#damn near forgot how to work photoshop
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My lil baby has returned (temporarily smh ) :,)
#fixed my game#smhhhh#ts4rp#ts4 edit#dario cervantes#kinginwitdario#urban sims#black sims#black simmer#almost forgot how to sim#damn near forgot how to work photoshop#edit
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Yugioh S4 Ep7: Mai Gets a Day Job (Killing People For Sport)
So, I looked at the calendar and realized, if I don’t get this post up this week then you’ll only have one update from me for the whole of November since I’m leaving for over a week again. :/ So I’m just gonna get right to the good stuff because it has taken just a crazy amount of time to get to episode 7. How great would it be if I also got to episode 8. Real great, right?
So lets do this, I can do this, I can write a recap without getting insanely distracted, watch me do it: This episode starts with Tristan sticking to the fatal flaw of his character sheet and seeing listed at the very top “low key toilet obsession.”
Ah Tristan.
And when you think “well, OK, they’re stuck by some historic Mesas, this is fine,” suddenly they are beset by the world’s most random biker gang of like 20 full grown adults/biker assassins.
And it’s not super clear if their driver died out there in the Arizona desert, or if he just put on a different outfit and joined this gang, but it won’t matter because like...it’s a filler arc in Yugioh so there’s gonna be some deaths.
This season seems to change genre like every 10 minutes, and so for right now we are in a Mad Max post-apocalyptic territory and PS every one of these bikers uses a lead pipe?
I feel like this is way more violent than a gun???
(read more under the cut)
And so, out the horizon comes another biker, like a masked cowboy on horseback, except she shoots these things instead of bullets.
These are trained assassins, by the way, just completely incapacitated by paper.
I just love the marketing team working alongside of this show that’s like “and what else can Yugioh cards do? destroy biker gangs. That’s right, one single card will absolutely destroy a biker!” and the writing staff was like “yeah, we can work that in. That totally works in universe, you don't even know.”
It’s Mai! Back from murdering the hell out of Pegasus, I guess she decided to ninja these 20 bikers, and did it so devastatingly, that they somehow blew up a motorcycle next to a live fuel tank? Like we’re talking Oliver Queen precision throwing here and like...
...Mai’s only been gone like a year right???
And so, seeing that this card is a harpy, which I dunno...doesn’t seem like it’s all that rare in comparison to a Blue Eyes or a God Card or I dunno any of the other signature cards we’ve heard about, Joey immediately recognizes Mai. Despite the fact that everything she is doing right now is completely out of character, and despite the fact that they are in freakin California.
RIP to all 20 of the people in that gang of bikers, because no one followed this limo away from the scene--everyone was, I assume, hella dead.
Youknow, I never expected Mai to kill more people than Bakura. I would have predicted Joey before Mai. I would have predicted Rebecca before Mai. Literally anyone else on this show before Mai.
Seto, crawling out of this oversized castle that I guess...is back on the real estate market now...decides that the irresistible pull of dragons printed on paper cards is stronger than listening to his brother’s needs to put down the damn cards and make a contractually obligated theme park.
I mean Mokuba kept him off the cards for nearly a whole year. What a healthy year that was for Seto.
Back in Arizona, apparently they didn’t make it more than a mile before Tristan busted the car. Not really clear why or how this happened, but they’ve decided to argue with eachother about it despite the fact one of them is clearly magical and does not really need to eat or drink or even maybe sleep?
Like we’ve seen Bakura basically survive off of one plate of tacos and 2 pints of blood, so just make Pharaoh push the car all the way back to California. Or just make Pharaoh use his millennium AIM to call up His tomb keepers and be like “Marik, we need a lift.” or maybe summon a very real monster because that’s a thing now?
Course this would rely on Pharaoh remembering that he has superpowers, which, somehow after 4 seasons, he always forgets how to use the moment he uses them. It’s like reverse Sailor Moon--Usagi tends to level up her Super powers, Pharaoh kind of tosses them out of the window and goes “oops” and becomes more and more mortal every single season.
So instead of magic they will just use Tea.
Amazing how none of them are really willing to date Tea seriously but they will acknowledge, out of the four of them, Tea is the best looking. So their strategy, bear with me, wasn’t to use the fact they’re children to get help from adults driving by, instead, the boys hid behind a rock so they could really make sure they were getting a hella pervy truck driver that would only stop for a single teenage girl stuck in the desert.
Only this group of kids would be like “Hey lets make sure the guy who picks us up is statistically most likely to be a serial killer” and then, weirdly enough, this horndog pedo truck driver ended up being the only person who didn’t try to kill them this entire episode.
So, lets go back to SF but coming from the north side...which makes no sense...but then again, they put Mesas in Napa County.
So last episode I assumed Rex and Weevil were dropped off in Oakland, but Rex informs us this episode that they are in “the worst part of town”
Where they get robbed twice, only to be saved by Duke Devlin, who I guess just lives here now because maybe it’s the only place he can afford in this expensive as hell city? Maybe he isn’t bothered by the crime-rate after that week he spent on Kaiba’s blimp/Seaquest mmo adventure?
Anyway, for some reason Duke--who is a game shop owner/developer by day--is wandering around the Tenderloin as a vigilante and saving people by throwing dice at them as some sort of side hustle and this is never discussed at all.
I would watch that spinoff series. Religiously.
Fun fact, there is definitely sketchy and bad parts of the Tenderloin you will know not to go to (you can smell it actually), but like a third of it is part of the best shopping district in the city and we used to just shop there unsupervised when I was a kid. It has an Anthropologie.
Not saying the parts that are bad aren’t bad. Whenever I drive through the non-shopping parts, I see at least one super sketch thing making me thankful I’m in the car. But I just don't know how Rex and Weevil managed to get robbed twice in one day. Just go five blocks in literally any direction.
Bro and I were like...HOW did this shot happened from this angle on the freeway...and then I only just now realized it. Something I forgot about because it’s from my parent’s generation...maybe the animators weren’t aware that the Embarcadero fell down after Loma Prieta?
So this was the SF landscape before the quake of 89′ (Which I have no memory of since I was a baby when this happened)
and after 89.
Like maybe the animators they had on this team remembered an SF from their youth that had a huge iconic raised street wrapping all the way around one part of it and just...never got the memo that an Earthquake made the entire thing fall down?
Either way, Duke is either driving these two directly out of SF, or he is driving them into 1988 and is taking a lovely drive on the Old Embarcadero, an experience which does not exist anymore, and which makes a lot more sense since Duke has to be somewhat near downtown, going by the skyscrapers and the vicinity to the Tenderloin.
Man. In the Yugioh Universe, Loma Preita just never actually happened. How is that factoid alone not the weirdest part of this episode?
(I am so glad Serenity is not here now that Duke’s back)
Welcome back to the show Duke, glad you’re bringing...Rex and Weevil...
To be fair, Duke has absolutely no idea who is and isn’t Yugi’s friends. Duke just kind of shows up and pretends like he’s part of the gang, and the gang has lost so much brain matter from all the cards and all the dark magic, they just assume he’s been here the whole time.
So at first I was like “this has to be a pun on Industrial Light and Magic” since there’s virtually no other film studios in the city--but ILM moved to SF 3-4 years after this season came out. So it’s just a weird coincidence, I guess. Or maybe it’s just a really uninspired name?
And so Mai, who I guess has been just waiting on this ledge for 8 hours decides to drop in.
Mai has evolved a lot since S1.
But, although Mai is just...straight up evil now, at least we get to see it taken out on Pegasus who, as far as this show is concerned, is a pretty evil bastard.
A pretty evil bastard who took like 3-4 episodes to beat in S1 but Mai could just do it off-screen.
It’s just funny that the entire time on the island Pegasus was probably pretty sure everyone there was trying to kill him EXCEPT for Mai and then the moment his back is turned he’s like “oh whaaaat?”
Like Bandit Keith is already in America. But rather than use Bandit Keith for this, lets use Mai to give Joey something to angst about. We can’t put her in a coma again--so lets instead get her vaguely possessed. Although seriously, if someone I liked did this to me I think I’d be over that crush really fast.
And then, speaking of Bandit Keith, we get to have a Greek Chorus this duel from the minibosses. Valon and the other guy with the handlebar-muttonchops.
I looked up “where does Valon’s accent come from” and literally there is no consensus, as far as I know.
And that’s where this episode ends.
Now I’m gonna go out of town for a week and then will need another week to make more of these so I’ll be on another hiatus. Holding out if I’ll maybe bring a laptop or something to where I’m going so I can type out recaps when I’m bored.
The problem is having the uhhhhh photoshop to do the caps. I can’t bear to do this in MS Paint because hell will freeze over before I lose all of my actions and hotkeys I made specifically to reduce the time it takes to make these. But we shall see.
anyway, if you want to see these from the beginning, click here.
#ygo#yugioh#recap#photo recap#episode recap#yugi muto#joey wheeler#mai valentine#tea gardner#bikers#an exploding shell station#arizona#tristan taylor#valon#S4 ep7
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Oof wait an au where harry is a photographer and allie is a model
Harry had been staring at a computer screen so long that his eyes were beginning to burn fromthe strain. He was only two hours along in his Wednesday workday, and alreadyhe wanted to go home.
It was three weeks into Harry’s summer photography internship, and he had donelittle other than respond to emails and make basic Photoshop edits. He hadn’texpected his job with the famed photojournalist Ed Bristol to be glamorous,exactly, but he had hoped it would be more exciting.
Instead, he spent almost all his days in the same way: alone, hunched over a computerscreen in a tiny cubicle for eight hours. Today was shaping up to be the same.
He was adjusting the lighting on a photo when someone knocked on his cubicle. Heswiveled around in his chair. It was his boss. Ed was beaming in his pinstripesuit.
“I’ve got something good for you today,” he said.
“What is it, sir?” Harry said, making sure he kept his tone deferential. He might notbe enjoying the work, but he would enjoy the referral that came afterward.
“One of my friends at Vogue just called me. She said that the photographer who was supposed to shoot the November cover of their magazinejust dropped out, and they need someone to fill in for him. Normally, fashion shoots aren’t my thing, but because she’s a friend, I told her I would help out. Would you like to come with me?”
Did he even need to ask? “Of course. I’ll get my camera ready.”
“Great. Meet me in the parking lot in five minutes. We’re going to Vogue.”
—
“That’s great, Allie, really great. Now, if you could just turn a little bit to your left—there you go, that’s fantastic.” Ed said, yelling out directions to the model on set.
Only two hours ago, he had been stuck at his cubicle. Now, Harry was at a Vogue photoshoot. He could hardly believe his good luck.
While his boss took center stage, he lingered in the background, snapping photos whenever he saw something that inspired him. Which was often. The model for the cover shoot, a woman named Allie Pressman, was incredible at her job. One moment, she would be baring her teeth, looking ferocious and wild. The next,she would be wearing a closed-lip smile, blushing and demure.
She was dressed in a light green gown with a high slit that went up to her hip. Crystalson the bodice glittered and shimmered in the light. Her eyelids were paintedwith clear gloss. She was stunning.
After the photoshoot, the editors of the publication gathered around a laptop to get an early glimpse of the photos his boss had taken. Harry sat in a chair a few feet away, listening in to their conversation to see what he could learn from them.
“Well,” said one of the editors, an old man with a shock of white hair, “I think this is the cover shot. It’s just gorgeous.”
He was pointing at a photo that showed Allie lying on the ground, her long hair splayed out around her. She was staring at the camera through barely open eyes, almost as if she was near sleep. It was a nice photo, Harry thought, but not worthy of the cover. The photo made her look too submissive and calm—nothing like the fascinating, complicated woman he had witnessed on set earlier that day.
“Well,” he heard his boss say, “I don’t want to pat myself on the back too much, but I think that’s a damn good photo.”
“So, we’re decided?” A young woman with large hoop earrings asked.
“Ah, wait, I almost forgot. Let’s take a look at Harry’s shots, see if he got anything good.”
“Who the hell is Harry?” The white-haired editor asked.
“My intern, the one who’s sitting right over there.”
The editors seemed hesitant, as thoughthey thought it was a waste of time to look at his photos. “Ed,” one of them started to say, “he’s just a kid. I don’t think—”
“Nonsense,” Ed cut them off. “He’s a great photographer. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have hired him to be my intern. Maybe none of his photos will make the cut, but I think we should at least take a look at them.”
His boss motioned him over. Harry stood up and walked over to the group. He plugged his camera into the computer and waited as the photos loaded.
If the photos that Ed had taken were polished and perfect, Harry’s were the opposite. His photos were raw and flawed. Most of the time, Allie wasn’t even looking at his camera, but hisboss’ instead. Other times, his camera caught her in clumsy moments, such as when she accidentally tripped and fell.
And yet he loved the photos he hadtaken.
His boss did, too. “These are fantastic. There’s a look about them that just can’t be replicated, a kind of quiet loving quality. Tell me, how did you capture that?”
“I’m honestly not entirely sure. I just tried to photograph what I saw when I looked at her.” And what he saw when he looked at her was magnetizing and complicated.
His boss’ eyes twinkled with a knowing gleam. “I see.”
“I agree these are lovely photos, but they don’t work with Vogue,” one of the editors burst out. “They’re too rough. Each photo shows howinexperienced the boy is.”
“I understand what you’re saying, but let’s look at a few more.” Ed said. His boss flicked through a few more pictures before settling on one. “There. Look at that. That’s the one.”
It was one of the few photographs where Allie was actually staring at Harry’s camera. She was looking over her shoulder. Her blue eyes challenged the camera, as if daring the viewer to test her. Her pink lips were barely parted and her dress was slipping off one shoulder. She looked beautiful but untamed.
The editors were stunned into silence.
“Alright,” the white-haired one finally spoke, “I think we’ll be able to find a place for that in the magazine.”
Harry was overjoyed and shocked. “Really?”
His boss patted him on the shoulder. “That’s how you do it, Harry. Great work. Now,would you mind getting me an iced coffee? You’re still my intern, and don’t you forget it.”
For once, Harry was more than happy to go on a coffee run.
—
Later that day, as the set was being taken apart and the shoot officially wound to a close, Harry flicked through his photos by himself. It was nice to get a chance to review his work withouthis boss and the Vogue editors. And, if he were being honest with himself, he enjoyed having the excuse to gaze at Allie again.
“Can I see the photos that you took?”
Harry jolted upright, startled. It was her. Allie Pressman, the model from the photoshoot. She was still wearing the green dress from earlier, although most of her makeup had been taken off.
“Yeah, of course.” He fumbled with his camera as he handed it over to her.
She clicked through the photographs slowly, scrutinizing each one carefully before going on to the next. Her gaze was unreadable. Did she love them? Did she hate them?
Harry’s leg jittered up and down, a nervous tic he couldn’t control. It was one thing for editors of a magazine to dislike his photographs. It was an entirely different thing for the woman in his pictures to dislike them.
“So?” He asked after she had flipped through dozens of images. “What do you think?”
“Would you be interested in photographing me again?” she said suddenly, turning away from the camera to look him in the eyes. “I know it’s not as glamorous as Vogue, but I’m always looking for someone to help curate my Insta.I would pay you small sums for each shoot that we did. And I would tag you in every photo you took. With any luck, it would help build both of our names.”
That, of all things, was not what Harry had been expecting her to say. There was a playful gleam in her eyes and a slight smirk on her lips. She had just offered him a business opportunity,but she was staring at him in a way that could only be described as flirtatious.
“That sounds amazing,” he said, notentirely sure what he was getting himself into.
“Great.” She winked at him. “Meet meat Ember Falls, next Saturday, noon. Oh, and don’t forget a bathing suit.”
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No way, simmeronnie is doing replies again? :o It’s been a month, I know. It’s been hard, exams and all that. I’ve talked about that a lot. Now I’m in so much better place. I’ve read what I wrote in my diary a few months ago (February and March to be exact) and wow...just wow. If you compare me from now to me from those months, you wouldn’t even believe we’re the same person. Right now, I’m the happiest I’ve been in a while. Back then, I’m honestly surprised I didn’t give up. I was so tired of everything.
Onto something else. I thought I’d catch up on a lot of blogs now that my graduation is done, but actually, I got carried away reading a good book (and therefore I didn’t actually catch up on too many blogs). Guys, you all need to read Illuminae. I finished the trillogy today and man, it was so good. Don’t get intimidated by how big the books are, yesterday I read over 400 pages and I didn’t even know how. It’s just so good. Read it. Seriously. I hope you like a good plot twist because these books are full of them. It’ll leave you speechless.
I’m just excited I can read books that have nothing to do with exams again, okay? Tomorrow I’m starting...I’m not sure. Probably The Burning Maze by Rick Riordan. FINALLY.
Anyway, blog stuff. I thought I’d only do the latest replies since my activity feed was broken, but now I was able to scroll down a lot. I wasn’t paying attention and suddenly I was at comments from April. So yeah, that thing I screamed about this week, apparently it’s fixed itself. Though I’m still not sure if it shows all of the comments. Oh well. I worked with what I was able to get.
By the way, in these replies, I did not include the “congrats” comments when I said I got through my exams. But I saw you all, and honestly, thank you so much. I was thinking about this the other day, and I think one of the reasons why I made it through high school was simblr. This is my happy place. Most of the time.
autistichatkid replied to your photoset “Oh no. OH NO. Guys I fried another one of my sims.”
ronnie pls be more careful you know how these things go
*looks at my own sunburnt arms* I won’t ever learn
starburstshores replied to your photoset “Nerine no that’s not the way”
Jesus can walk on water, Nerine can swim through land
she’s a Reverse Jesus
starburstshores replied to your photoset “Nerine: “Wakey wakey…” Regan: “Huh? Wha - Nerine? What are you doing...”
This is some Edward Cullen shit she’s pulling ��
Let’s be real, even with how Regan and Nerine’s story is going, it’s still a better love story than Twilight ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
Hold on, do people still say that?
tiny-tany-thaanos replied to your photoset “Regan: “Hi mum! What’s up?” Miracle: “Regan, you might want to sit...”
OMG WHAT"S HAPPENING OMG
alfalfalegacy replied to your photoset “Regan: “Mum?” Miracle: “Yes sweetheart?” Regan: “He’s going to make...”
Yoo he better make it ����
autistichatkid replied to your photoset “Regan: “Hi mum! What’s up?” Miracle: “Regan, you might want to sit...”
oh god no
I can’t explain how I felt writing this. I’m not too empathetic when it comes to other people (and it sucks), but when it comes to “ok how would my character feel in this scene”, I’m immediately in their shoes, and let me tell you, I actually cried, even though I knew damn well how it was going to end. But I also knew what was happening next, and that’s why I cried too. Writing is weird sometimes.
alfalfalegacy replied to your photo “Coming soon…”
Marie looks super pretty in this!!
Thank you. I forgot she was this pretty. I couldn’t believe that when I loaded her for the first time after all these months. I mean, in the regular legacy, I don’t even see her around anymore too much.
vintageplumbobs replied to your photoset “Nerine: “I hate to be doing this, but it’s the only way. I’m sorry...”
Eeeeeeeeeshk.
pxelatedtrash replied to your photoset “Nerine: “I hate to be doing this, but it’s the only way. I’m sorry...”
I stopped liking her when she would always shut Regan down but now I really don't like her and i hope beyond belief that Regan can get away.
dandylion240 replied to your photoset “Nerine: “I hate to be doing this, but it’s the only way. I’m sorry...”
Wow I didnt like her before I definitely don't like her now.
tiny-tany-thaanos replied to your photoset “Nerine: “I hate to be doing this, but it’s the only way. I’m sorry...”
Ahem
Hmmm I had a feeling that thee was something wrong with their fast developing relationship
There indeed WAS something wrong with her. I hinted at it a few times, sometimes it was just a little thing that probably only I saw as foreshadowing, but it kept getting more and more obvious towards the end. And wow. Yeah. She really went that far.
Also, can I just say, I weirdly enjoyed seeing how at first, everyone was like “yaaaaas, mermaid girlfriend”, whereas now it’s more like “oh no. OH NO. STAY AWAY FROM OUR GIRL”.
dandylion240 replied to your photoset “Regan: “Because…because I love you. You’re right. You’re all that...”
Nerine is awful! Someone please save Regan!
tiny-tany-thaanos replied to your photoset “Regan: “Because…because I love you. You’re right. You’re all that...”
EXPLAIN DIS NERINE!
fishingforsims replied to your photoset “Regan: “Because…because I love you. You’re right. You’re all that...”
My brain rn is just “!!!!!”
She just wants her. That’s her explanation. She doesn’t care about anything else, as long as her beloved human will stay right there in Isla Paradiso.
I’m just now thinking, how the hell did I go from the first story idea for Regan to this. In the original story, there were no creepy psycho mermaid girlfriends. There was...a lot of Bridgeport...some cheating...a lot of guilty feelings...more feelings towards Courtney...Felix didn’t end up with her in that storyline but there would be a love triangle with another person...and considering I’m not actually the biggest fan of love triangles, I as a writer am glad I somehow ended up with a psycho mermaid girlfriend story. It was way more interesting to figure out and write.
But if Regan could decide, I’m pretty sure she’d rather end up in a love triangle 😬
Let me tease you though: There’ll still be a lot of Bridgeport later.
tiny-tany-thaanos replied to your photo “Gwyneth Ellen Clare flirty | perfectionist | family oriented | neat |...”
Was it cliffhanger? Le gasp
Anyway I'm looking forward to see you BRP!
Oh I just saw the tagsXD Don't mind me I think I have to go to bed
Wait still a cliffhanger. Just not as big as I initially thought. Don't mind me��
Haha no worries, this happens to me all the time, I forget to read the tags or caption and then I’m like huh??? What’s happening?? :D But I’m glad you’re looking forward to the BPR, I’m happy to be finally posting it. I’m not sure if it’ll be just as fun as my NSB, but it certainly won’t be as sad as the current story. You guys deserve a break.
Oh, another teaser: Guess what you guys will get in my BPR? An idiot to yell at. Not Ross-level idiot, but still an idiot.
tiny-tany-thaanos replied to your photo “Coming soon…”
*patiently waits*
It’s coming...very soon!
cloudberry-sims replied to your photoset “Nerine: “Now. You were supposed to move out of the houseboat by the...”
Oh that's evil Nerine...
‘Cause baby she’s a nightmare dressed like a daydream
I’m sorry, I can’t stop referencing Taylor Swift, that’s just who I am
melien replied to your photoset “Regan: “This place is heaven on Earth.” Nerine: “Wouldn’t it be great...”
So yeah this was the post where I kind of figured out something seems off... if I'm not mistaken there were also posts where George warns her but I didn't think much of them
One of the things I enjoy doing when I finish the first draft of something is going back and making hints. Tiny little pieces of foreshadowing. And then it grows and grows and gets more obvious. This was never going to end well. I think I already hinted at it when Regan was saying goodbye to her family before going to Isla Paradiso, though I’m not sure. But I think I left first little clues there.
melien replied to your photoset “Nerine: “I hate to be doing this, but it’s the only way. I’m sorry...”
I first saw pics, then the text... and thought wow damn can mermaids do this? But yeah I love where this is going. I like this kind of creepy
Yeah I had to help myself with Photoshop here, there would be no other way to make it clear that she enchanted/brainwashed her. But damn, it would be cool if something like that was actually in the game. Sea creatures like mermaids don’t always have to be nice. What about sirens from the old mythology? I mean, what they did was getting people killed.
sinfulwunders replied to your post “Today is my graduation day and I’m already almost crying even though I...”
My graduation was last month and I was balling my eyes out �� I understand how you feel
Ahh yes...I was in a car today and we were driving past my high school. I started thinking about it all again and I just can’t believe that just two months ago, we were still sitting there in a classroom, praying for it all to end. And now it’s over and it’s weird and I want to go back because somehow I miss it.
dandylion240 replied to your photoset “George: “I’m worried about you. There’s something wrong. This isn’t...”
George take her away before it's too late!
He kinda...I don’t want to say he fucked up at this point, but if he hadn’t walked away, things could’ve really been different, huh?
tiny-tany-thaanos replied to your photoset “George: “Regan, what the hell is going on?” Regan: “You wouldn’t...”
Girl you are definitely not feeling well and this isn't love:/
tiny-tany-thaanos replied to your photoset “George: “I’m worried about you. There’s something wrong. This isn’t...”
Girl you do sound like zombie!
tiny-tany-thaanos replied to your photoset “Regan: “You say that as if it was a bad thing. Get lost, George. I...”
Whaaaaaa?
There better be a wizard near you to un-zombie you, Regan!
That’s how it is with brainwashed people, isn’t it?
No, all jokes and dumb remarks aside, when I wrote Regan in this brainwashed state, it was so hard. Not that writing was hard, handling my feelings was hard. I knew she was hurting everyone and I had to keep going because I wanted to tell this story. Like I said, writing is weird sometimes.
Also, speaking of wizards...how convenient it is that her brother is one now? :D Which actually...I didn’t plan for him to become a wizard just to save her. I didn’t plan for him to befriend a fairy just to save her either. It just all sort of happened. Just like life, huh? Nothing is perfectly planned, you just have to play with whatever you have, and I was lucky this time.
tiny-tany-thaanos replied to your photoset “Weeks had passed since my last meeting with George. Things got better....”
Yeah I wonder why? Maybe because they are worried about you, too? You never came and anything could happen to you!
She doesn’t care about that. Well, she does, but she doesn’t know that with this whole “your family is useless and I’m the only one who matters to you” haze Nerine put over her.
tiny-tany-thaanos replied to your photoset “Regan: “Hey mum. How’s life?” Miracle: “What did you just say?” Regan:...”
Miracle, come and get 'er before it's too late!
She would. Honestly, I believe she would, if things weren’t already hard at home for her.
Can we just take a moment to appreciate Miracle for everything she’s gone through? She was “unwanted” at school because she was half alien, she had to share a room with an awful bully at university, then when that hell was over, she became a mother to six children, and now this...when I think of all that has happened, I realize how strong she actually is, because none of this made her give up.
I’ve had so many issues with her story, but looking at her from this perspective, maybe I shouldn’t have.
dandylion240 replied to your photoset “Miracle: “Regan - he was asking about you. He was looking forward to...”
Ugh your girlfriend doesn't want you. She wants to control you. There's a big difference.
tiny-tany-thaanos replied to your photoset “Miracle: “Regan - he was asking about you. He was looking forward to...”
Sure your girlfriend WANTS it not YOU!
SAY IT LOUDER FOR THE PEOPLE IN THE BACK AND HOPE REGAN IS ONE OF THEM
I shouldn’t joke about these things but...it’s how I cope
tiny-tany-thaanos replied to your photoset “Will: “Sorry I left you waiting. I was with my mum.” Roan: “That’s...”
Nerine happened, Roan
Pretty much
autistichatkid replied to your photoset “Will: “What do you mean?” Roan: “Most mermaids - or so I’ve heard from...”
IM SO GLAD WILL AND ROAN ARE THE ONES TBAT ARE GONNA GO RESCUE HER AAAAAA
I was so happy when I figured that out too?? Honestly I thought Will and Roan were going to have the least interesting story but then they prove me wrong and uhhh
I love them so much??
melien replied to your photoset “Miracle: “Regan - he was asking about you. He was looking forward to...”
Poor Regan, I believe she's strong enough to get out of this mind funk... or someone cares about her enough to save her
It’ll all be revealed soon...
tiny-tany-thaanos replied to your photoset “Will: “What do you mean?” Roan: “Most mermaids - or so I’ve heard from...”
Omg
OMG
I actually really like when supernatural creatures have their let's call them quirks which define their difference to humans! That's really really cool!
Actually, me too, even when it means bad things for the main characters!
#replies#autistichatkid#starburstshores#tiny-tany-thaanos#alfalfalegacy#vintageplumbobs#pxelatedtrash#dandylion240#fishingforsims#cloudberry-sims#melien#sinfulwunders
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I Hate This Planet, part 1
(I started this story six months ago)
I was so pissed when I walked into Peter's house that day. Once again, Godiva was pissed off with the universe and got short with me over the phone as a result. I had my own issues that day. Jasper, my 69-year-old client with back issues, was mad at me because I wasn't supporting the government shutdown. Joebear, my husband, was mad at me because I wasn't at the latest government shutdown protest. I couldn't win for losing.
"What's up with you?!" Peter asked in a pissy tone.
I laughed. "Well, I made it to work to put up with your stupid bullshit. What's up with you?!"
"Ha ha ha. I had the strength to answer the door for your BITCH ASS!" Peter said as he poured himself a cup of coffee.
I poured my own. "So what the fuck is your problem?!" I asked him.
"Oh I don't know! My mom is in extreme pain, and my DAD is asking her to do 50,000 things. I I I have to HEAR about it, and you come in with a pissy attitude like you have been for the last two fucking weeks!" Peter started as he stared at me with glowing red eyes.
"Sorry, but it's not *my* fault she's in pain or that your dad suffers large. Also, I'm in a pissy attitude because every every every decision I've made in the last three fucking weeks has been the wrong one! The government had been shut down for a month. Jasper hates that I go to rallies, and Joebear is pissed that I'm not in the front lines for every single one of them!" I said as I took a sip of my coffee.
"Well, fuck, Xara, get it together! The fuck are you taking it out on me FOR?!" he asked as he sipped his coffee.
"Because you're a curly-haired JERK and the bane of my mere existence!" I yelled as I gulped mine and poured myself another cup.
"Ooooh! So you're mad at me for publishing one novel and trying to publish the other?!" Peter said with a guffaw sound as he drank more coffee. "Jesus. Get over it. God Forbid I accomplish something besides be in 1,200,895 porn videos, model for 15,000 clothing companies worldwide, paint 2,000 masterpieces, sketch 5,000 legitimate drawings, and make 30,000, THIRTY-THOUSAND original photoshop illustrations, all of which are AMAZING! And not to mention I've published and written 20 screenplays!"
I stared at him for a few seconds as I sipped my coffee. "You are a pretentious ass, Peter," I said. "Thank you, Peter. I was in two amateur porn videos, never modelled in my life because I'm not as attractive as you are, only painted 20 paintings, most of which are complete shit. Thank you, Peter. And only did about 567 sketches, but they weren't as good as yours are, PETER. Well, I have another reason to hate this planet now. You fucking ass."
"I'm sorry for being amazing. But I still hate my life. I tried so hard. I'm still broke. Thank you, Trump. Thank you, ever-failing healthcare system of America. Thank you, pretentious ass literary agents that would rather publish bullshit like Danielle Steele and James Patterson. Thank you, Republicans. YOU ASSHOLES have the greatest political party ever. Fuck you. I also hate this shit my parents are going through..." Peter started to say before his mother named Godiva walked out of her bedroom with her shoulders near her ears, a strained face, and her arms to her sides.
"Is there EVER A DAY IN MY LIFE WHEN I CAN JUST HAVE A CUP OF COFFEE TO MYSELF WITHOUT HEARING GODIVA THIS GODIVA THAT!!!!" she yelled.
We looked at her and said, "No."
"EXACTLY!!!!" she said with gritted teeth and poured herself a cup of coffee. She grunted and gritted her teeth some more. "Why is this the last cup of coffee left in the pot?! Why? I worked hard all my life... well, minus when I homeschooled Peter. That was awesome." She said that last sentence as she batted her eyes at Peter.
Peter grinned. "Sorry. I'm pissy today," he said as he got up. "I'll make you some more coffee because you're the only person I'm not angry with."
"Thank you," she said as she drank her coffee. "But seriously. My husband has driven me to the point of insanity. Has he lost his senses? I'm 80 years old. I don't HAVE the strength and patience like I used to to deal with his ever-sinking health. And everyone else in the world is incompetent!"
"Oh boy do I agree!" Peter said as he poured water into the machine and managed to spill half of it on the counter. "I'm incompetent as fuck!" He said as his eyes widened and as his smile became bigger. He added a stupid chuckle at the end of that sentence.
I laughed and managed to projectile spit coffee on the floor. Peter was cracking me up with his stupid bullshit. I went to use a napkin to clean up my coffee spill while I was still laughing.
Godiva stared at him like she wanted to kill him. "My Goodness. Everything's a joke to you two!" she said with red glowing circles around her blue eyes. She threw a paper towel roll at Peter.
Peter took some paper towels and cleaned the counter. "Like I MEANT TO DO THAT!" he said as he widened his eyes at her.
She poured some more water into the pot and handed it to him. "Don't spill it this time, huh!" she said as she glared at him.
"I don't plan to!" he said in a whiny, childish voice as he poured the water in the pot normally. He then turned the coffee pot and waited for it to brew.
"GODIVA! PETER!" Jamie, Peter's bedridden father, called from his bedroom.
"WHAT?!" Godiva and Peter yelled. Godiva stomped her right foot, and Peter slammed his right fist into the counter.
"I need you two to get me out of bed!!" he yelled. "My back is KILLING me!"
Godiva marched over to him. "Mine is, too, but nobody cares about that," she said quietly.
Peter just walked over with this "Fuck my life" look on his face. He stuck his tongue out in disgust.
I tried to get myself ready to clean house, but I laughed and cried the whole time. I hated my life as much as they did. I managed to get myself to work, but I was still frustrated with everything.
My phone buzzed. It was none other than an angry old man named Jasper. I sighed loudly and picked up the phone. "Hello?" I said in an agitated tone.
"Hi Xara," he said with a sigh.
"What happened to you?" I asked.
"I'm building a space ship to get off this planet. I'm fucking done with these people. I can't deal with society. I can't deal with my family full of primates. I can't deal with the banks. I'm done with it all. I'm taking Gabby and Murphee with me. You want to come?" he asked as he was banging on shit in the background. Gabby was his old cat, and Murphee was his middle-aged dog .
I sighed in relief. "Yes. I'd love to get off this planet! When is the space ship going to be done?" I asked.
"Two weeks unfortunately," he said. "Good thing I don't plan to sleep. I'm ready to fly away now."
"No kidding. Fuck today. Please get back to work," I said.
Peter walked out of the room and attempted to have some more coffee.
"Peter! I forgot! I need help with fixing my alarm clock. Your mother's in the bathroom!" Jamie called.
"Ugh!!!!" Peter said as he made an air gesture of choking someone. He had those angry red circles around his eyes.
"Sounds like you have work to do, too," Jasper said. "Peter sounds like he is in the mood to be an asshole."
"Well, that's typical for him," I said.
"My point exactly. I need to get some more horsepower on these jets. Talk to you later," Jasper said.
"Talk to you later," I said.
He hung up.
Peter walked over while he was beating the alarm clock against his head. "Did I hear something about you getting off this planet?" he asked as he still banged the clock against his head.
I chuckled. "Yes," I said as I began dusting his office. "You want to come?"
He bashed the alarm clock off his head and somehow managed to get it back to normal. "Dad, I fixed your alarm clock!" he called to his father. "Yes, please. My dad literally drives me crazy. Look at me. I just beat his alarm clock against my head. Ha ha. It fixed the damn thing. Teeheehee! I need to get the fuck out of my house! Please help me. Ha ha ha." He left the room.
I called Jasper.
"Hello? What do you want? I'm not done with my space ship yet?" Jasper growled over the phone.
"I knew that, asshole. I wanted to know how much room was on your space ship," I said.
"I can fit like 10 people on here. Why the fuck not? I'm sure we aren't the only ones sick of this shit. But anyone but you will have to pay," he said.
Tug, Peter's basenji, charged down the stairs. "Did you say 'space ship'?"
"Well, we'd have to put a gold backing on the currency if we go to another planet," I said to Jasper. "Can Tug come along?"
"Who the fuck is Tug?" Jasper asked.
"Peter's very intelligent basenji. The dog is smarter than Peter," I said.
"Well, yeah. Animals are free, but jackass Peter has to pay. I'll give him a discount if I can tie him up." Jasper said.
"Thank you, Xara. If I could, I'd provide the rope. I'd like to put that jackass on a leash once in a while," Tug said.
"No worries. I can provide rope," I said.
"Fuck you guys," Peter said as he went past us to go to his computer.
Tug followed him and sat on his feet. He looked up at Peter and said, "Because fuck you, too."
"You knew I was going to take you with me if I left the planet. Stop this bullshit," Peter said as he looked down at Tug.
Tug laid out and put more weight on Peter's dainty feet. "I would hope so, fuckface," he said as he bared his teeth at him.
"Peter owes me $300 for getting on my ship. It can be $200 if he lets us duct tape his mouth shut," Jasper said as he built his space ship.
"Oooh. Can it be $100 if he is naked?" I asked.
"Hmmmm... very tempting, but I don't think he'd go for it," Jasper said with a chuckle.
Peter flicked me off before going back to trying to publish his novel.
I giggled. "I think he'd like the idea," I said with a big smile.
Peter snorted angrily and had steam coming from his ears.
"Only if he agrees. Otherwise, it's $200 to have duct tape over his mouth," Jasper said.
"All right. I'll put duct tape over his mouth and pay you $200 to let him on the ship," I said.
Peter smirked.
"Sounds good!" Jasper said. "I need to go back to working on my ship."
"Okay," I said. "I am going to buy duct tape soon."
"Good idea! See you later today," Jasper said.
"See you, Jasp," I said.
We hung up.
"Duct tape? Jasp?" Peter asked with a smirk.
"Jasper will charge only $200 if you let me duct tape over your mouth. And Jasp is my nickname for Jasper. My nickname for you is Peetie. And BaeWhuhh is my nickname for Joebear," I said. I only called Peter Peetie in rare occasion.
"Peetie?" he asked with a grin.
"Mhm," I said as I walked over to him and ran my fingers through his curls. "Peetie seems to suit you."
He grinned. "That might be my new name when I leave this planet," he said.
Joebear called me.
"Hold on, Peetie," I said as I answered the phone. "Hello, BaeBaeWhuhhh?"
He growled over the phone in frustration. "Ughhhhh! Fuck this planet. Satanists are at full force trying to brainwash everyone again. SIGH!!!!" Joebear growled.
Peter was laughing in the background. He snorted.
"Jasper is building a space ship to get off this planet. You want to get on it?" I asked.
He growled in bear language. "Yes!!! For the love of humanity, I'm done with people and this fucking planet. Fuck society. Fuck everyone and their 401k. Fuck these self-centered assfucks! I'm done. Get me on first class on a plane THE FUCK OUT OF HERE!!!" Joebear screamed. "Garfield and Cupid are coming, too." Garfield and Cupid are our orange cats.
Peter belly-laughed.
"Oh. Apparently Peter's done, too. He's fucking laughing hysterically. He's hysterical. He's fucked up," Joebear said.
I laughed. "Yes, bae. You are technically an animal, so you can get on for free," I said.
"Fuck that logic. I'm a goddamn giraffe then. I'm fucking tall enough. Two hundred bucks. Of all the chances to get off this goddamn planet, it has to be with some old fuck who hates me," Peter muttered. "I'll take it. Fuck this planet."
I laughed at Peter's comment.
"I won't keep you, Little Bae. Peter sounds like he is having a mental breakdown," Joebear said.
"He is," I said. "I love you, Buh Buh Huhhhh!!!"
"Love you, too. See you tonight, bae," he said.
"See you tonight, BIG BAAAEEE WHUHHH," I sung.
He hung up.
"My mind is fucked," Peter said as he went back to his bullshit activity on the computer. "I can't figure out this damn website. How the fuck do you design your own website? This is bullshit."
"I don't know. Do you want me to call Bae back?" I asked.
"No. I want off this God-forsaken rock of planet. How long do I have to wait to get the hell out of here?" he asked.
"Two weeks," I said.
"Jesus fuck," he muttered. "I don't know if I am going to make it two weeks. I do know I'm putting in my two weeks' fuck you notice tomorrow." He was a disgruntled drywall installer who hated his job more than life itself.
"Good idea," I said. "I get to keep my job because I am going to convince Mr. Williamson to come with us. He's a nice guy."
"Oh God no. Then I have to deal with Ted the Alligator and Jack the Crocodile. Ugh. Those two give me lung cancer from a the screaming I do at them," he said. He sighed.
"Come on, Peter. I have to make a living, and I still have to put you through bullshit," I said. "At least you won't have to do drywall for the rest of your life in two weeks."
"Fine! I'd rather drill my own teeth than keep my drywall job!!!" Peter exclaimed.
Godiva came in the room. "Why are you ridiculous, Peter?" she asked as she folded her arms.
"Because I don't give a fuck anymore, Mother," he said with an emphasis on 'Mother.' "I'm leaving the planet."
"No you're not. At least not without me, douchebag," she said.
"Fine. You can come with. We can leave together and say fuck this world," he said.
She grinned. "When?!" she asked with bright eyes.
"Two. Agonizing. Painful. Drawn out. Weeks," Peter answered.
"How will we leave?" Godiva asked excitedly.
"My other client is building a space ship to get off the planet," I said.
"Really?! Awesome. How much is he charging?" she asked.
"Hold on. Let me call him," I said as I called Jasper. The phone rang a few times and went to voicemail. I hung up because leaving a voicemail is awkward.
My phone buzzed. I answered. "Hello," I said.
"What do you need? I'm still building my space ship. I'd like to get the hell out of here as soon as possible," Jasper said.
"I'm well aware. How much for a human to get on the space ship if she is not tied up or has duct tape over her mouth?" I asked.
"Oh man. $500. $400 if she gives me a blowjob," he said.
"$500, but $400 if you are willing to do an unspeakable act," I said to Godiva.
"Sure! I stimulate my husband's bowels, and I don't have a poop fetish," she said.
"You're probably one of the only humans in my fucked-up life who doesn't," Peter muttered.
I chuckled. "She'll give you a blowjob," I said to Jasper.
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Blank Space - Chapter 7
Part 6
———————
Screaming, crying, perfect storms, I can make all the tables turn
Rose garden filled with thorns
Keep you second guessing like "Oh my God, who is she?"
I get drunk on jealousy
But you'll come back each time you leave
'Cause, darling, I'm a nightmare dressed like a daydream
“Naah, I’m not going tonight.”
Jinki balanced his phone between his ear and shoulder while restarting the laptop in front of him.
“But you have skipped lots of gigs lately! That’s not fair.”
Taemin groans from the other side, anyone can tell he’s more than annoyed by his voice.
“How come it’s not fair? It’s not like I got paid doing nothing.”
“Mom said we shouldn’t count our good deeds but my dear brother, I got you famous. Remember?”
“Tell me once again, so you meant I should help myself for something I didn’t ask for? Do I look like God or what? It’s not my choice that I appeared charming to those people.”
Taemin snorts, “Wow. Look how cocky you are now.”
“I know right?” Jinki sure knows how to tease his brother.
“Come on, Jinki! You cannot do this to me. This supposed to be done by two people, not a lone troop!”
“Since when you got fancy words from your mouth? You may start writing your own music, baby brother!”
“Screw you and your girl!”
“Hey! Leave her alone! She has nothing to do with anything!”
“As if,” Taemin scoffed and kicked the foot of his bed, and thank God he wears his boots because the sound is not pretty, “You’ve been away from home more than three days. Everyone knows you will get it right away that you’re with her. I probably should tell Mom to hire a wedding planner as soon as possible.”
“The hell with you, Lee Taemin! I’m struggling to get my work done here and you’re out of the lash spreading some cheap rumor, does that sound supportive?”
Satisfied with his little revenge, Taemin’s ready to cut the call.
“Gotta go! I have no time for traitor! When I make it to place record with Minho, you will never get an autograph from me!”
Jinki cracks when he had no chance to say anything after Taemin left the line hanging on the other side.
“What happened?” Gwiboon asks when she returned from the bathroom.
“Taemin is such a little girl sometimes,” Jinki turned his head to the side and almost got a heart attack when he saw Gwiboon only wrapped with towel, thighs covered not even half, his mouth went dry with the view, “Ermm, can you not? How am I suppose to do if you.. you know, dress like that?”
She couldn’t believe what she just heard, “What do you expect from someone got off the bathroom? I just finished shower, not going to attend a banquet! You and you uncontrollable desire can be so handful sometime!”
When she walked across the room as if nothing happened, Jinki is more than convinced that the heat crept up his face is not because of room’s temperature. He shakes his head lightly, gave up with the circumstance, it’s Gwiboon’s room anyway.
Jinki camped there since four days ago. Initially, to finish some drawings since he needs to submit some draft by the beginning of next week. Initially. But what can he do when he only have limited space, 28 square meter to be exact, with the prettiest girl he ever encountered in his life who turned out having quite strange habit – if he might say – to take of her pants whenever she reached her room. However, this time he’s lucky enough to survive the trial. The other day when he sneaked inside her room after bribing the guard downstairs, Gwiboon open the door smiling so wide with oversized worn out t-shirt one sleeve fell of the shoulder showing perfect skin on it. The second she hugged him, he knew there’s nothing under that blessed piece of clothes.
Usually, Jinki will lock himself inside his room or move to the studio at the left wing at the campus which known to be a public hotel for the last year students. But lately, the studio is too crowded. Plus, Jonghyun will be there. Doesn’t matter how much he wants to resolve the cold treatment Jonghyun gave him since he found Jinki’s been going out with Gwiboon, the words just didn’t roll off his mouth and the urge to hide whenever Jonghyun in his sight is slightly bigger than his guts.
To think about it, it’s not Jonghyun’s fault to come out cold. Jinki’s the one who avoid him at the first time and somehow just lost his track on the way. On the other hand, as the nature of Kim Jonghyun, he doesn’t really care about his sister’s affair. Well, not that he wanted people to see it, though.
“Taemin’s okay? It’s been a while I didn’t see him. I think since he started to take the part time job as junior graphic designer at that lifestyle magazine.”
“Yeah, he’s barely home these days my Mom started to think to cross his name of her will. Tonight he has a gig, and he asked me to go with him.”
“So?”
Jinki looked to Gwiboon’s direction, her eyes saying why-you’re-still-here-then. He stretched his back a little bit, “I love singing but Taemin always loves it more. I used to go on the stage with him because he was scared. So I encourage him and offered to accompany him on some gigs. Now that he found his way, I don’t think he needs me anymore. Or maybe I’m just lazy.”
“So?" she repeated her word, "If I were you, I’d be so stressed if I stayed inside the house hours and hours without any break.”
She casually slips her panties whilst, judged by the tremble on his jaw, Jinki tried so hard tune down his heart beating, “Of course I get stressed. But going out there with my mind kept telling me that I still have so much to do make me even more stressed.”
Gwiboon walked closer to him, messed with his hair and kissed his side, “You should just go. Take a breath a bit.”
“By any chance, are you kicking me out?”
Contrary with her nice intention, Jinki’s voice raised from what it supposed to be. Gwiboon stoned on her ankles, her arms hung on the air for seconds before pushed down the big t-shirt and peeled the towel from her skin.
“Excuse me? I just said go out there for two or three hours, take some fresh air, it won’t hurt. You can go back whenever you want. I know you are a hard worker but that’s not how you do it. Since yesterday you’ve been staring on that screen not drawing any other line than two boxes on the left.”
When talking about details, Gwiboon is the best. And used to be Jinki’s major stalker, she owned a skill for collecting clues, information, and evidence with single glance only.
“Besides, I need to prepare the layout of the catalog for the fashion week. This room will turn into a sunken ship when I started to spread all those mock up dress. And I will have no more extra hand to cheer you up while your photoshop crashed for the nth time.”
Jinki let out bitter chuckles, “Wait, wait. Am I disturbing you?”
“Oh, here we go again. Don’t you get it? I am the one who afraid will disturb you with my works. I cannot use the studio because the first years are currently using it exclusively to prepare their class assessment. We are very busy and tensed with our projects, one of us should spare some common sense, and for this time I am volunteering myself to remind you that you’re too exhausted already.”
The dejected look on his face tells her that none of her words are taken.
“Don’t humor me, Gwiboon, you know it’s useless. You can just say that you want me to leave, I have no problem with that. But listened to you drive me out this way, doesn’t help. At all. What’s with the purposely soft tones? I’m not a baby who will easily get deceived with your lure.”
The second he finished his word, he mentally slit his throat for saying some stupid stuffs to Gwiboon. This must be nicotine deprivation, Jinki thought. The more he spent his time with Gwiboon, the more he didn’t smoke. She confiscated his cigarette right away whenever that thing appeared before them. For his own good, she said.
“Are you on your period or what? Or you just forgot to tell me that you are excessively sensitive over tiny things?”
Jinki rises from the small couch near the window where Gwiboon set up there to make second working space if her desk was too boring, collects his other belonging and shoved his laptop to his backpack.
“I had a feud with my best friend for nothing then, huh?”
“Come again?”
“Nothing.”
She grabbed his chin, forcing his eyes to be on the same level with her. She doesn’t look pleased at all.
“It’s your choice to stay or leave, Lee Jinki. I never once give you an order to detach yourself from your brother. OR MY BROTHER. It’s your damn choice!”
He removed her hand carefully from his face. As much as he mad at her right now, he doesn’t want to harm Gwiboon, “You already know what I said, huh? Why bother asking me then?”
She bites her inner cheek to calm her down before exploded into some mess.
“Are we having our first fight? Because if it’s so, I’m not. Something must be wrong with you. I just suggested you to take a break and you’re offended out of nowhere? What the hell!”
“Suggested? Seriously? This what you called suggestion? Pushing me away once you got bored on me so you can.. I don’t know.. maybe hangout with some random dude you like the usual infamous Kim Gwiboon? Do I look like fucking spare-part for you?”
Restless with the atmosphere, he accused her for something which actually only happened in his mind due to his own paranoia. It’s not like Gwiboon uncomfortable with his presence so close to her. The truth is, it was the first for Gwiboon, having someone sharing the same air under her roof more than 24 hours besides Jonghyun. Not even Minho. Before this, Jinki only spent the night and went back to his sanctuary in the morning for the next two or three days before his voice greeted her again on the phone or the door of her studio. It feels new. Feels a little bit foreign.
And beyond that, Gwiboon had been skipping her bistro duty for some days. Her father started to interrogate her and she ran out of excuses already.
“Why you always turn everything into some scenario that I’m a whore who supposed to be very guilty by your denunciation and you're the poor man who made terrible mistake by being with me?”
Jinki's heart flopped to the end of his abdomen, which at this moment seems bottomless. She's not crying. Unlike the first time he accused her of doing some shit. But the torn eyes stared sternly to his own tells him everything more than she would say by words.
“Tell me what my fault is for you always suspect me doing something behind your back.”
Gwiboon has a trust issue. However, apparently, Jinki has bigger one. He didn’t mean to say say something hurtful. It’s his automatic self-defense whenever he felt insecure, which he hopes he never had intention to ever do that. Seeing how it goes right now, it’s more like a boomerang instead of a shield.
“Shit.”
He unconsciously took a pack of cigarette on his jacket pocket and light it up right away while he still gathering his stuff. And Gwiboon is not pleased with the view, but this time she restrained her hands to snatch it away.
“You think you’re allowed to smoke here?”
“Some douchebags might as well smoked on those countless nights, am I right?”
“Just leave when you finished writing the novel inside your head.”
Once again, she didn’t cry. She just left Jinki standing awkwardly there and rushed to the bathroom before she slammed the door so hard, Jinki can feel soft wind sweep his cheek when it swung closed.
He wanted to leave, but he just can’t. So he marches to the bathroom door and knocked it with all his might.
“Gwiboon, I’m so sorry. I’m really sorry.”
He realized he crossed the line, but for Gwiboon is way too late. She’s not the nicest girl in the world, she knew that. But it doesn’t give him right to judge her for whatever seemed favorable to him at the moment.
Gwiboon promised herself not to cry again over a man. But Lee Jinki seems to be an exception. When she heard light steps leaving the room, she melts down on the cold tiled floor.
***
“Kim Gwiboon!”
She adjusted the silk and put the last pin on the tall model in front of her before stepped back and observed the model’s waist line. The model turns around when she asked, but when she faced her again, something’s still off and she can only shake her head in disappointment.
“Yaa! Kim Gwiboon!”
She let out subtle growl and tells the model to have fifteen minutes break.
“This hall is exclusive for the fashion design department, you ogre!”
“I am part of the lighting design! That makes me 100% allowed around here!”
She rolled her eyes out of habit, “Can you see I’m busy?”
“You’re not the only one!” Minho flails a piece of paper in front of her face, “You got two hours. Maximum two and half.”
She scanned the paper and got blood rushed to her head, “Are you guys out of your mind? How can I get only two hours?”
“Your girls are going to walk no more than one hour!”
“But to make a perfect one hour walk you need lots of time of rehearsing! You think it’s easy to walk down the stage while hundreds eyes anchored to you ready to scream out tiny mistake you accidently made? You people are so shallow!”
Minho sighed, as if knowing this is exactly what would happen, “Don’t throw your tantrum on me! I just delivered lighting schedule.”
“Oh now you turned into a messenger after some important lighting designer is not giving you sort of privilege you wanted?” Gwiboon jumped of the stage to be on the same eye level with her best friend, more than five years he knows him, he still awed by her ability to jump and run on heels, “Who is in charge with this shit? I need at least one whole night to check everything, Mangoooo.”
Embarrassed by the nickname he raised his hand right away, “I got you a whole night but it can only be done on Wednesday.”
“I’ll take Wednesday! I can finish everything this Sunday! Or even Saturday! On Monday and Tuesday it would be only the final touch.”
“Wednesday? What about your bistro duty?”
Obvious frown appeared on her pale face, Minho really wants to help but he has no idea what he should do.
“Gwiboon?”
“I’ll take Wednesday! I’m taking double shift this weekend.”
Saturday and Sunday supposed to be her quality control day, Minho knows it very well, “Are you in your right mind? That won’t do. I know your tailor schedule. You need to asses bunch of sample those days!”
“Let me take care of myself. All I need from you is make the whole Wednesday for me and my crew. Exclusively. Can you do that?”
Minho can only sighed, he took out a pen and scribbled something on his notepad, “Remind me to send you the loading’s rundown tomorrow night.”
“You’re the best!”
And Gwiboon just flew back to her station leaving Minho with his mixed feeling.
***
“One salmon and one lamb for the table 5! Two pouched pear for table 18! Last one!”
“Thank God.”
Gwiboon wiped her forehead and headed back to her station. Though the bistro belongs to her father, she’s still under the sous chef – sous chef’s assistant as he introduced her for the first time – making her jam-packed with rage toward the way of her father’s thinking. It’s Friday night, all tables are booked and orders keep coming to the kitchen, leaving her to hours without even rest her finger down. She had been purposely avoiding weekend previously. However, since the next two weeks she wouldn’t be able to do her duty, the schedule needs to be rearranged. And it costs her two cuts on her finger and one dessert plate smashed to the ground.
The head chef’s clearly not happy with that.
“Kim Gwiboon, can I talk to you for a minute?”
“Yes, Chef!”
She immediately entailed him to the vegetable’s stockroom.
“Are you okay?”
He asked once the door completely shut behind her.
“Of course, Chef. I’m just tired.”
“You sure?” she looked at her left hand with two fingers wrapped in rubber protector, “I don’t care what’s your father intention suddenly putting you here. What I care is all my employees are present 100%. And you, my little friend, no matter how you hate this, you never disappointed me before. You worked hard like a horse. Well, at least before tonight.”
“I’m sorry, Chef.”
“I remembered thirteen years ago you wore that apron which too big for you that time, it looked like a dress instead. You were running around the kitchen helping me carrying the bell peppers. I wonder where that little girl had gone.”
She’s completely not aware where this conversation is going to end and decided not to say anything until the man before her asking her opinion.
“The point is, Gwiboon,” somehow he seemed able to catch the confusion roaming the air, “Don’t force yourself. I know this is like volunteer work for you. I know I cannot help but asking you to keep attending your schedule. But if you need a break while on duty, asked. We’re in this kitchen may not your preferable family. But we’re a family here. We’re a team. And lesson number one, team always got your back.”
Funny how some people that she supposed to be her least favorite person turned out so much better than some people bonded by blood. Turned out, not everyone in this world had heart and head as tiny as sesame seed. Overwhelmed with so much compassion she thought she doesn’t deserve, small rivers ran down her cheeks instinctively.
“Take your time as much as you want. We’re closing the kitchen in five minutes, so don’t you worry, kid.”
Gwiboon can only nod weakly when he tapped her shoulder lightly while passing her. Once the door closed again, she moved to the stool in the corner and drown her face in both hands. Shoulder shaking hard indicating how bad she breaks down even she didn’t make any voice.
It’s been ten days she hasn’t heard anything from Jinki. Every single night passed with the longing to reach the phone and dial his number buried among her doubts and anxiety. Whenever she found her hand stretching to the side of her night desk, she convinced herself not to be a fool for Jinki left that night by his own will. She didn’t kick him out. She didn’t push him away. And history told her not to bother begging people coming back to her pathetic life.
Presumably life is a fast food restaurant and they order the same happy meal, in his room, Jinki sit on his mattress, rejecting Jonghyun who two days ago started talking to him again as if nothing ever happened between them and his invitation to become his wingman, both knees flushed to his chest while phone laid in front of his feet, inviting him to grab it in any second.
Since the first step Jinki made outside Gwiboon’s door that night, he’d been walking on earth with guilty mocking him on both sides of his head. He wanted to run back upstairs once he reached the ground floor of Gwiboon’s building. However the fear of being really chased away after his stupid mistake took over everything.
He wanted to apologize, told her he’s sorry and beg her not to leave him but then reality knocked him out. Who do you think you are, Lee Jinki? They never define what they are. Never labeling what kind of the relationship they’re having. In Jinki’s mind, he has no right to asking Gwiboon to forgive him. Supposed it would be the easiest thing to do to someone he cares a lot. Who knows the hardest thing in the world is realizing you hurt them even if you kept telling yourself you didn’t mean it?
Jinki pressed the home button of his phone. The screen tells him the day will soon turn Saturday. After five minutes contemplating if it’s polite to visit someone’s house in such hour, he put his jeans haphazardly. Snatching his jacket and key’s car from his desk, he dashed out his room almost like lightning.
***
‘Remember, Kim Gwiboon. You’re more than welcome here. If you had something in mind, let me know. I cannot lie to your father and cover your absence but as long as you’re in my kitchen, both my ears are open to everything you want to say.’
The words from the head chef rings beautifully inside her mind. The first time she saw him more than decade ago, she knew already that he is a very kind person despite his harsh words while on duty. If only she didn’t fall in love to fashion first, she must be willingly to be taken under his wing in his father’s bistro.
“Sir, take the left street, please. There’s a new small bar at front, they occupied more than half of the street every Friday and Saturday.”
Without saying anything, the taxi driver headed to the left as instructed. She found out she’s not in her right mind she might kill herself on the way if she insisted to drive back home. Gwiboon decided to leave her car at back of the bistro since she will be back again on Sunday anyway. And she can always take the bus or taxi to visit her tailor’s place tomorrow. Well, technically today since it’s almost one in the morning.
Tomorrow, tomorrow might be the last time she will ever visit her tailor again. Tomorrow might be the last time she can joke around with her, share some latest gossip, and sketch ideas together and argue which color or type of fabric they can use for their next collaboration. She’s a married woman with one son, twelve years older than Gwiboon but in her she found her best friend. Her girl best friend she never had since the other girls at the university only see her as a competitor. She decides she will tell Amber she's going to move soon after she finished this semester. It will be hard but her grandmother will be sad if she kept weeping like any other day.
"We’re here, Miss.”
“Uh, right, sorry,” she was drowning in her thought, didn’t realize the car has stopped five minutes ago, “Here. Thank you so much, drive safely, Sir.”
She went out the taxi hesitantly for being at her own house is the last thing she wants now. However, too tired to even mentally curse herself, she didn’t even realize there’s another sound of car’s door being slammed.
“Kim Gwiboon.”
She’s about to pushed the gate when a voice recites her name almost inaudible but beautifully. A voice she knew by heart. A voice she missed the most. Timidly, she turned herself to the source, almost afraid she’s still dreaming in a short nap during the ride home. But he’s there, standing weakly next to his car, losing his strong presence which Gwiboon fell for the very first time they met.
She wants to throw her shoes to him for what he said to her the last day she saw his face. She wants to bust his nose with her purse for what he did to her. Those desires nevertheless left her soul instantly when she found his face looked as awful as hers and a pair of eyes mirroring her own sadness.
Without ado, she sprinted to his spot and threw herself on his chest which the latter response by wrapping her weary figure with his arms. His heart shrunk when he felt tears seeping through the thin material of his t-shirt, making him tighten his embrace straightaway. Without her heels, Jinki can bury his nose on the top of her head and breathe in her trademark vanilla scent as much as he want, in substitute for the past days it was missing from his life.
They stay chest to chest for the longest time, indulged each other presence, sharing the warmth left on their skin in the coldness of the night, letting their hearts do the talk.
Jinki couldn’t help but break the silent first.
“I’m sorry, Baby..”
This time, it’s Gwiboon’s turn to tighten her embrace.
***
crossed-post already to my AFF
Part 8
#onkey scenario#onkey fiction#onkey fanfic#onkey#jinkibum#gwiboon#jinboon#onew#key#jinki#shinee scenario#shinee fiction#shinee fanfic
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Two Moons Are Better Than One
----THE FULL TEXT BEGINS BELOW [KEEP READING]. WORD COUNT: 10678. PLEASE SEE TAGS FOR TRIGGER WARNINGS.----
Part I.
It was the light. It had to be all the extra light. What other explanation could there be?
According to Twitter — excellent news sourcing, I know — the second moon was first spotted by the Okayama Astrophysical Observatory, one of several campuses belonging to the National Astronomical Observatory of Japan, or NAOJ. Normally the Okayama facility specializes in solar telescopy, but what are you gonna do when a second god damn moon appears in the sky?!
They, that is the Japanese astronomers who discovered the second moon, sent out two official communiques on the matter: the first to their own Prime Minister, and the second to an astronomical committee at the United Nations. That committee sponsored telescopic observatories all over the world, including a few discreet donations to NAOJ. As ridiculous as the second moon phenomenon sounded, the Japanese astronomers felt it only right they should let the committee know.
There was a third communique sent that night: a text message from Dr. Yoshida of Okayama to Lt. Avakian of Kadena Air Base in Okinawa. The text message read as follows:
Look out the window (*´◒`*)
Lt. Avakian, upon receiving the text, did in fact look out her window. Within ten minutes all of Kadena Air Base was awake and outside.
The problem with the second moon was that it was, unmistakably, a second moon. There was no room to argue that it was a comet, or a planet out of its normal place, or even a giant killer asteroid like in the movies. It was big. In fact it was as big as the real moon. Just as big, and just as bright, and with the same odd pits and craters all over it. It was as if the moon were a cell, and it had just undergone mitosis.
Immediately, the world was alert. University-sponsored telescopes all over the globe began observing the second moon as the planet turned and night came over new regions. As far as anyone could tell, the new moon was about as far from Earth as the original, was truly about the same size, and apparently of the same or similar composition.
Some said it was a gift from God. Some said it was a sign of end times. Some worried about gravitational anomalies and irregular tides.
In the tiny, backwater mountain village of Jamestown, damn near halfway around the world from NAOJ and its telescopes, utility truck driver Nate Walsh just worried about getting enough sleep to not be groggy at work.
Nate was a simple man. He worked hard and he liked a cold beer at the end of the day. He liked to go to bed early on weeknights so he could get up again at the butt crack of dawn and drive his truck. He drove all over the mountain checking power lines and transformers and reporting which poles were damaged by snow over the last winter. He did honest work and he made his living.
And how was he supposed to make his living when the neighbor’s fool dog was howling itself hoarse baying at a second god damn moon?
It was no wonder Nate awoke next day with dark circles under his eyes and no patience whatsoever for the neighbor’s dog. He hated that dog to start with; fool thing was always barking, night and day, at squirrels or raccoons or nothing at all, and now at the damn moons. It was an uppity little terrier dog with an uppity terrier bark and it didn’t belong in the mountains anyway. Nate grumbled to himself as he poured his coffee. It was a two-cup kind of day for sure.
All anyone would talk about that day was the second moon, and by lunch Nate was heartily sick of it. Yeah, a second moon was weird, but that did not make it portentous; it was just inconvenient. Maybe next time the moon wanted company it could have the courtesy to keep the light volume down. Some of us have to work.
Hannah the office girl kept claiming it was a sign from the gods. Which gods, she never quite said, but it was generally understood that Hannah trucked with all that neo-Wiccan spiritual mystic whatnot. Nate never understood it himself, but from a woman he once dated he gathered that it involved a lot of collecting rocks. How rocks might help Hannah identify a sign from the gods was uncertain. She sounded convinced, though. Questioned about it further, Hannah revealed that the message from the gods was actually buried in the dream she had on the night the second moon appeared.
It was at this point in the conversation that Nate felt himself slipping out. Collecting rocks was one thing: rocks were tangible and could even be pretty, so alright go nuts with the collecting. Dreams were not so much of either. Nate almost never remembered his dreams, and when he did it was always an unpleasant recollection. Running from monsters, and that one where you try to move or lift something but your arms have turned to jelly. So when Hannah dropped “the D word” Nate was definitely out.
That night was worse than the last. See, last night the moon — now moons, Nate corrected with disgust — was waxing up from first quarter. The moons would not be full for another five or six days, and until then they’d just be getting brighter and brighter.
In between restless tosses, Nate made a mental note to buy himself some of those blackout drapes.
The neighbor terrier was howling again, more frantically than last night. He made another mental note to buy some ear plugs.
Part II.
The Japanese astronomers started calling it Utsushitsuki, the ‘copied moon’. The English-speaking internet photoshopped a wolf head onto it and called it Moon Moon. Conspiracy theorists called it a hoax. Hannah the office girl called it a manifestation of the duality of nature: light and dark, summer and winter, male and female, God and Goddess, etc.
The second morning after the discovery of the second moon, Hannah was late coming into the office. This in itself was a rarity: Hannah was well aware that her non-traditional beliefs did not endear her to her conservative coworkers; she made sure not to give them any reason to dispute her efficacy in the office. In three years, she had only ever been late once, stuck on the highway into town behind a nasty accident involving a Dodge Laramie with a towed boat blocking both lanes.
Car accidents were not rare in this part of the mountains: tourists came up from the bay and the valley and not a damn one of them knew how to take a real mountain road turn. Things got bloody when the winter snow and ice set in.
But that was winter, and accidents involving trailer and boat towers typically happened in summer. This was neither, and Hannah had no such excuse.
She finally showed up, more than an hour late, looking as worn out as Nate felt after two nights’ bad sleep. Hannah made her apologies and shuffled to her desk and kept her eyes down while she switched everything on.
Nate happened to be in the office, Thursday being his big paperwork day, so he had a front-row seat to the spectacular chewing-out of Hannah by their manager Robbie. She was nearly in tears by the end. Nate didn’t like tardiness any more than Robbie did, but he thought Robbie was being a real dick about it. Now, Robbie was a bit of a dick anyway, he was famous around the office for it, but he was never this much of a dick. He was threatening Hannah with official citations, and saying that if it wasn’t a busy time for them and they could afford to train a new office girl he would fire her right now.
Nate thought that was a bit much, for only a second tardy offense in a three-year period. He concluded that Robbie must be in as bad a mood as Nate himself was in, owing to lack of sleep.
Eventually, of course, Robbie ran out of things to threaten Hannah with, and he stormed back into his private office huffing with exhaustively spent rage. Nate chose this break in the storm to deliver some of his paperwork to Hannah for filing.
“What happened, anyway?” Nate asked conversationally while trying not to look at Hannah’s shining, red eyes.
“I don’t know. I don’t remember what I did last night. I just… woke up almost two hours late this morning… next to the wood pile off the back porch.”
“Two hours late? But you were only one hour late for work…?”
Hannah looked down. “Yeah, well, I skipped my morning shower so I wouldn’t be two hours late.”
“Huh. Wouldn’t‘ve known.” Nate never spent much time in proximity to Hannah to notice if she smelled, nor did he ever particularly stop to notice whether her hair looked clean or greasy. She had it back in a ponytail today, which was as good a cover as any for greasy roots.
He did notice, now that she had brought up the shower, that she had rather more than usual undereye raccooning from eyeliner or mascara or what-have-you. He mentioned this when she replied with a sullen “yeah, right”.
Hannah then excused herself to the restroom, and when she returned, face slightly red and damp, much of the black smudges under her eyes were cleaned up.
Not a half hour after this, Hannah called Nate back to her desk with a dispatch.
“Power outage all over downtown Sonora, looks like someone crashed into a pole and took out a transformer. Downed lines. CalTrans is on the way to help redirect traffic. Fire department is on the scene already.”
Nate was out the door almost before Hannah finished speaking. He double checked his toolbox and gear and then hopped in his truck.
It was a lot worse than “someone crashed into a pole”.
Downtown Sonora streets were much like any other downtown streets in that they were narrow and featured a great deal of parallel parking. Or rather, they were supposed to feature parallel parking.
This looked more like the entire street at once forgot what parallel parking was and just stopped their cars wherever. Including up on curbs, in the exact center of the street over the lines, and in several instances halfway inside the downtown businesses. More than one car had crashed into a pole, and more than one transformer was taken out. Far too many of the downed lines lay draped across the tops of cars. Far too many of the cars were emitting smoke and other gases, not to mention dripping a variety of noxious-smelling fluids, the odor made all the worse by their mixing with each other and with the smell of electrical burning.
It was the burning smell that really got Nate’s attention. Downed power lines plus oil and/or gas leaks would be utterly disastrous for the densely packed downtown area. He needed more than just the local fire department.
Cell service was abysmal up this way, and Nate’s calls kept failing before he could get through. It did not help that everyone in every shop on the street was probably trying to do the exact same thing. He eventually got through to Hannah by text:
Real bad up here. Call calfire, need backup asap. At least six poles down. Too many lines. Too many cars.
Nate had nowhere to turn his truck around, so he backed it out of the street until he got to an alley he could use for a three-point turn. He couldn’t go back to the office, so he found a bank with a decent size parking lot a few blocks away from the wreckage and waited for backup, or for Hannah to text back.
When she did, it was not a welcome sight:
Got thru to calfire but they can’t get up here, dist 3 and 5 both on big fire across Fresno and Merced cos. Fires all over the state, no extra men.
No CalFire support.
And more fires all over the state.
What about the natl guard?
She said she’d let him know. And come back to the office if it wasn’t safe to do work there without backup or fire support. Hannah would call or text everyone out in the field and get them back to home base to regroup.
Nate was about to start his truck when an explosion from downtown shook him to his bones.
So the power lines had reached the gas leaks.
The sound of police sirens were already well within earshot; no doubt police had already been on the way while Nate and Hannah texted.
Another explosion sounded, this time accompanied by screams.
There was nothing Nate could do without backup and a lot more equipment. The police, and CalTrans when they got here, would get the people out of the way so Nate and his colleagues could do their jobs.
He started up his truck.
Part III.
By the time Nate returned to the office, PG&E had cut power to nearly all of downtown Sonora. It was unclear how many explosions and small fires had started in the mean time, but this would help.
Hannah was on the company’s Twitter feed. They followed all the CalTrans and CalFire accounts as well as other public utilities and a variety of news sources.
Turned out that most of the state was having an even worse time than Sonora.
There were no real explanations, only speculation about what had actually happened. It was as if everyone on the road at once all lost their damn minds and crashed into whatever they could reach. Almond orchards off of I-5 had Hyundai Elantras and Toyota Camrys wrapped around their outer trees like obscene Christmas decorations. Small SUVs, the RAV4s and the Kia Sorentos and such, had hopped curbs in Monterey and driven straight into the ocean, straight into the protected areas belonging to the Aquarium. Fresno was on fire. Woodland was on fire. Amazon packages littered highways all over the state, dropped from sarcastically smiling Prime shipping containers no longer attached to their trucks. Los Angeles was in gridlock — much more than normal gridlock — and there were rumors of open gang warfare in certain neighborhoods. Traffic lights were down, power poles were down, PG&E was cutting power everywhere, and no one was getting enough data to post pictures or videos. Every scrap of information was text-based.
Hannah read the collections of headlines and reports with an increasingly wavering voice as more of their coworkers arrived from routes all over the county. Eventually she got to a point where she could not speak anymore. Her lips pressed tight together, her tears spilled over, and she mutely shook her head. Her fingers had long since curled around the blue lace agate she kept at her desk, and now she was gripping it so hard she was liable to break her own metacarpals. Nate put his hands on the back of her chair and wheeled her far enough away from the computer that he could take over the reading.
“It’s not just California,” he reported grimly, as tweets from national news sources started coloring the feed. “‘President declares national emergency as… as international airports shut down… due to crashes and explosions on runways.’”
“Jesus Christ,” said one of Nate’s fellows.
The lights went out. PG&E was cutting power to Jamestown, too.
The computers stayed on: battery backup to prevent data loss. Thirty seconds later the emergency generators kicked on. The lights flickered back to life.
“Alex, turn the lights back off. We don’t know how long we’ll need those generators to last, or if we can get more fuel for ‘em.” Might as well not waste power where they did not need to. Alex seemed to agree; she was quick on her feet hitting all the switches in the building. Almost all of them.
The last light left on was in Robbie’s office. Given the mood he was in this morning, no one much wanted to go in there, but Alex was brave. She also had ten years seniority over Robbie, not to mention about thirty pounds’ weight advantage. Alex was one of the most masculine women Nate had ever met, and she was tough as nails.
So when Alex screamed upon opening Robbie’s office door, no one much knew what to make of it. There was an absurd moment where everyone thought she was doing it for a prank.
She stepped away, light switch untouched, her face ashen. Nate moved past her into the office.
Robbie had no apparent wounds. No burns or cuts, no cord wrapped around his neck. And yet he was, without a doubt, dead. Nate tried to take his pulse at neck and wrist, but there was none to take. He was barely discolored: a little pale was all. Nate had never seen his face so slack. Robbie always seemed to have a stick up his ass, and a tense face to match. Now he could be sleeping. It was horrifying.
Nate could not deal with a dead body, not now, maybe not ever. His mind went defensively blank at the thought of what to do with Robbie.
No, he could not be thinking of the dead. He had to think of the living.
Robbie kept petty cash in a box in the bottom of his desk. The key lived right next to the box. Nate took out all nearly three thousand dollars. He started making piles of it, approximately even, one for each person in the office. For each living person— no. None of that.
“Take the cash, go buy ice and bottled water,” he told everyone as he distributed the money. “We don’t know how long we’ll be without power but it’s all over the country. You think they’d prioritize us over LA? San Francisco? New York? Washington? We’re nothing compared to them. We might have to go without for a while. Get non-perishable snacks. Whatever you can make last a long time.”
“We shouldn’t split our resources,” Alex protested. “How about this: everyone go home, get your families, and come back here? We have a generator to keep warm at night and to keep the fridge running. We already have some flats of water here, and a little bit of backup fuel. We should get more of each if we can, and more food.”
“If we do that I’ll need help moving my parents,” Hannah squeaked. “They’re older and my mom’s on oxygen.”
“I’ll help you with your parents,” Nate offered. “I don’t have family here, but if we stop by my place I can grab blankets and paper towels and things like that.”
Hannah nodded. “Let’s go by your place first then. Once we get mom and dad in the car we shouldn’t take them out again until we’re here.”
“You two get going first,” said Alex. “Scott and I’ll be behind you but first… let’s see if we can get Robbie out of here.”
Nate was just as glad not to have that job. It was disturbing enough that Robbie was dead, more so since it was wholly unclear what killed him. He could not stomach the thought of touching his cold skin again.
“Come on, Hannah. We’ll take my truck, save the gas in your car for now.”
For most of the drive, where the treetops parted over the roads Nate could clearly see in the sky the daytime ghosts of the twin moons, looking down on him like a pair of smug spectral eyes. It was enough to drive anyone crazy, he mused. Hannah mostly kept her eyes down, but whenever she did look up at the sky, she clutched her agate stone tighter in her palm.
Part IV.
“Your neighborhood is so quiet,” Hannah remarked in a hushed voice as Nate pulled his truck into the driveway.
“It’s a little too quiet right now,” came Nate’s gruff reply.
Maybe he was just being paranoid. He was never home in the middle of the afternoon on a Thursday, maybe the level of quiet was normal. Maybe the terrier that barked all night was only able to do so because it slept through the day. That had to be it.
The power was out, he noticed immediately when he entered. Everything electrical has a hum: the fridge, the TV, the small orange nightlight plugged into the hall. It’s the kind of white noise thing nobody notices until one day it’s not there. Nate was acutely aware of the lack of it. No wonder the neighborhood felt too quiet.
He set Hannah in charge of the hall closet, where big Costco sized packs of paper towels and toilet paper rolls waited wrapped in plastic. It took her two fully loaded trips to get it all hauled into the bed of Nate’s truck.
Nate was making a rather more thorough tour of his house, hunting down blankets, camping gear, water bottles. He met Hannah in the kitchen. She had pulled in two coolers from the deck.
“I thought between your house and mine we could get these filled” she explained.
“Good idea. The cabinet to your left has nonperishables—grab that box of Ramen.”
“You need boiling water to make Ramen,” Hannah protested, but even as she said it Nate was pulling an electric kettle down from another cabinet.
“It’s for camping: electrical or battery. I know there’s bowls in the break room so no worries there…”
After the easy nonperishables they moved on to the produce. The vegetables would spoil quickly without power but fruit would hang on a few days either way.
“Do we have any idea what’s really going on?” Hannah muttered to herself over a small pile of apples.
“We really don’t.”
“All those people… Oh, Goddess.” Hannah sniffed and put her sleeve to her eye. She was not fully crying yet but she was close. “Do you think it has anything to do with that second moon?”
Nate shrugged. “I don’t see how it could. Yeah the extra light keeps me awake at night, but it’s not driving me that crazy. Not like… Robbie.”
At the mention of the name Hannah gave a loud dry sob. “Oh Robbie. That was awful.”
“He yelled at you and threatened to fire you,” Nate reminded her.
“Yeah but he didn’t deserve to die… You know? Back in the day? People used to think the moon caused madness. That’s why they called it lunacy, like lunar.”
“So twice the moons means twice the madness?”
Hannah flinched at his sharp tone, and he immediately felt ashamed of himself. He had to keep reminding himself that she was having an even worse day than he was. Speculating about the situation might not be helping, but snapping at someone who was already scared and upset was even less helpful.
“Sorry. It’s just, this Bird Box shit has me on edge.”
“Yeah. No, no worries,” Hannah mumbled. “Bird Box? You think it’s something like that? Monsters you can’t see until you can, or that manifest as your worst fear or whatever?”
Nate shrugged. “Honestly I have no idea. I don’t know if it’s the moon, or monsters, or a zombie apocalypse virus. I just know that people are dying and we have no idea what’s triggering it.”
“It seems like most of the people who’ve gone crazy so far did it while they were driving. But Robbie didn’t go anywhere today…?”
“We don’t know that. The people driving are just the ones who have caused damage, the ones people are tweeting about. Who knows how many more people are going crazy right now in their own homes?”
Hannah’s face turned grim. “We should hurry up and get to my folks.”
Nate could only agree. They threw the coolers into the back of his truck.
They tried to get the radio to work while Hannah directed the way to her house, but less than half of the usual stations were transmitting. Most of the ones that came through were in Spanish. The traffic advisory channel on AM came through, but there was nothing it could tell them that they could not observe with their own eyes.
Nate understood what Hannah meant by his neighborhood being quiet when he arrived at her house. Hannah and her family lived on the edge of a trailer park right off the highway; they would be subject to traffic and truck noise at any and all hours of the day.
Right now though, with the streets already clogged, with all the remaining traffic slowed down, and without the familiar hums of electricity, her neighborhood was also unnaturally quiet.
Or it was.
A gunshot sounded nearby. Right in front of them, actually. It came from Hannah’s house.
Stricken, Hannah fumbled for the door handle and practically fell out of the truck. She ran in a blind panic to her front door.
Nate was only a few steps behind her; he grabbed her by the shoulders and pulled her back before she could touch the screen.
“Whoever. Is. In. There. Has. A. Gun.” He said each word deliberately. Hannah sobbed again.
“Mom. Dad,” she croaked pitifully. And Nate was not without pity. But he also could not let her run into danger blindly. It was a single-wide for God’s sake; where could she run? Where could she possibly hide?
An answering sob came from inside the house. It was, at first, inarticulate wailing. Like the cry of an inconsolable baby filtered through adult lungs. Gradually some words began to filter through the cries.
“Irene…” the voice cried out between blubbers.
Hannah began thrashing against Nate’s grip on her. “That’s my dad!” she screamed at him, just before breaking free and running into her house.
Nate hesitated for a second, torn between going after Hannah and protecting himself against being shot.
Hannah’s scream was the tie-breaker, and Nate tore after her without thinking.
Entering Hannah’s parents’ living room was like entering a labyrinth of dusty tchotchkes and brass picture frames that together covered so much of the walls you almost couldn’t tell what an unpleasantly dark, dated shade of fake wood paneling was under them. A kitchen to the right sported dark cabinets with brass hardware, and the trend continued down the hall to the left with paneled walls and brass doorknobs.
It was from that direction that Hannah’s scream had apparently come, and Nate threaded his way around small laundry piles and stacks of magazines until he reached the end of the hall.
The door to the master bedroom stood ajar, and just inside it: Hannah, standing with her back pressed against a picture frame on the wall, staring in mute terror at the floor.
Hannah’s mother, who must have been Irene, lay on the floor, dead or nearly so. She was surrounded by a pool and a spray of her own blood, her discarded oxygen tank a few feet away beside the bed.
And sitting on the bed, with hollow eyes and a decrepit hand wrapped around a 9mm pistol, was an old man. He was staring down at Irene in shock.
“Dad?” Hannah finally squeaked out. The old man flinched but he did not look up.
“Mr. Jennings?” Nate prompted. Hannah’s dad flinched again.
“Mr. Earl Jennings?” Nate said again, after a brief whispered appeal to Hannah for her dad’s first name. At the sound of his first name, he finally looked up.
“I had to do it,” he wheezed in despair. “I had to do it. She was going crazy. She was… oh, Irene.”
Nate turned toward Hannah, but her face was white and her lips were sealed, and she would not or could not speak.
“What do you mean, Mr. Jennings? What do you mean, she was going crazy?”
Mr. Jennings wailed. “She was talking all this crazy talk, about how the whole world had to be cleaned. She said she was going to the moon while the world was cleaned, and when it was done bein’ cleaned she was gonna come back and be queen here. On a new clean Earth. She was…crazy. She took off her oxygen mask and hit me when I tried to put it back on her.” And truly, ugly bruises were forming on Earl’s face and arms. “She started screamin’. And then. Then she just stopped. She went all silent and cold-like. Then she said. She said.” He paused.
“What did she say, Mr. Jennings?” Nate prompted after a few moments of nothing but Earl sobbing.
Earl took a shuddering breath. “She seemed calm. But she took a knife from the kitchen. And she said the world had to be cleaned, and she’d do the cleanin’ if she had to…Oh God. She was gonna kill me, I could see it in her eyes. Irene…” he broke off again into inarticulate wailing.
After a few minutes he subsided, and he finally looked up at Hannah. “I’m so sorry baby. I’m so sorry.”
He held the pistol up to his own temple and pulled.
Hannah screamed. Nate screamed. Earl did not scream. The force of the shot flung his body down against the mattress. The blood sprayed out and flicked all over Nate and Hannah’s clothes.
Nate turned as quickly as he could, threw his arms around Hannah and pushed her head against his shoulder, forcing darkness over her eyes. He was not quick enough to spare her the sight of her father’s death, but at least she would not be able to keep looking at it. It also prevented Nate from having to look at the body any longer than necessary. He was actually feeling like he might be sick if he did not get them out of this room quickly.
Hannah sobbed and screamed into Nate’s shoulder and alternated between struggling against his grip on her and clutching his shirt. She let him herd her out of the master bedroom, but her legs gave out in the living room and she collapsed onto the threadbare sofa.
She stayed there, curled up and sobbing, for at least another ten minutes. Nate was powerless to do anything but sit there next to her, trying as hard as he could to get the image of Earl’s last moments out of his mind. The image would not go away.
First Robbie, now Hannah’s parents. Was the whole world going crazy?
Part V.
Even though at length she recovered enough of her wits to stand, Hannah was incapable of going through the house to look for supplies. Nate could hardly blame her, but since the task had to fall on him, he was sorry he failed to close the master bedroom door when they left it.
Nate took Hannah out to the front porch and sat her down on the steps. He put the lap quilt from the couch around her shoulders.
“Stay here a minute. Deep breaths. Try to keep your eyes closed.”
“Still thinking it’s like Bird Box?” Hannah said, her voice completely hollow.
“Let’s not take any chances about it, huh? I’ll be back out in a couple minutes.”
Nate himself had to take a deep breath before heading back inside. It was not so much that the air smelled different with all the blood it it; it’s just that he knew it was there. More to the point, he felt like a grave robber. What kind of scum disrespects the dead like that?
That was not true, he told himself; it was Hannah’s house too, and whatever he took from the house was for her survival. He was not stealing from the dead. He would not even go into the master bedroom again; he would restrict himself to the kitchen, bathroom, living room and hall closet. Places full of household goods, not personal possessions.
Hannah’s parents had more nonperishable food in their kitchen than Nate normally kept, but that did not make it easy to decide what to take. Canned goods were not the most practical due to their weight. Neither were noodles that were not instant. That said, between the granola bars, trail mix, and toaster pastries, Nate could put together a small lightweight feast. An obliging cupboard full of plastic shopping bags made it easy to pile the lot by the front door while Nate moved on to the closet.
It occurred to Nate, in a stroke of uncommon thoughtfulness, that Hannah would probably like to have a few essential toiletries with her, especially since she was likely to have to go without a shower for days or weeks. There was a green backpack in the hall closet, maybe Hannah’s own from high school, that would do. He grabbed her toothbrush, toothpaste, deodorant, hair brush and elastics, face wash and moisturizer – he definitely would not have known to grab the moisturizer on his own, but luckily they were right next to each other. He had poked his head into the cupboard under the bathroom sink to see if there was anything else she might need when he spotted a box of tampons. Might as well grab them too, he decided: even if she did not need them now, she might need them in a few days, or next week…
He had not wanted to go into Hannah’s bedroom – that was a private space where he had no business – but in going over the house he was keenly aware that he had not found Hannah’s jacket. Blankets were well and good, but she needed an option with sleeves. So he went in.
Her room smelled like incense and a strange combination of scented candles. She had so many candles. Many of them had little black flecks of something on top: tiny pieces of ash? There was an altar of sorts on top of her dresser: a mirror, more candles, a variety of crystals and rocks with strange symbols painted on them. There was a battered three-subject notebook with a pen stuck into its spiral. Maybe a diary? Without really thinking about it, Nate picked it up and shoved it into the green backpack. Without thinking through any of it, he also picked up a pink crystal the size of a kiwi and packed that too. Hannah liked collecting rocks; that was about as far as Nate understood Wicca. Maybe having one of these rocks would give her comfort.
She had just watched her parents die, and Nate thought a rose quartz was going to give her comfort? He huffed out half a laugh at the absurdity of it. Still, he did not take the crystal back out of the backpack.
The jacket, his original target, was hanging on the back of the door the whole time. He grabbed it on the way out.
Part of him was afraid that he would walk out onto the front porch and Hannah would be gone, or worse that she would be there, but be violently insane like her mother.
Hannah’s reaction to shock was much more like her father’s: she was just sitting there, staring blankly, hands limp in her lap. Tears continued to run down her face but she had no more energy left to sob. Nate had loaded everything they were taking from her house into the last few open square feet of his truck bed, and in the mean time she had not spoken, stood up, or even blinked as far as he could tell.
“Hey. Hannah,” Nate said quietly, his hand on the quilt over her shoulder. A bit louder but still gently: “Hannah. Hannah Jennings. Look at me, Hannah.” She finally looked. Whew, so she was not completely catatonic after all. “It’s time to go, Hannah.” It felt strange to keep saying her name over and over, but Nate had read somewhere that repeating a person’s name helped to keep them grounded in reality. He hoped that wasn’t just something made up for a novel or a movie.
It seemed to be working in her case: Hannah nodded. She even tried to stand under her own power, but that did not work out terribly well. Nate supported her back to the truck and lifted her in. When he got in on his side, she had made no motion to fasten her seat belt, so Nate ended up doing that too.
They drove in silence back to the office. Near silence, anyway: once in a while Hannah gave a loud sniff. There was nothing Nate could say, so he kept quiet.
There were five other vehicles parked at the office when they arrived, not counting crazy drivers who had rolled up over the curb: Hannah’s dark green Honda Civic, Alex’s red Dodge Durango, Scott’s black Jeep Cherokee, Robbie’s dark grey Nissan Altima, and one of the company trucks, a white Chevy Silverado several years newer than Nate’s grey one. Nate backed his truck into the handicap parking spot close to the door. No one else was going to need that spot for a while.
Hannah, though far from okay, recovered enough that she offered to help unload when Nate shut his truck off. Nate didn’t figure he needed the help, but he equally figured that doing something productive would keep Hannah from falling apart again. He told her to get the paper towels and toilet rolls into the supply closet, and then to organize the food as he brought it through to the kitchen.
They walked in on Alex and Scott in the middle of a loud and heated discussion.
“That’s why I told you to try calling him, the little fucker blocked me!” Alex yelled.
“If he’s gone, he’s gone! What makes you think he’ll answer me if he blocked you?!” came Scott’s reply.
“What’s going on?” Nate interjected.
“Finally!” cried Alex. “I was starting to think you two left us, too.”
“What do you mean, left?”
“I mean, that little shit Hector hasn’t shown up, and he’s blocked my number. No sign of Martin yet, either.” At this Alex threw a dirty look in Scott’s direction.
Nate groaned. So it was going to be like this, huh? “Alright, Scott, you try calling Martin, I will call Hector.”
We’re sorry, but the number you have dialed is not in service at this time…
Nate tried texting.
Message not deliverable.
So much for Hector.
This was what Nate had originally wanted, wasn’t it? He told each of them to take money, get water, and hunker down at home. That’s exactly what Hector did. At least, Nate hoped that’s what Hector did. The alternatives…
No time for this. Nate hauled in more bags of food, more blankets, more water bottles.
“Hey, Martin! Glad I caught you, buddy,” came Scott’s voice from inside Robbie’s office. “Oh is that right? Huh. Thing is, we were kinda countin’ on you, man… What? No, that’s not… Martin, come on… What the hell are you talking about, dude? Slow down, you’re not making any sense… Yeah, I know, the moon’s real nice…dude? You can’t drive to the moon…No that wasn’t a dare! Martin! Come back, come on man, let’s talk about this… Martin! Martin?! Shit! Fuck, shit, fuck.”
There was a window between Robbie’s office and the main office. Nate saw Scott pull the phone away from his head as a look of pain and horror passed over his face. More than ten seconds later, Scott put the phone back up to his ear.
“Martin? Buddy, you there? Martin? Answer me, goddammit! …Fuck you…” Scott’s voice broke and he put the phone down for good.
He stepped out of the office and met Nate’s questioning look.
“I think Martin’s dead.”
“What happened?”
“If I had to guess: car crash.” Scott sounded as wooden has Hannah had earlier.
“Jesus.”
“What the fuck is going on?!” Scott exploded. A muffled crashing sound answered from the direction of the kitchen, as if a large Costco sized box of Ramen noodles had been dropped, collided with the edge of a table or counter-top, and then fell on the floor. A skittering, as of a dozen packets of dried noodles sliding around on linoleum, followed the crash.
“I don’t know, man, but considering the day we’ve all had, maybe keep it down a little? We need to stay calm.”
“Calm, hell! You didn’t have to carry Robbie out of here into the woods! I did that! I’ve never cleaned up after a dead body before in my life, but that’s the day I’ve had, Nate! Don’t tell me to fucking stay calm!”
“Not that it’s a competition, but you definitely have not had the worst day of anyone in this building right now, so will you kindly keep your fucking voice down.”
“You think you’ve had a worse day so far? Or are you talking about the filing girl you clearly want to fuck so badly? Is that how you can stay so calm, Nate? Have you already fucked her and you’re too mellowed out to care that Robbie and Martin are dead, and probably so is Hector?” Scott turned away and started stomping toward the break room and kitchen.
Nate thought Scott was storming off to cool down for a few minutes, so he did not follow. But then came Hannah’s yelp, followed by the thud of something heavy hitting the kitchen floor, and he was sprinting across the office.
“Maybe,” Scott was growling. His voice sounded thick like he was talking around a wad of saliva. “Maybe Nate has the right idea after all. Maybe I’d mellow out some, too…”
“Are you crazy?” Hannah shrieked from the floor.
By the time Nate entered the kitchen, Hannah had flailed and crawled until her back was against the cupboards, but Scott continued to advance on her. All the while he was pulling his belt off. His hands were occupied; Nate took the opportunity to charge.
Nate and Scott went down in a heap, but there was a problem in that Nate had no Step Two to this plan. Scott was taller, heavier, and definitely not thinking straight. His fist collided with the side of Nate’s head. Lights burst behind Nate’s eyes, and he finally understood why cartoon characters had stars around them after a head injury. The world was spinning blurry lights; Scott’s growls and Hannah’s screams sounded a world away.
He became aware that Scott was trying to stand up again, and without any other plan in place, Nate tackled him again. For a moment they were nothing but flailing limbs, until a gunshot pierced the air and cleared even Nate’s foggy head.
Suddenly Nate’s knee would not hold up his weight. He staggered, then fell to the floor. His pants felt too warm; he hadn’t wet himself, had he?
He was, very dimly and vaguely, aware of the shape of Scott rising to his feet. He was screaming something else now, but Nate could not hear the words.
Another nearby sound came to him, the sound of Alex’s voice? He could not tell what she was saying either. All that was clear was that Alex and Scott were talking to each other.
There was another gunshot. A great shuddering thud as Scott hit the floor. A scream. Hannah’s; Nate knew her scream too well, even in this state.
“Nate? Nate. Hey. Stay awake, Nate, stay with me.” Hannah’s voice was near his head. She was sobbing again. How did she have enough water left in her to sob?
“Keep pressure right here,” Alex’s voice came from somewhere above his hips. “I’m really sorry Nate. I was trying to get Scott, I heard what he was saying to you about Hannah, and… Hannah, keep pressure right here! Keep it together, come on. I’ll be right back with first aid.”
Despite all of Hannah’s begging him to ‘stay with her’, Nate felt his consciousness slipping. He couldn’t keep his eyes open anymore. What was that bright silvery light? God damn it, it looked just like those two moons. Wouldn’t they ever just let him get some sleep?
Part VI.
So…he was dead, right? He had to be dead.
He was floating, for one thing. It felt like he was floating directly over his body, with his feet still sort of anchored to himself; but it looked like he was looking at the planet Earth from outer space.
Nate tried to take a step. His foot felt like it weighed very little, and yet it was tethered by elastic band to…something. He could lift his foot, no problem, but he could not move it anywhere to set it down again. There was no walking, wherever he was.
And wherever he was, it had to be Hell, right? There was no fire or brimstone, but neither were there any pearly gates. A big black empty nothingness looking at the Earth from afar: that was much more hellish than heavenly.
Maybe it was one of those in-between places: Purgatory or Limbo, or Tartarus.
The thing is: Nate could not remember for anything how he had died. He remembered getting shot. But that had been in the leg; surely that had not killed him?
Wait, he had been punched in the head, and that could have done it. Scott was a big man.
There was something peaceful about this place. Maybe there were no angels on fluffy clouds, but Nate felt well rested, and that had to be a feeling from Heaven.
And the Earth looked so still from this distance. So smooth. Like there wasn’t a single bad thing going on in it. No wars, no men in suits hoarding all the money, certainly no apocalypse-level events driving everyone crazy. From up here, up here on the moon, Nate realized with a start, the Earth looked so…clean.
Nate looked to his left, and nearly fell over himself.
There was the second moon. It was so much closer, so much bigger. Its bright silver surface matched the soil under Nate’s feet, and he was seized with a sudden panic. Which of these moons was the real moon, and which the imposter? What if he was standing on the fake moon after all?
Keep it together, Nate. Keep calm.
What did it really matter which moon he was on? He was on the moon!
You’re not dead. Dead people don’t go to the moon. Maybe you’re dreaming but you’re not dead.
And if he was not dead, maybe he could get back to Earth.
Why go back? Why go back to all that pain and madness? You could stay here, Nate.
Stay here? Where did that come from? Nate thought he was just thinking to himself, but that thought was not his.
Had any of those thoughts been his? They seemed so him-like at the time.
Calm down, Nate—
“Don’t tell me to calm down!”
…That’s exactly what Scott said.
“No…” but Nate was lying to himself there. He remembered what Scott had said. Then he remembered what Scott had done. Nate felt sick.
“Who are you? Why am I here?”
Why are any of us here?
“Are there more of you, or was that just philosophy?”
The thought that answered Nate was not in words, but in feeling. Roughly translated, the feeling was I don’t understand what you mean by more.
Then, what more could you ask for? We are already all.
“What the fuck does that mean?”
Calm down, Nathan. Don’t distress yourself.
Nate made a concerted effort to cool his temper before replying. “I just want answers. I want to know why things are so messed up on Earth. Why all those people had to die.”
The same feeling of confusion broke against his mental space. You answered your own question. The Earth was, as you put it, messed up, already. Humans did it. Now humans must pay their debts. It will end when balance is restored.
“That’s bullshit. How does killing everyone restore balance? What about the people trying to save the planet?”
Humans cannot save this planet. Humans can only consume and destroy it.
“Why do you even care what we do to this planet? I don’t want the Earth destroyed either, but shouldn’t we humans get to be the ones making that decision? We’re the native species here, not you!”
A thunderous rumble rolled through Nate’s head and brought him to his knees. It was like a chuckle from the throat of God.
You think so?
The pain in Nate’s head would not let him answer. His vision was become blurry around the edges. He turned his gaze back toward Earth. Toward home.
Dawn was just breaking over the Sierra Nevada ridge. Nate could almost see the colors as they turned from grey to peach to blue. He could almost hear Alex and Hannah’s voices.
Nate’s vision blacked out completely. In return, the voices became much clearer.
“—before data cut off was that Air Force One went down. They’re pretty sure the President is dead.” That was Hannah’s voice for sure.
Alex was in the same room but further away. “At least one good thing came of all this.”
“I’d take the President back if it meant I could have my parents too.”
“Jesus, I’m sorry Hannah.”
Hannah didn’t say anything but she made a little noise like mm-hmm.
Alex tried to change the subject. “Hey, I’ve never thought to ask before: is it offensive when we say Jesus or God around you?”
“Nope, not at all. Invoke the name of your savior, or take his name in vain, it doesn’t mean anything to me.”
“So when you say things like ‘oh my Goddess’, which Goddess is that?”
“Mother Earth. The Greeks called her Gaia.”
“Is that why you collect crystals?”
Hannah chuckled. “The Earth Mother has power; the crystals are part of her; they channel her energy. Take this one, for example.” There was the sound of a zipper, a rustle of paper and fabric. “The rose quartz. This one channels compassion.”
“Since when is the Earth compassionate?” Alex sounded skeptical.
“She’s not all the time. Earthquakes and volcanoes and rockslides are all terrifying and brutal. But she also gives us soil to grow our food in. She nourishes us, gives us life. Isn’t that compassion?”
“I see…” she sounded like she did not quite see. “You were just carrying that around in your backpack?”
“No. Nate put it there.”
“Why in the world…? I didn’t think he believed in any of that.”
“I don’t know.” Hannah was quiet, thoughtful. “He was going through the house. Looking for supplies. He knew to grab my Book of Shadows. Maybe he was trying to send a message with this…”
“I’m sorry, your book of what now?”
“Book of Shadows. My spellbook. It was on my altar next to my favorite crystals.”
Nate dimly recalled the spiral notebook he had thought was a much-used diary. Part of him wanted to get up and insist that he had no idea what it was and that he had no intentions of sending encoded messages. The other part of him sort of wanted to see where Hannah was going with this.
“Why the rose quartz?” she muttered to herself.
“What did you say rose quartz was for? Compassion?”
“Compassion, healing, nurturing. Basically all expressions of love. It’s spiritually connected to the heart chakra.”
“If we live through this you’ll have to explain properly what a chakra is. Anyway, I think if he was trying to send a message, the simplest one would be that he loves you.”
“That would be the simplest but that doesn’t mean it’s correct,” Hannah said.
Meanwhile what Nate was thinking was: no, the simplest answer is I have no idea what your rocks mean, I just thought you’d like it.
Getting her a rock just because she’d like it was an act of compassion though, so at least his choice was thematically on point.
Nate thought it would be a bad idea to “wake up” while they were talking about him, so he waited until Alex asked something about the state of their supplies and Hannah said she would go and check. He “woke up” shortly after he heard the door to the break room open and close.
“Rise and shine, buddy,” Alex greeted him. “Good to see you didn’t die after all.”
Nate groaned and pushed himself up. He was embedded in a nest made of most of the blankets they had brought, so the task was easier said than done.
“What happened?” he asked.
“What’s the last thing you remember?”
“Um. Scott punching me in the head.”
“Ah. Okay.” Alex straightened herself up. She was leaning against one of the desks. Her jacket was on but the sleeves were pushed up, her hands were dirty, and she had a blanket of her own around her shoulders. Her hair, though short, looked a complete mess. “I brought a gun with me from home. I figured, what if looters show up? We should have some protection. I was looking for a place out of the way to stow it when I heard you and Scott start fighting.
“It’s not that I really wanted to kill Scott. He’s argumentative but he never seemed like a bad person. But I saw him hit you, and I heard what he said about Hannah, and I figured he’d gone crazy and couldn’t be reasoned with. So I shot at him. I’m really sorry I hit you, man. Good news, though: it was a complete graze, no bullet in you, no bone damage that I can tell. Meat only.”
At this, Nate looked down at his leg. Alex had applied a field dressing of sorts. The hem of his boxers on the left side was caked with dried blood.
“Where are my pants?”
“On the chair over there. We had to get them off you to dress the wound…” Nate followed the line of Alex’s pointing until he spotted his jeans. He could tell they were heavily bloodstained because the right leg was blue and the left leg was black. Nate was relieved to discover that all the blood was what had made his pants feel warm before. He had not wet himself after all. Small miracles.
“After Scott pushed you down I had a clear shot. I took it. Scott’s dead. I dragged him out back after we were done taking care of you. Hannah’s gone through almost all the bleach in the closet trying to get the stains out of the break room floor.”
“Now that you mention it I can smell the bleach. How is she venting it?”
“We’ve got the door propped open and we opened the front windows. We didn’t want to use the generator to run A/C.”
“Good call. I’m sorry you had to do that. To Scott I mean.” Nate was not sorry that Alex saved his life, but the rest of it, yes.
“Me too. But he wasn’t right in the head anymore. Scott would never have attacked you or Hannah. He went crazy like the rest of them.”
“I hate to ask, but, would you do me a favor and shoot me if I get like that?”
Alex grimaced. “Sure thing, buddy. Same thing, you to me?”
Nate nodded. “Yeah, definitely.”
They sat in morbid silence for a moment.
“Hey listen I need to ask you something,” Alex leaned in conspiratorially. She lowered her voice. “Is there something going on between you and Hannah?”
Having heard the conversation when they thought he was asleep, Nate knew perfectly well where this was going, but he decided to have a bit of fun with it. He leaned in and lowered his voice too.
“Why? You thinking of making a move?”
Alex snorted. “Nah, she’s not my type. I like ‘em a bit less helpless. But a guy with a savior complex could really go for a girl like her.”
“Too bad I don’t have a savior complex.”
Alex raised her eyebrow at him. “You don’t think so?”
Nate flinched. He was reminded forcibly of that awful dream he had had about the moons, and a voice, maybe the voice of God, mocking him.
Alex misinterpreted his flinch. “You do like her, don’t you? Even if you haven’t made a move?”
Nate was not quite sure how to answer at first. Hannah was… not strikingly beautiful but certainly pretty; no genius but smart enough most of the time; a hard worker, though unambitious; sweet and attentive. And who was Nate to demand a woman be any more than those things? He wasn’t strikingly handsome himself, nor of above average intelligence; he worked hard but was no schemer for power, and he took care of those who cared for him. They would be a well-matched pair, he considered. He had done far worse for himself with his first, extremely short, marriage.
The answer to the question of whether he liked her, then, was yes. But he knew that wasn’t what Alex was really asking. Alex thought he had deliberately given Hannah the rose quartz to signify love. When she asked “do you like her?” what she really meant was “do you, or could you, love her?” To that Nate did not yet have an answer. The fact of it was: the explosive end to that short first marriage had rather ruined his opinion of the whole institution, and of dating beyond the casual, short-term sort. Hannah was a good girl, wife-quality even. She deserved someone of husband-quality. That was assuming there was a single husband-quality man left in the world when they reached the post-apocalypse, of course.
“We make it through this, get the world put back together, I’ll let you know,” he finally said. But he said it with a conspiratorial little smile, to put Alex’s imagination on the right track.
Alex straightened back out. Then her face went slack.
“Too bad, Nathan.”
Nate lurched backward. The voice that came out of Alex’s mouth was not Alex’s voice. Nor did it sound like the voice from the dream. But then again that voice had been in Nate’s head; it had been almost in his voice.
But it was, undoubtedly, The Voice. The Voice of the thing that believed humans deserved to be wiped out.
“Too bad w-what?” Nate stammered. He tried to recover enough motor function to reach over and grab his jeans. He got them at last, pulled them on, and tried not to be disgusted by the crusty feeling all over his left leg.
“We were thinking about leaving pockets of humanity alone. Wiping out a whole race is so exhausting. But if you and the girl aren’t a breeding pair, what would be the point in letting you continue?”
Seeing Alex’s face move to the words of a voice that was not hers was horrific, but not nearly as much as seeing the muscles in her neck spasm as her throat tried to make her voice sound like The Voice.
“You would let us live if we were a couple? I thought you hated humans; why would you want us to make more?”
The Voice gave a grotesque laugh that left blood dripping slowly from Alex’s mouth.
“We did not always hate you. When you were few, you did not harm the planet as you do now. If you do not wish extinction, we would return to this state, as a compromise.”
“Extinction?” Hannah had returned from the break room. She froze, horrified, when she realized where The Voice was coming from.
“Yes, little one. You may join us, or you may go extinct, or you may stay with this man and try to save your wretched race.”
Alex began clawing at her own throat. Trying to tear out or silence The Voice. With a lurch Nate realized that she was conscious of everything the horrible Voice was doing to her, aware of every word her throat and mouth were forced to say. She fought for control, but it seemed like The Voice was choking her for her efforts.
“Nate,” she gasped. “You. P-promised…”
“Alex…”
“DO IT.”
“Yes, Nathan. DO IT. Destroy your friend to save her if you wish. It makes no difference: her soul is already with us.”
“Nate?” Hannah’s hand was on his arm.
“She asked me to kill her if…”
“If she was taken by us. And she has been. Your kind parasitized ours in time before memory; now our kind will feed on you. On her.”
The gun was just sitting on the desk. It would be so easy to grab it.
“Nate she’s suffering. End it for her,” Hannah pleaded.
“Yes Nathan, end it for her. End it, or we will end you!”
Alex’s body began to rise like a grotesque marionette. It lurched forward on limp feet; Nate heard the ankle bones crack. A scream came out in Alex’s voice, just Alex’s voice. The scream started with pain, then moved into rage.
Nate was paralyzed. It was Hannah who had the wherewithal to grab the gun. She put the barrel against Alex’s face like her father had done the day before, and pulled the trigger.
Alex went down in a crumpled mess of limbs. Hannah dropped the gun and reflexively kicked it across the room. Nate fell to his knees. He felt like he could barely breathe.
“Your kind…were always good fighters. Multiply again, little parasites…we will be back to feast again…”
The Voice sounded exactly as garbled and wrong as any voice would, coming out of what was left of Alex’s face and jaw. Nate struggled not to throw up at the sight of blood bubbles welling up with each fading word.
“Nate? Nate, come on, stay with me.” Hannah was at his side, her hands on either side of his face.
“Hannah, you…?”
“I heard what you promised her earlier. You weren’t going to let each other go the way Scott went. I wasn’t going to let that happen either. Not to her, and not to you.”
He was losing the ability to keep his own head up. He leaned against Hannah’s shoulder and put his arms around her waist.
“Don’t let that happen to me, Hannah. Please don’t let it—“
“Shh. It’s over. Whatever that thing was, it said before that we could live. It’s gone. It’s over.” She had one arm tight around his shoulders and her other hand stroking his hair like a startled pet. “It’s over,” she repeated gently.
They moved Alex out of the building within the hour. That was it for Nate’s lifting power until his leg healed up some more. Hannah changed his dressing and they sat on the nest of blankets in the main office for the rest of the day. Hannah periodically brought out food, or helped Nate limp to the bathroom. Nate began reading aloud a mystery novel Martin had left in his desk.
When night fell, the sky looked darker.
He asked Hannah to confirm what he was seeing and she agreed with him.
There was only one moon in the sky.
----END OF TEXT----
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#two moons are better than one#full text#short story#horror writing#science fiction writing#fantasy writing#genre: fantasy#genre: horror#genre: survival horror#apocalypse#tw: dead body#tw: suicide#tw: murder#tw: body horror#cosmic horror
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