled his cheek, humming a meaningless tune into his ear.

The magic carpet ride had been one of the most awe-inspiring experiences of his life. Soft fabric beneath them, close quarters necessitating physical contact, a navy starlit sky above. Being weightless, being free from the worry of scavenging for scraps or taking over ACMEbah, being able to see the wonder in Jaspinky’s eyes as he touched a cloud for the first time…

They weren’t Brainladdin the street rat and Princess Jaspinky in the sky. No, there were no statuses to worry about, no pressures to conform to.

Jaspinky petting a wild horse as it galloped across the land. The stars twinkling in Jaspinky’s eyes. His excitement when he experienced something he’d never seen or done before.

Yet it would be nothing more than a wistful memory.

“They’re still trapped, you know. There’s gotta be something we can do,” a quiet voice said.

Wakko.

“Jaspinky. Brainladdin. You guys really love each other, don’t you?” Dot asked.

Brainladdin wiped his tears on his vest, not caring that it was one of the few pieces of clothing he owned. He looked up at Dot, who was seated on Yakko’s shoulders.

She’d been nothing more than an irritating obstacle when he tried to woo Jaspinky. But if it weren’t for her presence, Jaspinky likely would’ve been married to someone he didn’t love.

He really couldn’t fault her for hating the made-up Prince Brainli.

“He’s my world,” Brainladdin whispered, his voice barely audible, even to himself. He gave Jaspinky a tiny nuzzle, and Jaspinky’s tail intertwined with his own once again.

“And mine too,” Jaspinky agreed.  

Dot watched them for just a moment longer. Then her back straightened, her head tilting proudly. Her foot tapped against Yakko’s chest.

“As someone who’s secretly observed the Sultan-CEO’s political meetings and learned the do’s and don’ts of palace business, I’m the most qualified one here for the position of temporary Sultan-CEO,” she declared. “Yakko. A scroll and quill, if you please.”

Yakko grinned, and the requested items appeared. “Your wish is my command.”

“Thank you,” Dot said with a firm nod.

Brainladdin glanced at Jaspinky and Wakko, but they seemed just as confused as he was. He wasn’t sure if one could just declare themselves Sultan-CEO. That wasn’t really how it worked.

“I, acting Sultan-CEO Princess Angelina Contessa Louisa Francesca Banana Fanna Bo Besca the Third, also known as Dot, hereby decree that the Royal Marriage Law of 1175 is null and void, and from this day forth, the princess of ACMEbah shall marry whoever they deem worthy.”

The quill jotted Dot’s decree word for word on the scroll, every letter emblazoned with a golden shine.

“Now for the seal of approval!” Dot shouted.

Another flash of magic transformed Wakko into a black and white seal, the scroll was brought down to his nose level, and he gave the paper a large, slobbery lick. Then he clapped, his flippers beating together as Yakko tossed several fish fillets into his mouth.

Then the scroll disappeared, and Wakko transformed back, white bits of fish still coating his mouth.

“This new decree is non-negotiable and binding,” Yakko said. “And I’ve also taken the liberty of framing, enlarging, and sticking it in a palace hallway our dear power-hungry Sultan-CEO frequents. She won’t be able to remove it no matter how hard she tries.”  

As if on cue, there was a distant horrified scream that practically blew one of the domed roofs of the palace off.

What just happened? She can really do that?

Jaspinky squealed in glee, right next to Brainladdin’s ear. He barely had time to rub the sensitive hairs before Jaspinky lifted him into the air and spun him around so fast that he saw more stars than the sun in broad daylight. And they were absolutely beautiful.

“I choose you, Brainladdin!” Jaspinky exclaimed. His laughter was like a melody, Brainladdin losing himself in the music, and he was probably grinning like a fool too but he no longer cared about that because he could be with Jaspinky, and there was an entire world for them and them alone!

Brainladdin clung to Jaspinky’s shoulders, steadying himself as Jaspinky set him down again. He brushed Pinky’s jewelry out of the way, and Jaspinky pressed his forehead against his own.

“Call me Brain,” Brainladdin murmured, and he held Jaspinky close.  

They were no longer trapped. They were free. They could be together.

His heart quickened, and it was an exhilarating feeling indeed.

“Alright, everyone into the group hug!” Yakko shouted, and a giant hand scooped them up. Brainladdin was instantly sandwiched between Jaspinky and Wakko, Dot squeezing herself into the crook of Yakko’s arm on Jaspinky’s opposite side. It was getting hard to breathe, but he couldn’t tell if that was from the force of Yakko’s hug or a side effect of the emotionally charged atmosphere. “Now that we’re all done baring our souls.”

“Thank you, Dot!” Jaspinky exclaimed, hugging the girl’s cheek. “Thankyousomuch! And now that I’ve got Brainladdin staying with me, you should go with Yakko! No ifs or buts, young lady!”

Dot smirked. “You just wanna get rid of me so you can do stuff with Brainladdin.” There was something sneaky in her voice that Brainladdin heavily disliked. “But I’ll gladly take this vacation.”

“I could never get rid of you, Dot! You’re my best handmaiden!” Jaspinky protested.

“Simmer, Jaspinky,” Brainladdin said, and the princess relaxed. “She’s only teasing. That being said, I highly detest her tone.”

He gave Dot a pointed glare, and she casually placed her elbow against Yakko’s arm. “You’re not a complete jerk, but if I were as bigheaded as you, I’d avoid most of the rooms on the southern side. I still haven’t disabled the booby trapped perfume bottles that spray catfish guts yet. You’ll be mostly safe on the east side though.”  

“And you’re not a complete brat. Just an annoyingly clever one,” he muttered.  

Dot looked all too pleased with herself.

At least he’d finally confirmed who rigged that perfume bottle on his second night as Prince Brainli in the palace.

“Perfect!” Yakko exclaimed, and confetti showered down on everyone. “So any particular places in mind? A change of scenery would do you some good!”

“Burbank. Machu Picchu. Rome,” Dot said. “I’ll come up with more later. You got any ideas, Wakko?”

Wakko shook his head, only staring at the ground far below them.

“Wakko? Wakster? Wakaroo?” Yakko frowned, gently shaking Wakko, who only went limp. “C’mon, we know you’ve got places you wanna visit. Mostly for the exotic food, right?”

“Sorry. I’d love to go, but-“ Wakko’s face fell.

This wasn’t like before, where Brainladdin refused to let Wakko venture outside ACMEbah. Now neither of them would be alone in this world.

“Look at me, Wakko.” Brainladdin held onto one of Wakko’s fingers with both hands, and the boy obeyed. “As the soon-to-be ruler of ACMEbah, I will be living in the palace with Jaspinky. There’s no more need for concern. And you have a somewhat responsible brother and an irritatingly capable sister who will always have your back. Your new objective is to explore the world for yourself, and if you try to send money back or work yourself to the bone, I shall have to ground you.”

As soon as the words left his mouth, Wakko snatched him up for an enormous hug. Brainladdin gasped for air, fairly certain one lung was punctured and his left kidney had been knocked out of place from the tight squeeze.

“Oxygen!” he wheezed. Wakko relented and returned him to Jaspinky, who was more of a white and blue blur than a mouse right now.

“Faboo, Dad!” Wakko exclaimed, much to Yakko and Dot’s joy.

“Yes, faboo indeed,” Brainladdin muttered, a dizzy spell from the lack of oxygen overtaking him. He slumped against Jaspinky. “I expect a letter every night, Wakko.”

If Wakko replied, his voice was lost in Yakko and Dot’s chatter over their travel plans. Brainladdin and Jaspinky were deposited on the balcony, Brainladdin finally recovering his vision so he could see the siblings off.

“Bye-bye! Bring back souvenirs! Troz!” Jaspinky shouted, his jewelry jingling as he waved goodbye to the siblings.

“Farewell for now,” Brainladdin said, crossing his arms over his chest. Best to act like he was ruling ACMEbah after all. He tried not to squeeze too tightly, if only to stop the slight ache in his chest from all this emotional nonsense.  

“You heard them! Let’s blow this popsicle stand!” Yakko shouted, and he shot into the sky like a firework with Wakko and Dot in his arms. The two screamed in delight, their laughter echoing off the buildings of ACMEbah. “Let’s give the lovebirds some space!”

“We’re history!” Dot yelled.

“We’re mythology!” Wakko added.

“I DON’T CARE WHAT WE ARE! WE’RE FREE!”

In a shower of magic, they shot across the sky and were gone, off to tour the world to celebrate their new lives.

Jaspinky waved to the sky for a moment longer, then turned to Brainladdin, that stupid, silly, wonderful smile on his face. “I’ve got sweetcakes and tea in the kitchen. Do you want any?”

Brainladdin rolled his eyes. “Don’t ask stupid questions, Jaspinky.”

They headed to the kitchen, walking hand-in-hand, never to be separated again.

o-o-o-o-o

Colorful fireworks burst around them, lighting up the night sky in flares of red and green and blue. The stars shone from above, the earth and all its worries far beneath them. A breeze tugged them along, the magic carpet pulling this way and that with no clear destination in mind. But they didn’t need one.

Whichever way the winds blow, as they say.

“Look, Brainladdin! Another letter!” Jaspinky pointed to a paper drifting towards them, protected by a cloud of Yakko’s magic. He leaned over the side in his excitement to grab it out of the air. Brainladdin kept hold of Jaspinky’s tail just in case, though the magic carpet was sentient enough to lift that side up to prevent accidental falls. The letter floated into Pinky’s hand, and he scrambled back to Brainladdin, showing off the letter proudly. “It’s a J! Wakko’s very good with oregano. I wish he’d teach me!”

He really should’ve been more clear with his expectations for Wakko.  

“That’s a Y, Jaspinky. And oregano is a spice. This is the paper craft known as origami.” Brainladdin tucked the Y inside the folds of his royal robe for safekeeping. It would go nicely with the W and D that were already on his nightstand.

“Oh. Well then, it’s a very nice Y!”

“Yes, it’s constructed well.”

Another firework flared, and Jaspinky oohed and awwed at the wondrous sight, his eyes ever an innocent, pretty blue. He’d picked a new outfit for tonight: a purple crop top with matching pants and headband, a see through, puffy material that framed his bare shoulders wonderfully, and golden earrings.

The fireworks paled in comparison.

Jaspinky gasped in awe. “Look, Brainladdin! A shooting star! What’d you wish for?”

Brainladdin glanced at the canopy above, where a meteor shower zipped through the upper atmosphere. “You first.”

“Narf! Alright. I wished for a world where we can all be happy! Your turn!”

Sentimental, yet thoughtful. Of course.  

“I wish��for our lives to be fulfilling.”

Jaspinky smiled. “Looks like our wishes came true then.”

“An astute observation,” Brainladdin said.  

Jaspinky kissed him, and warmth flooded through Brainladdin’s body. They soared into the starry horizon, the full moon shining from afar. A new world awaited them.

AN: This…uh…this is way longer than I intended it to be. I hope you enjoyed this story. This is my first time writing the Warner siblings, so I combined some of the posts Deez-art made about this AU for my characterization of them. I apologize if they were out of character, but I did have fun with them. Especially Dot. For some reason her dialogue is just fun to write.

Also, Brain angsts too easily. That’s why this story is almost 7000 words.

Some of the dialogue comes directly from the 1992 Aladdin movie.

I HAVE LISTENED TO A WHOLE NEW WORLD HOW MANY TIMES FOR THIS STORY. THIS ISN’T THE FIRST TIME I’VE DONE THIS EITHER. I NEED NEW LOVE SONGS.

As for why this story is published on AO3 instead of FFN, it’s just easier to tag this sort of thing there.

From @Eirabach

to @cookidoughlilac

Secret Santa does not own this work, full credit to the author above!

And the soul felt its worth…

[Pen & Ink exchanging gifts by the fire + blink and you miss it Grandma/Kip]

A lone string of Christmas lights throw their soft light across the dash as Virgil turns Two over the North Sea, the cabin silent but for the muted roar of the engines, the earlier humming of carols forgotten as the night had fallen and the sea had risen. Two feels more like a cathedral in the quiet, anyway.

The fairy lights are probably illegal, Gordon wouldn’t know. Something to do with running lights and landing lights and all the other things he nods along to but never recalls. He leaves the legalities of Two’s flight plans to Virgil, the details to John, the refueling to Brains, the directions to Scott. He’d even left the fairy lights to Alan, this year. Virgil doesn't turn them off at least.

The tinsel on the yoke was him, but it’s crushed under Virgil’s grip now. White knuckles flashing red, blue, green. Glitter and gold peeking through the dirt. Gordon looks away, out into the night, ignores the flicker of his own reflection, the shapes behind him. 

“Gordon --” In the reflection he sees Virgil’s eyes cut over to him, still a little too wide, a little too wet. He’d heard him, before. Muttering childhood prayers Gordon barely recalls, his head low over the sheets, his shoulders shaking. Gordon doesn’t shake. Gordon doesn’t blink. Virgil’s eyes narrow, and the tinsel crunches as he shifts his grip, turns his body. Gordon doesn’t move.

“It -- it isn’t your fault, you know.”

That’s worth a scoff at least, because Gordon knows that. He’s not an idiot and he’s not a martyr. There are only so many things he can do and the seas had been so high and the water so cold -- he knows. It’s not his first rodeo.

It’s Christmas Eve though.

It’s Christmas Eve, and somewhere, somewhere god only knows how many thousands of miles away, Scott’s hanging stockings with holes darned up and clementines stuffed in the toes and Brains is formulating gravy equations and Alan’s out on the hillside, waiting for them all to come home.

Not everyone comes home. Gordon’s known that almost as long as he’s known his own name.

It ought to get easier.

It doesn’t.

Somewhere beyond Two’s nose lie the bright lights of the GDF facility. White fluorescence to match Virgil’s knuckles, the sheets in the cargo hold. Nothing soft about them, just all blaring harshness, honest in their ugliness. 

You don't get to have this.

They don’t get to have this.

Two isn’t a subtle craft, she leaves the medical crew trembling, windswept and silent as she settles, their mouths moving but their words drowned by the VTOL. Their words are hopeless anyway, and by far the least of all the things that have drowned tonight. They pull the shrouded losses out, one, two, three, roll them onto stretchers and bow their heads as they wheel them away. The base commander is talking -- Two is silent now, waiting -- but the roaring in Gordon’s ears hasn’t stopped, hasn’t dimmed, just swallows up platitudes until his stomach roils with them. 

Virgil drops a hand to his shoulder, big and heavy and warm, and he juts his chin out just a little further. Tenses his muscles until his jaw aches.

“-- everything that you could,” the base commander says, and he’s looking at Gordon. Looking at Gordon with bloodshot eyes ringed in black, and Gordon -- Gordon knows that he’s lying. Virgil’s fingers tighten. Virgil knows too. 

They turn their backs on the too bright runway and retreat to the soft glow of the cockpit. Gordon flicks at the take off switches without really seeing them, the action ingrained in his fingertips. Beside him he hears Virgil sigh -- long-suffering, meaningful, Virgil -- and bites the inside of his cheek until he tastes blood.

“Okay,” Virgil says, “okay. Setting eight niner.”

Gordon’s hand stills over the Nav switch.

“That’s not --”

“My ship, my route. Eight niner.”

“Where are you taking me?” 

“Gordon --”

“Don’t, okay? Just --” He takes a steadying breath, tries out a smile. Fails to meet Virgil’s eyes. “It’s Christmas.”

Christmas, with all its tradition, its expectations. Alan and Scott and John down on Earth for a whole 48 hours. Grandma's cooking and the caterers Kayo never admits to booking. Hand knitted stockings and rustling golden paper and smiling. Because Dad's back, and it's Christmas and it's perfect, isn't it?

He's going to have to do so much smiling. It’s expected. Required. Needed.

Gordon doesn’t feel especially capable of being what anyone needs right now.

Virgil stares at him a beat too long. He does that, too often and to all of them, but Gordon’s always been the least able to brush him off. Grandma says he’s as transparent as the ocean he loves, bright and blue and honest, his very heart on display for anyone who so much as glances at him, his storms as grey and as frightening, his veins polluted by the ugly things they pull up from his depths.

And Virgil knows that, too.

“Yeah,” he says. “Call it a Christmas present.”

---

Penelope holds the bowl of her teacup in both hands, her nose close enough to the edge that she can feel the last wisps of heat rising from the dregs. It’s a bitter night. Further north than here she knows there’s a storm raging the likes of which will be sure to make the Christmas Day bulletins, and she presses her fingertips a little harder into the porcelain. 

The fire’s still burning as brightly as it ever has, at least. Parker had been careful to build it back up for her before she’d sent him to his regular spot at the Lamb and Flag -- it’s almost midnight and you know they won’t shut before you arrive, Parker. Parker had scoffed at her, eyes rolling, but he’d made sure to bring down the old crystal sherry glass and leave a mince pie beside her cooling teapot. Old traditions long since grown out of, but still -- still.

It’s a terrible night to be out in a storm.

Bertie huffs in his sleep, and she curls her bare toes under his belly. There’s a childishness to the way she still spends her Christmas Eves tucked up on the hearthside rug, antique crystal glinting in the firelight, dog drool seeping into Turkish silk. A certainty and a peace in it that she loves, still, even if the thrum of childhood anticipation has dimmed, and really -- there’s nowhere else she would rather be. Really.

It’s just --

Well.

Perhaps just for one night of the year, she ought to embrace being lonely. And she does. She enjoys it, even. The solitude and the softness of this one, magical night. It’s just this year -- this one year --

He’d asked. Coy and quiet in that way he only ever is with her, dark eyes focussed on his toes scuffing through the sand, and the yes, of course and the where else would I be had been right on the very tip of her tongue, and then Alan had come hooting past them, bodyboard under his arm and father on his heels and --

And Christmas is a time for family, after all. 

Later, too late, John had let slip that Grandma had her own guest arriving and Scott had huffed that I’ve already made you a stocking Lady P, seriously, but she’d already seen his light shutter at the shake of her head. Already disappointed him enough.

Maybe the loneliness feels a little less like peace this year.

Maybe that’s her own fault.

The flames stutter as the wind outside picks up and she takes that as a sign that it’s time for bed. Her knees are a little stiffer than they ought to be -- too many hours on her feet in six inch heels followed by too long sitting on the thin rug -- and she sways slightly as she reaches to put the teacup down. Exhaustion, probably, though just like the loneliness there’s no real reason for it. She was invited. She was. She has no one to blame tonight but herself.

“Honestly, Penelope,” she huffs as Bertie rolls himself closer to the hearth. “Do get a grip.”

The wind howls again, agreement and encouragement in one, and she turns to draw the curtains. Outside, the sky is cold. Starless, but for four patches of whitehot flame.

Green.

Green?

She slips sideways on the edge of the rug as she bolts for the door, her hands shamefully unsteady as she fumbles with the deadbolts. Her comm’s where she left it, still and silent on the occasional table, but Virgil’’s here, and Virgil must have a reason and it’s Christmas --

She flings the door open, pulls her dressing gown tighter around her at the blast of frigid air as Two settles across the driveway and east lawn. She looks well enough -- solid and dependable as ever -- and Penelope can see the gentle, reassuring flicker of Christmas lights through her windscreen. 

Not that sort of visit, then. Not tonight.

The backdraft dies away, the engines winding down, but Two still sits, silent, as though waiting. For her, she assumes. Unless Parker has plans he’d failed to announce. She steps out into the night, her toes curling against the chill of the stone steps, and turns her face up toward the embarkation hatch.

There’s a clanging from within, something metallic and a heavy scuffling sort of sound, and then the hatch begins to lower and her heart finally settles from somewhere in the vicinity of her throat to drop back into the space where it belongs.

“Merry Christmas, Lady P!” Virgil calls, waving brightly with the arm that isn’t wrapped around his younger brother’s shoulders, and she laughs, letting it ring out, musical and genuine through the night air.

“Virgil! Are you moonlighting as Old Saint Nick this year?”

“Something like that,” he says, cheerfully enough, but as they reach the ground she can see that his grip on Gordon is ever so slightly too tight, his smile just a little too strained. “Even brought my best elf along for the ride.”

“Oh, I know that can’t possibly be true,” she teases, even as her eyes roam over Gordon’s downcast face, the grime in his hair, the salt trails on his cheeks. “Elves are helpful, biddable little creatures are they not?”

“Depends on the legend,” says Virgil wryly, and then he’s releasing Gordon and stepping back onto the platform, rising back up even as Penelope gapes and Gordon stares unseeingly at his feet. “Call me when you need me, ok?”

---

Gordon isn’t entirely sure if Virgil’s speaking to him or Penelope, not sure if it matters either way, because he’s disappearing back into the bowels of Two and it might be too dark to see his expression as the VTOL roars back to life, but Gordon hasn’t had Virgil as his wingman all his life not to know he’s a smug bastard when it suits him.

Beside him Penny rolls up onto her toes, once, twice, then claps her hands together.

“So, do you think he’ll be parking Two behind the Lamb and Flag for a glass of Advocaat while he waits, or -- “

“You’re not wearing any shoes.” He blinks, but no, he’s not going mad. Her bare toes are still twitching at the edge of his vision, shell pink nails against pale skin, and he’s struck by the memory of the sailor’s feet, bare and blue and so so cold no matter what he did, no matter how hard he --

“Gordon?” Penelope isn’t blue, she’s pink and gold and flushed by the cold. The tip of her nose and the apples of her cheeks and he doesn’t even realise he’s doing it until it’s too late, until he’s burying his face into the warm skin of her neck, leaving salty, filthy handprints on the silk of her nightgown. “Oh, Gordon.”

“It’s -- it’s nothing, all right?” He turns to steer her back into the house, tries to ignore the set of her shoulders under his hands, the way she looks at him as though -- as though she knows. “Come on, come on, you’re gonna freeze out here in that get up. It’s nice, by the way. Very nice.” He holds her out at arms length and waggles his eyebrows.  “Expecting company were you?”

Penelope narrows her eyes. “I was expecting to go to bed.”

“I mean, that can be arranged, right?” He wrinkles his nose, looking up briefly -- considering. “I wonder how many Advocaats Virgil can drink and still be legal to fly?”

“Gordon, do you think I’m a complete fool?” she scoffs, spinning on her heel to face him as they reach the warmth of the parlour fire. He hadn’t even known where he was going, and isn’t that just always the way with her? “What happened.”

He shrugs, a last half hearted denial, and Penelope drops to sit cross legged on the rug, her right hand coming to rest on Bertie’s side.

“All right,” she says. “If you don’t want to tell me.”

“I don’t,” he agrees.

She quirks an eyebrow.

“Ugh, fine.” Gordon collapses next to her in an exhausted, grubby heap. “It was a shitshow tonight.”

“Well, that’s only to be expected.”

Gordon gapes. “Uh, thanks? Jesus, Penny.”

“That isn’t what I --” She takes a deep breath and shakes her head. “I only mean that it’s Christmas Eve, isn’t it? Everything seems so much more tonight. Good and bad.”

“This was -- this was pretty bad.”

“Pretty bad?”

“The worst.”

Penny reaches over, entwines the fingers of her left hand with his right, and squeezes.

“I’m sorry, darling.”

Gordon hums a miserable little noise, and turns their hands over so that he can lift her knuckles to his mouth and drop a kiss against the thin skin.

“Do you know what the worst bit was?” He feels more than sees the shake of Penny’s head. “Those guys tonight, they should have been going home to their family, and they can’t. And I can, but -- why me, you know? I’ve got my brothers and Grandma and Dad and you and I can’t -- I can’t figure out why me and not them.”

Penny scooches closer until their knees knock together and she can lean in to press her forehead against his. She smells like cinnamon and clove and woodsmoke and he basks in her warmth for a long moment before pulling back.

“Penny --”

“No.” His eyes snap to hers, then. Big and blue and fierce in that way that he’s always been helpless around. “I refuse. I don’t accept that you are somehow less worthy -- Gordon Tracy, you’re the most worthy man I know and I’m sorry, I am, I’m terribly desperately sorry for the families of those poor men, but if you’re telling me that I ought to lose you instead -- then I refuse. Outright.” She sniffs, all old money and utter certainty. “There’s not a soul on this planet I’d exchange for you. You know that.” Gordon blinks at her, and a little crease appears between her eyebrows. “You -- you do know that, don’t you?”

“You didn’t want to come for Christmas.” He practically breathes it, hadn’t even known the words were there before they were already dropping from his mouth, and he immediately wishes he could cram them all back in because that’s -- that’s a declaration, a thing, a dream come goddamn true and all he can do is complain? Penelope’s expression twists guiltily and Gordon decides to just go drown himself in the ornamental pond and be done with it.

“I thought -- I wanted you to have a family Christmas, your father --”

But his mouth’s running away from him again and baby Jesus come save him from himself because, “-- but you’re my family, Pen. I wanted you.”

He isn’t entirely sure what sort of reaction he expects to get to a declaration like that, hadn’t been expecting to make it at all to be honest, but Penny launching herself into his lap, elbows flying -- he’s really not sure if he should be glad or frightened. He’s definitely winded. “Oof.”

She laughs, a little wild, the way she hardly ever laughs around anyone else, and digs her really very bony elbow into his solar plexus. “Don’t be rude!”

“Really?” He grins despite himself as she settles her weight meaningfully against him, one hearth-warm hand coming up to caress his cheek. “Is this my present? I didn’t even bring you one.”

“Yes.” She smiles, soft and sweet and just for him. Something inside him, something that froze out in the North Sea, melts between his ribs. It aches, a little. He loves it a lot. “Yes, you did.”

“Oh.” Penny shifts her weight once more. With uh -- feeling. “Oh.”

She quirks an eyebrow at him, her robe dropping open slightly as she leans forward, “Oh?”

Gordon swallows, his throat clicking. “Virgil will be -- he’ll be okay, right?”

“I’m sure Parker will keep him company.” Her hand is already at his zipper and that sort of sounds like a threat to his brother’s safety but -- hey. Priorities.

He shrugs. Smiles. Lets himself forget for a night. This one night, at least.

“Well then. A very Happy Christmas to Virgil. And uh -- to me.”

“Gordon?”

“Mmm?”

“Shut up.”

---

They don’t mention Virgil again, not until the fire has long since burned out. It’s a draught from the newly opened door that wakes her, reaching out for them with chilly fingers where they lie curled around each other on the too-small chaise. Penelope blinks blearily up at the dark figures in the doorway -- blue-green and grey against the pallor of the oncoming dawn.

“Merry Christmas,” one of them says, whiskey rough and exhausted, and she shifts her gaze down to where Gordon lies, still grubby and pale but peaceful and so beautiful in sleep, and smiles.

“Merry Christmas indeed.”

Goodbye Old “Friend”

We had been friends for 22 years when you sent me a TikTok video about the cycles of abuse in long-term narcissistic relationships. I was a little thrown off to be honest. You had been single for more than a year - a span of time that seems long to me, long enough to move on from the relationship that started you down the path of narcissism research and wisdom. I thought you must be sending it about my husband because you miss no opportunity to berate him these days.

And when you do, I just bite my tongue because I think it would be rude to tell you my honest thoughts, which is that you are projecting. Your last “boyfriend” was a 30 year old man who had no interest in settling down, who physically abused you, gaslit you, hid you from the world while you put off your big dreams and poured your money into dressing his children, taking them to school, watching them in all your spare time, etc. You ended it on many occassions, but even more 500 miles wasn’t enough. You still returned.

TikTok helped though. It gave you so many resources and opened up your eyes to his narcissism. You see all the red flags. You’re a new woman these days. You will never settle again.

And thus, my confusion. Why is this TikTok relevant to your life at this point? And if it’s not, as it doesn’t appear to be, you must feel it would be relevant to me. I watch it again. The cycle - love bombing, discarding, etc. She says it goes on and on until the couple divorces. Divorce? Hmm. This is not fitting my situation and I cannot see how it applies to yours and so I simply say, “I don’t see the applications of this message in my marriage.” You don’t respond and I don’t think much of it. I know you hate my husband and its been a sore subject as of late so I let it go.

A few days later I’m scrolling and see a video by creators we have discussed in the past. I hit the share button, but your image does not pop up like it normally does. Confusion. I go to our conversation and see the message “due to this user’s privacy settings, they cannot see videos you send.”

BLOCKED.

I text you, but it’s late and I don’t hear anything so I go to bed. At first I give it the benefit of the doubt - maybe it was an accident? In the morning, I ask my brother to confirm my suspicions. He can see your videos, but I cannot. When I go to text you again, I see that you’ve stopped sharing your location with me.

BLOCKED.

Hmm. I text you anyway. I’m blown away you would block me, but I wish you the best of luck with a peace emoji that really means fuck off.

I think I originally thought this was just a dumb disagreement, but after a little while I knew: It was the death of 22 years of friendship.

Since then I have felt anger, sadness, frustration and oddly relief. That last one threw me off, but now that it’s here, I am ready to acknowledge it. You see over the course of our 22 years of friendship, you have been impulsive, dangerous. You have taken an endless amount of unnecessary risks. You have caused me so much stress and worry. And yet, I have stayed and sought your approval.

Despite the fact that you turned on me at the end of elementary school and contributed to mockery of me throughout middle school and we didn’t really reconnect until senior year, I still felt some bond to you. A strong bond. You grew up one street over. You knew the pain of separated parents. You were at my house so much you were one of the few people who saw my dad wielding his voice like a weapon. You knew more about me than I ever let most people see. And so I wanted you to see I was a person of value.

You went from telling me over and over (in the same breath you used to berate my husband) that I was an amazing person with no flaws for you to think of to being so adamant that you will not sit with negative feelings that you blocked me, without even telling me I was giving you those negative feelings. After the initial denial wore away, I got angry. But let me explain.

I respect the decision you made. I see now that it’s the right decision for us both.

I used to love that I felt like I could talk to you about anything without judgement. It was a space we created for each other, but it doesn’t exist anymore. It honestly hasn’t existed in a while. We each do things that the other would not and for a while our friendship was a place to acknowledge that, but I sense we’ve both grown frustrated with the pretenses of the “judgement free zone.”

It was my desire for your approval that lead me to bite my tongue. It’s why I only defended my husband and didn’t go as far as to tell you that he was not the same man you were talking about.

My husband has many flaws and he is fighting a hard battle against mental health. He had a bit of a mental break after the Corps. He was checked out. He was drunk and he was depressed and there was no room in his brain to see or support me emotionally, let alone our newborn son. Every day felt like pressure building until one night when it exploded. He was physical me that night, the only time in our 14 year relationship.

I see the similarities in our relationships, the drinking, the abuse, the loneliness we both felt. But the difference is progress.

It happened on a Friday night. By Monday, he had sought the help he desperately needed. He started and completed an individual therapy program through the VA and then joined group therapy. When it became clear he needed more, he did an inpatient stay in the VA psych ward. He started medication, together we have completed couples therapy and he lived sober for nearly two years following that event. These days when he does indulge, he never allows himself to get drunk. He fights his demons (those he was born with, those he inherited and those gifted to him by the Marine Corps) every day. He is faithful to me. He is supportive of my choices - whether it’s to buy a house, change jobs, get a new car, take a trip to see a friend, etc. Despite annoyances with the division of household chores and his enthusiasm for sleep, he is still my person. He may be impulsive and forgetful, but if I ask for help, he gives it to me.

He is not your boyfriend. There is no cocaine in this household. He hasn’t had an issue with the law (aside the occasional speeding ticket) since he was 20. He works hard to be present as a father. You may not see our children appear across his social media, but he tucks them into bed each night and makes sure to tell them every day how much he loves them. When we’re out with people he never hides how proud he is of my accomplishments, he tells everyone how lucky he is to have me. When we went to that wedding earlier this year, a buddy of his took the time to come share with me that my husband talks about me constantly. He loves me for the person I am, for the mother I am. And despite our challenges, I feel that.

So no, I didn’t take kindly to hearing you rail on about mistakes he made in high school (while completely glossing over the fact I had made the same choices). I didn’t care to hear about how I should leave him and how things never get better and he will always treat me like shit because I allow him to. I got off the phone, I changed the subject, I ignored the videos. I can see now how that probably felt like such an abrupt change from the girl who listened to you talk about your boyfriend for hours and hours. And how rude it must have felt to have your knowledgeable advice ignored. How it probably seemed like I thought I was better for some reason, that I couldn’t handle this role reversal among us.

I’m writing this to you now because I don’t want you out there thinking that I needed you to be subdued to be your friend. It’s not that. I’m proud of you. I’m proud of you for leaving. I’m proud of your persistence in your pursuit of higher education and a career. I’m proud of you for the closeness I can see now in your relationship with your son. I’m proud of you for finding guidance and strength in the TikTok community. Proud of you for taking the mistakes of that relationship and making them a lesson. You won’t put up with that again. And this time, I believe you. Or I did. But I’ll get back to that.

You see, it wasn’t your power that put me off, it was the judgement and self righteous tone that I couldn’t stand. And it wasn’t just directed at my marriage, but also my children and my parenting - how I communicate with my children, how I treat their illnesses, who I allow to care for them, the rules I set for them. I do not need your judgement. Just as you don’t need mine.

And thus, I return to that relief I mentioned. I will never have to hold intimate details of abuse in my mind while I sit inside his living room, I will never again have to bite my tongue as you berate my husband as if he is the one who left you scarred, and I will never again have to defend myself or my family to you.

My emotions have been all over the place. At first I had to fight petty instincts, even now I will surely erase parts of what I’ve written here. I spent time in confusion and denial. I have felt betrayed. I have felt sad. But, I also feel angry.

Relief was my primary emotion, until I told my brother the story and he informed me that you have returned to facebook, that you are still friends with that abusive ex, that he liked your “return” post - the post that was made to sound triumphant and completely ignored that you have been on and off, but mostly off social media for two years because of your ex, that you moved 500 miles away just to end that relationship, that you can’t even come into town without feeling a desire to call him.

I can’t help but wonder if you’re together. I hope that you’re not. I hope that you hold true to your newfound standards and that you don’t unfriend him because you want him to see how much better off you truly are.

But the idea that my response to a few TikTok videos made you uncomfortable and you blocked me rather than try to talk to me “because [you] don’t have to,” but you allow him to stay in your life? That makes me so angry and so sad for you. It fluctuates, honestly.

What it comes down to after all this rambling is, I hope I never see you again. I hope you stay far from him and this rotten town. I hope you live a beautiful life and you accomplish all of your dreams. I hope your son grows tall and strong and finds happiness in whatever path he seeks. I truly do wish you all the best.

I may write a post into the void, but here’s what I won’t do. I will not chase. I will not beg. I will not reach out. I don’t need anyone in my life who doesn’t want to be there.

And if you ever try to talk to me again, I will politely decline. We will never be friends like that again. I will never trust you with my thoughts or fears again. Your betrayal is so hard because I never saw it coming, but I will work through my feelings and move forward. I will live a beautiful life. I will pursue my goals, I will support my husband in his path to recovery, I will raise strong-willed, passionate children and I will take this as a lesson. From here on, I will keep an eye to fight my instinct to people please and I will address it head on because I value the friendships I have left and I don’t want to lose them.

Goodbye friend.

We built an Angel by M59Gar

In a town of only two hundred people, we had three churches—but that didn't help when the fire came. We stood shouting and praying as it jumped from house to house, but we received no answer from either heaven or earth. We'd been forced to defund our fire department as people moved away and the town sank further into debt over the last decade; there'd been some hope of gap funding to get us to the next fiscal year, but the November fire was burning that hope away right before our eyes. Lacking any other option, we turned to the Collective Entity.

It was actually my idea. I was one of only four recent college graduates that had actually returned to Malinta after escaping, so no one else even considered it. The only thing our town was known for was having elected as mayor an accused witch instead of burning her at the stake; it was to her artifacts in the mayoral building that I ran. In one of the glass cases was a scroll from 1880, and I'd memorized the text as an intrigued child. I broke that glass with a rock, carefully took the scroll, and ran back to Turkeyfoot Avenue where most of the townsfolk had gathered.

The debate over whether it would actually work was short. Malinda Elizabeth Bensing was a revered name by the old timers, and anyone younger was willing to try it regardless. The namesake of our town had not been a witch in the sense that she'd trafficked with Satan or demons; indeed, she'd claimed those evils didn't even exist. Instead, she'd been some strange sort of purveyor of very real human energies, and that was the primary power in the scroll. According to the text, if we overlaid our hands in a very specific tessellating pattern and all held the same thought in our heads, we could give our support and willpower over to a Collective Entity born of us.

By haunting firelight fueled by the homes and possessions of our community, we swallowed down our trepidation at the strange ritual and stood in the middle of Turkeyfoot Avenue in the manner described. It needed to work; it had to work. That night, I saw fear in the eyes of my neighbors, and for once I understood what it meant to be a part of a place. Like my friends, I'd dreamt of escape, but they'd had the money to actually do it. My life, therefore, was on the line just as much as any of these people. I gave my willpower—and, shockingly, I felt it drain forward through my arm.

Our tightly patterned knot of people began to glow; subtle light passed through our arms, flared in our fellows, and continued on stronger. As it reached the front, old man McCree gasped; the sum total pushed out through his chest, and he fell. No one ran to him, for all eyes were on the white glare floating slowly away from us.

I shouted, "The fire! Think about the fire!"

As one, we sent out our hopes to it, and it began to ascend. It began to take shape: flowing white robes, a golden halo, a benevolent face. It floated up and over the burning houses. It spread massive ivory wings. Then, rain began to fall.

But not from the sky—from beneath those spread wings.

Little by little, flaring pillars of orange dimmed to embers, and then went dark. We stared in amazement at the being that we'd created. It had actually worked! I'd once seen the ghostly Indian warrior on Turkeyfoot Creek Bridge when I'd been ten, so I knew the supernatural was at least somewhat real, but it absolutely astounded many of the others.

"It's exactly as I imagined it," one of the older women said in awe.

Another agreed, "Me too."

"It's an angel," yet another added.

Meanwhile, the other three college-grads and I rushed down to check on old man McCree. He was fine, but his hair had stood up straight on end, and touching him gave us static shocks. He stared at us with wide eyes and insisted he was alright and that we needed to let him alone.

The sky over our homes was dark again, and the heat of the fire had faded, so the chilled townsfolk began to disperse. The four similar-aged of us were left to go to Copper Bar & Grill and have a drink in startled silence. The bartender arrived shortly after us and served us with very few words before heading into the back; Ryan, Lily, and Courtney sat with me at a table.

I knew Ryan from our K through 12 school, and he'd always been a loudmouth meathead type, but now he had nothing to say and sat over his beer staring at the table.

Lily was our town's token Goth, and had never fit in with our staunch conservative atmosphere—yet she, too, had participated in the ritual. Her father's house had been next in the line of fire, and it had been saved. She broke the silence by saying, "How the hell did that actually work?"

I didn't know Courtney well. She'd been a late transfer to our town because of her family moving in, and then she'd gone off to college pretty quickly. "It's this town," she told us quietly. "Something like that would never have worked in a big city. You got one hundred percent of the people here to band together, and that's impossible anywhere else."

That was an interesting point. I responded, "So people would never believe us even if we tried to tell them."

She nodded sadly.

Ryan slowly lifted his head. He hadn't heard us. Instead, he said, "This is it. This is how we fix things."

Lily looked over at him in askance.

"We do it again," he elaborated. "Have it plow fields, grow crops. Save the town."

She shot back, "Forget farming. Let's make it construct a factory. We can sell electric cars."

The two immediately began to argue. Courtney and I watched for a minute or two before looking at each other with unspoken concern.

By the next morning, that concern had become full-blown reality. All the townsfolk were out in Turkeyfoot Avenue again, but not to put out fires. This time, they were arguing over what to do with the Collective Entity. Mr. Ellis, the owner of the bank, was at the head of the mob with his arms high trying to get people to calm down.

"Come on!" he shouted. "We can either work together and get something, or fight amongst ourselves and get nothing."

Different groups began yelling over each other; there were the three different church crowds, of course, who each wanted slightly different things; there were the farmers, like Ryan and his dad, and there were those like Lily that wanted to build the town into something more modern.

Next to me in the back, Courtney called forward, "Do we actually want different things, in the end? Don't we all just want to live peacefully and prosper? Why don't we do all those things?"

Ellis pointed at her and said, "Good idea! Someone get a table. And paper and pencil."

Someone suggested: "Well if it's gonna be official, we should do it in pen."

"Good idea, Earl!" Ellis motioned over the men who had grabbed a table from a nearby house, and they set it up in the center of the street, right on the pavement. "Someone got a pen?"

Widow Stephens offered a pen.

"Hey!" someone else complained. "That pen's got Trinity Lutheran on it."

"Yeah, and?"

"Well that's not fair. What about Malinta Memorial United Methodist?"

Ellis put a hand to his forehead briefly, then looked up and around. "Does anyone have a pen without any logos or words on it?"

My three new friends and I watched as they hammered out a Charter related to use of the Collective Entity. Everyone would get what they wanted in turn, but they spent several hours arguing about the order in which everyone would get what they wanted.

As dusk neared, they'd finally done it. They'd crafted a plan that all two hundred townsfolk could actually agree upon—and happily so. We had few enough and similar enough people that there was no outlying group left behind, and I imagined that was pretty wondrous. The other surprise, around the time darkness truly fell, was that the Entity did not need to be summoned again.

It appeared in the skies above us dimmer than before; drained, even, but it was still there.

Here was the first true test. Ellis read from the Charter; the first miracle would be to heal old man McCree's sick dog. His wife had died the year before and he'd fallen the previous night, so it only seemed fair. As one, the two hundred of us assembled there lent our support. Little sparks of white energy left each of us and went to the being in the sky, which grew back to full brightness and then disappeared in an umbrella-shaped flash of light over McCree's house.

His dog leapt through the dog-flap a few moments later and ran happily toward him with the energy of a puppy. It was a truly good thing to witness, and McCree cried and thanked us all profusely. That was it for the day, and we separated into our little groups again.

We were all smiling as we sat at Copper drinking, but I had to admit I was feeling a little tired. At first, I chalked it up to the day's lengthy debates, but I saw my friends yawning as well. Courtney said what we were all thinking: "Man, giving that energy away really took it out of me."

Huh, how about that.

It was a massive red flag that none of us paid the proper heed.

The next few nights we gathered to fix damage done by the fire; after, we still went to the bar for drinks, but that soon changed. After a week of minor miracles that everyone had agreed upon, I was too tired to stay out. I went home and immediately fell asleep in bed, only to awake as if I had a hangover anyway.

As I groggily stepped out, Courtney was on my porch with a coffee for each of us. "We have a problem."

I guzzled the hot coffee, winced at the morning sun, and nodded weakly.

There were already others gathering on Turkeyfoot by the time we walked there. They were tired, too, and much worse for the wear because they were older than us. Mr. Ellis was there with bags under his eyes and holding a discussion. He waved Courtney and me over as soon as he saw us. "Now here they are. Hey kids, you look better than we do, but is it safe to say you're feeling under the weather, too?"

We nodded. "Definitely."

"Well, then, it's no mystery what's happening." He sighed. "What we give to the Angel does come at a price. It ain't free. Therefore, we're gonna have to hammer out some sort of payment plan."

A few tired folk laughed, since Ellis was the town banker, but he hadn't been making a pun. "Look," he said. "You young ones bear it easier than us, so it's gonna come harder on you no matter how we slice it. Courtney, you work the Kwik Stop, don't you?"

She narrowed her eyes. "Yeah. Why?"

"Well how about you forget that, and just spend your days eating and exercising and generally getting well?" He looked at me. "You, too."

"What, like quit our jobs?" I asked, a little incredulous.

"You're still workin'," he replied positively. "Just for the whole town instead of just yourselves."

Wow. What a dick. I went to say something nasty, but Lily and Ryan arrived from opposite directions before I could, and Ellis gave them the same 'suggestion.'

At home, my parents immediately undercut my anger by telling me they were proud of what I was doing. Ellis had called them, and they understood and would support me with food and petty cash until the year or so of planned miracles was complete. Begrudgingly, I agreed.

And for a time, it actually worked out. I spent each day running, lifting weights, and eating carefully balanced diets. I got in shape and I felt great, at least until dusk, when the wind would be taken out of me in a basketball-sized orb of white light and I would be left winded, shaky, and weak. The older folk still gave, of course, but their contributions were the size of tennis balls or cherries. In return, I got to see whole buildings emerge from the ground in moments, and I got pats on the back and cheers from my entire community. For a time, Ryan, Lily, Courtney, and I were hardworking heroes.

But as the tasks grew in scope, so too did the energy required. By March, I was returning home to alternately guzzle Gatorade and throw up for hours. I didn't want anybody to see me struggling, least of all my parents, but I was reaching my breaking point. Not only was I physically ill every night, I hadn't had time for a social life in months, and I was beginning to feel cooped up in a prison with no walls.

When that dusk finally came that I had to hold up my hands in defeat and say I couldn't give, everyone else had gotten used to our new prosperity. Next to me, Courtney held her sides and nodded, too, wordlessly agreeing that she also needed a break.

Ryan's dad was there with a firm grip on his son's arm. "They've pushed back our miracle nights for 'emergencies' too many times. Our fields need fertilized. They can't just be left to dry out."

"It's fine," Ellis said to everyone. "We can all give a little more now and then, can't we?"

They couldn't. They got the mundane miracle done that night, but it eviscerated the older folk, sending them to their beds for the entire next day. They hadn't realized how onerous the burden had become.

But, strangely, they weren't more appreciative the next evening. I was feeling a tiny bit better, but they were sick and confused and angry. I tried to tell them, "Don't you see how hard we have to work to support all this for you?"

That just seemed to make them angrier, as if they didn't want to face what they were doing to us.

"You're just whining!" old man McCree shouted at us. Others jeered and agreed.

Lily flicked them off.

Widow Stephens spit on Courtney. "Lazy piece of crap."

Courtney stilled my sudden move forward with her left hand and pointed with her right. "Fine, screw you guys. We're not giving anything anymore."

Ryan urged us: "Come on guys, my family still needs a few more miracles."

"And how about the schedule changes on that?" I asked him. "Isn't it funny that they've spaced out what your farm needs until the very end? Almost like they made it so you have to be on their side."

He remained quiet but fuming.

Ellis' face seemed to change, then. "I didn't want to have to do this." He motioned toward us, and our two local cops started moving.

"Seriously?" I shouted at him, even as Courtney, Lily, and I backed up.

"The town needs these miracles," he proclaimed. "Or else it'll die. You're putting us all in danger with your selfishness."

I looked around for recognition of the absurdity of what he'd said, but the townsfolk were all of one face: angry. My parents were among them, glowering at me with fire. I looked to Courtney and Lily; our community had made one mistake in assigning us our duties: we were fitter than ever.

So, we ran.

The cops tried to get after us, but they had no idea how fast we'd gotten. They tried to chase us a bit, but by the time they gave up and returned to their car, we were long gone. We broke into a house, gathered clothes, bags, and food, and took to the open fields and forests around town. From there, we watched.

Our first fear was that they would use the Angel to find us or punish us somehow. We watched from deep in the trees that evening; when they shouted for retribution, the Angel darkened—not dimmed, but darkened, glowing grey rather than white. Fearful, our neighbors rapidly returned to the Charter schedule, but the figure in the sky remained grey nevertheless.

Seemingly overnight, Malinta changed. Where once we'd been a friendly scattering of houses, churches, a movie theater, and a bar, we were now a territory under siege. Bands of townsfolk gathered together and searched the woods each night for us, at first with just flashlights, but then with guns. The first time I thought we were caught, we instead learned what was happening.

Old man McCree apologized to us when he caught us in his house stealing food. Ellis and the men in charge had begun assigning our old energy duties to others who weren't quite so spry, and when they'd gotten sick and tried to resist, they'd been locked into their homes and only let out at dusk. McCree had tried to say something, but they'd threatened him; when he'd still tried to speak up and cause trouble, they'd killed his dog.

In his house, our movement to fight back began. We set up camp in his basement, no longer at risk of being found in the woods by the armed patrols, and we began sneaking around town at night contacting those we could trust.

By the first of June, we finally found Ryan. He was a gaunt and hollow stick figure, not at all the meathead I remembered, and he seemed bereft of willpower to fight back.

"Come on," Lily told him through the window that night. "We're gonna fix this. We need you to be our guy on the inside."

He nodded weakly, and blood leaked from his nose.

That night, we watched the gathering from McCree's upper windows. The Angel's robes had turned black, and its face was neutral sour rather than benevolent. Two men with rifles slung over their shoulders held Ryan on his feet, and his contribution was a ball of grey light about the size of a car. He passed out after giving, and they carried him away—along with several other horrifyingly thin older men and women.

And their miracle that night? A bigger bank building to handle the increased finances flowing into Malinta, or so Ellis said. Another 'emergency.'

The next morning, three haggard men and one tired woman showed up in the proper spot in the woods. Ryan had told them; he'd done as we'd asked. From them, we learned where the patrols would move the next night, and we staged our first ambush to capture guns. The men were weak and hardly put up a fight—they were only dangerous because of their weapons. Ellis was taking more and more every day, leaving them sick and feeble.

But he'd also purchased a shipment of more dangerous weapons and armed his closest men. By August, the evening ceremony became an army-defended fortress we couldn't even approach to watch. On the fifth of August, they took my parents. Previously, hurting loyal followers had been forbidden, but the community had turned on them as our interference had grown more persistent. Fully half of the captured town had grown bitter, angry, and supportive of our cause, and the other half had gotten desperate. I was convinced there was nothing we could do, but Courtney promised me in private we would fix this, even if she had to die doing so.

It all came to a head on the seventh of August, on a summer night so hot that I thought we all might cook alive before any shots could be fired.

Ellis had my parents tied to poles on Turkeyfoot Avenue where we'd all first met and created something miraculous together; now, he held an assault rifle pointed sidelong at them. "I know you're here, you petulant little shits! Come out and fight like men!"

We waited. According to our contacts, he'd given the same speech the previous two nights. He had no way of knowing if we were actually in the buildings all around him; he'd made them all too large and opulent to defend completely with his army. We crouched among palisades and minarets, watching.

"Come forth, Angel!" he called, turning to our Collective Entity as it appeared for the evening.

Courtney clutched my wrist like an iron vise.

Across the street on another roof, I saw Lily grow as pale as the Goth makeup she used to wear.

Our Entity's gorgeous feathered wings had now become leathered, and it had horns in place of a halo. Its face was furious pock-marked anger, and waves of heat radiated from it; enough to heat up the night. The beast was now a Demon—exactly as we had fashioned it to be, together, all of us.

But none of them could see it. The change had been gradual for them. Only we who had been away for a time could see the difference so starkly.

"It's time to end this idiotic revolt once and for all!" Ellis screamed. "Give, now!"

The men and women below—in chains and ropes—gave what little the guards could beat out of them. Little sparks of grey and black floated upwards; ill will for that which had turned against them.

"Come on, Ryan," I whispered, watching him.

He was just a skeleton with skin, now, but I knew he had it in him. He was a good man at the end of the day. We watched as a new color emerged from his chest—red. Blood red. The ball of blood red was beyond description of size or quality; it was his life, his lifeblood, given to force the issue. He fell to the dirt, dead.

The Demon absorbed that crimson light and began to flail.

"They're here," Ellis said loudly. To the beast above, he screamed, "Burn them out!"

A slow creeping red malignancy did begin to burn, starting at its fingers, but not the way Ellis had hoped; roaring against the pain, the Demon turned its other massively muscled arm and lifted it into a fist. The house closest to the ritual exploded in a massive pillar of flame.

"Jesus Christ," Courtney exclaimed beside me, and the men behind us murmured in fear.

The heat was unbearable, but we retreated down through the building and into a dark alleyway. Could he do it again? Normally there had only been one miracle a night, but it turned out it was easier to destroy than it was to create. The Demon lifted its fist again, and the building across from us exploded, showering cinders and fire across the street.

I held Courtney back as she tearfully tried to run for Lily. "They're dead!"

"Goddamnit, we can't wait any longer!"

She was right. We were outnumbered by far, but we would all die if this continued. I gave the signal, and our army of geriatrics rushed the square from four different directions.

The explosion that had killed Lily had also knocked many of the guards onto the ground, and those at our feet immediately threw down their weapons. The ones closer to Ellis, and more loyal, opened fire, but none of us were hit. We'd been prepared to run into the slaughterhouse and go out fighting, but our circle of old men and women slowed to a stop and lowered their guns as the enemy—

Well, they fired above us.

They were just firing to look like they were shooting.

As we stopped and stood still, they began to lower their weapons, too.

"Do it!" Ellis screamed at them, kicking and hitting his own men. "Kill them! Kill them all! They're endangering our livelihoods!"

We all just looked at each other as a literal Demon hovered high above us, watching with fury. The creeping crimson dissolution that Ryan had gifted it had dissolved one entire arm and was beginning to work on its torso.

"It's over," Courtney said calmly but loudly. "Ellis, we made this thing to put out fires." She waved her hand at the flaming houses around us. "Who cares how rich we all get if the town's burned down?"

"I don't give a shit," he screamed back at her. "I'll just take my money and move, and to hell with all of you!" He grabbed my mother as a hostage and began backing away.

Guns were raised again at that. Oh, yes, they were, with hate. My heart hammered in my chest as the entire community aimed their weapons at Ellis. My pistol shook in my hands.

Ellis laughed at Courtney in particular, since she was closest. "We're the gun nuts around here, honey. Your liberal arts degree doesn't mean sh—"

Her single shot took him in the shoulder; he fell back and loosed one round. She fell, and her second shot on the way down hit him in the gut. On the ground and bleeding, she spat, "Anyone can practice aim, asshole."

My mother ran to my father, and the guards untied them both. Together, they ran to me, and I huddled with my family for the first time in as long as I could remember.

Above us, the Demon was half of what it once was.

Leaving my parents to the safety of my allies, I ran to Courtney and kneeled near her as she began choking on her own blood. Ellis, too, was dying. "It didn't have to go like this," I said, with tears running down my face. "Why did it go like this?"

Ellis laughed despite his pain. "You know, kid, I don't even know anymore. I was content before all this." He pushed blood out his mouth. "I didn't want more until I had a taste of it."

I was already holding Courtney's hand as she bled out, but, on a strange feeling, I grabbed his, too. I turned my head briefly to yell: "Somebody get that parchment! We'll make a new Collective Entity. We'll save them! We have to save them!"

But both Courtney and Ellis shook their heads.

I understand why, now, months later. In some part, I do. But I still don't. I never will. I sat there in the town square until dawn, holding their cold hands until the Demon disintegrated into its last fading red wisps with the morning sun. My parents waited, too, immensely apologetic but not daring to speak for all my tears and silent rage.

Once the light came, folks who still had their houses began posting For Sale signs. One by one, we each moved away. There was nothing left to say; our trust had been broken. There's still a Malinta, Ohio, but it's not the same. The community that once existed is gone. The name is still there, the buildings are still there, and the land is still there, but my home is no more.

But, strangely, it had to happen; better a painful memory than a living nightmare. Be careful what you build together, for the better Angels of our nature don't always remain that way.

Blog FB Tw.

A Short Autopsy of a Career

My hands shook as I hovered over the enter button, a single press of a button to finalize a decision I had been painstakingly going over in my head for months and months. An old toy cow from my previous students’ teacher watched over me in the background, reminding me that if I left, this would be another abandonment of these kids. I started welling up and a pit in my stomach grew. This was not the loving thing to do I told myself over and over again. But I could not go on like this, crying every day as I drove to school, hoping against hope that I would get in a car crash or contract COVID; anything to get out of this. This would be destroy me if I did not get out. So I begrudgingly pressed enter. I sent the email that would burn quite a few bridges. I turned my phone off, afraid of the repercussions,  and walked out the classroom, leaving behind my keys, badge, and pass. I feel isolated and alone, a temporary feeling that will end soon, but that I must weather through. Was I running away from a scenario where I could be loving? Maybe so. And that’s okay. There’s a point where there is a room you need to get out of; a point where you are in the wrong place and you are being told just that by yourself or by god; that you being here is detrimental to yourself and thereby also detrimental to those around you. You belong somewhere else. And for me that was this scenario. (This is actually strikingly similar to another scenario I was in a month or so ago, I truly have been on the wrong path for the past year in so many ways.) “There are doubtless subtle surprises ahead, but I feel secure and ready” -Sam Melville, Letter from Attica, 1961 All of this still feels like I’m making egoic excuses. It feels both right and wrong at the same time. There is this egoic franticness my mind espouses; this obsession with the future (deeply negative in abandoning my students, and deeply positive for going back into the medical/scientific field where I can really grow and make a difference). But there is also this serene sadness; this feeling that I don’t know what’s going on, but deep down this feels like the right, and difficult, move. Maybe that’s god leading me? Specifically that difficulty stems from me actually listening to myself. Me actually putting myself first and letting myself be led by my inner self, rather than bombastically barreling forward with what people expect of me. (This is why I got that gemini tattoo, to remind myself that I have an inclination and tendency to take on other people’s expectations as my own desires; to “twin” everyone I meet. Hopefully it can help me avoid that) It truly is one of the most difficult things to do to surrender and be led. To let go, and really just allow things to happen. To not try to force things. I have talked about this before, but we are indoctrinated from a young age that in order to get anything done we must plan, we must enter any situation fully aware of what the end goal is. We must make ourselves. But that is foolish thinking. We must let go and trust that what is happening is the right thing. It is the only thing that is happening and can happen. There is no other way for the world to exist, so it must be right. Focusing on what could happen and focusing on trying to make things happen is useless and can only bring pain. For even if that future event you planned for happens, which it most likely won’t, the joy is temporary before you go back to “making things happen”. And because you made this future event happen, it wasn’t what was supposed to happen, so it doesn’t fit in with what you’re supposed to do. So sit back, let go, and truly listen to your inner self.  For me, all of this can be applied to teaching. It was something I forced, something I made happen, in order to appease others and for other selfish reasons (better schedule, more vacation, and slightly more money). However, right from the very instant I knew this was not for me. I remember running down the street in the middle of the mid-day Texas heat in July, drenched in sweat, a time whenever I feel most connected to myself and most able to listen to myself, and hearing it so calmly “this is not for you, do not apply for this teaching certificate program”. Then I remember shoving that true and honest guidance to the side with all of these bullshit egoic rationalizations. I should have listened to myself while running. And there were so many other red flags. The whole time I was teaching, and even during the 2 months of training leading up to teaching, everyone close to me could feel this tension. They could feel my inauthentic energy and it led to me closing myself off even more than I normally do. I remember telling my parents when I was accepted into the program, and my dad was extremely supportive, but even more so extremely tentative; saying that this is a good career but it was surprising that I would choose it, because it does not mesh with how he sees me. He has known me for a good portion of my life, and so has a useful perspective on me that I do not have.  That concept of other people having valuable perspective is not something new at all, it is something that is mentioned in the Course in Miracles and also the Bible, unsurprising seeing as they’re related and there’s many ways to speak the same truth. “Where no counsel is, the people fall: but in the multitude of counsellors there is safety”-Proverbs 11:14 “Your day is not at random. It is set by what you choose to live it and how the friend whose counsel you you have sought perceives your happiness. You must always ask advice before you decide on anything.”-A Course In Miracles, T-30:30 Because I made this decision alone, without relying on the input of other people who truly know me and have a useful perspective, I have suffered greatly professionally, emotionally, and relationally. Learn from my mistakes, listen to those around you closely for counsel; and do the same for them, give good, honest counsel whenever you are asked for it, it can save so much unnecessary pain. Anyways, I am growing in this area, and listening to the counsel of others, including my inner self, while also doling out true honesty. And it has brought a sort of tumultuous peace. Tumultuous because it is not comfortable, and I am used to my old ways of barreling forward. But peaceful because deep down I know it is the right thing to do, as I can feel a sense of serenity in my body.

Part 1: Preparing for the worst

I did a POV zombie fanfic. There will be more parts, just have been too lazy to write anything. Craig's POV:

First day of my Senior year and I haven't even seen anyone from town in a week. Visiting my extended family in other states was so tiring. I sigh, wondering who would show their face to me first. Without a doubt it's Clyde, loudly calling my name seemed to call attention of the others.

" Craig! It's been a while man! What's up with the family?"

I shrug, not really wishing to tell them my grandma died. That shit was personal. " Nothing, but being in a car so long left my ass numb..." I could still feel the sting of numbness in my posterior.

Tweek just looked at me intensely and I gave in. " Yes?"

" You forgot to text me yesterday."

"NO!" Clyde gasped " Tell me it isn't true."

Token slapped him for me and I nodded my thanks.

" I fell asleep in the car, when I woke up my phone was dead."

" You left me on read." Tweek crossed his arms, here we go...

I sigh and try to cover up my shame for not replying " I fell asleep before I could finish the text. Ruby finally had shut up for once and I was tired. I don't know what else you want from me."

I must have done a shitty job with it as usual because I can't hide anything from him. Tweek tilted his head and shrugged. " Fine, j-just don't do it again." He huffed and took my hand, leading into the school. " We'll be late if we wait any longer."

That was way easier than last time, last time he accused me of being too busy for him. Whatever makes him happy.

First day goes by fast with introductions and those little 'Get to know you better' papers. Needless to say the only thing I disliked about it was the fact Kenny kept hitting on the younger years. He never means it, he just thinks it's funny to make them confused or blush. Tweek made lunch for us today. He says he'll start making lunch for us every day from now on. I had offered to help him, but he was determined to do it himself. Saying ' I want to suprise you with things dayly.' God damn I love him. His twitching never left him, but instead only happens once in a while per conversation. He stresses about things and it gets worse, but when that happens I'm always there for him. Clyde and Token chose to sit with Stan and his guys, suprisingly the girls are constantly inviting us to their tables. Not that I care much, as long as they don't hit on us. So far Tweek's fitting in with them, his new found sass about things is entertaining to say the least.

On the ride home Tweek sits next to me. " Did you see the way Butters looks at Ken?" Clyde chipped in from the seat infront of us. Dumb ass was on his knees looking over the seat.

" No, why? Is there another gay couple in South Park now?" Craig wondered how this would fair with the fan girls at the school.

" Kenny hasn't been seen kissing ANYONE for the whole SUMMER!" Clyde exclaimed. When was he not loud? Oh yeah, never. I cross my arms and Tweek just looks at Kenny and Butters, Kenny at the back of the bus and Butters up front.

" I don't see them ever interact though." Tweek sounded confused and aprehensive.

" I bet you they fuck." Clyde grinned and that earned a swift galre from Tweek. " We don't talk about those things, it's only going to make things worse for them if we spread rumors like that."

" He's right. Clyde sit down like a normal idiot." Token pulled him down onto the seat.

"Aww! No fair! I'm allowed to have my observations too!" He whined and pouted.

Getting off the bus was harder than usual, somewhere from Stan's place to my own Kyle and Cartman started fighting, they only got more agressive towards one another through the years. Kyle even taking Judo classes so when Cartman challenges him it doesn't take much of anything to knock his ass out. Cartman lost weight over the years, him and Clyde almost weighed the same now. That fact can never be said infront of Clyde however because he starts crying about it. When Kyle kicks him out of the bus and I get off, the bus heads off without Cartman.

" Dumb ass, you never learn to stop fucking with Kyle." I kick him in the side for good measure, then head inside. Red Racer sadly ended when I was sixteen, I have since then watched the whole series twice over from first episode to the last. Today's episodes were more of a filler episode than most. I zone out while watching five or six episodes, so much so I miss dinner and have to heat it up. Mac n' Cheese with Fishsticks and grean beans. Ah how American of them. I smile to myself as I eat the meal. Looking at the clock, it's almost seven. I sigh, at least it wasn't too late. I took my phone out. Three unread text messages, at least one of those was from Tweek. I open the ones from Clyde and Stan first. Tweek's message chills me a bit.

Tweek's POV:

What. What was that? I must have been seeing things, no, no I wasn't seeing anything. That was for sure what the news story was about. The screams of terror and dismay echoed. Zombies? Looking at my phone as I packed as many useful things as possible, I look on as Craig is texting me back finally. " Why do I need to get as much as food and supplies as possible? What's with the weapon reconmendations anyway? Are we playing again?"

" NO! THIS IS REAL!" I shouted as I typed up the same message. " I swear Craig, tell your dad you guys need to meet here at my place. I texted the others to do the same. I'm not kidding, zombies are real!" I scream to myself as I'm set into panic mode. My parents saw the same thing and are trying to get ahold of other parents they know.

" What kind of Zombies though? Like The Walking Dead zombies? Spore Zombies? Fast running ones?"

"WHY WOULD I KNOW THAT YET!?" I feel like this is a lost cause. I should have just told the guys and not the parents. I text him back, fumbling over my own fingers. " I dont know thy dont look like theyr runners."

" Hold on, I'm packing things. Do you think a compound bow is okay for this? I mean, besides that I have a bat."

" Take both, please be careful." I looked out my window as some of the other boys and the parents started for my house.

I get my stuff on, a hiking backpack that I had bought for camping full of useful things and head downstairs. Kids and parents piling in, some of them being made to go upstairs. The parents mainly talking about a plan. Randy seemed to be really into the idea that was being shared, but Sharron and most of the moms hate the idea. I creep my way to the door and flag down Craig as he heads over with his parents and sister Ruby. First thing he does is hug me. There is a time and a place Tucker! I groan and hug him back for a second before leading him inside. Cartman, Kyle, Stan, Kenny, Butters, Myslef and Criag were all together. Clyde, Token, Bebe, Wendy, Jimmy, and Timmy were across the room. The parents were seperating people into groups for travel. The noise the house was under made me shudder, I take a peek out of the window. Oh god. Oh jesus, oh god. No. The zombies were slowly approaching at a steady pace from the graveyard area. I can't say anything but I do manage an "AAAAUGH!"

Craig, bless him, looks out and in a deadpan voice says. " Oh, The Walking Dead zombies. Cool."

I want to strangle him for that but instead I end up making the whole place become on edge. They start ordering us out, this was apparently the plan. We were the B Team. Token, Clyde, Bebe, Wendy, Jimmy and Timmy were the A Team. They got the keys to my family's two cars and were sent off first with supplies. Jimbo supplied everyone with at least two guns. Team B, us, we're sent to both the neighbors houses Kyle won't leave Ike, so he's sent with us. Kyle, Ike, Stan and Cartman take the left. Craig, Kenny, Butters and myself took the right side. Thanks to the fact we're not slow as a group we get into the car. Craig takes the wheel and we're out of town within a few minutes. People I didn't know well in town, they were being eaten or trying to escape the madess. I just closed my eyes and curled up. Craig wouldn't allow me to sit in the back when we piled in, so I had a close up on what was happening. " Damn it... This car only has half a tank." Craig sighed , country roads hard to see, using the headlights on this thing wasn't working. " M-My mom and dad. They Euuggh- always have both tanks filled. Token and Wendy shouldn't have problems." I get a text. Why wouldn't I? Maybe all those movies and TV shows were wrong about the immediate cut of electronics. It was Clyde, thank goodness it was him!

" How are you guys holding up? Wanna meet at that weird off road gas station and talk? Maybe switch team mates? We have Jimmy and Timmy with us, I think both teams should have one. "

" Yeah, s-sure." I look up to Craig. " Clyde wants to meet at that Shell up the road a bit."

" Good, we can talk to them like normal people. Stupid parents..."

"Wait..." I look back at the phone. " Did you ask Jimmy about this?"

"Dude, Jimmy's the one who suggested it! He thinks Timmy should stay with me and Token and he should go to your team." Clyde's words meant he was serious.

At the gas station we made sure no zombies were around, the place was evacuated and there was still food, Token split up what he found between the groups. " Enough for both A and B teams. In case you guys run in with one another." Token was so calm, I wonder how he does it. I get a huge hug from Clyde who looked to be just freshly done with crying. " I'm going to miss you and Craig so much Tweek..." His voice... He was. Talking softly. Clyde. I hug him back and nodd. " We'll miss you guys too, but they sent us in teams for reasons." Token came over with Craig." I heard it was the best way for our survival."

Jimmy headed over from where he was talking to Butters. " BBButters and I ha-have made an agreement. I will svwitch places w-with him."

" I have no problems taking over for him." Butters was arguing with Kenny. " Don't you see it's unfit for them to have two people who can die easily?"

" YOU can die easily!" Kenny groaned and grit his teeth. " Why you though. Why do you have to go."

"Because Tweek and Craig shouldn't be separated."

"We shouldn't be separated Butters! I don't know what I'd do if you died on me." There was desperation in Kenny's voice.

" Then don't die on me, and I won't on you." He smiled and Kenny hugged him.

I bet Clyde couldn't help himself, because the dummy started wiggling his eye brows at me and making weird noises.

" Stop being this way Clyde..." I sigh. " What weapon did you pack, those guns should be a last resort."

" I have a whole thing of tools with me." Token said.

Clyde pulled out a knife. " It was the closest thing."

Butters showed he had a frying pan. " These things hurt real bad."

" It's not about pain it's bout destroying the brain." Clyde chipped in.

" Aww Hamburgers..." Butters kicked the ground with a scuffing noise.

" It's a good enough weapon." I nod in approval.

Craig had his bat on hand. " You already know what I have."

" I d-don't have any weapons but the gggun." Jimmy pointed out.

"Timmeh!" Timmy showed his hands.

" What did you bring Tweek?" Clyde was curiously eyeing him.

He went to the trunk and got out his sword. " I always have it sharpened. I also have a poison dart set I made myself and the ingredents for a few different kinds of explosives. I got them f-from a chemicle website."

I may have said something weird. Did I? Why were they looking at me like I was weird. I put my stuff away.

Craig came over and pat me on the head, something he does on occasion. " That's my boyfriend. Always ready."

I smile for what seems to be the first time tonight since the incident.

Stan's POV:

I take on the role of driver as Kyle uses a local and nationwide map and marks off where we came from and where we're going. Cartman is oddly quiet as he looks out the window and Ike is in his seat playing with one of Kyle's action figures. Not too many Zombies the way we're going, a few cars were on the side of the road, maybe a few accidents here or there, but nothing we couldn't handle. Being in a rush we completely forgot about our other half of our group. Man, I hope they chose a good route or at least something. They had gotten the text that Craig was the driver of the other car and that they had food and water if they could meet. Problem was, when they left in the direction they did, there was like a huge pile up that happened behind them. Not knowing where to go next Stan just started going through small towns.

Kyle took out his phone and called his mom. No answer was an answer on it's own. He got annoyed and turned it off to save battery. " I'm glad I packed these maps.."

"What else did ya pack Kehl?" Cartman had his usual inflection to his voice, but as far as Stan could tell it wasn't like he was taunting the guy.

" I packed four note books, writing utensils, a few books, maps of all over north america, and a chainsaw from my back yard. My dad got it, and never used it. Said it was too loud or some shit. I think I can mod it to be more quiet."

" I gotta go pee!" Ike whined.

" Pull over and let him pee, I'll keep watch." Kyle took out a dagger and Stan pulled over. Ike went right by the car as Kyle instructed and they were on their way in no time. A bed and breakfast was close to where they were and Stan hoped they could sleep tonight, they would need it.

" I think Wendy went this way Stan." Kyle pointed out the street sign that had a purple W and a yellow B on it. "Wendy and Bebe."

YES! Maybe we could sleep after all. I hope Wendy has secured the Inn.

Upon arrival to the Bed and Breakfast, they found cars parked in a manner resembling a fort wall. Wendy took aim at them with a rifle. "Who are you, what do you want, and when are you LEAVING."

Stan parked the car with the lights on so when the four of them got out Wendy could see them. " It's Stan, Kyle, Cartman and Ike. We wanna know if we could crash here. And we'll leave tomorrow."

" Oh you guys! We've been here for nearly an hour setting up." Bebe let them in. " We found a few loners, oh and Shelly."

Shelly was writing something in a book.

" We have room for tonight. I think Bebe and I will stay here, close to town, for a while."

" Yeah, predicting we have about four months of food rations."

" Craig and Token have more food, but they went East." Kyle stated as he lead Ike to one of the rooms that had a cracked open door.

Cartman took the room opposite of Kyle's.

" Stan, what do you think about the groups... Do you think we'll survive?" Wendy looked exausted. The way her hair... and her eyes... It was just... Damn she was hot when she was in charge like that. I had to stop looking at her before I vomited. " I-I think my group can survive, You and Bebe look to be doing fine already. Craig might come into some trouble, but I'm most worried about Token."

" We should have taken Timmy, damn it, I know!" She groaned and face palmed. " We weren't thinking Stan, we left both Jimmy and Timmy with Token and Cyle. Token can handle himself, Clyde is okay, but Jimmy and Timmy?"

I have to calm her down. " Maybe if we meet up with them in the future, we can see if they survived. If that's the case then, you can just ask if one of them wants to join you."

Wendy sighed. " Yeah, thanks. Go turn your car's lights off now..."

I just smile sheepishly and go to get the lights turned off and park the car within the barrier.

Kyle's POV:

Taking out some paper and a pen I start to write. " I think today was possibly the worst day of my life. I can't confirm it yet, but I think my mom at least is dead. She'd never leave a call from me hanging. Besides that, I'm in a group with Cartman. Cartman. God I hate writing that name." I use white out to take out the word 'Cartman' both times. "There, that's better. No more of that name here. I have to think about Ike now. He's far too small for this sort of thing, but it's not like we have a choice. I'm going to teach him how to shoot a gun soon. He needs to know." I sigh and look at my younger brother. " I swear I'll protect you, Ike." He kissed his sleeping head goodnight and turned off the bedside light to lay down for some rest. With Wendy on alert, we should be fine. I trust her.

It was the sun that woke him up, Ike was trying to read a big book. " Kyle! How do you wead... Paernora...."

"What?" I went over, the book was a study on the paranormal. " Oh, paranormal. Like what we thought Zombies were. It's mainly just hypothetical."

Ike tilted his head.

" Big 'What ifs.'" I explain.

" Oh!" He goes back to trying to read. He's going to be smart I think to myself as I look out the window. Stan is already up and helping Bebe with the rigging of barbed wire made from electrical chords.

" Smart move girls. " I say as I head outside, things all packed and Ike in tow.

" Thanks Kyle, you know you guys can stay here if you want. " Bebe offered. "Stan was a big help this morning."

" I think we should all have our separate things. Stan come on, we need to go before it gets too late."

Cartman comes out from his room, not packed and sloppy as hell. " Go get packed asshole we're leaving."

" EH! Don't call me an Asshole! I didn't even do anything yet!"

" Yeah, that's the point. GO PACK." Why do I even loose my temper so badly with him anyway, I used to be able to handle anything he said. Now I just want... No, I want it but I can't say what. That would be admiting to myself that I've givin in. I just glare at him as he mutters to himself and goes to pack.

Clyde's POV:

OMG! It's HAPPENING! Bunny bunny bunny bunny~ I giggle to myself as Butters and Kenny keep their embrace, the others are sorting out what to do and where to go. I mean I could listen in, but I don't want to. Not knowing where we're going is basically what an adventurer strives for. And in all honesty, I have to keep this an adventure because what it really is, is killing me inside. I'm left without my Bro and Tweek. It's not fair! Token treats me like a kid too, and while that's good in some cases like an extra juice box, it SUCKS in other cases! I hear my name and tune into their channel. " Clyde and I should trade places as well. I can't leave Butters."

No. Freakin. WAY! I looked at Tweek and Craig with my signature puppy dog eyes.

" Are you sure Kenny, we could need you man. You're crafty."

"They have Timmy, if Timmy's wheelchair gets broken or stops working for some reason. I can carry him. Clyde can't."

I stop begging. What? How dare he. I can SO carry Timmy. For like a block.... And then... Nevermind, it's true they need him.

" No, you take Clyde." Tweek looked at me. " I think he's better off with you."

" Then I'm leaving you guys for Butters."

Craig frowned. " That's not even though. How will Tweek and I take care of Jimmy?"

I sigh. " It's okay. I'll stay with Token."

Token broke appart Kenny and Butters and took Butters to his car. Craig taking Kenny, who faught with him about it, back to thier car.

I take a last glance at my friends as we depart down a fork in the road. I hope Token has orange juice...

aaaaaaaaAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!

super agitated.

i woke up on time but i felt super sleepy and exhausted for some reason. my dreams were... hmm.

i was having an ok dream. actually not much was going on. i think i was in the Crowded Airport. i was so relieved to not have murder and blood happening again that i hopped out a window and started flying around. there weren’t even power lines to get tangled in. i said hello to some people i flew by and they didn’t chase me or kill me.

i ended up in an attic i have visited before. i’m not sure why it was on my mind. maybe i just needed something to ruin my night. the club there had a new game set up. i don’t think it’s new, i seemed to remember the rules, but they seemed interested in me playing it so i said ok, i think. 

the game didn’t have a name in the dream but i am pretty sure if it had a name it would be called “deal with the devil.” 

in order to beat the game you had to make sacrifices. but they weren’t yours. you had to sacrifice things from people close to you. there was a big flyer i found by the exit door that proclaimed a wonderful hat prize if you just gave up your baby’s sentience!

i wasn’t sure if these were real life consequences or not but the idea was repulsive to me, especially with the diagram showing how the transaction kind of went down. the hat was made of cotton and bones and was ten feet high and had puffs and sharp edges. also ghastly. there were other achievements you could get for giving up other things from your baby. i inferred you could give up things from friends or parents or colleagues too.

the whole world was dark and there were no street lights or moonlight or starlight. the colors were dull and everything looked the same. it took me forever to find the exit door and then i couldn’t get through because i wasn’t willing to give up anything that wasn’t mine.

i did run into one other person playing the game. they had the bone tower hat. i didn’t ask. honestly i’m not sure if they were real or a part of the game. they didn’t move, they just sat near the door in their giant kind of terrifying hat.

eventually i either got through the door or remembered i was playing a game and stopped. the person running the game wanted either my money or for me to stop interrupting his turns. i didn’t realize it was a turn game. 

i played one more round. it was... with him, i think? i had a better handle on the layout and didn’t stray far from the door once i got back to it. i asked him to meet me somewhere i was familiar with, and then i woke up because my alarm went off.

i thought it was interesting that the game was asking you to give up unquantifiable qualities of other people. sentience. opportunities. health. happiness.

i think the fancy hatted person sitting near the door was a mother. she may have been my mother. i’m not sure. it’s just a possibility. all i know is that she was sitting on a wall and not moving.

the image of a blank person sitting on a blank wall against a blank dark sky stuck with me though. everything had that color things get under old street lamps but with no variation.

i’m not really sure what made the hat so terrible to look at. maybe what had to have happened to get it? maybe the fact that it looked so bizarre and unnatural? out of context it’s hilarious but also still morbid with the bones.

so i was thinking about that in the shower. then i got out of the shower late. i wasn’t late to class though!!

but i noticed i was really, really tired today. like “can’t stand up for one whole lab period” tired, when i don’t normally need breaks during the first 2-hour period. my knees and ankles and feet felt swollen and stiff. my back hurt a lot too.

that exhaustion kept me quiet and slow all day. biking downhill to get to the drc after my classes was even tiring. and all you have to do is coast!

my meeting with danielle went ok. we developed more options for what could happen if i dropped e&m. a professor i really like teaches it in the summer actually so i wouldn’t even be TOO far behind if i did drop this and next semester... i’m just worried about what might happen on the prelim, as i think i mentioned yesterday.

we dove a little bit into my family history and i explained why i don’t really like going home on school breaks but i do anyway. i talked about why i don’t talk to dad any more, for the last (almost) four months. 

it was like this with jim too, a little bit. for the first few weeks you kinda hope... and then you realize it’s never going to happen. they will never reach out. and if they won’t reach out then i don’t want to bother with them anyway! go stub your toes.

i told suzanne yesterday that my parents have “earned my not-love.” and that’s true. i would have liked to love them, maybe, twenty years ago. but now... they are not worth my time or energy. i don’t just have to “get to know them better.” i have known mother for my whole life. i see how she treats me, and my siblings, and my dad, and her parents and her brothers, and other people. mom thinks she’s a manager but really she just has to be managed around. 

and dad... i guess the anger feels more like betrayal even though the red flags were totally there. i wanted to give him a chance. i gave him so many chances. even after i got choked that one time... i’m angry with myself for trusting him long enough for him to break it like that.

i’m angry with myself for trusting jim long enough for him to break it like that.

it’s a fresh hurt. dad’s. compared to mom’s, at least. mom hurt me a long time ago. i still have to tell myself that was real. telling the stories is like, of course that happened, but when i sit and think about it the memories are so distant and disjointed... my sister and i were always alone with her, no one stepped in for us, i got bullied at school, mom amplified our weaknesses and blamed them on the other sister... 

dad hurt me in front of everyone. and no one did a single thing about it. and when i said he hurt me they still didn’t do anything.

no one’s ever gonna step in. no one’s ever gonna stick up for me. i have to do all that myself. i had to learn how to do all that myself. i wasn’t very nice as a kid. i didn’t know how to be. i had never really had any source of “niceness” in my life that lasted more than a year or came from more than a single person i saw like an hour a week. 

and i continued to not have it regularly until like three years into high school. 

it’s. hard. being let down all the time. i don’t know why i get my hopes up. i’m kinda stupid like that.

danielle helped me. i didn’t know about the care area. she sent them to me. she apologized during our meeting today. said it was protocol from my risk factor or whatever. but i’m not mad about that.

after my meeting with her i went to a coaching session with her and another drc person. one other student showed up. their name was autumn. i was expecting a larger group and was kind of awkwardly sipping my soup off to the side of the table while the other three talked. i burned my mouth and then i burned it again every sip after that. danielle watched me struggle with it. she might have thought i was making faces about what autumn was saying about physics classes. but it was the Powerful thermos keeping my soup boiling hot all day.

it was after 3 and i hadn’t been able to eat since 9-ish this morning.

i learned about a thing called overjustification. it is when you are intrinsically motivated toward a goal, but some external motivation is introduced that sucks the joy out of whatever was intrinsically motivating you. grades will do that. and it’s a “punishment for failure” type of motivation so it’s not even a positive one.

i was so tired afterward that i ended up on the wrong side of the road trying to get back to the office. i crossed the crosswalk, looked around confused, got off the bike, rubbed my face, got back on the bike, went BACK across the crosswalk, and rode in the bike lane on the right side of the road. the woman at the bus stop next to the crossing stared at me the whole time.

i didn’t feel better after i got back to the office. i continued snacking but i was just too tired for food to help i guess. i couldn’t get focused for two and a half hours. then at 6:50 suzanne told me that john had moved our tutoring session back to 7:30. i said i didn’t want to stay on campus that long because i had run out of food and had to bike home. also it was cold today and it was already getting dark outside.

i dicked around with harrison for a while before taylor told us to knock it off or leave. harrison left to try to get home before the sun went down and i told taylor to get some rest and then headed home myself. getting up the hill suuuuuuuucked.

when i got home i let snoopy watch me hide all her cookies and then i brushed her for a bit. i made mac and cheese for dinner but it didn’t make me very happy. and i didn’t do the dishes tonight... might tackle them before bed. i will try.

i didn’t do any homework this evening either. i guess i was just too tired to focus. i didn’t even check my 9 o’clock updates until 9:55. i’m really worried about the grading... and the test tomorrow, which i neglected to do any review for today. i’m just so busy that these breaks kinda just happen...

something good... i dunno, man. is it better to pull yourself up by your bootstraps or to make use of all your available tools? is it braver to go it alone or admit you need help? is it smarter to flail through the help system or to wait until you know what you need?

i can’t answer that. maybe there isn’t an answer. maybe it’s not up to me to answer. maybe it is.

asking what the meaning of life is. all these confused people wondering what the point of it is. life is about whatever you want it to be about. but figuring out what you want it to be about is a process and depends heavily on how much you know about yourself i guess.

i’m struggling there because i’m not sure if i want it to be about anything at all. 

when i pop into the living room i see a few less cookies around each time. snoopy found the ones on the windowsill but not on the back of the couch two inches away from the windowsill. she also found the ones on the lower perch of her bed again.

i love snoopy. but i still miss eve. mom always says she’s doing pretty well. i am glad she is able to enjoy life without me. i guess she kinda has to since i’ve never lived at home more than a year at a time for her entire life.

i think we are both waiting to see each other again though.

i don’t really have anything else to talk about i just don’t want to sleep. it just feels like a lot to tackle right now. i guess i’ll try to get up after this song ends and spend 2 minutes washing out the thermos. i think i can do that.

I started writing this months ago…

My life has changed a lot since packing everything I owned in my sedan and moving across the country from Colorado to California on October 27, 2018. Since my move, my focus has completely shifted from a deep focus on my social life going to events, concerts, and parties pretty much 24/7 to dolphin diving deeper into what I believe is my SOUL WORK. I have found myself starting to seriously asking myself the question – WHAT IS IT THAT MY SOUL WANTS ME TO DO WITH THIS LIFE??

Why is it that I have spent YEARS of my life promoting shows? What about me has learned to accept this #ProductionBabe life of richly rewarding experience yet very little pay? The truth? After careful contemplation, it seems the foundation and mission of my business needs to be revisited, rewritten and reborn. I suppose this is “natural” for someone who is 26 and only 7 months in to being “fully self-employed”. All the cards say that self-employment is my magic path. Yet I will admit, sometimes the thought of a “normal job” with health benefits, a 401K, and other ruby red perks seems tempting.

I really never thought about or “planned” to become a digital concert marketer or event promoter. I am just a live music lover, a born and raised #Austin girl who ended up in the right place at the right time. As a freshman in College I started my journey in the streets of Denver in 2011 when #Colorado was on the brink of marijuana legalization and about to “blow up” as the “electronic music capitol of the world”. I started out as a street team member for AEG Live Rocky Mountains, promoting Avicii shows and other huge EDM names like Bassnectar. As my work ethic, network, and passion for live music and EDM grew, so did my opportunities to promote and work with music industry organizations like Cervantes Masterpiece Ballroom, ARISE Music Festival, SONIC BLOOM, Bus To Show,  The Black Box and several others.

While I LOVED working and living in Colorado I had something of a “spiritual awakening” after my house burned down on 2/6/16. Ever since, I have been more focused on rebuilding and redesigning my life for maximum balance and harmony. Harmony with spirit, harmony with the earth, and most importantly harmony with myself. This refocus of my energy and intention guided me to ALOHA Kaua’i YOGA & PEACE Festival in Kauai, HI. Through this event I met a group of special people that have changed my life completely. One of them, connected me to my last job working with the producer of Mayan Heart Festival.

Mayan Heart Festival was a beautiful concept and well intentioned by the original lead producer. When I first met the team I got that little inner “ding” that let me know I was in the right place for the right reasons. I started working on the event the week I moved to California. It was the first week in November 2018 and I was initially committing about 20+ hours a week to the festival. The amount of work to be done between November 1st and the first day of the festival December 20th was enormous. The scope of the job spanned across every different aspect of my experience in events production. There was also a lot of aspects of the festival I was never talked to about or ever “questioned” as I was lead to believe by the producer verbally and energetically that “everything was taken care of”.  While I noticed some “red flags” about what was happening with the core production team and lead producer right away, I decided to continue anyway. I felt inspired to help accomplish the “mission” no matter what. I had also just moved across the country and really needed the job/paycheck and loved the overall concept for the event. The lineup and marketing materials made the festival “look” really good.

Unfortunately, the reality of what Mayan Heart Festival advertised and what was actually produced and presented were worlds apart. This effected almost every aspect of the events production and significantly challenged our tiny team of unprepared staff in many different ways. Without getting into the details about what exactly went “wrong” I will say just a few words about my own personal experience.

One of the major challenges of this experience was that I was very clearly discriminated against for not speaking Spanish. A deep ancestral wound that dates back generations considering my grandmother was born in San Jose, Costa Rica and grew up speaking Spanish. When she immigrated to America she was forbidden from speaking Spanish due to discrimination in the public school she was attending. I have always wished I could speak Spanish and despite many classes and opportunities to learn, it just hasn’t ever fully “clicked” for me. When I confronted the producer about why he had hired a only Spanish speaking box office ticketing company for the Mayan Heart, which had primarily Americans and English only speaking attendees, he said something to the effect of “IT IS YOUR FAULT FOR NOT SPEAKING SPANISH”. As you could imagine, this took the wind out of my sails and caused me to lose a lot of respect for him.

Instead of following my initial gut reaction to quit working completely in that moment I continued to work hard and help the event in anyway I could. I clearly communicated this “burn” to him and let him know how I felt about what he said in hopes that it would help me feel better to get it off my chest, but I still felt sick about it.

For the 1st time in my career working events I was stiffed to the tune of just under $5,000. The producer did not pay me for any of the time I spent working to produce the festival on-site starting on December 13th a full week prior the the festival start. He also failed to pay my fathers company approximately $3500 for the merchandise that he purchased through me and sold at the event. Causing a riff not only between myself and the production but also between my father and I. The raw cost of the merchandise was taken directly out of my Dad’s paycheck and set him back financially in a major way. To put this in more perspective: my dad has been helping me with merchandise like t-shirts and stickers for my projects since I was on the swim team at 8 years old. To my knowledge we have never be ripped off like this before.

Additionally, I was not fully paid for the 17 tickets I sold through the festival affiliate program. I was also blatantly lied to and lead to believe that the festival had an investor to pay the artists they booked, this was obviously not true as I have inside information that many of the artists still have also yet to be paid. I do not and cannot support stealing and blatant false advertising/lies. I also do not support the concept of someone selling tickets to another “purification” event when they haven’t paid for the 1st event they produced. I am not sure if “purification” event even ever happened as I wasn’t invited to help or work on the event at the event in any capacity.

Believe it or not, this blog post isn’t about bashing a project I put a lot of time, energy, and heart into. This blog post is to celebrate and say I have fully recovered emotionally from the deep depression that this painful experience sent me spiraling into.

The point of this post is to say A BIG THANK YOU for the countless hours of love and support I received from THE AMAZING TEAM OF PEOPLE WHO I MET AT THE EVENT who continued to work hard despite many intense psychological, physical, and emotional “tests” of faith.

I have chosen to leave names out of this post but I feel the people who this thank you is directed to will know in their hearts.

I bow at your feet humbled and grateful for the love and support you showed me in this challenging transformational experience. 

The result of this experience sent me thinking about “quitting” the music industry and getting a “real job” very seriously. After talking to several friends who work in events production and hearing stories of similar things happening in other productions, I had the heart to finally let it go.  I have fully accepted now that in life and in business we sometimes experience “failures” as part of the process. I prefer not to think Mayan Heart as a failure, a financial failure maybe, but I have chosen to think of it more like that quote, “either you win or you learn”, this experience I learned a lot from. I am grateful for the opportunity to learn, for the connections I made, and for all of the experiences I had that ultimately made me a stronger person.

I am excited so say we are coming up on the next event I have been helping to promote called Portal to the New Earth gathering in Joshua Tree, CA! I am SO EXCITED to be heading to that May 3-5th.

Limited Tickets are available and I would LOVE to see you there!

Such abundant gratitude today to you for reading this!

Live in BLISS, LOVE, AND TRUTH,

Brielle Bataille

    Expanding into the truth, photos and a note to Mayan Heart Festival for the many lessons learned. I started writing this months ago... My life has changed a lot since packing everything I owned in my sedan and moving across the country from Colorado to California on October 27, 2018.

9/11/17 – No Contact:  In the Dumps

It’s the next day.  Doesn’t feel good.  Still hurts. I saw the new episode of Rick and Morty.  Three times.  It was… moving.  Strange episode.  Maybe we’ll see it sometime. Right now, I’m up thinking up book titles.  I was thinking about it and I don’t like the current title, so I need a new one.  One that’s easier to pronounce.  Might include a colon.  No, not a butthole. ��One of these => :

Sort of like “Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone.”  Technically no colon but the “and” is supposed to be the colon.

I’m doing some edits.  Starting on chapter 1 again.  I switched the order from Avdotya, Sarvar, Atlas, Diego to Avdotya, Atlas, Sarvar, Diego. The purpose of this is because the colors are now Green Red Yellow Blue which the seasons are Spring Summer Autumn Winter.  They colors are coded better, I think.  Of course, there is red in Autumn but… it didn’t feel right to have Atlas as Autumn.  So, he’s summer. Might have included this more recently.  I don’t know when I thought to associate them with seasons.

Anyways, I also made the cover.  I hope you like it.  I drew the eyes myself. Years ago.  I took a picture I drew and cut out the eyes and then edited it so it’d look better with the background which is green. The next book will have a red cover.  I think I’ll have a cannon on that one.  Or a sword.  Maybe a guy in a kilt, idk yet.  The third book with Sarvar will have a horse.  Diego, idk yet.  He might actually be the cannon.  The final book will have a series of headstones on it.  Or something to represent the end of the book and the war.  Might have the outline of a flag, draped and torn.  I’ll see. Still depressed btw.  I’m in a terribly mood.  Didn’t exercise yesterday but I will have to today.  I don’t intend to message you, so I’ll be fine.  Going to do a dump run later today, so I have to get out of bed regardless.  Thing is, I’ve been doing all the work thus far (currently 4 am) without that attend pill.  I think later, I’ll take that pill and get started.

I suspect I can get a lot done.  I want to go through your notes, too. I’m trying to also remember that there needs to be more action (your advice).  Now that I’ve written it down, it’ll be easier to remember.  I want to add more substance to Sarvar and Atlas.  Ironic that they’re the two that got switched and they need reworking.  A lot of attention on them. I need to change the setting of the duel.  I can’t remember, but it’s supposed to be winter.  So that means there’s snow in London’s streets.  Or something, idk. I really should start setting dates.  I have some frame of references (such as Avdotya’s birthday being in summer and the escape of that British general from Sweden) so I’ll have to work with the time frame just enough to get prepared for the next book.  Unfortunately, I didn’t start early in 1808 but in the middle.  D’oh! I’ll make it work.  These years were chaotic.  1809 was really Chaotic too.  Thing is, Diego has to be in three battles and one of them is a siege.  After that, he gets exiled from Spain.  Atlas will be in several of those battles but will also be in a few others himself. Probably the most.  In fact, it’s basically everyone gets in battles… The thing is, Diego is technically a commander where as Atlas is a line officer.  Avdotya and Sarvar are frontline troops.  Thus, the perspective of the battles vary from individual soldier to full field scenario.  Avdotya has some super dramatic moments.  I’m exited to write about her.  I love the snow and most her battles are in the snow. I got an idea.  That sea battle.  I should rewrite the chapter to make Atlas a part of the marines on one of the Swedish ships.  More action, right?  That’d be great to.  He’d mostly be standing around and firing when they’re close enough.  That’s a good idea. No one is around to tell me it’s bad so it must be good! ACTION!!!

I also need to explain Diego’s halberdier usage a bit more.  I meant to imply he was using it like a bayonet but I can’t seem to remember if I mentioned that.  Minor thing, can get fixed easily.

Six in the morning.  I just finished creating the covers for the first two books and the bases for the other three.  I don’t want to use too many pictures from the internet (using one thus far for the second book) because I can get sued for using certain images.  That said, I’m going to need to send a picture of a horse to someone to get it on my computer.  Then I can use the image of the horse on the third book.  Halberd could be on the third and the final book will have something just… disheartening.  I don’t want to use a cross but I do want to use headstones.  Then again, that might be too on the nose.  I’ll work on it. Today is Jonny’s birthday. I’m not going to message him though.  Might not have to go to the dump, either.  Because… 9/11.  Government Memorial Day.  Meaning probably won’t be open, idk.  I’m going to use it as an excuse to stay home and not fret.  I’ll end up sleeping here soon.  When I do, I’ll wake up and take my vitamins/pills, do my sets of 25, and then get started editing the book.  I like the new title.  I removed the “The” because I hate how it sounds.  So now it’s… Now that I think about it, I’m fairly certain I won’t be able to be distributed in schools.  Which is fucking DUMB.  Whatever, it’s not hairy butter anyways.  It’s SHATTERED ERA!!!  An era that’s shattered!  WHAAAAAAAAT?!?  SO SUCCESSFUL!!! I hope it is. Honestly, if I write these books and I don’t make it then I don’t know what I’ll do.  Probably kill myself. Not joking, you know how I was with this first book.  You had to blackmail me so I wouldn’t.  Right now, I’ll set a goal.  Second book by the end of 2018.  Series completed by 2020.  That’s my goal and if I fail, I’ll probably kill myself.  I’m taking myself hostage and I’m getting results. I can do it.  I think I could finish the second book by the end of the year if I really tried.  That’s if I didn’t have to edit my current book… I have a lot to do, unfortunately.  So, good thing I set the second book for next year. I want to be a published author by the time I’m 30. I feel like there is a lot of pressure on me.  There is.  There has always been.  I’ve got some push now.  I just need to know where those Attend pills come from and I’ll be set.  Optimism.  :D

Fuck. The dump is still open.  So, in about three hours I have to leave and then I have to meet my dad and mom at the Kopper Kettle.  I’ve shown my mom the cover I made.  She likes it, I think.  Mostly, she just started nagging me about how I need to register my book.  I told her I had to finish editing it first and then she told me I should take an English class. I don’t want schooling.  I don’t think I need it.  It’d probably help but the thing is, I’ve been out of high school since I was 17.  Then I tried community college and dropped out.  There was too much pressure in the household at the time and I felt like I wasted my time.  Haven’t gone since.  I’ve actually avoided it as much as possible. I sent the final work to Adela. I think she’ll like it too.  Currently 6:30 so… it’s time I got some sleep.  At least for two hours.  I’ve been running on so little sleep lately, it’s crazy.  I’ll try to update when I get back from the dump. Kiki is super cuddly right now.  I was holding her and she was loving it. I don’t think she minds being held, provided she’s not upside down.  That’s the problem.  We humans do that automatically because babies are held belly up.  Cats aren’t babies though.  Well, KIKI IS but she isn’t a human baby. That said, I finished the covers for all the books.  Might get sued, fairly certain I will. However, I might be able to pull it off because I edited the images A LOT so they’ll have a hard time proving it’s theirs.  That said, I used eyes for Avdotya, a sword for Atlas, a helmet for Sarvar, a Grenadier badge for Diego, and a rose for the final book (called Perdition).  Perdition also has a white cover to represent a world without color which is would be appropriate for the ending I want. HOLY FUCK!!!  I got a price quote for editing my book by a professional editor.  $4000.  Shit, Dude, I’m in the wrong business.  I should become a book editor.  That is a CRAZY amount of money for something so simple.  Christ.  x.x

Alright, getting ready to go.  I’ll message you when I return.  Love you. <3

That… went poorly.  I got sad at the beginning of the journey when I tried to put on the hat and realized it was too small because you wore it last.  Then I got really sleepy.  It was weird, I wasn’t that sleepy until I was driving.  Might have something to do with those Attend pills?  Idk. Along the way, the tarp ripped.  Then the rope that held the tarp down ripped.  Then it ripped again.  And again.  I had such a hard time, I had to go recollect garbage that had flown into the middle of the road.  I lost my temper again.  I hit my truck so hard, the dash came loose.  Then I hit my truck again while I was fighting with the garbage.  Left a dent. Once I got to the dump, there was a long line.  The lady working the cash register was in training.  It was also Monday meaning garbage built up over the weekend so people are dumping more today than any other day. I got up to the spot, but there wasn’t enough room. Or at least, there wasn’t enough room that I was comfortable with because the rear window was blocked and I couldn’t see so I couldn’t back up safely.  I didn’t have anyone to guide me either.  Really could have used a wingman today.  :/ So… I waited.  Decided it’d help.  I was shaking, I was so upset and frustrated.  I know it doesn’t sound good but I had to collect myself.  Thus, Facebook and waited for room.  Eventually, space opened up and I threw everything away.  The tarp, the cans, the garbage.  Everything.  It didn’t matter what, it was gone. On the way back, I felt… ashamed that I had gotten so upset.  My hand still hurts.  However, today was not easy and it hasn’t been easy at all lately.  You don’t exactly do wonders for my self-esteem right now.  I’m just stressed… frustrated… and this is my only outlet.  On the way back, this was all I was looking forward to. Originally, I was going to go to McDonald’s as I do when I stressed… but lifestyle change.  I wanted a Frappe.  That is basically nothing but sugar.  I considered getting a green tea, but also nothing but sugar.  I decided to just drive home.  My rage had turned to sorrow.  Began to recant everything I did to lose you.  I really don’t deserve a second chance.  :/ I left at 9 and I started writing at 12.  That’s too much time for what I did. My dad just got back.  Not sure from what, but he’s calling me.  I’m not in the mood for it, though.  Allen is also over.  I’m not in the mood for that, either.  My mom wanted to talk to me, but I don’t want to expose myself to Allen right now.  I just need some quiet time to myself.  I’ve had a very rough day and my dad and Allen are the last people I want to talk to right now.

I thought it went well.  Apparently not.  I wonder if those book covers are going to bomb or get me in trouble somehow.  My mom suggested I use her eyes so I wouldn’t get hit with a copyright suit.  I had to tell her that I drew those eyes myself.  Kind of proud of that.

I need new shoes, too.  There are goat heads in them.  Also, they’re literally falling apart.  I was thinking about that as I waited. Started thinking about how we used to go to the mailbox and back and you said I needed shoes that supported me.  You also said we’d get them eventually.  Unfortunately, we didn’t last much longer than that.

I’m afraid of you reading this journal… after everything I’ve said, you’re bound to hate me more.  Why am I trying?  Everything I do ends up a colossal failure.  Speaking of failure, an old business associate of mine died yesterday.  He was 54 years old. Before you feel bad, know I didn’t know him that well and when I first met him he was unprofessional and out of line.  I didn’t have much respect for him but it was weird because everyone else did.

That’s life.  The worst people become successful.  When you try your hardest, you just end up losing yourself.  I wasn’t this bad.  My rage wasn’t so bad.  My depression wasn’t so bad. Ugh… I’m going to stop talking for a little while.  And by that, I mean I’m going to hate myself a bit and associate with my dad and Allen. Fucking fantastic.  Ugh, my neck hurts and I don’t know from what… I realize this as I’m about to stand up.  Again, rough day.  Brb ><

Literally the first thing my dad did was shit on me.  Gee, thanks.

On the way here I nearly drove into oncoming traffic.  Or at least, I was afraid I would have.  I’m not in a good place right now.  Glad I’m leaving.  Of which, I’m leaving on the 30th of this month.  My dad is calling me again.  Appropriate timing to emphasize my point of why I hate it here.

I want to die.  But I can’t.  Not yet.  I wish I could just be left alone for a minute.  I need to escape.

I also need to go to the bathroom but I won’t until Allen has left.

He left.  My dad got me… popcorn balls.  I had to tell him that I cut sugar out of my diet.  He means well.  Of course, he’s also a dick too like previously mentioned, but he means well most of the time.

My mom asked me to move the mirror to the other room.  She told me that she got it for herself but thought that you’d need it more.  I don’t know why but that makes me really sad.  Today is not a good day for me.  My emotions are on a hair trigger right now.  I wish you were here.  I really need you right now.

You hate me for trying… for trying to reconnect.  For trying to get what we once had.  I wish you’d just hear me out.  Fuck me for trying.  Fuck me for doing anything.  I can’t succeed in anything.  Why am I still trying? Ugh… I’m overly emotional.  I’ll stop rambling and spare you my self-pity.  ><

I’ve been having vivid dreams lately.  You were in this one but it wasn’t too important.  It mostly dealt with my rage so it’s for me to remember how it happened.

It’s 11:35.  I woke up like an hour ago thinking it was the next day.  Was getting ready to name this entry and start the next.  I was hearing music and footsteps outside my door and I was just hoping it would go away and I was convinced I was losing my mind. Turns out, my dad is still up.  I feel a little dumb.  Go figure, eh?  I expected it to be like 4 in the morning or something.  I was trying to go back to sleep because I have this kink in my neck that just won’t go away. I feel better today.  I think I was asleep since about 1:30pm?  Hard to say, my last activity was recorded at about 1.  I’m still sleepy, but if my guess is correct, I’ve got a full 8 hours plus another half hour.  Thats if I had to guess, though.

I hate flying by myself.  I asked to leave on the 30th so I could have a chance to see you again.  Ever hopeful, am I right? I wish you could go with me.  It’d make things easier for me.  We could drop you off at Shane’s and I could go back to Adela’s and you could go back to ignoring me.  God, this sucks.  >< There’s just… nothing I can do.  And I’m fairly certain after reading this entry at least, you’ll be convinced not to see me ever again. Not been a good day, not been a good entry.  Regardless, if you still get a chance to read this then you’ll read everything.  All 17,888 words thus far.  Hrm, seems numbers don’t count as words. Whatever…  Only 20 minutes left in the day.  I’ll stop writing for now and get the next entry prepped.  I love you.  Be safe.  <3

Well today was kind of chaotic and tiring but still okay. I wasn't a lazy ass and got out of bed, but was consequently dragging all day lol. Alarm went off at 7:30, I got out of bed and scrambled to get ready because the bus was due to come at 8:01 and the next wasn't until 8:21 and I wasn't waiting for that shit (I usually take 35 minutes to get ready). Made the bus and was on my way to church. On the way, I checked my email to find two people saying they were sick and couldn't come to the 11 o clock service to work in the nursery, which was the only service that had vaguely enough people signed up and I was planning on going to the actual service during but that may have to be put on hold. Lovely lol. Got to church shortly after 9 so I could help with the transition between the 8 and 9:30 services since the 9:30 tends to be the biggest. I talked to the other girl in charge and sent out an SOS email asking for anyone to come to serve if they can, lol. Thankfully a few people showed up for the 9:30 so we were covered. I'm gonna gush a lot about adorable babies now, you have been warned. The 9:30 was fairly okay until like halfway through, then all hell broke lose because there was 4 of us and 16 babies running around, and they in groups they tend to have a chain reaction crying effect, lol. I just mainly tended to the non-walking babies in their little seat things, keeping them entertained by whatever objects I could find, which seemed to work well. I took a little girl from her dad at the start and she didn't cry or anything but just kind of hung on to me, and then 2 minutes later when I tried to put her down to grab another baby she immediately started sobbing haha like okay I guess I'm gonna be with you for most of the service, so I did. I eventually got her off my lap and just next to me, but she still protested when I left. But it was mostly fine for me at least. Towards the end of the service one of the ladies that had served with us before that I hadn't seen since she gave birth several months back comes in and claims one of the adorable babies I've been entertaining this whole time, who I had no idea was hers haha but she was so very cute. She ended up serving at the 11 so they stuck around. Other than that I spoke to the lady I saw at the DV clinic that one time with her 6 month old, and she started telling me about how her daughter had just started like, making sounds again after it stopping completely after she started visitation with her father in December, so of course that was a major red flag because that's an obvious reaction to trauma in a child that young, so we started talking about the custody case and I'll say, this probably sounds kind of silly coming from the person who works in child abuse and neglect court, but custody court is nasty. She has a GAL assigned to the case, but not from OPG, some private attorney hired by the court (OPG has a domestic relations division for such custody cases, it's where my spring break friend is working) and apparently this lady just doesn't care at all. Like she told her everything that had been happening and how concerned she was and the lady was just well like you have to keep taking her even though the dad had been violating the terms of the visitation order and everything, and like, ugh, that's so awful. One of the reasons I say custody court is nasty is because of how claims of abusive parenting are handled, or more accurately not handled- because more often then not if a parent makes an abuse allegation and uses it as a reason (or "excuse") to keep the child from the other parent the court will then use that as evidence against the concerned parent and give custody to the potentially abusive parent without looking into the credibility of the claims at all, which has had some very problematic results I'm sure you can imagine. And it sucks because in the abuse and neglect system reports coming from a parent against another when there is custody going on are almost never actually investigated, because there's a strong assumption they're just trying to use it against the other (I wouldn't be able to tell you the stats on fake vs real calls in that arena but there has to be real claims that are being ignored and that's not okay). So like, if you're a parent in this situation that's really concerned for your child, what do you do? You can't really do much. I told her to of course comply with the visitation order as much as possible even though that really sucks, because the court will take any evidence of resistance there as proof against your parenting ability. And otherwise, just document everything (which is the same thing I say to my clients at the DV clinic), like if she comes back from a visit doing something in particular, or God forbid a bruise or cut or something, document it and date it. That has to be such a horrible situation to be in, to feel that powerless over being able to protect your child. I know she has a lawyer actually from the DV clinic and I'll be there tomorrow along with my spring break friend so I told her I would ask my friend if there was anything else she could really do. My heart just really went out to her, because that's really such disturbing behavior out of a child that young you don't want to contemplate what could've been the cause of it (I didn't say this because I didn't want to plant that seed of horrific worry in her mind, but it did cross my mind that it could be the result of sexual abuse, but that's only one possibility of many). Anyway. As people started transitioning out of the 9:30 and into the 11 o clock service several more volunteer showed up, so that was good to see. I was handed a baby that was either crying or sucking on his bottle very determinately, so I tried to keep it the second haha and he was like closing his eyes but still drinking and I think he just got to sleep as his parents came, but then I couldn't stand up without waking him lol oh well. The 11 had just started at that point and we had a fair amount of volunteers, so I went down to the service, which was good. Starting a new series, called something like "the power of yes" or something like that and it started with a presentation by team world vision, a branch of the ministry world vision that I'm very familiar with (I sponsor a child through them) and they work with people to run marathons across the country to raise money for world vision and they've been very successful in raising money so far, and were trying to recruit people, so the pastor kind of worked that into his message about saying yes to God and how when we say yes it's the way that will lead you into new promises and possibilities God has for you that otherwise would never be discovered, it was good! One of the ladies at the 11 later told me she had gotten my SOS email right as the pastor was talking about "just say yes" so she was like okay I will! Haha so I appreciated that. After the service I went back upstairs, the lady who had just had a baby was just running to the bathroom quickly so I sat with her little girl for a minute and she was just the happiest little thing, she was like holding onto her feet and her toes and just smiling and oh she was so so cute. So that was enjoyable. The 12:30 was the shift I was normally signed up for, so I went up then and we ended up with 6 babies to 3 volunteers, so that was good. My little tiny girl was there of course, and she like smiled as she walked in the door when she saw me and ran over to me and gahhh I love this kid so much. She was upset for a bit in the beginning because one of the other babies had a bottle and she decided she wanted a bottle and not her juice cup which of course we couldn't give her and she was throwing a little fit over it which is very unlike her (I can count the number of times I've seen her cry on one hand) but she calmed down after not too long thankfully. The service was mostly calm, at one point one of the babies started crying so one of the ladies picked her up to try and soothe her and my tiny girl ran over and picked up one of the toy bottles from the doll and tried to give it to the lady for the baby and it was SO. CUTE. Omg, I was dying. I ran around and played with her and others for most of the time, up until about 25 minutes left or so. There was another little boy who was in the nursery for the first time, and had just kind of sat and looked at the toys while holding onto some of the little animals with a vaguely sad look on his face for most of the service but otherwise seemed okay. Well, inexplicably he just started sobbing at no provocation, and I was the closest person so I slid down to the floor and picked him up so he was leaning against my shoulder with my hand rubbing his back and my head leaning against his and just kind of rocked him and tried to generally be soothing, and he actually stopped crying pretty soon, but didn't seem to have any interest in leaving the position and was still kind of like breathing heavy and such so I just kept him there and rocked him for the rest of the service, whispering little comforting things in his ear. He was leaning on my right leg with most of his weight, and after not too long I could feel my foot going numb and then I straight up couldn't move my toes haha but I didn't want to move him because I could tell he was gonna get set off on a hair trigger, and he did almost start crying again several times just out of nowhere, so we stayed like that for the rest of the time. And it was sweet really, I knew he was sad but we got to snuggle a bit at least and that seemed to help. When the service got out and his mom showed up there wasn't anyone else who could take him to her and he couldn't really walk yet, and I was just sitting there like "I can't feel my foot or I would bring him to you" haha so she just came in and got him, I assured her that he was mostly fine and we just snuggled for a while. We talked a bit at the meeting last week about how we talk to parents about how their kids handled the nursery and just trying to be encouraging, because we never want a kid's bad reaction to be the thing giving them an excuse not to go to church, not lying of course and still calling them when needed but just trying to frame it better so I think that helped. Crisis averted, at least. As soon as he was gone my tiny girl came running right up to me, she doesn't like it when I hold other babies but she seems to understand enough to know when I need to hold a crying one. It was cute. The rest of the babies cleared out pretty quickly and we were set, the lady in charge was very thankful for me coming in but was also like "you know you don't have to feel like you're personally responsible for filling every spot" which is definitely I've kind of been feeling because I am the scheduling person and they're always filling in, but I also have to remember I'm still just a volunteer and her and the other lady in charge are actually on the staff in like paid positions, so it's not quite the same haha but I think that helped a bit. Hopped on the train, then when I got off ended up waiting half a fucking hour for the bus because my app kept lying to me, if it had told me it would take half an hour for the bus to show up I would've said fuck it and taken an uber, but instead it said 14 minutes which okay I can do that but then when that was up and I refreshed it it said 12 minutes and I was like UGHH but I didn't want to give up then because I had already invested time there, so I kept waiting, and it did take a half hour which was irritating, but oh well. I got home around 3:30 or so (so only 7 and a half hours after I left, lol) and tried to jump into my work with the Super Bowl pregame on mute to make sure I didn't miss the Schuyler sisters, lol. I had to do the problems for trial ad which ended up being super confusing and not very well explained which was irritating and made me rather irritated, but I kept working through all 7 to get this shit done, so I did and eventually finished. The Schuyler sisters were amazing of course, but you probably didn't need me to tell you that if you've been on here today. I kept the game on for the commercials, not really having any interest in the actual game, though my roommate would come through periodically and ask of the patriots were losing, lol. Several funny commercials, and the coke one with America the beautiful in different languages that aired right after the Schuyler sisters sang it definitely made me tear up more then a little. The game wasn't terribly interesting, though it did get pretty crazy at the end I wasn't at all invested in either team so I mainly worked on updating the company tumblr which always takes a while. I ended up sticking around for 24: legacy because the commercial shows Carlos Bernard, aka Tony Almeida my first ever tv husband and all around amazing person and I need as much of him in my life as possible, but I looked it up on IMDb and he's only in one episode, despite the commercial making it look like he was a costar (grrr) but I'm invested at least until he shows up on the second episode, though if they kill him off (again) I'm gonna be REAL pissed. The pilot was fine, pretty typical 24 set up and the whole time I kept seeing Eowyn as the protagonist haha but I like her a lot. The plot was interesting, we'll see where it goes from here of course, but for now I'm cautiously optimistic. I don't think it'll ever reach the level of 24 fanaticism I had back in the day, but that's a pretty dang high level lol. And yeah, that was about it and it's almost 1 am and I'm fucking tired but I get to sleep in a little at least so imma go do that now. Goodnight peeps. Have a non-sucky Monday.