i have a room in wobbledogs exclusively for teeth. whenever dogs drop their baby teeth i send the teeth down the chute to to the teeth room. it's because they have a potential effect on dogs when eaten (shifts their hue toward white and increases their glow) that is cool but not quite desirable for every dog out there, and because teeth are so small, they get easily lost in nooks of rooms and also get eaten by dogs you didn't want to eat them, and when you have a dog you want to make eat teeth it's sometimes a pain to find enough. someday i will unleash dogs in here to eat teeth

All Fired Up - Part 4

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Lucy leaned back in her chair, lacing her fingers together and stretching her arms above her head.  The faint glow from her laptop was the only light in her bedroom and she was surprised to see how dark it was. Looking at the time in the bottom right corner of her screen she internally groaned - 1.34am. So much for getting an early night. She’d just been so in the zone!

 It was around 8pm when she’d got home from work and sat down at her desk with a cup of coffee; that coffee was now stone cold, the black liquid looking distinctly unappetising. Lucy rubbed her eyes tiredly. Working during the day as an investigative reporter for the Magnolia Times and writing her novel at night was exhausting, but she couldn’t think of any other way around it. She wanted to be a writer full-time, but until she’d sold a couple of manuscripts and made a name for herself, she had to work too. Good thing she had no friends or social life, she joked internally, she really didn’t have time for them.

 She sighed, and picked up the coffee cup, padding off towards her tiny kitchen, stopping on the way to see if Plue was asleep. She walked over to the dog basket tucked behind the sofa, bending down to stroke his furry white puppy ears as he dozed. “Sorry boy”, she whispered, “looks like we missed dinner again.”

 She reached for the jar of dog biscuits and filled his bowl, refreshing his water too. He’d eat when he woke up, she was sure. Now that she thought about it, she was kinda hungry too. Lunch was a long time ago. She tipped the now cold coffee down the sink, leaving the cup to be washed later, and poked her head into her fridge to see if she had anything that she could heat up and eat quickly before heading off to bed. Yes! Leftover Kung Pao chicken from last night! She shoved it into the microwave and went to get changed into cotton sleep shorts and a singlet, her stomach rumbling in anticipation of the ‘ding’ that would announce that her dinner was ready.

 She was just about to take the chicken out of the microwave when she sniffed, noticing a rank smell in her small kitchen. With a small stab of guilt she realised she hadn’t taken out the rubbish for a few days, so with a long-suffering sigh she pulled the plastic bag out of the kitchen bin and knotted it. She’d just take it to the garbage chute at the end of the hall and then she could sit on the sofa guilt free and eat her late dinner before heading off to bed.

 Sliding on her flip flops and pocketing her door key, Lucy pulled her door shut behind her and walked to the end of the hallway, opening the metal chute and dropping the plastic bag down. She yawned, wondering if she could call in sick tomorrow, but she knew Jason wouldn’t buy it. Bills had to be paid, and it wasn’t like she disliked her job.

 Take those arson cases she was investigating at the moment. She shivered a little. They were kinda disturbing – all the fires had started late at night in apartment blocks while the occupants were asleep. All had been young single women, and all had escaped so far thanks to their fire alarms, except for the last one, who was still in intensive care with extensive burns. It was the sort of thing that could creep a girl out, if you let it.  

 A prickling feeling on the back of her neck had her shivering. What was it Mama used to say? ‘Someone walked over my grave…’ Not a comforting thought when you were standing in an empty hallway late at night. She shivered again. Definitely time to go back to her apartment and lock the door.

 She dug her key out of her pocket to open the door, but it was already ajar. Hadn’t she locked it? She was sure she’d pulled it shut behind her, but maybe she was more tired than she’d thought. She pushed open the door and locked it behind her, walking over to her small table near the kitchen to drop her keys in the bowl filled with coins. As she turned back to retrieve her chicken from the microwave, a movement caught her eye.  

 Lucy froze. Her brain worked frantically, screaming at her to run. She’d just seen a shadow in her bedroom, a human sized shadow. She started moving towards the doorway slowly, trying not to make a noise, but it was too late. A man appeared, blocking her exit.

 She tried to remember details that she could pass on to the police later. He was taller than her, maybe a whole head taller. Spiky blond hair. Tattoos like a leopard print around his yellow eyes. Teeth filed to a point. Not like it would be hard to pick him up out of a line up. But she had to get out first.

 “I’ve already called the police”, she said firmly, hoping her bluff would cause him to run and leave her alone.

 The man grinned at her, tilting his head to one side as he gazed at her. “You’re pretty”, he rasped, stepping towards her. “It’s a shame you broke the rules. No one gets to see me. It’s a pity I’ll have to kill you now.” He started towards her, and she backed away, trying desperately to think of a way to get past him to the door, but coming up with nothing. Her apartment was on the seventh floor, it was too high to jump off her balcony, and the fire escape was near the bedroom window.

 A crackling noise came from her bedroom, hard to place for a moment when she was so frightened, but then the flickering light helped her work it out. Fire. He’d started a fire in her room. She would just have to try to run past him. There was no other way. Picking up the lamp, she yanked the cord out of the socket and flung it at him, hoping to sprint past him as he ducked, but he was too fast. A heavy torch swung into the side of her head. Fireworks popped behind her eyes as pain lanced through her skull. Her vision blurred as she fell to the floor near the bedroom door.

 “Sorry girlie. Nothin’ personal”, he grunted. Lucy rolled to her side, struggling to keep from falling unconscious, pushing feebly with her hands to back away from him. He raised the heavy torch again, but before it fell, a white streak shot out from behind the sofa, latching onto the man’s hand. He dropped the torch, blood dripping from the deep bite in his wrist. He snarled, aiming a heavy boot at the small white dog, who dodged, growling and yapping.

 Choking black smoke was filling the room, and sirens sounded in the distance. Lucy struggled to focus. Where was he? Was he gone? She could hear Plue barking, but she couldn’t see. The room was dark with smoke, and she coughed, blood trickling as her head pounded in time with her heart. It was so hot. She needed to get out of the apartment, away from the flames. Her legs hurt. She rolled and tried to drag herself on her forearms towards the front door. The carpet was burning. Plue was still barking. She couldn’t breathe. Was she almost at the door? Her arm reached out, stretching, and then everything went dark.

 Lucy opened her eyes. Erza’s face was grim, but she nodded her thanks. Natsu’s jaw was clenched.

 “Fuck Lucy, I think I need a hug after listening to that”, he growled. Lucy made a weird hiccupping noise, halfway between a laugh and a sob. Natsu poured her a glass of water from the jug on the bedside table and handed it to her. She took it gratefully, drinking it in small sips.

 ‘Do you have anything to add Natsu?” asked Erza.

 “Not really”, said Natsu gruffly, his concerned gaze focused on Lucy. “By the time we arrived on the job, the blaze was well away. Gray and I were on a rescue sweep before the fire crew moved in. I heard a dog barking; the door to the apartment was already ajar. It was too dark to see anything, so I went in low. I found Lucy maybe ten feet away from the entrance, towards the western side of the apartment. She was unconscious when I carried her out. Plue wasn’t. She struggled a little as I moved her down the stairs; I thought she was just disorientated due to smoke inhalation at the time, because she said, ‘You’re not him.’ Makes sense now though.”

 Natsu reached out to scratch Plue’s ears, smiling as Plue whined in delight. “Good boy Plue. You did save Lucy twice, a true ninja pup if ever I saw one.” Lucy giggled tiredly, and Natsu reached up to take the glass from her as she leaned back on the pillows. “Lucy regained consciousness as I did a handover to Wendy and Romeo. She mentioned someone hitting her and setting the fire, so I called Gray to pass on a message to Chief Makarov to get in contact with you about possible arson. That’s it.”

 “Alright, I think I have everything I need for the moment. I’ll be in contact again Ms Heartfilia.” Erza placed the recorder in her bag and stood. Natsu stood also.

 “Erza, can I speak to you for a moment?” said Natsu quietly. They moved towards the doorway as Lucy closed her eyes.

 She was suddenly very very tired. Her arms and legs throbbed, her head ached, and her throat felt raspy, like she’d swallowed razor blades. She turned her head as Natsu sat down again. He looked serious. “Lucy, I don’t want to worry you, but I’ve asked Erza to arrange a police guard on your room until they catch this guy. I’m not leavin’ until they get here.”

 Lucy swallowed. She should probably be more frightened, but now she just felt exhausted. “Okay.”

 The nurse bustled in. “Time for your pain medication Lucy.”

 “Oh, good.” She felt a sting in her arm as the nurse injected the medication into the IV line in her elbow and lay quietly as the nurse completed her obs again and wrote them on her chart. By the time the nurse had finished she was feeling decidedly woozy.

 “Hey Natshu”, she slurred, beckoning him a little closer. He grinned at her unfocused expression, picking a sleeping Plue up off her lap and placing him on his own.

 “What’s up Luce?”

 “You know the worsht thing? The absolute worsht? About thish whole fire?” Natsu shook his head, still grinning.

 Lucy’s eyebrows lowered. “I was really looking forward to eating that chicken. I love Kung Pao chicken. And it was wasted.” Her bottom lip stuck out as she pouted, her eyes blinking sleepily.

 Natsu chuckled, his green eyes twinkling. “Okay Luce, I’ll do you a deal. You hurry up and get better, and as soon as you’re up to it, I’ll take you out for Kung Pao chicken. All you can eat.”

 “Yay.” Lucy tried to raise her arms, but they were too heavy. All of her was too heavy. “It’s a date. Kung pao date.” Her eyes drifted closed.

 She felt a soft squeeze of her hand and she squeezed back. “G’night Natshu.”

 She heard another chuckle. “Sweet dreams Luce.”

Edited to add linky dink to Part 5

Inertia (I)

At this point, I fear that the fever is never gonna go away, that I will spend the, likely relatively short, rest of my existence in this bed, unable to move a muscle, burning and freezing at the same time and that I am in fact currently in the process of dying.

This thought, that my life is, like that of all creatures, finite, not in some weird, vague, metaphysical sense, but actually finite in the sense that it is tonally, definitely gonna end and that there is nothing I could reasonably do to make that not be the case, had, up to this very moment, never occurred to me, and I hope that it will never occur to me again, as it scares the living shit out of me, now that I am thinking about it.

A problem presents itself: Not thinking about the thing you are currently experiencing, when there is literally nothing you are physically capable of doing aside from thinking, is really fucking difficult, if not impossible. At least for the industrial-scale-toxic-chemical-waste-dump I spent the last couple of hours turning my brain into for some retarded reason. It might have been yesterday, actually. It may very well have been a damn week ago. The ceiling of my room, the thing I am involuntarily staring at, unable to turn my head, is illuminated by the bright, natural light of noon, the same as when I lay down here, though I doubt I would remember, had there been a night or more in between. My brain is shit and so am I. A little bit of divine punishment, I would understand, but this torturous bullcrap is cruel and unusual by any metric, downright fucking unethical. I guess don’t take five Adderall when you’re blackout drunk, kids. Who would have known that was on god’s list of things you shouldn’t do if you don’t want to be banished to hell on fucking earth.

Come to think of it, those tablets must have been four years old, at the very least. Does medicine expire? Fuck, I’m pretty sure medicine expires, and not in the “we want to sell you more shit”-way, but the really fucking dangerous, in fact actually lethal way. There it is again, the fear of death. I was doing so well. Fuck. Maybe I can get up, just out of the bed, just collapse on the floor so they won’t think I’m sleeping, so they’ll call an ambulance. Get up. Get up. Get up! GET UP! JUST PLEASE GET THE FUCK UP!!

My torso jolts upright, and I suck in two lungs full of oxygen, realizing that breathing was apparently something I hadn’t been doing for a short while.

The guy on the other side of the room looks up from his laptop, obviously startled by my sudden return to the realm of the living.

“Don’t you have a job interview?”

“Don’t you care that I almost kicked the fucking bucket just now?”

“I didn’t even notice that you were in the room, dude. Don’t tell me you’re doing heroin or something”

“God no, I just tried to sober up for the interview. What time is it?”

“Like an hour too late, sorry. Actually, I’m not, this is totally your fault. You knew it was today and getting sloshed in the a.m. is a pretty stupid thing to do just in general, like even by your standards.”

“Oh, spare me the lecture, or I’ll tell dad that this isn’t working”

“Okay, okay, understood. I’ll take a walk, see you later.”

Lloyd thankfully did a passable job at reading the mood and fucked off on one of his weird three to four hour walks (like who does that?). Maybe he’s stalking someone, seems like a thing he’d be into. Off-kilter fucking guy, I honestly wouldn’t be surprised.

At least he’s quiet, I don’t mind having him live in my room. He’s out of the house long enough for me to do things I don’t want him in the room for and when he’s here I can bounce thoughts off him. Maybe he cleans sometimes. I’m not sure.

Doesn’t matter. Getting something to eat has priority. The Horrortrip only lasted three hours, rather than a few days but I’m starving anyway. Kind of a shame actually, would have been a cool anecdote. Mind altering drugs, am I right? Bought that shit four years ago from a friend (Max or Marc or something) to cram for finals. Should probably throw it in the trash, so I won’t get any dumb ideas in an intoxicated state, which is a lot of the time, let’s face it.

Ah Fuck. Dad’s sitting in kitchen, indulging in some delicious looking shit. Can’t let him see me, not being at the interview he set up and all. Stealthy retreat.

There’s probably some foodstuff stashed in Lo’s room. I knock. The only thing that can’t be found in my brother’s room is Lo himself. 90% of the time he’s not here and the other 10% he brings so many people that he’s impossible to spot him. For someone I have spent my entire life with he sure is absolutely fucking incomprehensible. How did he manage to grow up alright? Like an actual functional human being? Didn’t we have the same parents and shit? Fuck this! The Wardrobe opens with far less creaking than one would assume from the looks of it and below the neatly organized shirts there is a similarly neat row of wine bottles and a tower of various salty snacks, far too perfectly compact to have been built by someone who hasn’t managed to beat me in Tetris once. I rip open a bag and start stuffing ham flavored chips into my mouth. I don’t think I’m a wine guy, never really gotten into it, but it’s been a while since the last time I had some, and this seems like the kind of day to get into something, especially when it’s the only easily accessible fluid to wash down the disgusting taste of oil and fake bullshit artificial meat flavor. I take a swig. It’s sour and clings to the tongue, better than I remember wine to taste like, but objectively worse than beer or hard liquor. My hands tear another bag open as though on autopilot, peanut puffs this time.

The cycle repeats with the wine getting better the more I pour down the garbage chute that is my throat. The party food gets worse, but not bad enough to stop eating it. I won’t stop until it’s gone. That became the plan like a bag ago, not that I’m still hungry, I feel sick actually, but at this point it’s easier to just keep going. I could just eat everything, all that even slightly exists, rip it apart, dismantle it on an atomic level and wolf it down, devour it like a fucking hound. Like the biggest of dogs. The biggest possible dog. A thought pops into my head: how big would the biggest possible dog even be? Like, bigger than the biggest currently existing dog definitely. That would be incredibly unlikely: to have hit the maximum by accident. Things can only get a certain size, something about cubes and mass and shit. That’s where the research money should go, breed them until we have the largest physically possible doggo, so we could ride them, replace cars with a bunch of insanely good boys. Do they die once their size exceeds a certain point? That would make the whole pursuit kind of unethical and animal rights activist attack prone. Might not even apply to dogs, they aren’t particularly squarey after all. Maybe it’s a definitional thing: That dogs could be infinitely large, but at some point it would stop being sensible to call them dogs. If there was a galaxy sized dog shaped thing, I don’t think I’d call it a dog. It has transcended doghood and so have I. Tremble before my might for I have consumed everything. Close to everything. Four bottles and seven bags deep. It’s over. There are still ten-something wines left, but not knowing how much they cost, it seems risky to drink more. Instead lying down and trying not to throw up appears to be the responsible course of action.

“The fuck did you do?”

The ghostly pale, cloaked figure of a boy, wrapped in a blanket and not wearing anything else by the looks of it, stands over me. The tone of his voice indicating sincere curiosity.

“Almost killed myself, missed a thing and plundered the good one's apocalypse stash, all the while hiding from the authorities. They call me the chips-bandit. You?”

“Pretty much the same tbh… Anything left?”

“Wine, the rest was mercilessly devoured by the ruthless criminal I have become.”

“Argh, shit.”

“Why?”

“I’m kind of starving and the ancient one is guarding the kitchen”

“Yeah, I know. Skipping school?”

“Do you even have to ask?”

The less estranged of my two brothers scratches his neck, a nervous habit of his, that got so out of hand sometimes, that it, in combination with his general appearance, made him seem like a crack addict going through withdrawal.

“I got a commission yesterday. Some rich Swedish kid offering me 300 for a pic of his OC engaging in not-all-that-safe-for-work kinds of activities. Please don’t ask what exactly. So there really wasn’t time for compulsory education.”

“Sick dude! You might actually make it if you keep going like this”

“Don’t really have a choice. If this can’t keep me alive by graduation I’ll just fucking off myself. I’ll accept failure like a man, become a modern samurai by first becoming like fucking human yakitori.”

It baffles me that Jerald even managed to go to school on most days, being cripplingly scared of practically everything outside his room and more neurotic than should even be possible. Dude’s a fucking train wreck. If his art wasn’t able to support his continued existence, he would either have to find a normal job, or explain to dad why he can’t, both of which, he had decided two years ago are fates far worse than death could possibly be. Mom had remarked on a few occasions that he drew like his life depended on it, blissfully unaware of the fact that it genuinely kind of did.

“Could you like leave out the references when you say dark shit like that? Stylistic clash gives me the howling fantods.”

“And when was the last time you did that?”

“Act as I say, not as I do.”

The sound of the front door opening interrupts our conversation.

“Dad leaving or Lo returning?”

No one ever heard Lloyd coming or going, so that wasn’t even worth considering. Also supported my stalker theory.

“Latter’s unlikely, seeing how the sun’s still up”

“Sure, but do you really wanna risk it?”

“We could “risk it”… Or we could not be complete idiots and look out the window.”

Jerald decides to go with my cunning plan, stealing a look at, what was, judging by his response, the ancient one.

“Today my friends, we feast.”

“I don’t think I’m ready to get up and embark on any kind of arduous journey to the bountiful land of real, non-terrible food.”

“Your loss, dude.”

With that he leaves, and I once again lie alone on my brother’s carpet, covered in chips dust. Taking a good hard look at the circumstances that led me here and the backside of my eyelids. I fall asleep.

The Underworld is a fascinating place for a natural historian like me. Honestly, it should be fascinating to just about everyone! An entire world far below our roots, filled with all types of exotic flora and fauna. While many would be quick to see the Underworld as a place of rocks and barren stone, it is truly filled with a variety of ecosystems and habitats. While it remains miles below the surface, it shares some similarities with our world, but with an odd twist! They have forests, but they are made of fungi, not trees. They have rivers, but they run through flooded tunnels and stone tubes. They have a starry sky, but it is just glowing creatures that cling to the rocky ceilings. There are sometimes when you travel through the Underworld when you forget where you truly are! On the flipside, though, the Underworld faces some unique challenges. The lack of light is one of them, where many creatures have adapted to an eternal darkness. The demons and shades, though, have taken to using lightstones to illuminate their cities and aid in growing crops. Another is a multi-layered environment. Imagine what life would be like if us surface dwellers had to worry about the sky crashing down on us! Another, and this one is forgotten a lot, is that the Underworld is a closed system. While we have the sun and the open expanse of sky, the Underworld is restricted by its thick layers, many tunnels and intricate networks. While we can travel as the crow flies, demons and shades must navigate the hundreds of tubes and tunnels that connect everything together. That doesn't just apply to them either! Nutrients must follow these systems, as does water, air and, most importantly, waste. I do not mean to make this section seem gross or immature, but the subject of waste matter is incredibly important for the Underworld. The flow of nutrients is crucial for making its many ecosystems work. While we can rely on the plants to bring in new food and energy from the sun, those down below do not get these free lunches. All the food and nutrients they have down there is all they are ever going to get. So one cannot allow nutrients to go to waste or be forgotten. This applies directly to waste and any other excretions the fauna may create. Scavengers and coprophages are needed to consume these byproducts, so that the nutrients can be thrown back into the cycle. They also need to exist to keep the Underworld from being flooded by their own waste! Those who stick up their noses at those who feed on fecal matter should take a lesson from this entry, and see how important these creatures are to the ecosystem and world.

The reason I bring up this subject of waste and other nasty byproducts is because I wish to talk about Mound Roaches. These insects are the Underworlds 1# champ in waste cleanup and nutrient recycling. To even guess at how many of these insects exist in the Underworld is mind-boggling, as a single cavern may contain thousands of them at a time! While certainly plentiful, these heavy numbers are only seen in certain areas of the Underworld. Mainly where heavy numbers of bats, clingers and other ceiling dwellers live. From heavy populations comes heavy amounts of waste, and that is what Mound Roaches thrive on. In certain caves, the entire floor of the room may be covered in a lake of fecal matter, and the Mound Roaches are the fish who inhabit these foul ponds! Hundreds of them can be seen swarming across the surface, feeding on anything that is near their mandibles. The ones you see in such hordes are the males of the species. Male Mound Roaches only grow to the size of your thumb, staying at that size for the rest of their lives. The males make up most of their populations, as dozens of them can hatch from a single laying. The females are not as plentiful, but that is because of their impressive size! The ones I have seen have grown to the sizes of dogs! The large females dwarf the males, though the males have them beat by sheer numbers. The females primarily exist to lay eggs and spawn more brood. Since males live incredibly short lives, the female must churn out eggs constantly. They lay eggs pretty much every single day, releasing dozens of hungry larva each time! Though the Mound Roaches feed primarily on waste, they are opportunistic eaters who will devour anything that gets near them. Voracious in appetite, they will happily feed on fungus, plant matter, rotting matter and flesh. Though they can devour meat just as eagerly as fecal matter, they do not hunt. Instead, they merely wait for a meal to stumble into their feeding grounds and get bogged down by the filth. Ceiling dwellers who fall from their perches may survive the initial impact, but they must scramble out of the foul sea before they are devoured. When prey falls into their homes, the Mound Roaches swarm in an instant. The thrashing and flailing of the victim draws their attention, and they will come in droves. Sharp mandibles will slice through flesh, and a hungry horde can strip a full grown demon to the bone in just a few hours. Thankfully the victim won't live nearly that long! The one thing that is not consumed by the roaches is fresh bone. Bones are too tough for them to chew up, so they wait for other organisms to weaken it first. As the bone breaks down and decays, than they shall feast. Until then, Mound Roaches find these leftovers perfect for personal defense. Since the females are so few in numbers, they seek to protect themselves from predators. Building a mound of waste, the female shall perch herself on top, so that she can easily see everything around her. The pillar of waste is also great as an escape hatch, as she can dive into it to avoid the claws of a swooping predator. Adorning her mound will be bones of previous prey, which is waiting to be broken down. Until they rot, she shall use them as armor and deterrents, warding off predators with bony spikes and thick plates. These decorated mounds were once mistaken for a species of slime by surface dwellers a long time ago. Seeing a semi-liquid body with prey chunks sticking out of it, many assumed that they were related to the slimes. What further confused us was the fact that these mounds move! With the constant scrabbling of males, and the semi-solid state of fecal matter, the mounds of a female will slowly move its way around the area. The movements are quite subtle and slow, but with a sharp eye, you can see the columns slide about, as they are constantly forming and reforming. People didn't see the hiding female and assumed it was an actual slime! That is why you may see entries for the Ravenous Slime in certain ancient textbooks. It was a mistake by us silly surface dwellers! With their massive populations, Mound Roaches are a favorite food of many Underworld creatures. Predators who swoop from above or cling to the walls will pluck males from the muck and enjoy an endless buffet. Those who feed on them, though, should be careful! They could become food for the Mound Roaches instead if they fall in! Many have adapted ways to prey upon the roaches, who are practically infinite in their numbers. With that, the Mound Roaches sit as the foundation of the food web, bringing nutrients back into the cycle after it has been discarded.  

While many inhabitants feed upon the roaches, the demons and shades who live below do not. In fact, they are often the ones who feed the roaches! By that I do not mean that the roaches eat them, oh no no. They can, if given the chance. A clumsy demon or shade who falls in their hordes will be readily devoured without hesitation. It is not a pleasant way to go, and some clans have taken advantage of that. To disgrace their fallen enemies or captured warriors, kingdoms would throw their prisoners into pools of Mound Roaches. Not exactly a dignified way to go. This method of execution has mostly vanished (though some unwanted folk may seemingly "disappear" from time to time), and the demons feed the roaches in a completely different way. After all, when you live in a city made of rock and stone, where does all the waste go? Yes indeed, demons and shades use the Mound Roaches as waste disposal. 

Since dwellings are often stacked upon each other, personal latrines are not really a manageable thing. Instead, inhabitants dispose of their waste in specified pots. When these pots fill up, or when the scheduled emptying comes up, the inhabitant will take it to a "chute." "Chutes" are specially dug tunnels that are used to dispose of garbage and fecal matter. These small openings often lead downward, into a specially made cavern that is filled with Mound Roaches. Each chamber can have dozens of chutes leading into it, giving the Mound Roaches an endless rain of food! When cities are built, these chambers are the first to be made. No one wants to live in filth or catch diseases, so they make the "chutes" easily accessible and close by any major living areas. While most chutes are made solely for dumping chambers pots and throwing garbage out, some are turned into public latrines. These are usually found near marketplaces and public areas. They come in long rows, with many stalls being carved from the rock. Doors are fastened to these stalls, and inside is an elevated seat with a small hole that leads directly into a chute. If you were a demon or a shade, you would just park your tush on top and take care of business. The waste would fall away and that would be that! These stalls are quite convenient to have, though they aren't quite built for outsiders. The main thing is that demon and shade anatomy is greatly different from a dryads. I sure don't have legs that long! Also they don't do too much in sakes of decorating or personalizing. They do not have floor mats near the seats, which wouldn't be a problem if the ground wasn't solid rock. Really wears on the knees over time. Then again, how many times do you have a dryad visiting the Underworld? I guess I should bring my own mats if I find it so uncomfortable. The chutes are such a major staple of their homes and cities, that their name has cropped up in many different sayings. Doing a "chute run," is when you take your chamber pot out for dumping. Imps and young shades usually have "chute runs" on their chore list, something that they should perform every morning and night. The term "chute throat" is an insult for those who have bad breath, while "food for the chute" signifies worthlessness or that one is garbage. The word "chute" itself is synonymous for latrine or toilet. I have heard it dropped in casual conversation many times. "I gotta see a chute" is one I have heard a lot. "Time to run the chutes" is another. "I gotta take a chute," is not a common one, unless you are Valac. Heard that one a lot from him. You would think he would stop eating such big meals before excursions, but nope. I swear that by the time I get back to the surface, I am going to be saying that same phrase without thinking twice. Chlora Myron Dryad Natural Historian

Alternate Ending: Shion dies at the Correctional Facility, Nezumi does not.

Shion tells Nezumi about a book he read, The Five Stages of Grief. Nezumi enters stage one when he covers Shion's body with his jacket on the correctional facility floor. (x)

Rikiga throws Nezumi over his shoulder "Don't die here Eve, Shion is already gone." Nezumi can't stay conscious enough to fight back but he doesn't want to leave.

Put me down. I can't leave Shion. Let me sing for him... Shion. Shion. Sh-

Inukashi is running next to them, crying as quietly as possible. It wasn't supposed to end like this.

The correctional facility collapses, the walls between No.6 and westblock crumble just like Shion's third option, but Shion doesn't know because he is buried underneath the rubble. That's fine. Nezumi thinks it was a worthy cause if any existed, Shion had to be sacrificed for his vision to come true, fair enough. It's how the world works. Who knows if Shion is even dead, crazier things have happened, it's fine. He manages bed rest for two whole days before it becomes suffocating. Staring at the ceiling, Nezumi never noticed how cold it gets at night. Living people are so warm. There are strands of shiny white hair left on the pillow. 

When it turns out the manager didn't die in the manhunt, Nezumi goes to work at the theatre. For a few hours, Nezumi gets to become someone else and he feels relieved. With the fall of No. 6, chaos floods westblock and the audience becomes more colourful than ever. Eve performs as many shows as the manager wants under one condition, Nezumi will not sing. Sometimes Eve sees a tuft of white hair in the audience, just at the corner of his eye. But the stage lights are too blinding, his eyes can never adjust quick enough to catch the culprit.

Is Shion going to surprise me after the show with his air headed smile? "Ha, I got you good huh? Don't underestimate me, I can take care of myself." After the show, Nezumi sometimes receive flowers and trinkets, but that flash of white hair never materializes into anything more than a hallucination.

Nezumi still goes to the market, still goes to Inukashi for miscellaneous jobs, and hell, even finds Rikiga to be useful if there's enough money on the line. Life continues like clockwork, Nezumi doesn't feel anything about anything. He thinks maybe the emotional part of him disintegrated with the city, and he is finally free from those messy feelings that caused him so much inner turmoil. Nezumi wonders if he has reached a state of nirvana, but the catch 22 remains. There is no more hatred and bitterness the same way there is no happiness or pride. There is nothing at all.

Every time Nezumi meets with his two associates, and they look increasingly unsettled. Rikiga and Inukashi glance at each other with side eyed wariness, an unspoken name, like a thick, damp fog rests on the three of them, Nezumi can't find it in him to care. It wasn't hard to see how Shion exposed the hidden humanity that Nezumi tried so desperately to abandon, even if only a glimpse.You're only human. You can only do so much. Inukashi warned Nezumi the night Shion kisses him goodbye. 

Nearly a month passes and it's finally Inukashi who breaches the subject.

"Nezumi, this is going to sound uh..." This is unknown territory for them. "About Shion..."

"Shion is dead, what about him."

Inukashi's eyes widen and he scrunches his nose before tearing straight into Nezumi's invisible, bleeding wound. There was no need for pretense between a dog and a rat. "You reek of grief. It'll only go away after you let it take its course."

"Sincerest apologies, your highness. I promise to take a shower next time if you agree to do the same." Nezumi sneers.

"Nezumi I'm serious. You're in den-"

"Shion's dead, I get it. What do you want? A waterworks show?" Nezumi bites out his words, eyes glinting.

"Okay." Inukashi winces. "Rikiga and I are planning to hold a little memorial if you..."

"Waste of time." Nezumi turns his back and begins to walk away. What if he's still alive?

Inukashi says nothing.

Nezumi goes to the market place and buys cherry pie in case today was the day Shion was coming back to surprise him. He does this every time an elusive head of white hair escapes his scrutiny. Sometimes at the theatre, sometimes in the market, sometimes even in the underground room they used to live. Later that night, when Shion does not pop out from behind a bookshelf, Nezumi tries to eat the cherry pie only to realize the vendor had swindled him with a convincing illusion. It looks like cherry pie. It feels like cherry pie. It tastes like dust.

Nezumi looks for The Illiad and finds that it's been put back on the shelf, in the Classics/Mythology section arranged in alphabetical order. He is annoyed. Shion just had to clean it up and now Nezumi can't find where anything is and has to follow a shitty library system just to find that stupid book that would've been strewn on the floor next to their bed. His bed.

Later, Cravat finds a stray button that had fallen off Shions' cardigan and holds it in his front paws, squeaking to Nezumi. Now he's pissed. Stupid Shion never sewed that button back on his sweater even though it's a lot warmer without a gaping hole down the center. Stupid Shion never listened when Nezumi tried to teach him the basic tactics of survival. Why does he always have to go out and put himself in life threatening danger all the time. Why can't he have some sense of self preservation? No. 6 citizens are all like that, so spoiled and ignorant in the face of danger. After 8 whole months and Shion improved only marginally in avoiding dangerous situations, it's like he was almost drawn to trouble. Why is he like that? Always a breath away from death, doesn't he know what that does to Nezumi? 

Nezumi is furious at Shion but more so with himself for giving in to such idealistic thinking. They shouldn't have gone to the facility, Safu was already dead by the time we got there anyways. Nezumi is also not too happy with Safu. Why'd she have to get captured of all people, being attached to someone is so restraining for this exact reason. Always trying to keep someone else alive as if keeping yourself safe wasn't already enough work, especially with someone like Shion. If she didn't get caught Shion would still be alive today.

The image of Shion, with his hand outstretched and a bloody rose blooming out from his shirt, falling backwards down the garbage chute. Down, down, down... 

Shion's heart stopped before they hit the ground. Nezumi didn't get to say goodbye, he didn't get to say anything. ("Don't you ever give me a goodbye kiss again!")

I should have gone down with the correctional facility but Rikiga and Inukashi carried me out. Why did they do that? They had no right to do that. I should have died next to Shion. But instead I'm left here all alone. He remembers the conversation that happens last spring, Shion standing there with Hamlet on his shoulder. 

Whats summer here like?

I want to spend the summer here. 

We'll come back to this room, together.

Alive? Nezumi asks. 

Alive. Shion answers. 

Liar. LIAR. Making promises he could not keep, Nezumi would never break his words. (What about your promise to Karan?)

The next time he meets with Inukashi and Rikiga, Nezumi starts off cool but there is a white hot burn clawing inside his chest. The ice he wears melts and his sharp tongue is quick to dole out cutting remarks upon the slightest provocation. It was all their fault, they think too much of themselves, to act as if they know what's better for me than myself. I should have died with Shion! He yells. Rikiga looks resigned, and Inukashi, almost horrified. 

I should have died with him. I wanted to. (Do I still?)

The survivors are the one who win. SO WHY DID YOU LOSE SHION? 

Why? There will never be a good enough answer. Nezumi hates Shion for chaining him down in a way he can't bring himself to escape from. They should have never met. Nezumi would just find somewhere else to hide in the next life, he would have died in that storm and maybe that was for the best. But instead, Shion saved him in more ways than one, and Nezumi is left without answers. WHY? Nezumi can't understand why. Anger boils inside him because this is all wrong.

Was there a right way to do this? Maybe if Nezumi had gone into the chute first and Shion would climb in after him. With his back to the shooter and a super fibre cloak, that bullet would've missed his heart. Maybe if they had just walked a little faster, that guard would've passed by only after they had both escaped down the chute.

What if they hadn't spent so long gawking at those corpses on the conveyor belt, then maybe Rashi wouldn't have caught them mid way and Nezumi wouldn't have been injured. What if Shion didn't need to shoot someone in order to protect Nezumi and dirty his hands the way he did. What if Safu was alive and the three of them managed to escape and destroy the correctional facility. What if everything just went according to plan? Or if Elyrius had protected them the entire time and everything that went wrong was made right by divine intervention.

Maybe Nezumi should have just taken care of it himself. Shion had a good memory but a robotic mouse can store enough information for Nezumi to make the trip alone. It would have been much easier for him to get around without having Shion to worry about. Then maybe he wouldn't even get into all those shoot outs or take a detour to find Rou. Even if Nezumi didn't manage to make it back, at least Shion would still be alive. Probably in this room, organizing books and worrying about Nezumi. Shion should be in my place, Nezumi thinks bitterly. He can deal with the torture of being the one to survive.

What if, what if, what if. These words eat at him, Nezumi cannot help but to think of all the things that could've been done differently. If I had a time machine... Shion would still be alive if only...

This must be revenge, Nezumi thinks. Some form of higher power made aware of his dubious morals has been looking for a way to to settle the score. Nezumi couldn't think of anything more terrifying than losing Shion. Not even all the pain and cruelty in his past could induce such a fight or flight response in him, not the way Shion did when he tried to run off to the Correctional Facility alone. He was running straight to his death and Nezumi will be damned if he let Shion do it alone. 

Nezumi can't understand why Shion dies when he gets to live. The world needed more Shions and less Nezumis. 

Hey higher power, what if I promise to give bread to wide eyed children like Shion did? What if I look for the good in strangers who had none visible? If Shion lives through my actions, can I repent? Will you give him back to me?

If Shion comes back Nezumi promises himself he would drop the grudge against No. 6 for good. Or even given the chance to go back and never telling Shion about Safu in the first place. Yeah it'd be selfish, but that's what people are. Nezumi would stand by his choice if he got to make it again. If he knew the outcome. If the correctional facility must stand in exchange for you to be back by my side, I would let it. 

Hindsight is 20/20 and Nezumi couldn't help but look.

Nezumi cries after the goodbye kiss, tears rolling down his face before he could register what was happening. Nezumi cries after Shion kills another human being, it's embarrassing but he can't stop even though he tries. Nezumi does not cry when he touches Shions face to find that it's gone cold, like turning on a tap with the water shut off. If the pipes had been frozen then, that is now no longer the case, the dam bursts. Nezumi hates the taste of tears in his mouth but lately he has been drinking oceans because it tastes like the over salted soup Shion makes. Because it is punishment, because Shion is gone and not coming back. Nezumi has nothing left but memories. The gift of a memory, that's what Shion would say. 

These are not gifts, they are cinder blocks around his ankles when Nezumi was already drowning. The moments won't stop playing in his head, the ones he so desperately wants to throw away. But it's embedded into his skin like splinters. Every point of contact hurts, and when it doesn't, Nezumi can feel it. Irritated, begging to be picked at but never to be picked out.

The little underground room Nezumi has spent years living alone in is now suddenly too empty. He was a wanderer and never knew a place to be home, why should this place be different. But then Shion came and Nezumi says to Inukashi that he's going home without realizing the connotations. Inukashi hears it loud and clear. 

The underground room was not home, Shion was. How does it feel to tame a wanderer only to disappear and leave him in the desolate cold?

Nezumi stops going to work so he can stare at the coffee table from his bed. Most of his effort spent on ignoring the endless hurt flowing out his tear ducts. Maybe if I cry until I'm drained dry then it will finally stop. Nezumi stops eating and drinking and sleeping in the meanwhile. He is determined to starve this sadness to death, if that means taking the vessel along then that's just collateral damage.

Would you forget it all if you could? Shion asks him in a deprivation induced hallucination. They're in bed, floating in the ocean. Water laps at the sides of their mattress, Shion is wearing a blood stained shirt, the dream will end when they are consumed by the waves. 

No, Nezumi says even though he wants to lie and say yes. You know the final stage is acceptance, Shion says with a smile. His hair glitters in the sunlight, sometimes, if Nezumi squints, Shions' hair is every colour all at once. Tell me the truth, Nezumi.

He feels as if they are floating away. Nezumi is too exhausted to be anything other than honest. You are my humanity.

The water swells and pulls them under. Nezumi wakes up reaching out for Shion.

He finds no peace in this truth. Nezumi leaves west block to find a new place knowing nowhere will ever be home (again). He wears his loneliness around him like armour, trying to conceal the pain that still bleed out his pores. He travels for years and always keeps an eye out for a boy with snow white hair. Nezumi looks for answers and finds only threads. Shion appears to him in dreams, in a trick of the light when Nezumi stands in a crowded marketplace, in Cravat and Hamlet and Tsukyio. In hurricane storms and untouched snow. 

We'll meet again, Shion. That's a promise. 

Nezumi remains alone.  

 I will always open the balcony door for you. No matter how many times I go back, meeting you made me into who I am. Shion tells him with determination in his eyes and Nezumi can't help but wonder why. Do you really believe that? Meeting me killed you, Shion.

Well, that's okay, isn't it? I would have been a shell of a person, going through the motions, working for a faceless authority until I was deemed worthless and thrown away. But instead I got to truly live as myself, you awakened me, and I got to live by your side. For that, my answer will never change. I'm glad I met you. 

Nezumi remembers Shion's smile. The gift of a memory.