Transparent

@bluesdln000

Grief is a strange emotion to comprehend.

Fortunately, Informant had experience.

When Russell had selfishly decided to end his own life, Informant had drowned.

He couldn’t move, couldn’t think, Informant couldn’t even say a word. He simply watched from Russell’s eyes, waited for it all to end in a pool of red. Informant could still remember the sluggish pull, the prickly drain dragging whatever was left of him, a mere thought into nothingness as Russell bled out. 

But Informant wasn’t scared at the time. No, he was dragged by the weights of failure. Informant has never breathed before but at that moment; it was as if he could, and oxygen was something he would never be able to achieve in a world of grief.

And now, years laters, after traveling worlds, wandering dimensions and exploring what ‘Life’ is, Informant finds grief once again.

There is a certain world Informant favors. One with creative robots who bypass any regular sci-fi ever to exist, a place with both humans and robots.

Disregarding the obvious gap between the two; discrimination running rampant; Informant made a friend.

A dork, really. A bit of a weirdo with the sharp shades, and how Blues never really cared how others thought of him. Pink fairy pajamas? Wear it with pride. Faking a heart attack at a gas station? Ridiculous. Wacky attire? Who cares? 

Blues was music lover who ate pop tarts with the wrapper on.

Blues was a cat person with an old shack for a house and too much objects to be anything shorter than a hoarder.

Blues was a robot who once found Informant in the cold.

Informant was a creature, who isn’t really sure what he is exactly, but found himself revisiting this same world of odd robots over and over again.

Jokes. Shenanigans. Christmas. Arguments. A Murder. Informant could write an entire diary of the times he spent with Blues, picking at the other, wondering, just how someone made of metal could be so interesting.

But he forgot.

Blues had always been sick. 

And Informant showed up one day, a teasing sentence on the tongue, but couldn’t find his scarf-wearing friend.

Informant reasoned the other must be on some important work and left.

After the fifth visit without a trace, he searched.

And searched.

And searched.

Russell had dragged him back to their shared space after a month of meaningless wandering.

Informant does not recall what occurred during his mission to find Blues. But he remembers coming to a realization mid-week. A prickly chill brushing his neck like an icy needle.

And he stomped around the world in a haze, full of wordless violence, until Russell had enough sense to rip him back to the shop.

His feet were bleeding all over the blue tiles, shoes shredded from extreme activity. Informant stared at his trembling hands, ponders what this new chill was, and why it wouldn’t leave.

Then, as if figuring out the new book he’s been reading had two stuck pages together, he understands.

I forgot you were always a breath away from dying. I had simply never acknowledged it because I have never lived before. I do not know what it means to live. To be in a world of existence. I brushed you off and carried on because I did not understand. I underestimated your words. Emerald eyes blink slowly in comprehension. His vision is blurring in and out, his smile burns. What a worthless informant I am.

(”It’s okay,”) Russell had told him in a whisper. (”You weren’t the one who broke him.”) ‘This time’ goes unsaid.

And Informant once again, drowns.

He tears up books, shatters bottles, Informant isn’t the type to scream so he grabs the brewing storm within him and wrecks havoc on his environment. 

He has dealt with grief before.

However this time, it feels as if he lost something. A crystal piece--And isn’t that nonsense?

It’s almost as if it was a new part of him that had been growing since he met Blues.

And now that Blues had passed, the warmth had left.

Informant shouldn’t be able to be this affected by the cold. He doesn’t exist.

And yet.

(Informant tears out a page from a shrieking book.)

And yet.

≛≛≛≛≛≛≛≛≛≛≛≛≛≛≛≛≛≛≛≛≛≛≛≛≛≛≛≛≛≛≛≛≛≛≛≛≛≛≛≛≛≛≛≛≛≛≛≛

Informant would normally never show up to this world during this time of year. It was too risky, too much of a chance to let Blues see him for one of those Nightmares who had attacked them both on a cold day. It was the time of Halloween, slits cutting into his arms and opening to reveal pit-black eyes staring at nothing. 

Informant had these stains on his legs and stomach too, in fact, his chest and stomach combined had the largest three wide eyes of judgement. It was revolting so he never took off his shirt, not that he ever needed to. 

Informant never wanted the robot to catch him in such a state. Never wanted to admit he might be a creature of the damned.

But Blues was gone, wasn’t he? Returned to the Earth, as creatures who exist, do.

But Blues cannot rot with a metal body. It would take decades.

And so, Informant visits a graveyard.

There is no one here, perhaps. If there were, it’s not like anyone would see him.

By a grave stone, curled up on his side, Informant hummed that ridiculous first music selection Blues had played in that messy shack. He doesn’t remember the words, only the tune. His smile stays as it always does, faced in danger, faced in crushing pressure.

His arm itches and so does the rest of his skin.

Stupid eyes, Informant closes his eyelids and lets the quietness of the night sweep his thoughts.

He wonders if Blues had a grave.

Did Russell get a grave too? Despite all he did?

So many souls deserve a mark to indicate their past presence.

Informant wonders if he’ll ever get a grave.

If someone will ever be around to remember him after he’s gone.

How does your OC display love? What are some habits your OC has picked up?

Forgive me as this is a LONG post, but I felt it would be better to show, rather than tell, this one:

Words could not describe how awkward Perturabo felt being back in the Emperor's palace. It would have been bad enough if it were just his deadbeat father, a half-rotten corpse sitting in an overglorified golden life-support casket, ignoring him as per usual. But it wasn't just his father; so many of his brothers had come for this... ...this Sanguinala... ...in many ways it almost felt like the Heresy had never happened.

Vulcan, Corvus, Fulgrim, ROGAL FUCKING DORN, Magnus.... ...hell, even SANGUINIUS had come back from the dead. Raised by the same mysterious chaos entity that had turned Perturabo's world and soul inside out. Made him live his own life over and over again, through the eyes of the people around him, until he got the point. The people he impacted. The people he used, abused, and destroyed without a second thought. The people he...

...Perturabo shook his head, the physical action somehow dislodging the poisonous psychic tumor from his soul. Even though that parasite was long gone and the Eye of Terror no longer loomed over him, it had been feeding on his twisted spirit for so long that its blasted and withered hide still bled for it. Casting his self-destructive thoughts into the warp. This was a good thing (or so the Lanky Llama said). Though sometimes, when he started to brood and sulk, things would get... ...gummed up. He could shake any errant clots loose himself, but nobody helped the darkness bleed out of him like Nehetari.

And holy shit did he wish she were here right now. When she and her robotic people were around... ...the Lord of Iron actually felt like... ...himself. Or the version of himself that he wanted to be, anyway.

But no, "No xenos allowed at a family gathering," the Emperor had said. Not that it even would have mattered if they were; it was one of those weird weeks where the lanky llama disappeared on him and holed up in her room by herself. Something about a "Necrontyr biological cycle," that would, "likely make her act inappropriately," or "embarrass herself and him," but she would say no more on the matter.

Of course it would happen over the day when he needed--erm could have used her presence the most.

"Aren't you going to open your gifts, brother?"

Perturabo snapped out of his brooding to see Magnus looming beside him. It took him a second to process what he said, but when he did he scowled.

"Gifts Magnus? Really? Do think anyone here would ever give me a gift?"

"Excuse me! What am I, grox manure!?" there was no real irritation in Magnus's voice. He gestured to table in front of Perturabo, where three gifts sat that he could have SWORN were not there before. "And if you must know, you're the only brother here I saw fit to even GET a gift for."

"Aside from Sanguinius."

"Well... ...yeah..." the Crimson King shuffled his wings awkwardly. Both primarchs stole a glance at the MOUNTAIN of gifts that their brother had received. "...b-but he doesn't count."

Perturabo sighed. He didn't feel like feeling jealous of Sanguinius right now. Instead he grabbed the first package; it was obviously Magnus's gift. Whatever was in it was so warp-touched that it levitated a solid three feet off the table and changed size randomly. It turned out to be a small inter-dimensional rift that contained a book of arcane engineering, one that Perturabo had surprisingly not seen before. He thanked his brother; something that drew a surprised look from Magnus and a complimentary hug that Turbo awkwardly returned. The second gift was from Sanguinius, as it turned out, and when he opened the box he saw his own face, reflected in a simple yet elegant mirror. After a moment of wondering if this gift was actually meant for Fulgrim (clone fulgrim), he saw the inscription on the box lid which read, "to my big brother: it brings me joy to see happiness in your eyes now. I hope with this you can see it too."

Perturabo swore under his breath and slammed the box shut, furiously hoping that Magnus hadn't heard him sniffle just a tiny little bit. It was a moving gift to be sure, but after everything that had happened... ...somehow it just made the Lord of Iron feel like garbage. Well... ...more so than usual.

Thankfully, quick-thinking Magnus directed his brother's attention to the third gift. In fact, if he didn't know better, Perturabo would have sworn Magnus seemed even MORE excited for him to open this gift than his own.

"What is... ...is this from...?"

"MHMMM!" Magnus's enthusiasm was all-consuming, his grin audible in his tone. "She asked me come and pick it up from outside her door earlier this morning."

Perturabo's melancholy dissipated into a wave of curiosity. What sat before him was a perfect cube of blackstone, though if he knew anything about Nehetari, he knew that wasn't all there was to it.

Sure enough, when he picked it up, glyphs flashed along its side.

"Is... ...that..."

"Necrontyr," Perturabo murmured in deep concentration. "...and not just any form of Necrontyr; this is Ksakhemet Script."

"What?"

"Think of it as our high gothic. Except it's as if we had a high, HIGH gothic. Only the three Necrontyr kings and their families even knew how to speak this script, let alone how to read and write it. It is ancient, according to Nehetari... ...it's from a time even before the Necrontyr first started their galactic expansion."

Those statements alone were like a different language to Magnus, but his lust for ancient knowledge ignited like a blazing inferno. He would absolutely have to grill both Perturabo AND his xenos companion for more information once she was.... ...*ahem* no longer indesposed.

Perturabo turned the cube over and over in his hands, reading the ornate lettering as best he could. He'd only just started learning how to read Ksakhemet; he couldn't speak it properly because he lacked the extensive Necrontyr vocal range, but the lettering started to make sense the more he plied his fantastic mind.

"It is... ...a puzzle cube. I believe."

"D'AAWWW... How sweet...!"

Perturabo punched his brother in the shoulder, but it phased through his immaterial form.

"Shut your mouth!" He could already feel the heat creeping up his neck and he HATED it. Although he had to admit he was a little touched, if amused, that Nehetari had put together such a... ...thought-out gift.

And well-thought-out it was indeed! It became clear to the Lord of Iron that this wasn't just some slide and lock, physics based puzzle toy for mortal children. It was a custom-made testing tool designed to challenge his understanding of spacial compression, sub-atomic energy transfer, and even Necrontyr cultural theory. Each segment was challenging, unique, and soon he found himself absorbed. Magnus tagged along for the ride of course, and his respect for Nehetari grew each time he heard his brother growl in frustration, or give a small "...Ha! So that's it..."

"She has... ...quite the impressive mind. Especially for a xenos."

Perturabo grunted his affirmation. "...you don't know the half of it. She makes the Hrud look like a bunch of children." With a click the puzzle changed shape in his hands again, "...I would even say she has a mind similar to ours."

"...you don't say..."

"Hmph, she's DEFINITELY smarter than Dorn. I know that for sure."

Magnus chuckled. Of course she was.

The Lord of Iron didn't realize it immediately, but the puzzle cube was meant to serve another function, not just being an intriguing mental exercise. The more he fidgeted with it, the more time passed. Not by some technomantic power or magical means; he was just so absorbed in Nehetari's gift that he didn't notice his brothers packing up their gifts and starting to drift around and away from the throne room. Magnus, realizing he wouldn't be much help with this exercise, had taken notice of the custodes' Captain General (the one they call "kitten") and had begun to chat with him. Sanguinius was now at the Emperor's side, trying to pacify an impatient and belligerent Angron who just wanted to go celebrate Khornnuka with Lotara and Kharn. Corvus had dissapeared to... ...somewhere, and Vulkan was... ....had he somehow jackknifed himself into the psychic fireplace that the Emperor created!? Russ was laughing at him and drinking himself stupid (not that he had many IQ points to lose in the first place), but thankfully nobody was paying any attention to Turbo. Huh, who'd have thought; Perturabo was actually HAPPY that he was being ignored right now.

With a satisfying ding the cube shifted again, and to his surprise, glyphs flashed indicating that this was, in fact, the final challenge.

"Let's have it then. I'm ready..." the Lord of Iron grinned. He flicked the raised pad below the text and the final task scrolled across blackstone. Surprisingly, this time it was in High Gothic.

"...who is... ...my... ...favorite... ...human?"

He stared at the screen, dumbfounded. "Really? After all that, the last puzzle, is 'who's my favorite human?' Really?"

But wait... ...was the answer actually as easy as it appeared? Perturabo wanted to put his own name, but what if he was wrong? What if he wasn't her favorite human? He was hardly even "human" in the first place. Maybe she meant a true, normal human? But if this was supposed to be a present for him, why would she blatantly make him answer that her favorite human WASN'T him. What if...

"Hey nerd, the answer's obviously you."

Perturabo jumped to see Leman Russ passing him.

"What the-! Whe-how did you... ...you can't read!" Perturabo stammered. There was no way Leman just waltzed over here...

The Wolf Lord grinned, "Hey, ye nerds aren't the only ones who know how teh learn things. If I taught meself teh read Fenrisian runes, I can teach meself teh read some wolfin' High Gothic!"

"..."

"...that and I may or may not have used some of meh own psychic powers to read yer mind. You know, teh fill in teh blanks."

Considerably less impressed, Perturabo grumbled as he keyed the letters of his name into the cube. With another ding and a flash of green light, previously invisible cracks along the cube's surface began to glow and the cube began to shift one last time. When it finished, a tiny black tray was left in its place, revealing... ...a letter? And a pict?

"What's all this now?" Leman reached towards the tray.

Perturabo snatched it away, "Fuck off Russ! This is MY gift!"

"Oooh, is this from yer GIRLFRIEND!?"

"SHE'S NOT MY GIRLFRIEND!!"

"Hey fuck you Leman!" Oh boy, here comes Magnus, "Like you could ever understand the subtlety and genius that went into that puzzle box! Let him enjoy his gift in peace!"

"LeT HiM eNjOy HiS gIfT iN pEaCe!" Leman crooned. "Shut her trap and go back teh yer boyfriend, yeh big red canary."

Magnus puffed up in outrage and looked about ready to turn Leman inside out. When Perturabo noticed Sanguinius inbound, no doubt to dissolve the impending battle, he took his chance to dip out. And by "dip out" I mean grab the tray and its contents, and duck under the table. It would hide him for all of a second, but that would be as long as it would take him to read the letter.

Or it would have, if Leman hadn't, SOMEHOW, been able to reach the tray before him. He snatched up the letter, practically from between Perturabo's fingers, and with utter horror the Lord of Iron watched as his brother brandished the page, cleared his throat, and began to read:

"Perturabo..."

"FUCK YOU LEMAN THAT'S NOT YOURS!!" Magnus howled. Perturabo roared in fury. Both brothers made a mad lunge at the Wolf Lord but he dodged, shit-eating grin on his face as he continued reading.

"...Perturabo,

I'm sorry, but I...."

"....failed you?"

At the mention of the word "failed", Perturabo's onslaught faltered, as did Magnus's. Leman's grin died on his lips as he read the next line, his eyes widening for a moment before they squeezed shut. He then passed the letter back to Perturabo, mumbled a barely audible apology, turned, and without a word walked off.

"That's not what I... ...uh... ...expected?" Magnus muttered. "He looked like a kicked pup. What did that letter..."

Perturabo clutched the paper looking the most feral Magnus had ever seen him.

"...you know what, never mind. That letter's meant for you anyway." He added quickly. "I'll be in the library if you need me, brother."

And just like that, Perturabo was alone. Well, mostly; the Emperor was still there, but he was oddly quiet. Sanguinius was watching him too, but from a discreet distance.

The Lord of Iron backed up into the corner of the room, still riled up but looking a little less crazy. Once he was satisfied that NOBODY ELSE would attempt to confiscate his stuff, he finally began to read what Nehetari wrote for him.

"Perturabo,

I am sorry, but I failed you. You said you wanted your brothers' appreciation for a Sanguinala gift, but of all the ones I interviewed asking for an appreciative memory they have of you, the only ones who gave me a response were your brothers Magnus and Sanguinius. So instead I instigated a situation to make one (please reference the included image). If your brother's expressions are to be believed, then I believe they all enjoyed attacking your snow bunker. I certainly enjoyed helping you defend it.

May you have a somber and pleasant celebration,

The Mehlrose,

Nehetari of the Szarekhan Dynasty.

Heir to the Silent Throne."

...Perturabo couldn't believe it.

He's asked for that as a JOKE. He hadn't actually been serious. When she's approached him, asking what he wanted as a "Sanguinala gift," he'd been in the middle of a complicated programming script and had said that just to get the point across that he didn't want to be bothered.

Slowly, and with a shaking hand, he lifted the pict from the tray and turned it over.

And she was right. This shot must have been taken by one of her tunneling scarabs. Or maybe one of her guard as they were circling the perimeter, hurling snow and distracting Russ. But however it was taken, somehow it was able to get a perfect shot of every primarch, including himself and Nehetari, hurling fucking snow or getting completely dunked on, but every single one of them had varying degrees of stupid fucking grin on their faces. Even Corvus was smiling!

It struck him: had that been her plan all along?

Minutes passed, and finally the Emperor himself spoke up. "My son, you're shaking like a Dark Elder nightclub on a Tuesday."

Perturabo didn't hear him. It took everything he had just to hold the pict in his trembling hands.

Why? Why. Why would she bother. How did she... ...why, why, why WHY? HOW!? When did she even have the TIME to plan this out!? There was no way. And not for him. Why? Why for him? And ALL OF THEM. How could she have known they would ALL come?

"Brother, are you ok?"

Perturabo snapped out of the loop to see the Angel standing beside him with a hand on his shoulder. He hadn't realized just how loudly his two hearts had been thundering, how BADLY his whole body had been shaking, until he felt that steadying touch. Instinctively he tried to regain control over his mind and body, and stowed the pict away in his belt.

Sanguinius asked no questions; he simply nodded.

"I'm going to find her..." Perturabo's voice sounded like sandpaper. He could feel the tears rolling down his neck, but he ignored them. "...I don't care if she FUCKING KILLS me; I am going to find her. She has no right.... ...she had no right to... ...to..."

"...go ahead brother." Sanguinius's smile was warm with understanding.

Salvaging what little dignity he felt he had left, Perturabo straightened up, turned on his heel, and walked shakily out of the throne room. He disappeared into the darkness, leaving his father and his brothers to stare after him in wonder.

(Sorry this is such a long post, but I started writing it and just went to town. I wanted to SHOW, rather than just tell, the kinds of things Nehetari does for the individuals that are important to her)

@gracia-regina @ask-a-scheming-sorcerer @luwupercal

info: im jaebum/reader, teen+, strangers to lovers au genre: soft angst, romance | word ct: 5.1k warnings: suggestive themes summary: for years, jaebum tried to forget the woman who broke his heart. little did he know that she wasn’t so easily forgotten, and that her face would haunt him at every turn. note: so I started this three years ago after listening to got7′s face for the first time and I’ve been editing it and forgetting it ever since. lol maybe someone will enjoy it

“Jaebum, I’m sorry.”

Okay.

“I really am.”

Okay.

“Please understand—”

Okay.

“Jae? Don’t just stand there.”

Okay.

“Please—please say something!”

Like what?

Jaebum didn’t know what she expected him to say, not after that. After she ripped out his heart.

“I don’t love you anymore, Jaebum. I’m sorry.”

She just stood there in the doorway, bag in hand, waiting for his response with tears in her eyes. He knew she was trying to stay strong, he could see her lip trembling as she held it between her teeth. How long would she wait there? How long would she bat her eyelashes at him innocently waiting for him to make it all okay? What did she even want from him? Forgiveness? Reassurance? Did she think that somehow an apology would make their breakup hurt any less?

“Goodbye, Seohyun.” He forced out through clenched teeth. “Thanks for everything.”

“Wait—Jaebum—!”

Closing the door on both her and their three year relationship, Jaebum couldn’t remember what he did next. He couldn’t remember clawing every photograph off the walls, he couldn’t remember how his fingers stung as they dug into the plaster. He couldn’t recall pulling every plate from their cabinets, he couldn’t recall how his feet bled when he stepped on the broken porcelain. He couldn’t recollect how much he hated the man who stared at him in the mirror, he couldn’t recollect how his fist destroyed the glass and how it finally reflected how he felt inside.

“I don’t love you anymore, Jaebum. I’m sorry.”

That was over a year ago. And it felt like an eternity to him. Looking at himself now, suit neatly pressed, shoes freshly shined, he didn’t see any semblance of the man from that night. After he destroyed everything that reminded him of her, as he saw the pictures of happier times reduced to embers in the fireplace, he made himself a promise. He swore that he would never let anyone ruin him so completely ever again. Steeling his heart and caging it in ice, he wouldn’t even give them the chance.

Never again.

“Jae?” Jinyoung inquired, knuckles rasping against Jaebum’s door. “We’re heading out for drinks, want to come with?”

He didn’t even look up from the reports he was filing. “Can’t. I’m busy.”

Jinyoung crossed his arms. “Shocker. You’re always busy.”

“That comes with being the boss.” Jaebum countered easily.

Rolling his eyes, Jinyoung leaned against the doorframe. “C’mon, Jae, just pretend you’re a regular guy and not an office robot for a couple of hours. Would it hurt to have a little fun?”

“Maybe. Socializing is against my programming.” Jaebum teased in a robot voice. “I cannot acquiesce to your request.”

“Dammit Jae.” Jinyoung sighed in disbelief. “Your humor is wasted in this tiny little room. Go out with us. Free yourself from the confines of this dastardly place. One night with the guys isn’t going to kill you. And if it does, I’ll buy lunch for a week. Scouts honor.”

Jaebum snickered quietly. “Alright, if it gets you to shut up I’ll go out for a couple of hours.”

“And do a couple of shots?” Jinyoung pressed hopefully.

“Don’t push your luck, Jin.” Jaebum chastised him, leering over his glasses. “I’ll have a glass of wine and that’s it.”

“I’ll take it.” Jinyoung shrugged. “We’re leaving in ten minutes. You want to catch a ride with me?”

Pursing his lips, Jaebum shook his head. “I’ve got to turn these in before I go. I’ll meet you there if you text me the address.”

Jinyoung narrowed his eyes at his friend suspiciously. “I swear to God, Jae, if you flake on us I’m going to come back here and kick your sorry ass.”

“Like you could take me.” Jaebum smirked. “Just go, I’ll be there soon. Promise.”

Jinyoung didn’t relent, his head dragging as he headed towards his own office. “I’ve got my eyes on you, Im Jaebum. You’re not going to fool me.”

“I’m not trying to fool you.” Jaebum informed him. “But if you keep bothering me I’m going to magically find a stack of financial statements that need to be filed. And who better to file them than my good buddy Park Jinyoung—”

“See you there!” Jinyoung interrupted, dashing down the hall like his heels were on fire. “I’ll text you!”

Chuckling at the expense of his friend, Jaebum leaned back in his chair and tapped his pen against his leg. He couldn’t remember the last time he went out just to go out. It had been too long since he was desperate for the numbing sensation of alcohol pulsing through his veins to simply function normally. The last time he could remember drinking he couldn’t recall anything that happened after. Not until he woke up in some woman’s bed that he didn’t bother to learn the name of. He wanted to feel bad, or at least some part of him did. Because she wasn’t the first, and she most certainly wouldn’t be the last.

Not tonight. He decided. Not this time.

When his phone lit up, a text message from Jinyoung waiting for him impatiently, Jaebum quickly got to work. As much as he tried to keep his stoic face in front of his friend, he needed to get out of the office. If he had to read another poorly written report littered with inaccuracies and spelling errors, he was going to lose his mind. Jinyoung’s offer could not have come soon enough.

By the time he was done, the sun was already starting to set. Cursing underneath his breath, Jaebum grabbed his coat and bolted out the door. Opting to take the stairs instead of waiting for the elevator, he checked the bus schedule while tugging on his gloves. Jinyoung had already been at the bar much longer than he’d like, meaning that Jaebum wasn’t going to get out of the night unscathed. Lucky for him he was always prepared for such occasions. The bottle of aspirin in his desk drawer and him were about to be fast friends.

“Jae!” Jinyoung screamed through the phone. “Where are you!”

Jaebum groaned loudly as he made it out to the street. “I’m sorry, I’m still at the office. But I’m leaving now, I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

“You better be!” Jinyoung continued. “Because I’ll—I’ll kick your ass if you’re not!”

“Shut up Jinyoung, you’re drunk.” He muttered, ending the call and stuffing his phone in his pocket.

Wrapping his scarf around his neck, Jaebum walked briskly to the bus station just down the block. Instantly regretting turning down Jinyoung’s offer for a ride when the cold winter air pelted his skin. Opening his eyes even the slightest caused his eyes to water, each step he took sent a chill down his spine, frost nipped at the tips of his ears, he could barely stand it.

As he waited less than patiently, Jaebum found himself watching the people that passed him. An elderly woman wearing a mismatched set of mittens, a small dog in a boorish sweater jogging along beside her. Two school boys fussing over a handheld video game, laughing jovially despite their harsh words. A young couple walking hand in hand, their eyes filled with affection and warmth, leaving Jaebum with a foul taste in his mouth.

“I don’t love you anymore, Jaebum. I’m sorry.”

Lighting a cigarette, he did his best not to think about Seohyun. About how she left him on a night just like this. How each kiss on her eager lips tasted like lies. How her brown eyes hollowed out his very soul. And how each promise she made cut him like knives. Jaebum had been trying to erase her from his life for a whole year. But no matter how much he drank, or how many women he kissed, he could still taste her on his tongue.

Even cigarettes do nothing to mask her taste. He mused, inhaling deeply and savoring the tobacco that filled his lungs.

When the bus pulled up to the curb, Jaebum dropped his unfinished cigarette in the street. Sighing, he tapped his foot impatiently as the doors opened and people spilled out onto the sidewalk. He had completely forgotten how cramped public transport could get during the winter. Another reason why he hated the desolate season. And Jinyoung’s persistent drunken text messages and calls weren’t helping his rapidly souring mood.

“What is it now, Jinyoung?” Jaebum exasperated, getting on the bus and swiping his card.

“Do you know that fish cake shop by the bar?” Jinyoung asked sluggishly. “The one that I really really like?”

Jaebum pinched the bridge of his nose as he found a seat at the back of the bus. “No, I do not. But I take it you want me to stop there?”

“Yeeeesss.” He dragged out. “I’m dying for a good fish cake.”

Sometimes I wonder how we’re friends. “Alright, fine, I’ll get you your stupid fish cake. How far away from the bar is the shop?”

“Not far at all!” Jinyoung exclaimed. “Just down the street a ways, you can’t miss it! Thanks Jae! You’re the best!”

Beep beep beep.

Pocketing his phone, Jaebum did his best not to let the night get away from him. He had to keep reminding himself that all of his problems could easily be solved with the bottle of scotch that was waiting at the bar. Jinyoung owed him, and getting free drinks out of him while he was drunk was an easy task for Jaebum. All of that was worth the annoying errands that his best friend was infamous for sending him on.

There’s a scotch on the rocks waiting for you. He told himself over and over again. Do it for the scotch. Scotch can get you through anything.

“Now approaching, Namdaemun Market. Thank you for choosing Seoul Public Transportation, have a nice day.”

As the bus rolled to a complete stop, Jaebum quickly stood and waited for the doors to open. Shouldering past the new borders, he apologized quietly, thankful to finally be off the cramped bus and back out on the street. Even if it was a bit colder than he remembered. Shivering, he pulled his lapel taught over his face, scanning his surroundings for the fish cake shop he was supposed to visit. What he found instead was a ghost from his past. A ghost with hair as black as the hole she gouged into his chest.

Seohyun? He swallowed nervously, his palms sweating despite the brisk December air. Is it really her? Please—please tell me that I’m seeing things.

It had to be her, he knew it deep down inside. He knew by the way his heart stopped, how his stomach sank, that it couldn’t be anyone else. But—his mind wasn’t so easily convinced. How could it be her? How could Lee Seohyun be standing right in front of him? Just as beautiful as the day she ripped out his heart without a care in the world. Waiting outside an electronics kiosk, a lollipop stick protruding from her perfect cherry red lips and a guitar slung over her shoulder as if—

A guitar? Jaebum questioned. Since when does Seohyun know how to—

Realization dawned on Jaebum almost instantly. His eyes were playing tricks on him, like they had so many times before. It wasn’t Seohyun, it would never be Seohyun. No matter how much a small miniscule part of him still wanted her back in his arms, she never would be his. The woman before him was simply his projection of something he would never have. Underneath his breath, Jaebum cursed himself for being hung up on her after all this time.

Still, his gaze didn’t waver as he watched the Seohyun look alike walk down the street. The resemblance was uncanny, had he been intoxicated he would’ve surely mistaken her for Seohyun. She even walked like her. The way her hips swayed—Jaebum couldn’t bring himself to look away. She was beautiful, breathtaking, mysterious, entrancing, the same dangerous formula that Jaebum became addicted to so easily.

For a brief moment, he couldn’t find the differences between them. From the way her dark hair fell languidly over her shoulders, the way her lips twitched into a hesitant smile, how her eyes glistened with a palpable passion. It was almost as if he was looking at a direct reflection of a memory. One he would’ve preferred to remain lost to time.

I need to get to this fish cake shop. Jaebum reminded himself. More importantly, I need to get the hell out of here.

Gathering his runaway thoughts, he started down the busy street, doing his best to avoid the mysterious woman. She was a reminder that he couldn’t afford to fall back into the hole that Seohyun cast him into. The man that loved Seohyun wasn’t one that Jaebum admired. In fact, he was a man that Jaebum tried time and time again to erase. And, until that exact moment, he thought he was doing a fair job of it.

“Get your fish cakes here! Best around!”

Jaebum’s ears perked up at the shouting vendor, appreciating the distraction more than he cared to admit. Besides, his head was in a complete haze ever since he spotted that woman. He wouldn’t have been able to find the shop on his own even if he ran right into the door. Which he practically did. The control Seohyun still had over him terrified him to no end. And he had only seen a woman who looked like her, it wasn’t even her. He shuttered to imagine what would’ve happened if she was really there. Whispering in his ear, her hands gliding up his body, the curves of her body beneath him—

“Jaebum…”

Squeezing his eyes shut, Jaebum willed her husky voice away. The shivers that travelled down his spine—he had to ignore them. He had to get away from her. Ducking into the shop, he quickly purchased the fish cakes and left without a word to the clerk. He feared his own voice, feared how it would betray him. The only thing that mattered to him was getting to the bar and as far away from her as possible.

Without really paying attention to where he was going, Jaebum shouldered past someone and sent them stumbling backwards. Unconsciously, he reached out to steady them, taking hold of their wrist and pulling them in close to him before realizing who it was. It was her. Her. Her slender wrists were within his grasp, her dark eyes looked up at him in surprise, and coherent thought evaded him.

“Thanks!” She exhaled, running a hand through her hair. “I really should look where I’m going.”

At that close distance she looked even more like Seohyun. Jaebum didn’t think it was physically possible, but the proof was right in front of him. The scent of her perfume filled his senses, taking him back to a time when her fragrance was the only thing between them. He tried to swallow past the lump in his throat, he tried to respond, he tried to say anything that could distract himself from her lips. Her perfectly shaped cherry red lips…

Brushing her hair over her shoulder, she offered him a dangerous look. “Not much of a talker, are you?”

Jaebum never made it to the bar that night.

He woke up the next morning tangled in sheets that weren’t his own. Lying beside him was the woman who unknowingly unravelled every effort he had made to forget about Seohyun. She made him painfully aware that his previous beliefs were nothing more than optimistic delusions. Jaebum hadn’t moved past her, not even in the slightest. He wasn’t sure if he ever would.

As was customary after every one night stand he stumbled into, he quickly pulled his clothes back on and quietly left her apartment without bothering to wake her. He called for a taxi, pointedly ignoring all of the angry texts and numerous voicemails left by Jinyoung as he made his way home. Jaebum wasn’t in the mood to explain himself. Ironically enough, all he wanted to do was drink. He settled for a silent ride through the city that was supposed to save him from himself, but he was beyond saving.

Days passed and he couldn’t shake the memory of Seohyun’s lookalike beneath him. She was a rarity, an anomaly that wandered into his life without any sort of warning. And as easily as she traipsed through his thoughts, she was gone. Frankly that was his own fault, he did it for his own good but it didn’t matter to him. He wanted her, he wanted more, his body ached for her in a way that was all too familiar. He sat at his desk, fists clenched in rage, hating himself for falling back into his old ways. All he wanted was a life without Seohyun, he wasn’t sure it was possible anymore.

At first, he was determined to stay away from her. He willed his thoughts and memories to the back of his mind, trying to get on with his life once more. But it wasn’t so simple. He found himself back on that street corner without realizing how he got there just a few nights later. Diligently looking for the cherry red lips that stained his own and drove him wild.

He would always find his way back to her.

“Did you miss me?”

She came up beside him with a coy smirk, she already knew his answer.

“Still not much of a talker, are you?”

Soon after they would wind up in bed again, as it was slowly becoming their routine. Jaebum had never felt more connected to a complete stranger, someone who could’ve easily gone through life without ever meeting him. He had Seohyun back, in some way. Like a ghost from the past letting him have one last glance at what could’ve been. He could’ve been happy, he was happy. Now he didn’t know what he was. All he knew was her because that was all he wanted to know. And he wanted to know more. 

On the first day he learned her lips, on the second day he learned her name.

On the third day she learned his.

“Jae...” She breathed beneath him, desperate for him as he was for her. “Please…”

He loved how she said his name. It pained him that he couldn’t say hers.

“Jae.” She tested on her tongue. “You called me Seohyun again.”

He watched absentmindedly as her delicate fingers dusted over his skin, offering nothing more than a quiet, “Sorry.”

“It’s okay.” She mused. “I just need to know, someone you’re running from or running to?”

“I don’t love you anymore, Jaebum. I’m sorry.”

“Both.”

She visibly winced at his honesty. “Well, I hope I can help with that a little.”

And she did. Her lips pressed against his jaw as her hand slid down his abdomen, he hissed in response and took her in his arms. She was—magic. The second his mind would be occupied by thoughts of Seohyun she would pull him in with her own hypnotic gaze, letting him forget about the woman that brought them together in the first place. It didn’t last for long, but the reprieve was appreciated nevertheless.

On the fourth day he called her Seohyun again. The fifth day was the same.

On the sixth day he said her name and she smiled.

He lost track of the days after that.

The moment their relationship stopped being casual and became something more wasn’t entirely obvious to Jaebum. One day he simply woke up and instead of hoping to see her again soon he decided that soon wasn’t enough. They started to see each other every single day, some of those days didn’t end up in bed either. Maybe that’s when he noticed that she was more to him than he originally intended. Maybe that’s when he knew he was doomed to be in love with Seohyun for the rest of his life. Forever seeking her out in the woman he had hoped would make him forget.

One morning when she was gathering her things, giving Jaebum the space he had so foolishly convinced himself he needed, he asked her to stay. So she stayed. He couldn’t ever remember things with Seohyun being so simple. Seohyun was a woman that made Jaebum fight for every inch, beg for every moment, he was addicted to her and didn’t realize how quickly she was killing him. While he didn’t want to admit it, the moment she left him was probably the kindest thing she had ever done.

But she was perfect and he still loved her.

He hated himself, as he spent more time with her and could only see Seohyun in her eyes, he hated himself. He had hoped that they would separate, that he would see her for her and not for the woman he hated and loved all at once. Because she was perfect just as Seohyun was, all he had to do was wait for the inevitable. Either he would get fed up with her or she would realize the truth. She would learn that she was a replacement for someone that wasn’t worth replacing. Someone he evidently couldn’t let go.

“You look like you have a lot on your mind.” She whispered, dusting her fingers over his arm. “Do you want to talk about it?”

What hurt him most, was that she loved him. She loved him. Not some version of him that only existed as a ghost in her mind, as a lie she couldn’t give up. She loved him for exactly who he was. A man who looked at her and saw another, who reached for her everyday, who was haunted by a touch that was forever ingrained in his skin. He was disgusted by the man she loved, by himself. But if he ever told her the truth, he knew it would break her heart.

Break her like Seohyun destroyed him.

And then she would be gone.

So he would continue to lie to her, betray her no matter how much his own words tore him up inside. A sensation that was all too familiar, one he knew better than most after knowing Seohyun for as long as he did. Ironically, he was just like her. Selfish to the very end. 

“I’m alright.” He lied easily as always.

Except she wasn’t convinced, not in the slightest. She had never been convinced of his lies, he could tell just by looking at her that she was enduring his facade as much as he was. Pretending to be fooled so they could continue in blissful ignorance. Because she knew his heart better than even he did, a heart that had long since been locked away. Because she loved him despite everything that he was. And everything that he wasn’t.

It was close to their anniversary when he decided that enough was enough. She had introduced him to her friends, her parents, and he had done the same. Their lives had become intertwined to a point that severing their ties could only result in a catastrophic mess. He had to come clean, he had to put his heart at ease and end the nightmare he almost believed was a dream. He had to let Seohyun go, he had to let her go. Once and for all he had to free himself from her grasp and break a heart that belonged to a woman whose only mistake was running into a man in a fish cake shop.

“I don’t love you anymore, Jaebum. I’m sorry.”

His heart ached as he thought about that day, hated how much his own actions would soon imitate that very moment. Looking at someone who loved you with everything that they had and telling them that it was all over. That you never loved them. That everything was a lie. That you were nothing but a monster.

God I need a drink.

So to put a bit of distance between them, to gather his thoughts, he went to the bar that technically started it all. He ordered his usual drink, he pretended to watch a game that didn’t interest him, and he sat in silence as the moments ticked by. Every now and again the bartender would try to strike up a conversation, but after being ignored for the fifth time he finally gave up. Jaebum wasn’t in the mood to pretend to be a decent human being, it was taking every concerted effort he could afford to keep himself from falling apart at the seams.

And despite the fact that he had been sitting at the bar with two fingers of scotch in front of him for nearly an hour, he had yet to take a single sip. He kept swirling it in his hand instead, using it more as a distraction from his rampant thoughts than a means to soothe his agitated nerves. As much as he wanted to get the whole ordeal over with, he couldn’t get drunk. He had been selfish enough in the past year, he had to endure the next few hours sober because she deserved more than what she was given. She deserved more respect than he had ever offered her. And he deserved the misery he was destined for.

Once a couple of hours had passed, he decided it was time to face her. She would be starting dinner soon and he didn’t want her to waste her time. Not when he was going to be effectively kicking her out of his life forever. With a sigh, he put on his jacket to leave and pushed his untouched drink back towards the bartender. Then, a young woman took a seat beside him.

“Why don’t you let me join you for a drink?” She hummed seductively. “You’re looking a little stressed.”

 For fucks sake. “Thanks, but no thanks.” He returned without looking at her. “I’ve got better things to do.”

Apparently she wasn’t giving up so easily. “Is that anyway to talk to a pretty girl like me?”

Glancing at her, he wasn’t impressed. “Sorry, but I have somewhere I need to be. Drink by yourself if you’re so inclined.”

As he stood to leave, she took a firm grasp of his arm. “Jaebum? Are you seriously going to ignore me? Are you really that cruel?”

He rolled his eyes at her continued pathetic attempts. “You even learned my name, wow. How long have you been watching me?”

Turning back to look at her, he realized there was something familiar about her. Something he couldn’t quite put his finger on. But that didn’t matter to him.

“Seriously, I’m not on the market.” He persisted. “Good day.”

“Jaebum!” She shouted in disbelief. “Do you seriously not recognize me? We dated for three fucking years, I feel like I’m owed more than a cold shoulder. Or are you the complete asshole you’ve always been?”

A chill ran down his spine.

“Don’t just stand there!”

No… it—it can’t be… that voice... 

“Say something!”

Seohyun?

Realization dawned on him, stomach acid rose in his throat. It had to be her, there wasn’t a doubt in his mind after hearing her say that. Those words, nearly those exact words were seared into his soul ages ago. That voice berated him for years. There was no way he would ever mistake that voice for anyone else. But—she didn’t look like the Seohyun he remembered. The mere sight of her didn’t drive him mad, he didn’t have to fight back the urge to throw himself at her feet. She was Seohyun without the best and the worst parts of her.

She wasn’t the woman he loved.

Not anymore.

“Wow…” He exhaled with a smile. “You’ve really changed, haven’t you.”

Which, now that the initial shock had worn off, he realized that she was the exact same. Painfully so. Her nails were freshly manicured, her hair and makeup were set perfectly in place, her clothes were fresh off the runway, she was Seohyun in every sense of the word. Perfectly plucked from time and placed in front of him. She was everything he thought he loved. Before he learned what love really looked like. And god it didn’t look like her.

“And you haven’t changed at all.” She huffed. “Still the rude asshole I dumped forever ago. I can’t believe I doubted myself for a second there, spotting you across the bar made it seem like the good old times. But I really made the right call, didn’t I?”

He couldn’t help but laugh. “You really did. Goodbye, Seohyun. Thanks for everything.”

She scoffed as he left. “Yeah, whatever.”

After that, Jaebum didn’t hesitate. He took off running for the bus stop, desperate to get home to a woman that he had loved for a whole year and just didn’t know it. He had been so sure that the love he felt for her was just a projection, that she only reminded him of Seohyun so that was the only reason he loved her. Never in all his life had he been happier to be wrong.

I love her… He chanted in his head, over and over again. I love her!

Once he got home, he burst through the door and stopped immediately when he saw her standing there. How had he never noticed before? She was beautiful, she was perfect, she was the woman he loved with his whole heart and he was a fool for not knowing sooner. She made him laugh, she made him smile, she made him forget about Seohyun a hundred times and even wiped her from his heart forever. And he was the idiot who thought it was all a lie.

“What’s wrong, Jaebum?” She asked innocently. “Is something on your mind?”

“Yes.” He confirmed easily, approaching her slowly and taking her hands in his. “I’ve done a lot of thinking, a lot of soul searching this past year, trying to make sense of my feelings for you. And I think I finally know what my brain has been telling me since the very beginning.”

There was a nervous glint to her eyes, but she played along. “What would that be?”

“That I love you.” He smiled. “I love you for being you and no one else.”

Those words, those simple words that wouldn’t make any sense to someone else, made her face light up like a fireworks display. She wrapped her arms around him and buried her face into his chest, overwhelmed with a feeling he knew all too well. For the first time in four years, Jaebum could breathe. A huge weight had lifted from his shoulders, the ghost of Seohyun was finally gone. He was free.

“I love you too…” She mumbled. “I’ve loved you for so long…”

“I know.” He whispered gently, tilting her chin up and kissing her gently. “And I will thank you everyday for waiting for me.”

Fictober 2019 - Day 20 with special guests: Day 19, Day 18 and Day 15

From The Fictober 2019 event <3

Prompt 20 : “You could talk about it, you know?”

Prompt 19 : “Yes, I admit it, you were right.”

Prompt 18 : “Secrets? I love secrets.”

Prompt 15 : “That’s what I’m talking about! ”

Fandom : Star Trek: Voyager, Skyrim

Words : 3,551

Warnings : light gore and mention of blood and body horror

Day 20, 19, 18, and 15 - Vorik x Modern!OC

With a loud whoosh the flames from my hands extinguished as the last vampire collapsed in a heap of ashen clothes. The cavern plunged into near-total darkness again save for the flickering torch on the stone floor that Vorik had been carrying until we were ambushed. One fairly short fight later showed them this coven never stood a chance. I shook out my still smoking hands and blew on them. “Damn, that will never get old. It's still so cool!”

“Technically, it would be hot,” my companion said dryly, nudging a set of black robes near the entrance with the toe of his boot. A dagger clinked onto the limestone and he bent to pick it up and inspect it.

I was already heading towards the line of cupboards and bookcases along one roughhewn wall to rummage through them. “‘Cool' is human vernacular, you know, for when things are—”

“Yes, I am familiar with the terminology.” I heard the clatter of metal from behind me. Dagger must not have been up to his standards, I thought with a smile.

“Oh, so you're just being facetious,” I laughed.

Vorik fixed me with a somewhat smug look. “Yes.”

“Jerk,” I said with a smile.

Returning to my grand work pulling out drawers, I had to marvel at the little details that didn’t exist when I would play Skyrim on my computer. Where before I would “Press A to open” things and get a list of goods inside, I now had to work at finding anything worth looking for. I pulled out a rough linen dress from the bottom drawer and shook it out. I was rewarded by a puff of dust and the clatter of lockpicks on the rocks. One thing was for sure. This certainly felt a lot more like stealing now that I had to dig through physical objects to take things.

I grabbed the little coin purse tucked in the corner and turned around to search for the lockpicks I’d inadvertently spilled all over the floor, but my friend was ahead of me.

As Vorik extended his hand to give me the lockpicks, I noticed a streak of dark green on the inside of his arm.

I gasped. “Vorik! Are you bleeding?”

Appearing to notice it for the first time, the Vulcan inspected his forearm, loosening his leather braces so he could pull the shirt back. There, standing out stark against his pale yellow skin, thick dark green blood oozed out of two long jagged claw-like nicks. “Curious,” he murmured. “Are the safeties off?”

“They shouldn't be,” I replied slowly. “Computer? Status of holodeck safety protocols, please.”

An acknowledgment beep sounded in bizarre contrast to our surroundings from somewhere in the depths of the limestone vampire den. Then the robotic voice answered, “Holodeck Safety Protocols are still in effect.”

“Okay, thank you.”

We looked at each other.

“This wound is not real, then.”

“Looks pretty real,” I said doubtfully, reaching out to take his arm. But I stopped short and kept my hands to myself. “Does it feel real?”

Vorik glanced at me through his eyelashes. “Perhaps you should look away.”

“Why?”

“You're squeamish,” he said as though it should have been obvious.

I shrugged. “Whatever. It's not my blood.”

His eyebrow rose but he didn't say anything else before he grabbed his wrist with his other hand and squeezed. More blood seeped from the wounds running in long drips down his arm. A little gush shot into the air.

He was right. I should have turned away.

“What the fu—Oh, gross,” I choked before I clamped my mouth shut and spun around so my lunch wouldn't come up next. Even though on some level, I knew that our bodies acted differently despite looking very similar on the surface, I still wasn’t prepared for that. I don’t think I would ever have been prepared for blood spurts. My stomach churned.

“It does feel real,” I heard him say, his tone completely indifferent, “and it is acting real as well.”

“Well jus—ggkkh. Stop playing with it and just take care of it, will you?”

Unable to stand there without imagining more blood spurting from his arm, I wandered away towards the mouth of the cavern. It opened up into a long, steep passageway that led outside. It would take some time to walk but I knew that’s where it went. So whether the air was actually cooler or better circulated,  or I just imagined it was, being at the passage helped clear the dizziness somewhat. I certainly felt less like I would pass out, leaning against the rocky wall.

After a few minutes, Vorik joined me, his mouth turned in that slight secretive sort of smile that always killed me. “I did warn you to look away.”

“Yeah, yeah. Just so you know, we should find an herbalist or an apothecary as soon as we get back into town. You should have a Potion of Cure Disease on hand.” He looked over at me quizzically, so I clarified: “In case you get vampirism.”

This time my companion scoffed. “I cannot contract vampirism. I'm Vulcan.”

“What's that got to do with anything?” I laughed. “You think you're immune? Why? Because your blood is green or because your ears are already pointy? You were nicked with a vampire's claws, which means you can contract vampirism. Those are the rules of Skyrim set down by our lord and savior, Todd Howard.”

I felt more than I saw his eye roll. Together we ventured back into the gloom of the hallway. The torch in Vorik’s hand cast leaping shadows over the jagged limestone walls as we made out ascent.

“I am certain I cannot contract vampirism. This program was not made for my kind, the default avatar setting is human. And vampires can only be human, as they are human legends.”

“Uh-huh. Sure. Sounds an awful lot like more speculation than a logical assumption, my dude. You don’t have to take my advice if you don’t want to, but you’d better stay away from my neck!”

                                                              ***

“Computer, end program,” Vorik said into the air. No sooner had the acknowledgment sounded than the world shimmered and disappeared around us. My house in Riften was replaced by the reflective metal and crosshatching, bonelike metal bars of the holodeck. Vorik’s armor and most of my own, with the exception of Gilmorrak and my belt, disappeared, replaced by our civilian clothes.

“Hey, how’s your arm, by the way?”

He unbuttoned the clasp at the cuff and rolled up the sleeve of his grey tunic. He twisted his forearm left and right for me to see. There was no trace of any blood now. No evidence that he’d been harmed at all.

“Evidently it was part of the holodeck program.”

I shook my head. “That’s weird though because I’ve been straight up stabbed and shot with arrows until I looked like a pin cushion and I still never bled. It’s got to be a vital part of the programming, dude.”

“It is strange,” he agreed, “but it shouldn’t be of any concern. The wound is gone now. It was likely an oversight on the part of Mr. Kim or Mr. Paris. Perhaps something about translating such an ancient game to the holodeck.”

I ignored his jab at Skyrim and flashed him a smile. “Unless you become a vampire in the next couple of days,” I said.

“I will not become a vampire.”

I shook my head at him and sighed as he led me towards the door. I was always a little sad to leave Skyrim, or any of the holodeck programs, honestly, but my crewmates needed time to play. If I didn’t have that pang of guilt and unfairness hanging over my head, I would be way too content to stay on a holodeck forever. It always astounded me while watching the show: How could these people have this technology and not want to be there all their lives?

“Can a person live in a holodeck program?” I asked as we exited. I recognized the next two eager adventurers as Ensigns from security, so I waved while Vorik nodded to them.

“No, so you should never try it,” Vorik said, catching on easily to my line of thought. He did that a lot. I guess I was just a simple sort of creature. “Most holodeck programs are not equipped for sustained use,” he went on, “You would drain the reactors quickly. And while some holodecks utilize food replicators, like our own, this is not true for each one. Non-starship decks tend to use lower grade protein synthesizers since holographic meals are not meant to be the staple of one’s diet. These would have negligible nutritional value and you would eventually waste away.”

“You’re a spoilsport.”

“And you would kill yourself chasing fantasy as a coping mechanism. Problems, even your emotional ones, should be faced head on. It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live.”

I stopped dead in the hallway and gaped at him. Vorik had continued several paces before he realized I was no longer beside him. He looked around expectantly, his hands clasped behind him, but my brain had 404-ed.

“Did you just…?” A smile crept onto my face. “Did you just… quote Albus mcfreakin’ Dumbledore at me?”

Vorik stared at me blankly.

“You did, didn’t you? You thought I wouldn’t catch it, but you did! You read it??”

Vorik’s eyes closed for a half a second longer than normal as he took a deep breath. His gaze cast downward for a moment as if resigning himself before he looked at me again. “Yes, I did—”

I rushed him and grabbed him by the arms, grinning from ear to ear now. “You did? You did! Ohmygosh! You have to tell me what you think. What part are you at? How far have you gotten? Were you planning on reading through all of them or were you just trying out the first one? Are you finished with it? Please—ohmygod—tell me everything!”

Appearing both bemused and like he had just realized he’d made a horrible mistake, my Vulcan friend led me towards the mess hall, succinctly answering my questions as rapidly as I fired them off.

                                                             ***

“You don’t look too good,” I told Vorik as I set my bowl of spaghetti down at our table in the corner of the mess several days later. It was quiet, halfway between a midshift, and the hall was all but empty save for a handful of people and one Vulcan with his head in his hands.

At my voice, he sat up straight and blinked whatever it was bothering him away. “I am fine.”

“You look pale. Are you sure you’re feeling okay?”

Fork in hand, he started picking at his food. “I just need to meditate,” he mumbled.

I nodded and spun my own fork in my noodles idly for a few heartbeats. But like so many somewhat intrusive thoughts, I couldn’t keep it in my brain, and I opened my mouth to say conspiratorially, “Unless.”

“Giana,” Vorik warned, closing his eyes.

“Is the vampirism making you peakish?”

“I am not a vampire.”

“Sounds exactly like the sort of thing a vampire would say,” I replied, jutting out my lip in a face of disbelief. “But seriously, you could talk about it, you know. The actual thing that’s bothering you, I mean, not your unfortunate illness.”

Vorik rolled his eyes at me and continued to push his food around his tray. Even that he gave up after a few moments with a sigh and a shake of his head. “I haven’t been able to sleep. Or allocate the proper time to meditate. I keep going over our run-in with mining colony virus. There has to be something else we could have done, without leaving the captain to take care of herself.”

I barely suppressed a shudder at the mention of the nasty bugs that solidified my now-very-rational fear of anything insect-like. Doing what I did best, I covered it with humor. “Are you not sleeping at night because your new lifestyle requires you to sleep during the day?” He opened his mouth like he was going to chastise me, so I quickly added, “Captains are supposed to be able to take care of things themselves, that’s why they’re captains. Besides, there wasn’t anything else you could have done. We all did our best! We didn’t know we were being attacked. I can’t believe I, of all people, have to tell you this, but agonizing over it isn’t logical.”

“Perhaps not. But analyzing a situation where I believe my abilities to have failed me for the purposes of self-reflection and to ensure it does not happen again, is.”

I waved my fork around and shrugged. “If it makes you feel better, I’m mad at myself too for forgetting that stupid episode happened. Must’ve blocked it out. Those things were so nasty. And I bet if we weren’t all so caught off guard maybe we woulda thought of the holodeck trick too. I dunno, just be glad the captain came back when she did and don’t lose your head over it. I don’t want you to spiral out of control with your analysis, my dude.”

“I will not. I am not you.”

“Ouch.”

A new person joined us at the table. Their tray clattered next to mine and I turned to find Harry grinning at me. Instantly, I beamed back. His smile was always so infectious.

“Hey guys. What’s goin’ on over here?”

“Nothing,” Vorik said.

“It’s a secret.” I said over him.

“Secrets?” chimed a new voice, “I love secrets.” Tom sat on Harry’s other side and almost immediately began shoveling his mashed potatoes into his mouth as soon as his tray was down. “Do tell.”

“There is nothing going on,” Vorik repeated, his voice a little tighter. “There are no secrets. Giana is being impossible.”

“Vorik is turning into a vampire!” I said in a rush. Vorik folded his hands in front of his face and fixed me with a Vulcan’s closest approximation to a glare. I smiled and nudged his boot under the table with my own. He didn’t respond.

Harry, however, did. He lowered his spoon from his face, looking stricken, and fixed me with a very serious look. “Giana! We…we don’t say things like that around here…”

What?

My eyes widened as I realized what he was trying to say. “Oh! No! Just ‘cause the- skin and th-the pointy— No, nonononono. We were playing Skyrim together the other day and he was scratched by a vampire’s claws so I’ve been teasing him, that’s all! It’s not—no!”

Finally, Vorik looked satisfied and returned my kick under the table. Then it was my turn to glare at him.

“Oh. Good,” Harry sighed, clearly relieved he was spared a lesson in microaggressions, “I was going to say… I’d be surprised if that’s what it was coming from you.”

I ate my spaghetti in silence, hoping Vorik never thought that’s what I ever meant. Maybe I was laying it on a bit too thick, bringing up his vampire-hood every so often over the last couple of days. I really did just think I was being funny, but now I wasn’t so sure. Maybe I was just being a huge asshole.

“So you were hit by a vampire, huh?” Tom asked, bringing the conversation back. “Harry and I cleared out a den by Morthal for the Thaneship not too long ago. Harry wants to build the house.”

“I just think it’ll be better than all the pre-built ones!”

“Anyway, he had to chug two Potions of Cure Disease. He caught vampirism one right after the other.” Tom laughed and wolfed down the last of his steamed vegetables. “You end up bleeding?”

Vorik arched an eyebrow and glanced at me before warily answering, “Yes.”

Tom pulled an apologetic face. “Mmm, yup. You’re a vampire now.”

“Yes! I knew it!”

“But I am Vulcan,” Vorik said over me, “How can I become a vampire from Human folklore?”

Tom shrugged. “It’s all in the coding. It’s not that you’ll become human or anything, it’s just that the aspects of vampirism will be overlaid onto your Skyrim avatar and all the buffs and debuffs will apply. Think of it like a…a filter. A vampire filter.”

“See, no that’s what I was talking about; it had a purpose. Tom had to reinterpret the original game. Making you appear to bleed was probably just the indication that you caught something, otherwise, you’d never know because we don’t really have a convenient way to check our status. And you said it was probably nothing. Everything has a reason.”

Tom nodded.

I slurped the rest of my spagetti from the bowl and pushed it aside. “You ready to go back and get cured?” I asked Vorik. I wanted to get him alone again, maybe to keep talking to him about the virus or maybe make sure he didn’t think I was being rude. But I couldn’t keep one more from coming out. “The sooner you’re cured, the sooner the UV lights will stop burning your skin.”

“Will your vampire jokes cease when I am cured?”

I smiled sheepishly. “Yeah, probably.”

“Then absolutely.”

                                                              ***

The holodeck hummed to life and the blank room started being filled with materializing objects. Vorik fidgeted with his sleeve and sure enough, once the front room of our Riften house came into focus, the bandage seeping dark green blood reappeared as well. Hopefully taking care of the vampirism would take care of the uncanny wound that was not really a wound as well.

“First thing’s first. Let’s find an apothecar—eee!” As soon as he looked at me, I recoiled back. “Vorik…your eyes…”

He barely looked like himself in the torchlight. His face was sunken and shadowed and his dark eyes had been nearly swallowed by blackness from the irises out through the whites of his eyes. Black vein-like lines spread from his sunken sockets like a sickness, reaching towards his cheekbones in a spiderweb of tendrils. I could see now how vampires could be considered completely terrifying.

“Holy shit, dude.” I reached up and grazed the side of his face with fingertips, still looking in wonder at the vampiric effects that Tom and Harry had engineered. With a horrified realization it hit me that, yes, this is what a monstrous vampire should look like to an everyday person and I understood all the horror stories.

Vorik stiffened slightly as the pads of my fingers swept his temple and with a jolt in my stomach, I realized what I was doing and pulled my hand away.

“Do… Do you feel different? You look way different. How did I not notice this before??”

“It was dark the last time we played,” Vorik answered. He strode to the washbasin and peered into the spotted mirror above it. He prodded his skin and turned his head from side to side, admiring the reflection. “The detail is rather astounding, and the effect is…unsettling.”

“You can say that again. I very suddenly don’t want to be a vampire anymore myself.”

“I do not feel different,” Vorik continued as though he were observing the results of a particularly interesting experiment. “Perhaps because the sickness hasn’t been given time to spread?”

“Or just because you aren’t in the sun yet.”

“Fascinating.”

‘Fascinating’ though it might have been, I really wanted to get him taken care of. Though I didn’t remember Skyrim vampires looking like this (so maybe the blackness around his eyes wouldn’t stay) he was starting to creep me out just being in the same room. The effect it had on me when it wasn’t just pixels, when it was suddenly someone I knew, didn’t sit right in my brain. Not to mention that I would probably be really disturbed if I had to watch him feed off NPCs to keep his powers up.

Speaking of, I wondered if this meant that joining The Companions was out of the question for me now. If vampires looked this strange, imagine what if would feel like to be a werewolf. I shivered at the thought of my skin splitting and actually sprouting hair all over my body.

Nasty.

“Sooo…” I began in a nonchalant voice, wandering to the table and picking up an apple from a wooden bowl. “Is there something you wanna say to me, maybe?”

Vorik turned the full force of his unnerving face on me and I had to physically stop myself from recoiling by clutching the back of a chair.

He sighed. “Yes, yes. I admit it. You were right. I am a vampire.”

For the first time, I noticed as he spoke that the teeth that would have been his canines if he were a primate were far longer and sharper than they had been before. “Oh shit, you’re growing fangs too, dog. Yeah, let’s get you fixed up before you start thirsting for my blood.”

His expression as I darted out the door told me that, at this moment, he didn’t need to thirst after my blood in order to want to rip my head off.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

If anyone actually made it all the way down here, gosh, I love you and you’re great and I appreciate you and I hope you enjoyed my nonsense.

The Forest Walk: Bonito Part 1

A story about finding maybe a little more than you bargained for while out bird watching in the forest near your home

Male Monster + Ungendered Reader 2000 Words

The metal chain-link gate clinked shut behind you, a cheerful sound that was reminiscent of after school sports and watching your friend’s baseball games. The early summer sun had just peeked over the treetops, bathing the world in yellow and lighting up the tender new growth of the forest in verdant green.

Caticaw National Forest was an enormous stretch of land known to be the ancestral home of many ancient creatures. There had been years of debate over whether or not it would be a National Forest or a Reservation but since this particular stretch was mostly home to solitary creatures or small family groups with no system of government on their own it was finally decided that having Forest Rangers and the National Forest Service helping out was the best solution for everyone. Humans and Paranormal alike. Technically this particular gate led into private land but the owner was the founder of the town and all were welcome to enjoy the natural beauty of the place as it bled into the government land behind it.

This private / public gate that led onto the private / public land was no ordinary gate either. It was absolutely covered in little locks. Much like the River Seine and other places around the world this gate had become a traditional place for lovers and best friends and family to come and place a symbol of their commitment to staying “locked” together. Your mother had placed a lock here with your name and your brother’s name engraved on it in the hopes that maybe a little superstitious luck would help you two stay close even with a seven-year gap between your ages. Who knows if it helped or not, you had a pretty good relationship even if there was a lot you didn’t really see eye to eye on. Even after so many years of it being here you couldn’t help but look for it every time you came to this simple latch gate.

And come here, you did. Rather frequently in fact. There were all kinds of neat plants and animals on the property but with so many of them being terribly skittish you had learned to take along a set of binoculars or else miss out on some pretty spectacular sights. One in particular had caught your eye the previous week. You could have sworn you had seen an albino deer but by the time you had fumbled the binoculars into place the white deer-shaped speck was nowhere to be found. So now you were back and eager to see if maybe the specter had been more than just a trick of the light.

A cool breeze ruffled your jacket but the day was already growing pleasantly warm. Soft dirt tracks lazily trailed their way through a grassy meadow where you accidentally spooked a family of pheasants, across a wooden bridge that carried itself over a mossy lake, and back into the dappled shade of the old forest. The soft crunch of undergrowth under your feet adds to the singing of the songbirds and the rustling green leaves create such a relaxing atmosphere that it’s hard not to stop and sit for a while. But you’re on a mission. And there will be time to stop and smell the wildflowers later.

One hour. Two. Three hours of walking and looking hasn’t been exactly in vain. You’ve seen and heard plenty of birds, played peek-a-boo with a weasel, and followed a little family of bunnies around. You’ve found multiple fantastic walking sticks and traded up several times. Patted a fat bullfrog on his little head. And even pocketed a cool rock. But no deer. Not even the usual kind, much less a white one. You’re about to call it a day when you see something through the trees.

Something B I G.

It’s hard to make out, even with the binoculars, but it’s earthy in color from what you can tell (not bear colored or any of the local big predators colors) so you leave the dirt trail and slink towards it as quietly as possible. The creature is on the move, meaning that it takes some time to catch up with it, but when you do your breath is stolen.

Beautiful green feathers with huge blue eyes cascading down its back into a regal train that just barely brushes the forest floor. Wings that look big and long enough even tucked against its side, to be mistaken for a surfboard. A long graceful neck that leads up to a petit head crowned in trembling little bobbles of feathers that dance with each step the Avian takes. His face is perhaps a little broader than a normal Peacock’s head would be, his jaw a little squarer, but he mostly looks like a very, very, VERY large bird. At least 5 foot 8, which might not sound as massive or intimidating as some other creatures but for a bird with razor sharp talons and a beak to match he was just as intimidating as he was stunningly gorgeous.

He had spotted you before you had spotted him and he eyed you keenly from one of his beady side-placed eyes. His body posture, the way his wings were held just a few inches out to his sides, indicated that he was prepared to fly if you posed any threat to him. Still, from this angle he looks nothing short of a prince. The way he carries himself has the most regal air to it you almost drop to one knee out of respect. And then, realizing that it probably wouldn’t hurt anything, you act on that impulse. Slowly, of course, you don’t want to spook him. Then, when your knee sinks into the undergrowth and he still hasn’t taken off, you find the wherewithal to speak.

“Hi... my gosh you’re so pretty.”

He preens under the compliment, reaching his long neck around to run his beak through a few of his feathers that he has deemed not quite perfectly placed. A quick inspection of the remainder of his feathers completed he resumes his regal airs and holds his beak high.

“Thank you.” His voice is a bit of a shock, you’ve never met an Avian before. Or any sort of talking bird before. It has a vibrating quality to it that reminds you so distinctly of listening to an older radio that you can’t help but glance around and see if maybe there is one nearby. You wouldn’t have expected a voice that reminds you of the TV robot character Bumblebee from someone so lovely and so clearly not robotic. But you clearly saw his beak move and since there doesn’t look (or sound) like there is a radio nearby you must assume that he really did speak to you. And so you tell him your name.

“I am Bonito,” he returns. This makes you grin and your chest hurt a little with the effort of keeping your giggles in. It’s a fitting name, but still a tad unexpected. 

“Bonito means ‘beautiful’ in Spanish. Is your family from Spain or Mexico?”

“My mother was a traveler before she settled down here with my father.” He stalks closer and now that you are close enough to really see him it is obvious that he walks with a terrible limp. You can help but gasp and ask if he’s hurt. The narrowing of his eyes is a bit unexpected but after a moment of looking you over he seems to decide that your question is genuine and he sighs, hobbling over to you so you can see his leg. There on his ankle is a lock just like the ones that are hanging on the gate you pass through to get here. It’s too small and by the way his delicate ankle is swollen around it, the foot beneath discoloring.

“When I was a child I had a friend that lived in the town nearby. We were kids, young and stupid. They told me about the gate and the locks and one day just before their family was moving away they brought one with them for us to lock on the gate together. A token of our friendship and a hope that one day we would see each other again. We joked a little about how small my legs and feet were compared to the chain link fence and just to tease they slipped it around my ankle. I did not realize that there was no key to it and clicked it in place so I could pretend it was a beautiful bracelet. It wasn’t until later that we realized my mistake. They wept bitterly and tried to convince their family to stay one more day so we could get it off. Their parents could not be swayed. And so they were taken away. It has not been a bother to me until recently. I am finally big enough to outgrow the lock and I am afraid that soon I will either lose my foot to my own stupidity or lose my life to something hungry and without my same limp.”

“That’s terrible.” Your heart aches and you reach out to carefully turn their ankle from one side to another so you can get a good look at it. “Why didn’t you come into town and ask someone to help?”

“It isn’t our territory,” he explains, even though that doesn’t make as much sense to you as it does to him. The confusion on your face makes him sigh again, this time with a wince as one of your fingers carefully moves the lock a little. “I am not one of the Fair Folk. But many of the Avian here live together with them. Their traditions have become our traditions. We follow their rules, not necessarily because we have to but because they are good to us and protect us and we’ve been in the same area for so long that it wouldn’t be right to break them. There’s too much iron in the lock for them to help and too many rules about just wandering into a human town to ask for help for me to get help from anyone.”

His voice croaks a little at that last sentence. Even if you don’t quite know how to read his emotions on his strange face it’s clear enough that he’s upset about the hopelessness of his situation for it to tug at your heartstrings.

“Can you fly?”

He shrugs with his wings. “I can but not forever and landing on one foot is a lot harder than you might think. I could break my only good leg if I do it wrong.”

You squint down at the lock and tighten your lips, thinking and determined. “Can you fly closer to the town? I can go get some tools and bring them back here. I suck at lock picking, but I can try it. And if that doesn’t work then I can try cutting through it... actually it would probably be faster to just go straight for cutting through it. I really don’t think I could pick it.”

For the first time Bonito looks at you dead on and you can’t help but laugh at how different his face looks. No longer regal or majestic, he looks more like the most confused, baffled, wide-eyed, ruffled bird you have ever seen. You of course apologize profusely for laughing. And even if it maybe doesn’t sound as genuine as you would have liked over the fact that you can’t stop giggling while giving the apology, he does accept it. He agrees to fly himself closer to the town nearby the fence and wait for you there. And you simply cannot get home fast enough, hands practically shaking while you and your father gather tools from your home and then drive to your grandfather’s home to borrow a few more so that you have the best chance possible of saving Bonito.

Showtime, Chapter 11

(I’m gonna make another masterpost for this when it’s finished. @h-faith-marr-writeblr.)

Locked

Liza parked in front of the restaurant. She turned off her car, but instead of getting out to go inside, she sat there.

Why was she here?

There was a rustle. When she glanced next to her, Doll was staring back. They stared at each other. For a moment, she thought she saw what looked like silver strings tied around the ghost's wrists. "Why are we here?" she said finally.

"I failed." Doll whispered softly. "I was meant to take care of those kids. I couldn't let you die either." She worried her hands, biting her lip. "I still remember hovering over you, determined to keep you alive..."

They sat in silence before Liza sighed. She adjusted her cap before opening the car door. Doll followed her out. The two walked to the door, opening it. The dining hall looked like it hadn't been cleaned like it had been the past week. Mr. Calworth was perched in a booth again.

"Mr. Calworth?"

He looked up. "Ah, Miss Dorado!" The man nodded to himself, as if proud he'd remembered an employee's name. "What can I do you for?" He sounded like he was trying to sound merry. Liza frowned but pulled out the device anyway. Her manager gave a polite but puzzled frown of his own. He gently took it and regret bled into her thoughts.

"I- the power went out and I found it on the generator. Last night." Dios, she was a horrible liar. "I hope you don't mind that I unhooked it, but the freezers were starting to melt and I figured that was a horrible waste of money." She fiddled with her hands, wondering if he would see through her and she would get in trouble-

"That's very good of you, Dorado! You're just a chip off your mother's block, aren't you?"

Liza's relief was train wrecked by the comment. "Um..." she finally managed out. "Excuse me?"

Mr. Calworth smiled, pocketing the gauge. "You definitely have potential here! Probably just some old fired sap's idea of a joke. You did a wonderful job. But..." He looked worried. "Still not quitting?"

If she quit, the Puppet would probably skin her alive, probably like it was for the...events last night.

"No sir, I'm here for the long haul," she said, pushing away the questions about her mother. Even though the Puppet probably couldn't hear her, she tried to say it as clearly as she could. Mr. Calworth considered her in a way that was probably meant to be appraising. It just made her skin crawl- but it was nothing compared to the glares she had received from Ted. Her eyes flicked to the papers on the table. "What's Mentira?" she asked.

The papers were suddenly swept up. "Our security firm." the manager said in a tone that was clearly meant to be casual. "I was thinking about replacing these old cameras with something newer. Something nicer for my favorite employee."

Liza bit her cheek to rein in her disgust at the creepy 'favorite employee' comment and the feeling that she was being talked down to. "I mean...sure. You do what's best. For the restaurant." she forced out. "I'm just the night guard."

"Yes, you are. But...the palace is built on the backs of the small, right?" Before she could find the correct response, he brushed past her. "Oh! Just remembered. I'm sure I don't need to remind you, but this is the sixth night of your shift and things...can get messy. Please, take caution."

Liza nodded. He doesn't know.' She thought so quickly she felt dazed. He doesn't know about the Puppet. Or how I'm working to befriend the robots. How much does he not know?

"Uh...yes, sir. Of course. T-thank you." Keep it cool, keep it cool. "I w-will keep that in mind, sir. Erh—Bye."

Nailed it.

Mr. Calworth nodded and headed out the door. Liza waited until he had locked the door and drove off before she headed off to the office. The lid to the box was already off, the Puppet considering some blue fabric. Liza nearly ran for it. Instead, she steeled herself, stepped inside the office to take a seat, and closed both doors.

There. The mess should be easier to clean.

And then she waited.

And waited.

And waited.

The Puppet didn't say a word. Instead, it reached inside the box to pull out a pair of fabric scissors. Liza and Doll shared looks. The scissors flashed...as it started to cut out what looked like a shirt. Confused, Liza looked around. Her eyes landed on a shelf that she had uncovered during her cleaning spree.

The band was lined up on the shelf. They didn't look like the brand plushies- they looked homemade. Next to them were two unfamiliar characters: a dark yellow bear wearing a purple bow tie and hat and a dark yellow rabbit with a purple bow. Next to them was Doll. She resisted a shiver when she noticed all of them, except for the yellow rabbit, had silver strings.

"So...am I in trouble?"

The Puppet stopped cutting. There was a moment of silence before there was "No. You are not in trouble."

"But- I abandoned my post. Shouldn't I be in some type of-"

"I should've considered how Rebecca would have reacted to you. She was a...troubled child in life, as I'm sure Miss Andrews can confirm for you. Her death was violent and unkind and it ramped up her troubles."

Liza considered that. She had never asked Doll how she died. "How...did she die? I mean, I know each child was placed in a suit and that's why they stuffed other guards which led to the endoskeleton lie- Crap." She scrambled to her feet, running out. "We'll talk about this later, I need to check something out!"

Doll yelped as she was dragged out. The Puppet was left to listen to the racket of warnings and apologies before it descended into silence. It gave a chirp of laughter, fondness lighting up in its chest. "I must admit, you've become an odd one, Little Bird."

It put aside the fabric to pull out a completed doll, silver strings and all.

"But, that's how growing up works, doesn't it?"

Careful not to get the string entangled, the Puppet lifted itself from the box to gently place the doll on the shelf.

Little Liza smiled down on the office as the Puppet returned to its work.

-_-

Bun poked her head out when she heard the familiar soft thuds of work boots. Much to her surprise, it was their night guard, blonde ghost shadow and all.

"Lass?"

Although, what was she thinking, calling the lass theirs?

"Oh! Evening, Captain." Liza said brightly, stopping by Treasure Cavern. She had clearly taken notes on how Bun liked the title. Of course, Ted was the main Captain, being the leader of their little band. "Nice to see you...since last night."

"It's nice to see you too, lass." Bun took care to place as much cheer as she could in her voicebox. Like the rest of the animatronics, Bun didn't like adults. But, she could make an exception for the adult that had once been Ted's quiet little shadow, right? Plus, she had fixed the Queen Bunny's Revenge nicely- she had even swept! It was something she could be proud of, even if none of her little mateys would see it.

But, who knows? A Dorado had the potential to turn everything around.

"Where you off to?" she asked politely.

"Oh...um...breaking into Mr. Calworth's office?" Liza said sheepishly.

Bun nodded. "Next to the storage room, where that dog likes to hang around. Something troublin' ye, lass?"

"It's...it's probably nothing. Thanks." Liza took off towards the office. Bun considered this. She hopped off her stage and took off at a trot to catch up with the young woman. Liza stopped when she heard the metal, raising a brow. "What are you-"

"Need something and I figured I might trail ye to the storage room." Bun said. She aimed a crafty grin at the lass. She was sharp as a tack, she would understand quickly. "Unless ye mind the company?"

Liza blinked before smiling. Good lass. "Not at all. Actually, you might be able to help me."

"Oh, really?" Help sounded better than hazard, which was a word she had grown to hate. "What with?"

"Well, last night, before...everything went down, Kitty accidentally knocked this down." Liza pulled out the audio recorder. "Doll and I...hey, where is Doll?" When she looked around, it was to see the ghost missing.

"Probably decided to tuck herself away in yer mind. Can't blame her- she's not too fond of me kid." Not too fond was probably putting it lightly, considering the fistfight they had before their untimely deaths.

"Um...okay. Anyway, we trailed the wire that was attached to Mr. Calworth's office. That's where I found the article." She shrank slightly on her spot. "And then tonight I saw some papers labeled Mentira. He said it was the company that bought the restaurant's cameras. But that didn't sound right, considering mentira means-"

"I lie."

Liza grinned. "Right! The entire thing felt...off. So, I need to look around."

"Ah, always good to follow yer gut."

The door appeared and Liza grabbed the handle, fully expecting it to be unlocked. She frowned when it didn't open. "It's locked," she reported, frowning. "It wasn't locked last night!" She had to take a step back with a groan. "Do you know how...?"

Bun considered it before she grinned.

"I think I have an idea."

Ambrosia: Dazai Happiness Week

[Day 6] Memories

AU: None

Warnings: mentions of suicide and descriptions of blood and torture (*cough* Dazai *cough*).

[Day 1] [Day 2] [Day 3] [Day 4] [Day 5] [Here] [Day 7]

There are also references to the main ‘Ambrosia’ story but you don’t need to read the main one to understand this one – think of them as Easter eggs.

 Dazai was not a huge fan of the cold. The icy edges of his heart that never seemed to melt even in summer (when all he – and everybody that he knew of – wanted was to turn the air conditioner on at full blast, stick an ice lolly in his mouth and lazily watch the clouds drift by), where his bones were still frozen in time, his movements robotic and painfully slow as if he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders.

Some days, when his memories were of nothing but bloodcurdling screams of the dead and curses of the tortured-

(Fingernails ripped open, the blood that coated the unfortunate man’s fingers were painful to look at. Still, that did nothing to stop the demon prodigy from advancing towards the torture victim. Sunken eyes stared up at him, looking at the eighteen-year-old and wondering what his next move will be. Dazai didn’t say anything, he didn't need to…

… because if the human – or well, the figure that had one too many cuts and holes in his body and was mumbling in a foreign language with a mouth that moved too fast to theoretically be human – chained to the seat next to the defiant man was of any clues, he will end up like his partner.

And the horrifying thing?

The youngest mafia executive, Dazai Osamu, had already got every information available from the trembling victim. He just wanted to see whether the method that he suddenly conjured up was effective or not.

… The demon drenched in black blood, mocked and laughed at the unfortunate, just as Dazai advanced towards the silent man that had his fate already sealed when his organisation decided to go up against the Port Mafia.)

-the brunette thought that perhaps he really felt like he was carrying the sins of the living. It didn't help – at all – that no matter how he washed his body, the smell of metallic that doesn’t- that didn’t belong to him still clung on, just like the frost of winter that refused to budge, on his body.

“You don’t deserve this tranquillity.” a small voice harshly whispered in his ears. Distorted echoes of his past… in his memories plagued his mind from the times of young.

They whispered the reality of his situation… the absolute truth… the truth that he wasn’t a good man, and that he will never be despite him following his departed friend’s wishes.

Despite the smiling faces of his workmates beaming up at him.

Dazai was snapped out of his trance when a familiar sight greeted him.

The scenery was something straight out of a snow globe, with the snow silently piling up, laying the port city in a thick blanket of white in a way that made the noises hush down to a bare minimum somehow.

Orange were cast by the many city lights to light up the tranquil scenery, engulfing the city by the sea in a warming glow… even Port Mafia headquarters, usually completely in black, standing tall and ominous, were shaded by a faint glow of gold.

Honestly, if Dazai were a photographer instead of a detective, he would take a picture, no doubt, and that would win the photo of the year.

But that does not mean he did not appreciate it.

“Ah, good evening.” it was Dazai who had spoken.

Nostalgia. The brunette was suddenly hit with a wave of nostalgia. The woman that had her gentle gaze towards the city as a silent protector was no longer small and fragile (though such a word never really was used to describe her), and the kimono that she had on was no longer the colour of snowflakes and the sky in twilight.

Though what never changed were her [hair colour] that framed her face, looking even more elegant and exquisite than whatever attire she had on, and that [eye colour] that reflected all the wonders of the universe – and his universe.

Hmm… but the [Name] in his memories did not remember their first meeting, at all. Thus he wondered, whether this particular greeting will turn into a precious memory stored solely for him to watch, or something that could be shared.

“Hey, Dazai.”

Ah, that voice. Rough yet soft, determined yet with a hint of sorrow, clear but quiet at the same time… it was these contradictions that Dazai knew, from her voice alone, that it was [Surname] [Name] that he was talking to.

Not the illusionary woman that held the secrets of life and death in her eyes that he somehow caught a glimpse of in those [eye colour] orbs before disappearing all together, leaving no trace of her remains, but the [Name] that was shot and bled to death, thus revealing her Gift. The [Name] that with dialogues that were – and are – completely out of his calculations. The [Name] that somehow made it back from-

“Hey, you all right?”

“Hmm? Oh yes, I was just admiring your beauty~”

She didn’t seem to totally believe him, yet the topic was never pushed. And for that, Dazai was grateful, for he didn’t think he could stomach making a trip down memory lane that described, in great detail, her total d-

Hmm, he was doing it again, wasn’t he?

“You know, I think Kunikida-kun is decorating the agency with the help of Atsushi-kun and others as we speak. Why don’t we go and lend them a hand?”

“Sure! And I’ll try to see if I can make a hangman’s noose and hang mys-”

“No.”

“… Ouch, so harsh, my dear…”

The action of her hand – with the palm up – in his sight right in from of him, waiting for him to take it, touched his heart greatly, it was, after all a subtle way of letting Dazai himself choose what he wanted to do. The mafia gave him as much choice as a grain of sand. His bandaged hand in hers, and a reassuring squeeze was felt.

Perhaps it was a way of saying that they were still alive.

Perhaps it was a way of saying to look forward to the absurd decorations that Ranpo will no doubt hang.

Perhaps… it was just her own way of trying to clear away the demons that plagued his memories.

“Hmm, I wonder what [Name]-chan’s wish for the New Year will be…”

“The same as last year. And Tanabata as well.”

“Wow, wasting all of those free-wishing events just for a single, unchanging wish?”

“Yes – it is what I wanted to wish with all my heart, after all. Come on, I have a feeling Kunikida-kun just gave up on everything just then.”

Thus with that and the sound of Dazai’s infectious laughter, the couple ran hand-in-hand towards the red-bricked building.

--------------------------- 

 [1] Tanabata – a festival in July/August (the date varies from region to region, but the first festivities begin on 7th July) in Japan that includes people writing their wishes on pieces of paper and hanging them on bamboo branches. It’s also called the Star Festival.

@dazaixhappinessweek2k19

Yes, I’m still doing this like the procrastinator I am.

“Liar, Liar, Pants on-”  “Oh shut up, Harley.”

Tony bit his nails as he dialled, and then when he put the phone up to his ear a second later, he briefly wondered to himself why this was the level he’d somehow managed to stoop to.

Oh yeah. It was because he was a panic-ridden infatuated idiot who didn’t know when it was time to stop running his mouth.

God, how he wished he could just dial back the clock and erase the morning from existence. Well- maybe not the part where he’d bumped into Steve in the corridor and got to meet his amazing son for the first time- just the part where he’d decided to go and make up the most bald-faced lie in the history of bald-faced lies just so that he would have something to talk to Steve about.

It was because of the stupid ‘take your child to work week’ thing. Why had he decided to give that the go-ahead again? It was stupid, the workplace was for adults, not... not-adults. God, why couldn’t he have just made it a 24-hour thing like every other company did- he wouldn’t be in the Goddamned mess if it had only been one day.

The phone beeped five times before going to voicemail, and Tony groaned. Yes, he could just try again in a few hours, but still. He wanted a solution now, or he was going to have to move out of the country and never be seen again.

Stupid Steve. Stupid Steve who had just started working in advertising a few weeks ago and who Tony had been absolutely smitten with since the first glance. Stupid Steve who turned Tony into some bumbling fool whenever he walked into a room. Stupid Steve with his even more stupid son who was absolutely adorable and not at all stupid and who Tony had already fallen in love with because he was the stupidest of them all.

Man, that was a lot of stupid’s. He needed to calm down. Relax. It was all going to work itself out.

And it wasn’t like this was going to risk anything- he and Steve barely even spoke. Tony was the boss and Steve was just some employee that he’d had a grand total of four conversations with (five, if he counted the time one week six days and about thirty minutes ago when he’d bumped into Steve in the corridor and then they’d both apologized to one another). They weren’t friends or anything. He was just being ridiculous. 

God, he really hoped he hadn’t blown it. 

Luckily, not a moment after that quiet little plead with the universe, his phone rang. Thanking his lucky stars and sighing in relief, he jerked forward and picked it up off the desk, hurriedly ramming it up to his ear.

“I’m sat hiding in a dirty school toilet cubicle for this, so it better be good,” Harley hissed down the line at him, before adding “and if it’s some new invention of yours, I want at least 10% of your earnings for my contribution.”

“What? No.” Tony squinted and ran a hand over his face, “A) skipping class to answer a phone call does not justify 10% cut of the profit, and B) it’s not even an invention.”

“Then what is it?”

“Uh, well basically you’re my son now.”

There was a short silence. Then a sigh. “I mean, I’m game, but why?”

Tony rubbed his hand over his forehead again. God, this was a mess. “Because I accidentally told someone I had a son in order to make them think I was a mature and vaguely competent adult and also like me more, except he said he’d love to meet him and he was all smiley and looked so happy about it and so I was like ‘yeah, sure, I might bring him into work tomorrow seeing as it’s Take Your Child To Work week for some stupid reason’ and then he just nodded and arranged to meet me at lunch, and it was the first time we’d ever actually arranged to officially meet up anywhere and so I jumped on that chance because I temporarily sort of forgot I don’t actually have a son-” Tony took in a deep breath and finally paused, resisting the urge to just plant his face into the pile of paperwork and hit his head against it until he ended up in some sort of coma. It would be better than having to deal with the consequences of this.

Harley didn’t speak for a while, obviously trying to work through the vast array of garbage that Tony had just handed him. “I’m twelve,” he said in the end.

“Yeah, so?”

“Shouldn’t you be teaching me not to lie, and to definitely not try and overcome the lie by just piling on even more lies onto the original lie-”

“Well I’m not an actual parent, am I, dumbass,” Tony said snappily, “and if I want to lie about my fictional son in order to score a date with the hot guy in IT then I damn well will.”

There was a long silence, and then a dramatic sigh. “I’m not sure I can condone this on morality grounds-”

“I’ll give you fifty bucks.”

“Sure okay, what do I have to do?”

Tony swivelled on his chair, looking out of the huge glass windows and sighing. “I don’t know- pretend your last name is Stark, that I’ve been carefully shielding you from the limelight for years but you’re still an amazingly developed kid who is a true representation of me and a shining example of how much of a mature adult I am?”

“Uh, sure, I can do that. Harley Stark, yeah? My mom can be estranged and I’ve been secretly trying to find her my whole life, but just never told you because I fear what it would do to the family dynamic if I introduce my mysterious and slightly unstable mother into the picture,” Harley reeled off immediately, jumping into the adventure with his usual blind enthusiasm, “oh, and I’m part robot because of a laboratory accident-”

“Yeah, sounds great,” Tony told him absently, “I’ll pick you up at eight tomorrow. Don’t talk about the robot part to him though, people generally don’t respond well to being told a child is part-cyborg.”

“But-”

“See you tomorrow, kid!” Tony ended the call quickly before the menace could say anything more, and then flopped back onto the chair tiredly.

His mind wandered back to Steve- the soft smile he’d been wearing as he introduced Tony to his son, quickly turning to mild horror when said son had shaken Tony’s hand and then blurted ‘you must be frickin’ loaded’. The little squeal that had fallen from Steve’s mouth in that moment was something Tony wanted to remember for ever and ever.

Of course, he’d just laughed- he liked people with character, and it certainly seemed Peter was bursting full of it. And it had resulted in a truly adorable blush spreading across Steve’s cheeks, so there really was nothing to be offended over. The man had shoulders sculpted like a Greek God’s, and yet he was softer than a damned teddy-bear. Tony just wanted to...

Well. There were a lot of things he wanted to do. Most of them weren’t very tasteful.

He sighed for the millionth time, wondering how on earth he was going to swing this. What if Steve wanted to meet for a second date? A third? What if Steve wanted to be in a relationship with him? God, Tony had wished for this for so long; he’d spent more time down in advertising in the weeks of Steve’s employment than he probably had in his entire career. He’d showered every damned day, just in case they bumped into eachother- even when he’d been spending hours and hours in his workshop and he’d been exhausted, he’d still gone and cleaned himself up, just on the off-chance that Steve would spot him. But now he’d gone and ruined everything by telling a stupid stupid lie about a non-existent child. Wow. Responsible adult his ass- when Steve found out about it, what the hell was he going to think? 

And this is why thou shalt not fucking lie, he thought miserably as he let his head fall once again into his hands.

“Who are you?”

“Harley Stark.”

“Where have you been for the past twelve years?”

“Living with relatives somewhere far away from the limelight, but it’s okay, because you visit me every weekend and you’re super involved in my life.”

“And why is it important that you do not fail me today?”

“Because I’ll lose fifty bucks, and I can buy a shit-ton of candy with fifty bucks.”

“What?” Tony looked at him incredulously as he swung his legs on the desk in his office and looked utterly unbothered, before just huffing and waving a hand. “Alright, fine, okay, that’s your incentive. Just remember that, okay? All that candy is at stake here, you don’t want to fuck up. Also , that reminds me- quit the potty mouth for an hour, okay?”

“What?! You seriously think I can go an hour without saying fuck?”

“Steve’s kid isn’t allowed to swear, and so neither are you. It’s called good parenting.”

Harley rolled his eyes, muttering some unsavoury things under his breath. Tony let him get it out of his system, waiting patiently until Harley huffed in annoyance and then tilted his chin back to Tony. “Fine. But I want an extra ten bucks for psychological damages.”

“Oh, so holding back on foul words that children your age shouldn’t even know is now called psychological damage, is it?” Tony asked with a raised eyebrow. When Harley just nodded solemnly, Tony inwardly asked himself why he’d ever thought this was a good idea. Harley was probably going to have bled him dry by the end of the goddamned hour. “When I was your age, I had to call my father sir. And if I swore like you did he’d have probably disowned me-”

“Do I get the ten bucks or not?”

“You’re going to bankrupt me, boy.”

“I’m sure you’ll survive, what with owning like, a quarter of America’s wealth and all.”

Tony rolled his eyes, before shuffling around in his pocket and then slamming another bill on the table. “Fine. But you better act your little ass off, let me tell you-”

“Yeah yeah yeah,” Harley waved a hand and hopped off the table, checking his watch, “let’s go, he’s gonna be there soon. Hey- can I quit school and take up a permanent position as the actor who plays your son for the sake of the single dad you’re so desperate to impress?”

“Okay A) I’m not desperate, shut the hell up- and B) What would your mom say to me just stealing you away like that, huh?”

“Thank you, probably,” Harley shrugged, looking down at his shoelaces for a moment as they both wandered down the hall. Tony looked at him with a grimace for a moment, before snaking a hand around his shoulder and drawing him in tight. 

“Well, her loss,” he declared, “you will undoubtedly become a famous actor after this performance today, and then she’ll be wishing she could live the luxury life with you and your eighteen dogs.”

Harley considered this for a moment, before grinning. “17. I want a cat too.”

Tony just rolled his eyes again. “You pull this off, and I’ll buy as many fucking cats as you want, kid.”

He saw Steve, sat with his son in the canteen and smiling down at the kid fondly as he ruffled the little guy’s hair- and suddenly all his bravery deserted him.

“This is a terrible idea,” Tony blurted, hand reaching for Harley’s shoulder and halting them both, “I can’t... he’ll be able to tell I’m not- he’s a goddamned single amazing parent doing all this on his own and I’m just... I can’t fucking do this, God, what was I thinking-”

“Hey, look, we’re here now!” Harley hissed at him, grabbing his hand and squeezing, “don’t pussy out Tony, you’ve already fucked up, so you gotta just keep lying until you come out the other side now-”

“That’s not- that’s not how this works, okay, adults don’t do tha-”

“Tony!” A voice called out across the canteen and Tony’s head whipped up, fingers clutching tight to Harley’s shoulder in mild panic. 

Right. So that was Steve, waving over to him across the room. Wow, that was a... that was a big ol’ smile there. God, Tony wanted to kiss him so bad. And there- there was Peter too, waving next to his father and beaming. They looked adorable together. Holy mother of God, Tony was out of his depth here, what the damn hell was he playing at? Pretending to be anything like the sort of man Steve Rogers was, Good Lord, he was an absolute pathetic idiot-

“Hey, look, it’s Steve!” Harley jumped up and down by Tony’s side and waved, tugging Tony forward with a happy smile on his face. When he turned back to Tony for a second, his face scrunched up and he jerked his head back to Steve. “Come on man!” He whispered, “he’s seen you now, you can’t back out.”

Fuck, the kid was right. With a quick blink and an internal smack over the head, he looked to Steve and then smiled weakly. The man was in a suit- not even an expensive suit, at that- and yet he still looked so damned perfect. Neatly styled hair, sleeves rolled up his forearms- dammit, the man had glasses, and glasses were not hot, they weren’t, and yet... 

Tony had never wanted to mess someone up so badly in his entire life. It was quite frankly ridiculous, how soft he was over one stupid guy from advertising. 

He let himself be pulled forward by Harley’s hand, until his shins hit the chair and suddenly he was right in front of Steve and Peter, both of them looking up at him with identical soft little smiles on their faces. 

“Hey,” he waved an awkward hand and then sat jerkily on the chair, “uh- this is my son, Harley.”

Fluidly, Harley leaned forward and stuck out a hand. “Nice to meet you. I’ve heard all about you, Mr Rogers.”

Harley held back the wince as Tony spluttered and then quickly stepped on his foot. However, it did prompt a rather delicious blush from Steve, so it wasn’t entirely terrible. “He means I’ve- I’ve, uh...” 

unable to formulate a proper excuse, Tony just huffed, tapping Harley lightly over the back of the head, “okay, busted, yeah, I may have talked about you occasionally-”

“Three times over the course of last night,” Harely butted in with a smile, and yeah, choosing him had most definitely been a terrible idea, he should’ve just hired some child actor or something, that would’ve been far less hassle.

Steve just laughed, though. Tony felt himself react spontaneously to that sound, heartbeat flittering and fluttering in response like some lovestruck teenager upon spotting their crush in the hallways. He figured right about now would be when the narration came in and the cameras panned in on Steve Rogers and his perfect face-

“It’s great meeting you, Harley,” Steve leaned over and extended a hand, shaking Harley’s warmly, “Tony had a lot of great things to say about you earlier.”

“He did, did he?” Harley turned and looked up at him smugly, and Tony held back on the urge to call him something unsavoury. He was supposed to be a good parent. He bet Steve never swore at Peter.

“Apparently you’re top of the class in math and science?” Steve parroted Tony’s words from before, which was... surprising, really, he hadn’t expected Steve to actually take it all in, “and already involved in the Stark Internship program? That’s really impressive.”

“Well,” Harley shrugged, rubbing his neck a little sheepishly, “I mean, I guess I’m just-”

“Don’t be silly, you’re not ‘just’ anything,” Steve waved a hand and rolled his eyes, leaning back on his his chair, “I have to tell Peter that all the time. Too modest, both of you. Peter can do all the sciencey stuff too, can’t you buddy?”

Peter looked up at his dad and grinned nervously. “I mean, I guess so.”

“Yeah, definitely too modest,” Tony sat gingerly on the chair and winked over at Peter, “your dad’s told me all about you as well, you know. All those ideas and designs you got in that head of yours? I could make an inventor out of you in a few years, I bet.”

Steve nudged Peter at that and wiggled his eyebrows, before pushing his glasses back up his nose a moment later. Tony just tried not to swoon.  Good God, since when had he found good parenting to be so fucking attractive?

“Harley,” he didn’t take his eyes off Steve as he poked his ‘son’ in the shoulder, “why don’t you give Peter the tour, huh? You know the way ‘round, and I bet he’d love to see everything.”

Steve turned back to him and noticed him staring, and Tony watched a little pink blush bloom across his cheeks again as he glanced down at the table and then obviously attempted to bite down on a bashful smile. 

Oh, Tony was so totally going to hit that.

In the corner of his eye, he was aware of Harley staring at him, almost certainly using the power of telepathy to try and ask Tony what the fuck he was doing, pairing him off with an 11-year-old he’d never even met before. He just glanced over for half a second, trying to convey the sentence ‘there’s an extra hundred bucks in it if you do this for me’ with only his eyes. 

Whatever face he pulled, it seemed to end up doing the trick, because Harley’s face suddenly relaxed, and he nodded happily. “Sure, I can do that!” He agreed, and Tony knew he was faking, because it was incredibly rare that much enthusiasm ever filtered into that boy’s voice. He’d been less emotive when Tony had agreed to let him into his workshop for the first time. “Come on, Peter. I know the coolest places in here!”

The little rascal grabbed Peter by the hand, beaming at him widely as he began to tug them both off. Peter seemed surprised for a second, and he looked back to his dad in confusion, but Steve’s face was soft and he just made a gesture for his son to go and have some fun. Tony watched his hands intently, because... well, they were very nice hands. Long. Elegant. Angular, like an artist’s. He really couldn’t be blamed for appreciating them. They belonged in a gallery- not that he liked the thought of just having Steve’s severed hands on display, oh God, how had his brain managed to fall down into that spiral-

“Tony?” Steve asked, leaning forward a little, and Tony’s eyes snapped back up to meet him. He swallowed down the small urge to whine at the way Steve’s fingertips were brushing his forearm to get his attention, and instead chose to smile.

“Yes, hello, back on Earth,” Tony said, zoning back in, “sorry I just-” he tapped his forehead and then laughed nervously, “it’s a big place up there. Get lost sometimes.”

Steve pushed his stupid glasses up the bridge of his nose and smiled. His fingers still rested, feather-light against Tony’s forearm. Those three points of contact felt impossibly warm. “I can imagine,” he murmured with fondness in his voice, “probably lost enough, in fact, that you forget to eat now and then, hmm? Don’t even try to deny it, Mr. Stark,” he chuckled and shook his head before Tony could even begin, “I’ve seen Miss Potts berating you for it more times than I can count. You stay here for a second, alright?”

Steve stood smoothly, and Tony watched him. “Where are you going?”

“To get you a sandwich,” Steve glanced over to the vending machine and then frowned, “and a kit-kat. That’s... that is your favourite snack from those things, right?”

Tony just blinked, watching Steve’s cheeks begin to go that adorable red shade again. “Do you watch me at vending machines, Rogers?”

“Well- I mean, I have happened to see you at vending machines, yes, but it’s not like... I’m just observant, that’s all.”

Tony smiled, shuffling in his pocket until pulling out some dollar bills. “Alright then, Mr. Observant- if they do the cookie kitkats down here, I’ll have one of those, thanks.”

But rather than take the money, Steve just pushed his hand away gently, and then... then he winked. “My treat. Don’t worry. I’ll just be a minute.”

Then he was gone. Gone like... like a perfect single-father working an Advertising job and offering to pay for kitkats for the richest man in America. And who was so gorgeous that Tony wanted to dip him in chocolate and lick every square inch off his body.

And who was under the impression that they were about to bond over their sons. Which Tony did not have.

He sighed and let his head fall against the table, groaning quietly. 

He was so monumentally screwed.

Like it? Donate to my kofi!

Zi-O 29-30: Blade spoilers within (from someone who has NOT watched Blade)

Ha! Black!Woz walks out of the Storytime vault and into 9-to-5.

White!Woz: Haha sweet I get to choose Another Blade

Swartz: Hey, what do you think of being a person who gets used… you know, hypothetically speaking…

White!Woz: ...ah. Well. Shit.  

(We continue this super spoiler-iffic liveblog under the cut. It gets long - this one made it to about 3,000 words. My apologies to mobile users. Just... scroll. Scroll like your life depends on it.)

Awww… the café from Blade has photos from back then on the counter, that’s so sweet. And Amane’s actually wearing the recent necklace for Chalice – that’s a really nice touch there, Toei. Product placement, but it’s a really nice tribute.

Another Blade’s design is – that’s terrifying, that’s a lot of knifes. I like how the spade symbol glows red, and it doesn’t have the ‘handle’ part of a spade. It’s a heart, too. But the thing is… this is the second Another Rider to not have the lens-eyes. Everyone up to Another Zi-O had them, and he notably didn’t.

I know people have been saying they’re proud of Sougo for managing to graduate, and I agree. I really do. I’m happy for our book-dumb protagonist. It’s actually kind of nice to see all four of the ‘team’ together. You know, for certain definitions of ‘team’.

Noting here the Tsukuyomi hasn’t told Sougo that his ‘dream’ was. Not actually a dream, so much as a memory. It makes sense that a small 8-year-old reality warper would take the trauma of something like what Swartz did, and assume the first time he saw it was a nightmare, too.

(Seriously, screw that guy.)

Okay, so, I have not watched Decade, but… from the two (2) films I’ve seen with his cast – WxDecade and the first Hero Taisen movie – this seems to be pretty damned in-character for this Daiki guy. “Lol sup hi just saying hello don’t mind me” *proceeds to steal all your transformation trinkets*

Case in point… Sougo and Geiz don’t notice their personal watches are missing until they go to activate the button on the side. Not when they don’t pull anything out – no, when they go to turn them on. Boys. Boys please.

Also, can I just say that I’m starting to see why people pair Tsukasa and Daiki? I mean, the guy came out in a ~magenta~ apron. And they’re both little shits.

Sougo just shoves Woz in front of them. Woz!Kikai is so OP, oh my god. First the mind control thing when it debuted, the satellite dish lasers in Another Zi-O, and now it has extendable robot arms to grab the watches back. Oh my god.

(Kaito, suddenly copied into another existance as Baron: GFDI just let me be a tree spirit already)

(I know it’s a doppelganger, but seriously. So many Barons. So little patience on his end for people constantly trying to revive him as a pawn.) 

Sougo: Okay, so, you guys’s past is my future, and since it’s 2019, anything that happens in 2068 is the future now, so aren’t you talking about things that haven’t happened yet?

Woz: My lord, please, verb tenses get complicated enough without you speaking.

OOF. Yeah, uh, there’s gonna be a. A few problems with Blade ‘2019’. Namely that he isn’t supposed to be in, like. Japan. Ever again. Because Bad Things Happen when he is around fellow Undead. (He made an exception for Gorider, because a certain zombie f*er was stealing his gig, and poorly at that.

((Am I saying that he’s an asshole who is also a zombie, or that he would do a zombie? … Both. I’m saying both.))

Sougo: Okay, so, we need one person who can fight on both ends, and really, if a team is going after Geiz’s watch, it ought to include Geiz, and you guys want me to go after the Another Riders, so of course the groups are me with Tusukyomi, and Geiz with Woz! :) It’s only rational! :) And if you happen to work out whatever’s going on between you, well, that’s just a bonus, isn’t it? :)

Geiz: ...if I kill him, it’s your fault, you know.

Tsukuyomi: This is a terrible idea.

Sougo: I know! :)

(gasp) Dark Toei is giving us the forbidden rebel backstory!

Oh goody Woz was the leader of their team! And he said he was going to ‘infiltrate’ Oma Zi-O’s camp! And everyone died because he seems to have switched sides. Delightful.

White!Woz: Excuse me? I see a pair of powerups here, but not the one I specifically requested you get.

Daiki: Lol you mad?

White!Woz: ...fight us irl bitch.

Daiki: Heh.

Huh… So… when White!Woz’s tablet makes someone do something, they’re supposed to hear his ‘narration’… and maybe that’s a recent idea from the team, but. When it seemed that he was compelling Sougo to come after him – I can’t remember when, it was during either Shinobi or Quiz, but Sougo and Black!Woz were talking in 9-to-5, and he summoned Sougo away, that didn’t happen. Hm.

Sougo: Dang, couldn’t even knock the watch out temporarily. Drat.

Hm. Regulus is showing up in the daytime now… and so is the rest of the constellation. That can’t be good.

Oooh, nifty. Another Blade has the inverted heart for Chalice on her torso, but the spade for Blade on her. Well, blade. As well as a circular saw, which is a bit overkill when you consider the literal knives sticking up from her shoulders.

Oh, hey, remember that theory about how the Another Riders are technically the enemy that each rider fought? Like how Another Gaim opened cracks into the Helheim forest, and Another OOO bled Cell Medals like a Greeed?

And remember why Kenzaki can never return to Japan?

Undead are drawn to fight each other.

Okay, I get why a speed versus speed battle, to counter Woz!Shinobi, would wind up with Diend summoning Accel. But why Birth? Date’s version was never particularly fast – he’s more of a Mighty Glacier. And the suit isn’t really intended for speed, since Gotou was only particularly speedy when he used the Cutter Wing ‘attachment’.

And then I am immediately answered. Bike juggling to get Woz into the air, so that ‘Birth’ can shoot him down without mercy. (Was reminding us of the bike form really necessary? Was it? I don’t think it was. I could have done without seeing that in-action again.)

Diend: Wow, that’s cold, even for me, watching your friend get beat up like that.

Geiz: Bold of you to assume we’re friends. He’s a born liar. I mean, he’s using a ninja form right now.

Geiz: Yeah, no, Woz, screw you. I know you wanted a distraction. Asshole.

Diend: Aw, look, they do like each other.

OH THANK COSMOS it’s Chalice Versus Zi-O. ...for now. There’s about minutes left for everything to go terribly, terribly wrong. (Because Blade.)

And then it immediately went terribly, terribly, wrong.

Kenzaki and Hajime haven’t transformed in years, because they can’t. They would feel each other’s power, seek each other out, and be forced to fight. Probably the only time Blade has reappeared was in a slightly-alternate reality. (shakes fist at Gorider). And Kenzaki looks absolutely terrible. How did you get here so fast, sir? That jacket has clearly seen far better days, is the damage recent?

Some excellent ‘teamwork’ on Geiz and Black!Woz’s parts – using Shinobi’s finisher to get the two targets in one spot for Geiz’s finisher. Clever. Pity that the other two watches aren’t here.

And with that, and some brutal slashes exchanged between Blade and Chalice…

we move to episode 30.

The power-up watches get all electro-staticy, and try to start a chain reaction with White!Woz, but it doesn’t hold up. Hm.

Geiz: What’s your issue?!

Diend: Looking for my boyfriend-rival. No big deal.

Oh man, neither of them want to be in this fight, but they don’t have a choice. Zi-O accidentally knocks Another Blade into the line of fire for Actual Blade’s finisher, so naturally Chalice steps in to try and take the hit.

It doesn’t… technically work. She still gets knocked out of her transformation, back to Amane, and he’s still in his armor.

Kenzaki: oh god oh shit what the hell?! Amane?! what’s going on oh shit

Woz’s storytime vault…

Oh… The Day of Oma is apparently meant for Sougo to stop the end of the world… apparently as brought on by the Battle Fight.

… Rider versus Rider, right? A pair of Riders who can’t coexist, but also can’t not coexist. And yet another who is supposedly erasing all Riders from history. Starting with the primary members of each group. So… if Blade goes, the world goes. If Chalice goes, the world goes. If they both go, Oma Zi-O rises.

“An interesting game, Professor. The only way to win is not to play.”

Zi-O II’s shot in the opening has been replaced by Zi-O Trinity.

Geiz can relate pretty hard to Kenzaki’s resignation to having to fight Hajime, but also to his desperately not wanting to do that thing.

Once again, we have the question of “What is the future you are aiming for?” The question of “And then what?”

Geiz wants to see the one that Sougo – that they will create.

<3

Junichiro: Hey, what are your plans for the new era?

Sougo: ...Uncle, you have no idea how loaded that question is with this group.

(or does he?)

Hey, that camera’s a clue in more ways than one, isn’t it? Another Blade was attacking photo studios, because Hajime’s a photographer. But that camera’s awfully similar to Tsukasas. Who asked you to repair, that, I wonder…?

Yeah, Woz, you’re kind of being a hypocrite here. Criticizing a woman for wanting to reconnect with an old friend/mentor, while unable to get over the urge to lord over having been Geiz’s superior. GEIZ has a point in his anger. WOZ is just being an ass. And Sougo hones directly in on this.

Kid’s got a decent Charisma stat, too.

When Amane picks up the photos, through to when Kenzaki calls for Hajime. That! The Background!

I think that’s a piano ballad version of “Zi-O: King of Time”!

OST when?

And, also, can we get another instance of Future Soldier in-show anytime soon?

Okay, okay, sorry, back to the show.

OH NOOOO.

Firstly, White!Woz summons the two into a fight.

Then he forcibly activates the Another Blade watch inside of Amane.

The transformation has a screen with Another Blade’s face appear and move over her, just like the card that appears when Kenzaki transforms.

Ow, my heart.

OH SHIT RIGHT.

These two episodes have made no effort to hide the green blood that both Kenzaki and Hajime have – from the miscolored bruises to actual bloodstains. And Undead can be ‘sealed’ away – that’s where the Rouze cards come from in the first place. Another Blade – no. Amane doesn’t want them to fight – doesn’t want them to have to fight. So she seals their powers. Their emblems move onto the Another Blade… armor, I guess is as good a word as any.

And now their wounds are red.

But she just took the powers of two Jokers, absorbing them into one person. Leaving one person with the Joker designation.

Herself.

Please note that I typed this immediately before restarting, only to watch the Sealing Stone appear.

It’s the end of the world as we know it, and nobody feels fine.

Oh, the cinematography of this show. A beam visually separating Sougo and White!Woz from their angles on the stairs – it’s going the opposite direction, making an x with the handrail behind them.

We’re back to the question of “And then what?”.

White!Woz’s future is gone, the potential isn’t there anymore, so he’d rather there not be a future at all. I guess we’ll never see if my ‘a future frozen in an endless moment’ theory was right. Pity. I was wondering if they would go that route for him.

Oooh, an orchestral version of ‘Zi-O: King of Time’!

“You can’t just give up! What’s the use in assuming that it’s over?” Sougo is cheering on even his enemy this boy is not nearly as dark as he assumed in the Ryuki arc, oh my goodness. “You can’t say that any one future is set in stone, so keep trying, keep opposing us! I’ll... No. We’ll keep foiling your plans, but you can’t just give up on the world.”

And the orchestral theme just keeps rising in the background.

Oh… and Sougo said the same thing to Woz. Geiz says that he can’t stand living in the past. And, like I guessed last episode, in like, the fourth section of this liveblog… The past that they’ve lived is, technically, still in the future from where they are now. From Sougo’s perspective, and from the perspective of time itself, none of that has happened yet.

Besides, like Geiz is saying, they came to the past to change history anyway. They’re making a new future, all of them – Sougo, Tsukuyomi, and Geiz… and Woz.

“Do you want in?”

“… That sounds interesting.”

Hm. The Trinity watch – which is somehow successfully created by White!Woz – has all three of the current Belt Voices, doesn’t it? The two that the Ziku Driver uses and the high-pitched one from the BeyonDriver.

“If you use this, I will accept it.”

… accept what? The option to create a new future? The future that Sougo’s aiming for?

Nifty – the light from Regulus and the Day of Oma burns out the clouds from the Sealing Stone.

Pffft - ‘the light is guiding us’ no, no it’s not so much that…

(I love the ‘wtf is going on’ faces from Kenzaki and Hajime)

GEEZ Trinity’s basically a mini-Sentai mech, with all three of them in one place inside.

“Guys, no, I’m sorry, I know none of us know what is going on, but I have to take control for a second, I have to do my speech okay, it’s in my contract. This is not optional.”

I like how the hand on the clock moves to point to whoever’s in control of the body.

I really like how Trinity forms all of their weapons – and how they dissolve when discarded. Nice touch.

And I really like the triumphant section of ‘King of Time’ playing behind this fight.

...Regulus is shining still, brighter than before. With a ‘shine’ of pink, yellow, and green. Their colors.

“Why did you choose to let me stay?”

“Because I think you have more potential.”

White!Woz accepts that ‘his’ world will never exist, and that Sougo will create a better one. He goes out peacefully, and warning Black!Woz – no. Warning Woz that Sir Swartz is planning more than they know.

He goes out with a shimmer of golden motes of light, and the glitching effects that have been a key sign of time re-writing an existence.

Oma Zi-O: You’re almost done… only six more until you’re me.

Sougo: But what I don’t want to?

Daiki yoinked the Future Note. Show off.

Which, of course, creates a slight problem for me and my potential ‘fix it’ of Zi-O, down the line in the Re-United ‘verse. Or, rather, a complication.

See, the draft I’ve got has at minimum one of the Den-O’s and Zeronos ferrying Riders back and forth. THAT is how I plan to deal with the amnesia issue. Not warning them in the present and past, like I had planned. But having the ‘contemporary’ versions of them just. Sorta travel backward, and pretend that they’re the ones that from in the past. Just… ya know, keep their past selves unaware of what’s going on, take the brunt of temporary power removal. Fill in for themselves when Zi-O and Geiz meet them.

And I had everyone scheduling this from Tsukasa having somehow duplicated Black!Woz’s book when he grabbed it during the Ghost arc. I have never seen Decade, and have no idea if that would even be part of his powerset. But, like, Trinity just knocked off his ability to turn Riders into weapons and stuff, so. Ya know.

I’m apparently not that far off, if I can work Daiki into it. … need to watch Den-O and Decade first, but that’s just how it goes.

The complication is my stated ‘not wanting to touch on Zi-O’ aspect. I now admit that I want to handle it somehow, but if they keep airing concepts similar to ones I’ve been working on for months, I’m going to get accused of lying.

Arceus, Cosmos, and Gaim DAMNIT.

Of course, you may have noticed I skipped a scene there during the re-cap.

Because not for the first time, something has been saved by Zi-O taking powers away. I’m still decidedly not here for the amnesia concept, and I am not okay with the fact that certain characters have potentially been un-created – Ankh, Parad, Poppy and the like among them – but here’s the thing.

Both Kenzaki and Hajime remember being Blade and Chalice. They can properly retire – They’re both bleeding red. Hajime was never human to start with – he was using the Spirit card to be human. But he seems to be human now. The Blade and Chalice watches appear to have taken their Joker situation out of the picture.

Like how his intervention by introducing the father to Emu, who clearly went on to point him to Hiiro, saved the son during the Ex-Aid arc.

Like how the girls would have never gone missing during the Fourze and Faiz arc, to say nothing of Takumi and Kusaka being decidedly more alive than usual.

Like how Kaito also appears to be alive again after the Gaim arc.

And how neither the girl or her brother died in the Ghost arc.

How Rentaro can become Shinobi in a newly created potential future.

How Mondo got to meet his father.

… admittedly, his apparently re-creating the events of Ryuki might be a problem. I haven’t had a chance to watch any of the RIDER TIME specials, but I hear that’s what happened? Sorry, Shinji.

But here’s the thing. A not-insignificant number of things have turned out for the better… and as long as the ‘you were never riders’ thing can be… worked around…

Hmn.

((also, just a quick note, if you comment on any of the sections in here, I’d really appreciate it if you specify which statements you’re talking about. These recaps get really long, so... y’know, it’ll make it a little easier for a conversation.))

Girl Genius Liveblog #184

UPDATE 184: Tweedle Fights Well

Last time Agatha finally got a glimpse of how Mechanisburg is like right now. It was quite the image! She also sees that Gil is pursuing Violetta, so let’s see how that goes, because she doesn’t want to talk to him.

Agatha’s reaction is what you expect: she wants to rescue Violetta from the grasp of Gil and his zealous wish to see Agatha again and get her to safety/imprison Agatha for her own wellbeing. It depends on how much of a grasp Wulfenbach has on him. Tweedle is also there and getting kicked, but who cares about Tweedle. He’s not exactly high in anyone’s favorite people list. Agatha’s ready to take action, but then what Tweedle did comes to bite her: she’s faint and needs her weasel very soon. Darn, last time I saw it it was with someone else. It’s going to be difficult to get it back in time. Maybe something else can be done?

Oh, nevermind, it’s here. Just in time, Krosp! Turns out the reason why it took so long for them to arrive is because the Jagers took too long erasing any hint Agatha is in here, something that of course takes a while. Can’t complain, it’s a good thing to do. Agatha should consider trying to have alternate ways of keeping herself alive, she won’t have her weasel forever, I think. This makes two things she has to keep with her at all times, I wonder if she’ll keep getting more along the way?

Just how big did you think wasp eaters were, Wooster? They’re weasels, not bears, haha! But yeah, in all seriousness, what is the wasp eaters can be made in all kind of animals? I suppose there’s a reason why it’s of this size and all – being portable, I figure – but I wouldn’t be surprised if someone at some point makes a wasp eater with a different animal? It’d be interesting! And fun!

Ah, Tweedle’s pack is in the action now. I was kind of wondering what had happened to all those sparkhounds. It was kind of a big deal they went to hunt with Tweedle, and now they’re there. It’s a good thing Gil has the wyrm with him, that’s going to even things out. I want to see Gil punching wolves, though. Badass stuff.

Gil didn’t see this coming because he had no idea the guy he punched was Tweedle. He does seem to realize it when Violetta says the name, and just in time to get kicked in the head. Fight! His fury to keep Agatha out of Tweedle’s grasp makes him grab him, making it easy for Tweedle to punch again. Gil, that was a novice mistake, come on!

The sparkhounds surround Gil and I get my wish.

He’s doing just as well as I thought. Can’t be easy to fight augmented wolves, I think, yet here he is. Only one person can’t deal with an entire pack, though, so he calls Bangladesh for help, which she gives by fighting Tweedle. Hard to know who is going to win, really.

Oh, nevermind, Gil tries to deal with this by himself, using his trademark lightning pole. Kind of ironic for Gil to be doing that against the Storm King candidate. Maybe it’s fitting Tweedle endured it and got it all in his hand, firing it back and giving Gil some of his own medicine. It only costed him his mechanical hand. Small loss, all things considered. He can get it replaced anytime.

You know, when I started reading Girl Genius, I didn’t know what to expect, but I sure didn’t expect all the bloodshed and injuries. Lots of blades, and people getting injured. Kind of unexpected. Here I am, seeing how Tweedle gets stabbed through the hand with a knife, and I ponder if there’s any character in this story who hasn’t bled at least once. Girl Genius sure is a thing.

Angry at getting stabbed, Tweedle yells at his hounds to kill everyone, and when he looks, well...

I feel bad for the sparkhounds, honestly. They’re cool beasts. What can I say, I like canines a lot. They’re great.

That unnamed grunt tells the clank that resembles a muse to kill Tweedle, while he takes care of the stunned Gil. Quite resistant, despite having been fried by his own lightning. Before such thing can happen, someone on Tweedle’s side arrives, piloting a clank that resembles the ones the Knights of Jove used in the battle of Mechanisburg. They’re here to pick up Tweedle by force, because it’s unsafe. I’m not convinced that will be enough to force Tweedle to retreat, he has quite the stubborn streak.

I wonder if any of this will increase Tweedle’s reputation. He doesn’t want negotiations with Wulfenbach’s side, he wants to kill them, and now he showed he was willing to go fight him in person. That should help him make a stake for the throne.

The people piloting the clank consider trying to kill Gil, and are attacked by the pseudomuse, before she...gets crushed by the arm she severed. That was...not...really how I thought that’d go. But hey, if the arm got cut off, then that means they’re going to go away, right? And that’ll be the end of the battle: in a draw. Both Gil and Tweedle suffered some superficial losses. Maybe I’m counting my chickens early, though, I haven’t gone to the next page yet.

Disabling the arm makes the robot be in danger. It’ll be a while before it explodes, there’s no time to stick around and commit murder because, well, they have to get away to a safe place and that’s going to take a while. Tweedle isn’t happy because he wanted Gil’s head on a platter. Fight over!

Even though he just got zapped with who knows how many volts of electricity, he wants to go search for Violetta, who undoubtedly snuck away during the fight. With some luck she didn’t leave any traces of where she went to, or the Jagers found her. The guy Gil was with stays behind to search for her while Gil flies away on the wyrm. I wonder what happened with Xerxesphnia?

The next page...will have to be left for next time, because things are happening. Next time!

Next time: two updates

The Fourth Closet Liveblog: Chapters 5-8

This liveblog: Throwing theories at the wall has proven surprisingly effective for this series

Chapter 5

I hate to say it, but I wonder if the thing on the table is actual-Charlie? Springtrap did say he wanted something from her, and that she was “something special”...

“if I had stayed with him a little longer” you’d be dead too dumbass

Not-Charlie isn’t Charlie, but thinks she is. William says he took Actual-Charlie, and John notes that her robot designs look like his. If anyone was raised/brainwashed/whatever by him, it was Actual-Charlie. So weirdly enough, Not-Charlie is actually Charlie, but not Actual-Charlie. is this book confusing enough for you yet

I’m guessing “it has a maximum range” is referring to whatever device is snapping photos of them. It can only do so while they’re in-range.

oh cool, Henry’s stabbing-robot is in Aunt Jen’s closet. that’s totally normal

heh, actual-Charlie’s in a box. If she’s actually Sammy, IE the Bitten Child in 4, then that’s an excellent parallel to the box containing his pieces.

I FUCKING TOLD YOU YOU COULDN’T TRUST NOT-CHARLIE. NOW LOOK WHAT FUCKING HAPPENED

Chapter 6

haha, not-charlie’s a robot, fucking called it. And the disks explain how she looks like a person, which was the only thing that was confusing me about that theory

this also means Sammy’s not a girl (I’m assuming), which explains why he’s being raised as a boy in FNAF 4

unfortunately the explanation makes no sense: you can’t “emit a frequency” that would mess up film - photographs work by exposing light to light sensitive material, sounds ain’t gonna do shit to it. but it’s sci-fi logic, I’ll give it a pass

“I don’t even believe in hauntings and those things were haunted” yes thank you Jessica for your contribution

yeah, let’s just leave the comatose girl alone. this is a good idea

Chapter 7

I was already doubting it, but this confirms that the guy with the cane isn’t Henry. Seems like it would be William, but William’s springtrapped, and he’s too un-Michael like to be Michael.

He mentions Henry figured out remnant, which could point to him using it on himself, hence him being alive and young-sounding in FFPS

hey hey hey don’t be mean to your nice robot assistant. I hope she stabs you by the end of this for that

my only issue here is didn’t these chips make John extremely ill in TTO? I’ll just assume this is a more advanced version or something idk

I love the mirror conversation tbh

that was honestly really tense, I dig it

not sure why she doesn’t have scars (or maybe she does and they’re hidden under her clothes), but it’s pretty obvious she has remnant. she’s probably so tired because of the energy being used to heal her wounds (Michael probably only stands up quickly because there was a period between him dying and Ennard leaving him, which is when he was regaining energy). She’s probably fine (as fine as Charlie can be), she just needs rest

yes, john, beat the shit out of what everything thinks is a normal girl in a public restaurant. great fucking plan, five stars

oh, and good job letting her know you have charlie, who is still unprotected in your apartment, dumbass

you see if william made sex robots with this tech instead of killing ones he’d be a billionaire by now

shoutout to Scott for not trying to have a woman running in high heels

not-charlie is just as much of a lesbian as actual-charlie is

what the fuck did Jessica even scream at. what was even her plan to begin with for that matter

Chapter 8

thank goodness jessica did’t die, she’s one of the best damn characters in these books

“a father’s disappointment and a daughter’s desperation” william and elizabeth, I’m guessing?

sounds like Not-Charlie was jealous of William paying all of his attention to Elizabeth instead of her

“your father was a piece of goddamn shit” “shut the fuck up bitch”

oh, I see. Elizabeth is controlling Not-Charlie as well as Baby, like she was controlling the other Funtimes in SL

aww, sweetie. I’m gonna hug elizabeth. I don’t care if she kills me she’s getting a hug

AU where jessica opens the door, sees Springtrap, and then just slams it closed again

oooooh my god william you are the biggest fucking ham I have ever seen. I’m gonna assume his dancing looked like this

uh-oh! how un-fortun-ate! oh-oh! 

okay no, that scene needs to be explained better. what the actual hell kind of big lipped alligator moment was that

huh, so the figure was william. wonder why he didn’t remove the suit in FFPS. not access to the equipment he needed maybe?

sucks to be you william. maybe don’t kill children next time you piece of limp broccoli

is the one on the table... Henry? William says he killed it before, and it recognized his voice...

wait, the fake blood wasn’t william’s? who else even bled in TSE? Charlie was bleeding at one point I think, but why would she have fake blood? even if she had remnant, william just said you still bleed with it. and why did the police not realize william’s actual blood was on the ground as well? I am so fucking confused

“there is nothing in the world that I care less about than your pain” is the best line in the entire series right there

wait, not-charlie straight up is baby? huh, I did... not get that impression from her description. wasn’t she super thin with a single split down the middle, more like Ballora?

wait, so the pins are to create the illusion? but why didn’t she have them extended when she was Charlie then?

“my only accomplishment is making something that could walk” well when you put it that way it sounds like you are a waste of a human being doesn’t it

we’ve seen your hell william. it involves a hippo speaking for 3 straight minutes about sourdough bread. you have a right to be scared

“no, that’s science fiction” WE’RE TALKING ABOUT ROBOTS POSSESSED BY DEAD CHILDREN VIA SOUL GLUE HERE. YOU KNOW, REAL LIFE

DON’T YOU DARE YELL AT ELIZABETH

where the fuck did baby find a pair of gloves that fit over her giant hands

also, it’s nice to see that Afton does have children in this AU. people were arguing he didn’t because of his lines in TSE, but that’s probably his reason for killing in canon. he wants a supernatural family of his own making, not his family

so the table thing is molten freddy? not sure how that works given that Baby and FT Freddy are still here

hmm, still not sure what he’s doing. he gets the remnant, but that only keeps him in his body. kids get his flesh, which... doesn’t seem like it’s doing anything?

you ever notice how the TSE universe is like, super dark compared to the canon one. turns out it was actually a good thing the bite happened

in conclusion: fuck william and fuck his pain

Hi! I’m in the mood for something angsty. So may I have a scenario with Toshinori Yagi and his fem!s/o with a happy ending based on this prompt - “

You become a writer and your series of novels become extremely popular, but what they don’t know is that you’re retelling your previous life where certain circumstances made it so you and your soulmate did not end up together but your soulmate promises to be with you the next lifetime. At a book signing you open the book cover of a fan’s copy to see something written on the front page: “I’m sorry I took so long.” 

Thank you <3

Sorry I had to send this through the submit box. The prompt was super long XD

For @todorokishochan!

This, uh… This got away from me. This is so much longer than it was supposed to be, but I honestly love this prompt. Hope you like it!

Italic parts are excerpts from the books (your past life) you wrote in this scenario!

The worst part about these signings had to be faking a smile the whole time. After this many books and this many meet-and-greets, you had all your cute and clever responses memorized. No question surprised you after years of doing this. It was the same repetitive conversation in same shabbily decorated book shops in the same small towns with the same hopeful, lovesick readers you had always had. Maybe you were cynical, but how could you not be? The books they fed on so greedily weren’t fiction- they were a reminder of your own loss. The soulmate you had known yet had to have.

Every day you searched online for others who remembered past lives with their soulmates, but you had yet to find a single other person. It seemed, for some reason, you had been cursed with knowing exactly what you had lost in your old life and had to know it alone.

When the men came to work on the west wing of the house, I made sure to keep mostly to my room. Mother had chastised me for trying to sneak a glance at the strangers as they began filtering in. She warned me that these men were ill-mannered, boorish, and undeserving of my time and attention. Considering their low status, it would be unbecoming for me to even speak to one of them. I did not believe a word of what she said, but I knew better than to fight against her.

It was an act of fate then, the day I ran into him. Even though I was taught to keep my eyes averted at all times, I couldn’t help but glance up at his face and the rest of the world just fell away. Mother’s prejudices were the last things on my mind when I looked into his blue, blue eyes and beheld his beautiful smile for the first time. I had finally found my soul mate, Toshinori Yagi.

“Where do you get your inspiration? Your site doesn’t say anything about you having a soulmate, but you write about it so… I mean, it feels so real!”

The first person to ask a question is very young and a bit too blunt for your taste, but you had also heard this question plenty of times before. Your publishing company had chosen to use that as a gimmick years ago- “the woman who has never loved or been loved, yet writes as if love itself is her lover!” You give her a regurgitated response about how you think about all the loving mated couples you had ever met and how they were your inspiration.

Except no one else could ever inspire you like he did. Like he still does. You had loved more than anyone else ever had.

We knew it was an awful idea, but we continued meeting in secret whenever we got the chance. My parents had to come around eventually- a soulmate is a soulmate. I would never belong to anyone else but him.

“My love…” He murmurs, pressing the back of my hand against his face. Long blonde strands brush my knuckles and I can’t help but shiver at the sensation. He’s so overwhelmingly beautiful as he gazes at me with pure adoration in those blue, blue eyes, and for a moment I am overcome with emotion. I don’t have to say a word- he’s already there, pulling me into an embrace that is everything but appropriate and whispering sweet words that float through the air like petals in the wind.

This is where I belong. Right here, with this man, drowning in his love for the rest of eternity…

“Why did you choose the ending you did?” This fan is older, with a slightly annoyed expression. “It’s so sad… I feel like no one would actually keep soulmates apart like that.”

You can’t help the deep intake of air, even though you’ve heard this before too. People need the happy ending, no matter what.

“Actually, it wasn’t uncommon for soulmates to be ignored if the girl’s parents found a more fitting suitor.” You somehow manage to keep most of the bitterness out of your voice.

“Please don’t do this father…” My tears had long since dried up. All that remained was a dry, empty desperation that bled through my words.

“It’s already done child. It is time to stop this game.” He turned to the love of my life, who was covered in bruises and barely had the strength to stand up on his own anymore. His blue, blue eyes were swollen shut and hidden away from me. “Leave and do not come back. This is done. You’ve disgraced my daughter enough.”

I cried out as my father’s friends dragged him out. He managed a single hoarse cry of my name before one of the men kicked him in the stomach. I felt the bile rise to my throat as I looked up at father and saw the lack of hope or love or regret. My soul had been sold by this devil, and not to its proper partner.

“What’s your name?” You smiled up at the young boy before you. He looked no older than fifteen, and seemed incredibly embarrassed to be getting your signature.

“Izuku…” He practically mumbled, and you chuckled quietly before writing him a little note. You added a heart to hopefully soothe his nerves, but that seemed to just worsen his blush.

He thanked you several times and went to walk away, but turned back the last second.

“You’re gonna find your soulmate, you know!” You blinked up at him, surprised by his little outburst.

“You’ll find him, and fall in love, because anybody who writes like this deserves it!” He stares at you intensely for a moment before seeming to remember himself, practically falling over as he runs away. Staring after him, you can’t help but compare his attitude to Toshinori’s. They would get along beautifully…

The fever took me quickly. My new husband- oh, how I hate the word - had called many doctors but no one had been able to help. We both knew the end was coming, and fast. Word traveled fast around the town and just like that, Toshi was back for me.

“I need to see her.”

“No, you need to leave.”

I could barely hear their voices through the thick fog invading my mind. I wanted to cry out to him, beg for my husband to let him in, but I had no strength left in me to give.

Suddenly, I hear a yell and a few loud clatters that echo through the house before the door to my chambers is thrown open and shut again. Then his hands are on me, cupping my face and brushing away my hair, holding me just as desperately as he did that night we stowed away in the abandoned wagon.

“Please no, no no… I can’t lose you.” I can feel his tears dripping onto my cheeks, and I’m so happy and devastated when I manage to open my eyes just a fraction. I can see those blue, blue eyes once more- the same lovely shade as a cloudless summer day and just as clear. I know in my heart that this will be the last time I see them, and he must know it as well as he moves to my side to pull my limp form close to his body.

“I’ll fix this, you hear me? We’ll meet again next time, somehow, and nothing will be able to keep me from you, my love.”

My last smile belongs to him, because I believed him with all my heart and soul.

The signing is thankfully almost over, just one person left in your line. They’re tall, with a hood covering most of their face and a very worn out copy of your book in their hands. Their long fingers brush yours when he hands it to you, and you can’t help but tense up at the shock it sends up your spine.

“What’s your name?” Robotically, you flip it open to the first page and move to sign your name, but a small note stops you in your tracks. It’s written in familiar chicken scratch, slightly smeared as if the writer had been crying at the time.

I’m sorry I took so long, my love.

And when you look up, disbelieving because there’s just no way- you’re staring into blue, blue eyes as he removes his hood. You can’t help but stare at him and drink him in.

“I…” You can’t get a word out as tears begin to well up in your eyes. He whispers your name and tries to smile but then he’s crying too.

“I told you I’d fix it. I told you we would be together.”

And with that you’re choking on your sobs and scrambling over the table to launch yourself at him. Yanking you forward, Toshinori pulls you into him and bends down to press his lips against yours, lips that fit just perfectly over yours because this is meant to be.

Pressing your forehead against his, you stare into his eyes as you breathe each other in. Your hands come up to stroke his jaw- he seems so thin this time around- and you press a kiss against his nose.

“Is this real?” The question slips out before you can help it. As always, he knows what you need before you do. Taking your hand, he presses it against his chest so you can feel his heart beating. The same heart beat that had lulled you to sleep so many times before, long ago.

“It’s real, my love. And I promise we’ll never be apart again.”

and he says weak and he is terribly weak..and they wont run they say debris like star treck d he has the idea they try to fire goddamit and while flying ok lol...tons go and die..heard it and are gone...God bless them mac daddy says this is nt what i wanted nor my plan for them he says...it is not.  mac daddy says...no mac doesnt watn this for his we admit too Thor states...nope..not.  and qe is testimonial to that her efforts louder...they fly there...fast and hit no...it is huge they are whiped out and it is a beam...and it is fun no it is deadly keen work they fly earth behind and tried when it was not aimng there...tons saw and they di it now...tons...other planets are not up...but he says no no ithink they are...jesus escaped...and to Gamemede i dont have one..nope he is here lost...tons say it probably Jupiter godamndit and the girls to venus shit...and they went there took the girl there and wehave wht damnit...wow this is terrible and the robots too..cover.wow weare daft billiumhave intel  and we say it that is sohug massive and athousand mile swath no contest..weworknow and invstion commences robots and more...and you my freind are a wanted mac he says wooooowooo and we laugh so what youfailures and warrants willbe pulled by all youtorturous idiots macs Wie adds your  faggots harrased himfor this we are screwed and are..they kil you liek we do and it is brilliant he is genius and we are bad at ityour nothung t him this is horror wie adds. horror. and yesi am emperoro of china and it is huge and harder now..terrible...tons say it wow wow wow  this is horror the horror of this litle boyes mind hell gross too sebulba sepulvida and bja your dead you faggot this stuff sucks not necessary for you plan it is if we only letyou and yournot allowed you are not by macs orders we have them and obey. he is our Lord not yours...we fire youthen bja says ...wie adds. fu bja youask for my torso you dead queer...your gone we asisgn hitmen squddsofours and find you all here and all over earth jerk off bja,,,i say..and i add youare terminated bja we send in robots now tons and after you and your boss see youworking side by side adn lauging how grand it will be we hit you allnow you suckbacgs and we move in a Dark Tower in the north and you wont resist itis so powerful shitheads f u bja your a crass child and macyourtime isup gross idiot your gross gained nohting but pain and we are not ghwb not small. Thor Zues enjoy your deaths bja and mac you are insanely annoying and mine will NOT tolerate what issues forth fromyouidotic pie holes wont. Thor seldom expresses it did and you cant hear and yo udont want to shoudl have the whole time, my anger andhostility peaked years ago held...you are doomed and a while back this laser aside.  so dream ok..it is all you have left and pelaseplease please mac have bja maekthat tasteless...as he does all things Zues Hera we will. youdead faggot bja out you faggot your done you idiot you issueoneorder in my nameyou go now...faggot and i send out my orderson bja..this is terrible  he is a whore and a man whore and called mewhore man to hit me and is a piece ofshit in public and all hate him...jacket back to himand much much more your a loser bja...loser...and for christ sake i want to say this you are an abhorrant opponent caa adn cannot help it the fact you told mehonorable as bja was in fact out ofline all the timehe is a bitch too and we admire it that you told us fortrying and supporting you. he is so far out of line you should be commended and we shall. we hate hi ad his and he stresses youout tons more than thought allday actually any day...breazes in and out and tuoches base with his asses and insturctt themto give you hell makeyoutriop fall get bent hate and more and you wont crack for them at all...you aere so ahted by all bja you caused htis and it is easy to see we outline it sen it out clearly and point out daily life stuff his see it allanyways your pushy ankelasours...killed tonsof loved ones. wives to cancer and other and husbands and kids trained slavedover for melenia and sent away to die..he did itfor kaiju fighting wehad him sleepy..and youfd itupor a parallel he was poor you  blew it to makehim actually poor  what shit you are bja ad i issue a public statement trumpoutand you are on your own let free from it you may fight along side us vs this abhorant retard cork and his...we accept and thank you caa and it was hard but nottoo hardhewas seasoned,older...and we will obey our Lord now Mac Daddy. too many died at the hnads of bja and co his kids are imbiciles and caa did a number it is so rich i cannot stand..used us and tons and gross or ghwb...hates due to bja...he lost it in westboro too many times,,,and saw it and ten hesaid  i can lose it cant i of course....anger though can leed to prosperity..angre is real...and he does it it is a superpower and he saw ghwb do it and thought it free nope a massive illusinog bja your fired. mac daddy Zues Hera we salute you too caa for survivoing th is great hug orgthat was all pitted against youl little you bja did it and he is a venomous snake loser and we fill himful of holes we start it up and we have a wager other one sup too wihthe bja and this one allhim too nearby...and we hangyou and he suggests webut out and ask Wieto hang bja  we say no but need to..he is hurt badly and he shall but notlet him run about stockades bollard and let your womenpick of yours mac daddy donttell me as it is always bja and his say for youand bla bla and we see ok  we pick they say we do...and your bitches f this we do it and pick too totheir bitches and we see wepickhe says  and we shall.  it s on we hang crucify and do it now and bja we take your torsos and use them to infiltrate you did allday as you mouthe off about it...heated itwe took tn times the number  we will wint hte pile and mac daddy promised...a grand to caa...ken and i can play a pit of scrtch off 100 dollars adn we make it work...we need to see you ok...they do go after any money and yes..otns of gms wehave it tons...all thestuff firebird and money adn willie wonka and more and the casinos and hq and otns...huge gmaes allours to toss himon as kindling we shall ok great scott it is good needs to the boy is a tear jerker...tons see no humanity..nolove hatred...his women scared but are meanhateflu vile ones often  wehitnow Thor she said yeh you will see and we seeher load a canon fireup no she fell over  it comes down and hits her smack on the shoulder...pow ritht  through. fastupand down yes...and is aerodynamic he made it waiver for her to see...and we argued no no the shooulder and good..and a splinter smack the knee hedoes it and we hit him smack onthe houlder standing up...dies...wehithimagain and again now.all of thediots...and we are on we pile high Uriel will assist a time limit and it is like skinnin pigs wehear chuckling  fn bad this is bad they are dumb..  we say Thor Freya we had them makethe Pyle radio and it is good and trump says he wil eget the one grand to yu and vader can ssist and thenew one no made it heard it to hug moved fast and we shall for the bet today only Bitol cant get it here...haha thissucks lol looks like vader isnt he says.  and we hit them corks...and i agree he has been good for what crok does the croaking ass h e is htis huge pig to him faggot and armed today no. not anymore ever i decree it Qe we second and our clans submit and we sned out orders and a meeting formal dining and scns and protection, and we hear it good. finaly.  and w hold a memorial to all those lost to corky and he wants arn and dee on it....andiwant my momonit she died...no butok Hera says and vomits  we see why  she is back yes and this is good but ok not really but way way way better than cork no sublteies andnopralelle only bend break andbow...nope no deal...cant so welcome back mom...ok hon wesee your the Stardust Girl we agreeit is your name and we shal hve parties and more and kdis hopefully we are useful...cork hates us so...Stardust dolls and after Bo and we see lol...she is stardusty and glitter ish and we follow it....we see ..and i see they are creative Stardust white glitter nad it is gold phones alloer earth find them jobs help him he ishomeless and garht who never gave up and was beaten so badly by cork inour name find him a place now..qe moves to.  and isee why...we see ti too helpd...and she is a hienous asshole... we hear it too gone who needsthis lucifer here and they toughed it out and can but hardship...they agree shelterprotection and likescouts and permanet quarters...we try  mac daddy says and qe and carmen...we see you fighting themhrrid ceratures and demand damage and wehithtem now stop them. carmen says we areon and i wnat out of this and we say this help biden take him in they  beaton him trump has no choice he isgross to him...and we hear him and advice is dont cork you only die.  but now we back itup macs ok  and we say help dave we did nad stopped him took himhome and our way...for a beer and turkey and he felt good..you made it ok we are safe yes brother...this will hielp you more...thank you Chris i see your work what his this nono more anthere him this one...and at thhouse..he was anass after nad tlked smackbout you said it out loud and woudlnotstop beradedhimhe bled itout reallly said it is bad ok..bad and talked bout it all the way home..we laughed wwow itis theaffect and we learned hts incenscent are commies...and told he got windof it and hit ours..and we hit back and need a biggergroup....takeing from mc theives...they dontlikeit and we tried it and itworked put di on his stff showed mac and they were all happy...and recnetly they are iditos hand wavers and talkfuny so you see these outlines of hands brightly lit and spaztilcy flying aorund signing he is dead for htis and meaning me and we cant gt it off in sigh ghoug they could speak then we heard this weare on a monitro and they signed yourdead to us macs and it was anigthemere ad madei t big fast and tons sw the shits and we heard this this is how it goes swefidnd himkillhi and i saidno wehurt you...and he ifsful of ti adn we hit himbdly im out and im mac daddy out of the german museum and hit by anakin aka luke aka bja aka danny garland and warrants are issued..he pointed isnt that danny g and we had it out wit him smashed his car tookhimout and boooked him...and caa says i wont pay the txes adnd lauhged oh i dont dont make money and winfall yes is taxable so save it yes he says  shall list in my nogteboook ken hikped me getok tired eatnow mac daddy

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lKgOe1Rl8YY

ALRIGHT I have apparently a lot of things I’ve been tagged in (recently or otherwise) so we are gonna do one big post of those things under the cut here to save your dash (sorry if you’re mobile and the app isn’t doing a read more D:) - stating it now I’m not gonna tag anybody bc I took so long to get around to it oops

10 favorite characters from 10 different fandoms things -Ami Mizuno (Sailor Moon) -Elizabeth Corday (ER) -River Song (DW) -Delilah (Firewatch) -Velma Dinkley (Scooby Doo) -Molly Grue (The Last Unicorn) -Lady Macbeth (Shakespeare) -Yang Xiao Long (RWBY) -Dana Scully (The X-Files) -Tuppence Beresford (Agatha Christie)

Writing Tag 1. How many works in progress do you currently have in progress? “Just” three - Princess and the Goblin AU, a personal project, and an original work about the world’s grumpiest immortal old lady 2. Do you/would you write fanfiction? Yes and yes :P 3. Do you prefer paper books or ebooks? Paper books to own, but for schoolwork I’d much rather use ebooks as they’re a lot easier to search through when writing a paper and needing that one quote. 4. When did you start writing? Age six! We still have the word document from 2003 where I wrote an epic tale about myself helping the Boxcar Children solve a mystery in which my mom was, for some reason, a police officer. 5. Do you have someone you trust that you share your work with? Knight! 6. Where is your favorite place to write? At home, sitting on my bed. That’s where I work best in general; I don’t do well with the distractions of public places. 7. Favorite childhood book? Oh gosh. I was a ridiculously avid reader all through childhood. I don’t know that I could pick a single one, but the Nancy Drew series had me from very early on. 8. Writing for fun or writing for publication? For fun! But in an ideal world there would also be publication in the future lol. 9. Pen and paper or computer? Computer! I used to do pencil and paper when I was in middle school/high school and filled up a few composition notebooks, but I get too easily sidetracked with pencil and paper and tend to end up doodling if I try to use it for writing nowadays. 10. Have you ever taken any writing classes? I have! I did a fiction/poetry combo the summer of 2014 which was very nice, a poetry class fall of 2015, and am currently in another poetry class. One day I’ll get to have my fiction workshopped again! :P 11. What inspires you to write? Lots of things - music, dreams, other people, daydreams...

Last sentence you wrote:

She’d thought maybe she was doing it wrong, and that was why, but she didn’t quite know how to ask.

Top 5-10 songs you listen to: 1. Fire Escape by Love, Robot 2. Cherry Tree by The National 3. I Wish I Was Your Cigarette by K.I.D. 4. Pretty Girl by Hayley Kiyoko 5. Beneath the Brine by The Family Crest

that one tag thing it didn’t have a title sorry Name: Mouse Star sign: Cancer Average hours of sleep: 5-8 depending on the day Lucky number: 7 or 27 based on numbers I like, but the OCD demands repetitions of 12 or 20 so take that as you will Last thing I googled: “panko crumbed turkey schnitzel” because I DIDN’T KNOW WHAT THAT WAS AND I WANTED TO KNOW IF I COULD EAT IT Favorite fictional character: Yes I Have Lots of Those What are you wearing right now: Batman pj pants and a soft green plaid buttonup When did you start this blog: May 2013 :’) please don’t go look at my first posts I was an embarrassing child What do I mostly post: Sailor Moon, Alex Kingston, helpful art things, and lately a lot of middle-of-the-night squawking about Scooby Doo Do I get a lot of asks: on the art blog! not here though lol Why did I choose this URL: River Song + memento mori

another one that doesn’t have a title I think sorry again O N E -name: Audrey || nickname: Mouse || zodiac sign: Cancer -height: 5′2″ || orientation: ace lesbian || ethnicity: white enough to make hiding in laser tag very difficult -favorite fruit: apple || favorite season: winter -favorite book: The Last Unicorn || favorite flower: carnation? -favorite scent: vanilla || favorite animal: cat -coffee, tea, or hot cocoa? no thank you -cats or dogs? cats -dream trip: I go to an abandoned, isolated castle in the middle of a wide-open field of green. no one is around. I am wearing a soft, billowy dress. I run through the halls of the castle to echoing sea shanties. in the tallest tower of the castle I sit and fill up an entire sketchbook and it doesn’t even matter if I mess up on a couple pages because I have brought sticky notes to try that cool thing where you just slap a sticky note over the mistake and keep going. -aesthetic: old empty buildings, soft blankets, girls holding hands, scuffed up knuckles and fingertips, the pages in a sketchbook where marker has bled through in just a few spots to make it look splattered, the smell of old books, antique brass pocketwatches, cold grey skies -favorite band/artist: Anberlin -fictional character I’d date: River Song, Elizabeth Corday, Makoto Kino -Hogwarts house: Ravenclaw T W O -countries I’ve lived in: US, UK I guess now? idk does it count -favorite fandom: uhh... if we’re talking about the fandom itself then Scooby Doo, there’s so little drama and everyone is just super into these goofy kids solving mysteries, it’s great -languages you speak: English, and I’m passable enough in Spanish that I could PROBABLY survive if I were dropped in a Spanish speaking country -favorite film of 2016: I have No Concept of Time and also don’t watch that many movies. did Wonder Woman come out in 2016? that’s like the only movie I’ve been to see in theatres recently. idk I apologize -last article you read: uhh something for class, so something about Gothic feminism -last thing you bought online: a maroon sweatshirt with Scooby’s face on it. I am the coolest adult and 12yo me would be proud. -how would your friends describe you: sweet but a huge dork, very little common sense, means well -how would your enemies describe you: I am always trying my best to not make enemies so?? I don’t know?

questions Nikki asked specifically 1. You spend an entire year in another time and place for the next three years of your life. When/where do you choose and why? THESE KINDS OF QUESTIONS STRESS ME OUT because on the one hand, access to everywhere and everywhen!! BUT ON THE OTHER HAND IF I GO TOO FAR BACK INTO THE PAST I LOSE ACCESS TO THINGS LIKE MEDICINE WHICH I NEED AND POSSIBLY CONTAMINATE THE POPULATION WITH MODERN-DAY GERMS WHILE IF I GO TOO FAR INTO THE FUTURE I GET EXPOSED TO BACTERIA/VIRUSES I HAVE NO IMMUNITY AGAINST. it’s a lose/lose. so... picking close enough to not do too much damage, I’ll spend one year following Agatha Christie around sometime in the 60s, mentor my younger self in 2010, and go through all of 2014 again just so I can go see the Armory production of Macbeth. 2. Okay, be honest: do you put your laundry away immediately, or does it sit somewhere in a pile for entirely too long? IT SITS AT THE END OF MY BED FOR WEEKS YOU DON’T HAVE TO CALL ME OUT LIKE THIS 3. Describe yourself as if you’re in a fic. (Scent, appearance, aura – everything & anything is game.) “She was small and mousy, in the sense that she was a bit skittish of everything and squeaked sometimes when she talked, always too quiet for the ‘real’ grownups. She stepped lightly, and tried to take up as little space as possible, and was almost a ghost for her efforts.” 4. What non-essential thing(s) do you blow the most money on? MARKERS AND BOOKS I am a simple woman with simple desires 5. Did you have extracurricular activities as a child? Any that you wish you’d done? I did ballet and cheer in elementary school for like two years, gymnastics for a bit; journalism in middle school (say hello to the editor-in-chief of the school newspaper y’all); drama in high school - I can’t say that I wish I’d done any more actually 6. You can time travel (or not) and have your portrait done by any artist. Who do you choose? I'm gonna go with El Greco simply because his “Penitent Magdalene” haunts me 7. You’re out in public. You see a cat. How do you react? point at it and say CAAAAAAAT and hope it doesn’t run away 8. What kind of weather do you thrive in, and what can you simply not do? A bit cloudy and 50-60 degrees F is ideal. I cannot abide heat. Anything above 80 degrees is repulsive. 9. Om nom nom, breakfast! What are your favorite breakfast foods? CEREAL AND WAFFLES 10. Do you like running up and/or rolling down hills? ...not particularly... I have a weird thing about heights, and inclines do not really help D:

After Blackrock - part 3

“Prequel“

Part 1

Part 2

(I don’t give a damn about swear words)

- So how do you... work, if that’s the right word?

- Well, I was crushed by that tower, like you said, but Duncan managed to recover my brain. I don’t know how but he also found a fitting heart. It now keeps me alive...

- By doing heart things...

- Yeah. Duncan also provides it with necessary things for it to be alive. Although I think it’s automated...

- Hence the machinery.

- Mhm. I don’t have any arms or legs, but... I’ve mastered hacking and... that’s not what you wanted to hear...

- No, but... It’s a part of your daily routine now and it doesn’t matter what I think.

- I guess... I just wanted your approval since... I don’t think I can do magic anymore...

- Also understandable.

A moment of silence. Rythian swore he saw a pair of eyes on the screen for a split second.

- I thought you’ll hate me for being so scienc-y.

- How could you think that? I didn’t hate you as a cyborg, how is this any different?

No reply.

- Zoey, no matter how you are, I can’t hate you. I just can’t bring myself to do that.

Now Rythian saw a pair of eyes quite clearly, He didn’t know what it meant, but he was glad they looked exactly like the old Zoey’s eyes. He broke the silence:

- So what’s Duncan’s deal?

- He didn’t really tell me how he found me, but I’m thankful he saved me and...

She noticed Rythian staring at the ground. When he looked at Zoey, her eyes were asking him.

- I just don’t like that Duncan got his hands on you.

- Rythian, he saved my life. You should be thanking him.

- Well, I’m not.

- Why not? Is your pride getting in the way?

- No- it’s not- it’s cause-...

“I’d rather live with the fact that you’re dead than painfully learn to love the thing you are now“

Instead, he said:

- Do you realize that this doesn’t forgive him? That he still destroyed an entire world?

- Will you ever let that go?

- How am I supposed to let it go?!

- It was a long time ago, Rythian!

- So what? It still happened!

- Well it sure as hell isn’t happening again. People change. Have you not learned to forgive?

Rythian stared at her for a couple of seconds.

- No. I haven’t. The two times I’ve climbed over myself and trusted someone, I got betrayed. I’m sorry if I have a hard time forgiving someone because of YOU.

He turned around and left. He didn’t reply to Duncan, he just flew back to his tower, ignoring the monsters who thought they could fight him and any stupid and cheap distractions. He built the destroyed wall back up and tried to forget Zoey meanwhile. But, in the graveyard silence he clearly heard the machines under his tower. He climbed down, damning all science to the depths of hell, but instead of destroying all that was built, he was stopped by a message on the big blue screen.

“First of all, forgiveness doesn’t mean trust Rythian. And whatever happened between us, Duncan’s not at fault.

Second, the last time I left you, it wasn’t on my own accord. I kind of died, remember?“

- That could have been avoided if only you were being careful. There was no need for you to take all of the dragon’s attention.

“We’re talking about this now? Alright...

You could have distracted her with your powers, but no, you just stood there, doing nothing. Did it feel good being the hero?‘

- First of all, I was extremely crushed and broken, since, oh, you know, you were the only person I trusted! So good job getting killed by some fucking bricks when two nukes barely even scratched you!

“Good job building the nether brick tower you always wanted!“

- Thank you, I spent months on it!

He sighed and shook his head.

- Zoey...

“Hm?“

- What the fuck.

“Same“

Rythian smiled.

- Thanks...

“Screaming is one way to let it all out“

- Yeah... I needed that.

Then he realized what he said.

- I didn’t mean any of that...

“Oh really?“

- Yeah, I’ve just... kept way too much covered.

“You isolate yourself from people, but you go insane from loneliness...“

- I go insane without you.

“Even if that were true, I think you’ve lived with the fact that I’m dead for too long to call it “missing someone“

- Maybe... But I still missed you.

- So much that you break down at the most comfortable time?

- Uncomfortable, yes.

She giggled and Rythian only then realized they were talking, not typing. And the fact that Zoey was SMILLING - on the screen - freaked him out. He used to think of science as cold, lifeless and dangerous. But, now, Zoey was literally a creation of science. And she didn’t seem cold... or lifeless... or dangerous...

- What are you thinking about?

- I’m...

- Be honest, I can take anything.

- Truth is, I’m conflicted.

- Oh? So before you were only trying to make me feel better?

- Well- I- uhh...

- You did right. Go on.

- Wha- when did you become like this?

- This?

- I dunno, wiser. More forgiving...

- People change. Some over time, some over a tragedy.

Rythian shook his head.

- What did you do to my sweet and innocent Zoey?

- YOUR Zoey?

- Yeah, mine.

- Since when is she yours?

- Since I first saw her!

The robotic laugh that came from her sent chills down Rythian’s body.

- Alright then. She’s yours.

He raised an eyebrow.

- The Zoey that’s not coming back.

Rythian fell on his knees and screamed out:

- NOOO- I’m not too sad.

She giggled and Rythian shook again.

- So the new Zoey charmed you? 

- The confident badass, yeah.

- Good!

Rythian chuckled. Then he looked right into her eyes.

- I’m really glad you’re alive, Zoey.

- Same here...

Rythian didn’t know what to think. On one hand, Zoey was alive, which was amazing, fantastic, awesome and all that, on the other... she was alive because of science. And he hated science. But he loved Zoey..

What freaked him out the most was how inhuman she was. Before, she was a living, breathing person, maybe half cyborg, but not... a robot. How human did she say she was? Just a brain and a heart?...

That was not enough to consider her HUMAN. She was a machine... that had a mind of it’s own. What is Duncan created a very smart AI and called it Zoey just to toy with Rythian? What says that Duncan - of all people - saved her life when she was lying dead at the End? How did he even find her?

“Zoey put him up to stalking me - if I can even believe that - what’s saying he wasn’t doing that before?”

If thought about logically, Duncan would have two options: either he followed Rythian and Zoey all the way to the Twilight portal, stalked them during their journey through it, somehow teleported with the endermen to the End and somehow - SOMEHOW - didn’t get noticed by anyone during their fight with the dragon. All of that sounds impossible enough, but Zoey was DEAD. Crushed by the tower, none of her could have survived long enough for Duncan to swoop in and rescue her. The stare, the dig and the broken Rythian’s dragging through the portal was plenty of time for her to bleed out. What the hell did Duncan do to save her?

On the other hand, he could have just entered through the portal Rythian exited through and saved her that way. But again, Zoey was DEAD. Bled out, crushed... she would have run out of chocolate milk!!!

Rythian couldn’t believe he remembered that. But that just proves his insanity.

There’s still a question that bothers him - why? Why save her? Why even try? For his own goal of some sort? Again, to tease Rythian? But why even hide from him then? Why let Zoey talk to him?

So many questions! And no answers!

The only people who could give some answers were Zoey herself and “Duncan... No, I can talk to Zoey first. If anything, he’s a last resort. He could probably give me all of the answers with a little push, but... talking to him is... unpleasant”

You know you’ve gone mad when you have inside jokes with yourself.

“I’m getting used to it“

With that, he fell asleep for the first time in three days.

Rythian was woken up by someone silently humming a sweet melody. He spent a couple minutes doing absolutely nothing - just listening to Zoey and thinking how much easier it is to love her like this.

But he still had things to do. And worry sunk in. How long will he be able to keep up the act? How long until he’ll say fuck everything and scream out his true feelings?

“No, now’s not the time to think “what if”. I just have to act for a little bit - no big deal“

With those encouraging words he descended down the ladder, already thinking of an argument breaking out.

- Took you long enough, - Zoey greeted him with a grin and Rythian instantly wanted to turn around and leave - just for the sake of peace.

Stay strong.

“Trying”

- Sorry, I was just... thinking.

- Bad dreams?

- Sometimes...

- Feeling tired?

Rythian felt terrible. Zoey still remembered and cared about him and how does he thank her?

- A bit, but don’t worry about it. I was just thinking about... things and... have you ever asked Duncan why he saved you?

- I was curious about that too. He just said he couldn’t leave a pretty girl in distress.

- That’s...

- I know. Best way to make himself suspicious. He’s obviously hiding something. But he’s kind of keeping me alive at the moment, so I don’t want to anger him.

- What about how he found you?

- That’s strange too, but whenever I ask, all I get is some mumbling. All of this he set up when I told him I could make you fall for his plans.

“That explains that“

- What... plans?

- I don’t know. but it’s something bad, considering how quickly he agreed to the offer.

Rythian’s mind was racing, yet, he couldn’t catch a single thought and think about it before another took his place, seeking attention.

- Okay, so why reveal now?

- This was the only time you left your tower.

- And you believed that? 

Zoey thought for a moment.

- I had no other choice.

- He is planning something...

- Rythian?

- Hm?

- How much did you isolate yourself?

He knew where this was going. “Guess I’ll have to break it to her someday”

- I uh... didn’t talk to anyone. For months.

- Ravs?

- Haven’t heard from him.

- Nilesy?

- Him neither.

- Teep?

Rythian took a deep breath.

- He led me to the portal and even made sure I went first. When I appeared in the world again, he... wasn’t there with me/ I don’t know what happened to him.

The silence weighed on his shoulders.

- If I would have been in the right mind, I would have went back for him-

- Why didn’t you do so when you recovered?

Her crushed voice but deep into Rythian’s mind. The only time she was this was when they walked through the Blackrock crater. And for a moment he remembered the old, not robotic Zoey.

- It’s hard to go back there, Zoey. Not juts physically...

- Something did happen to you there. You never told me...

- It didn’t matter...

- It matters now. Why didn’t you go back...?

- I don’t know, maybe because your dead body was there!

Zoey looked down, embarrassed.

- Did I... really mean that much to you?...

- Maybe you did at some point, now I can’t stand you being so robo-...

He stopped mid sentence, wishing he could suffocate into the ground.

- Why are you still here then?

And the screen turned black.

Rythian didn’t try to stop her. He knew he fucked up. He also knew he may never be forgiven. But in that moment, he was thinking of something different.

My Baby

Tell me something…how unlucky can one person get in their lifetime? Things have been bad, but never have they been this bad before. Everything has turned to ash and there is no light. Just when the thought crosses my mind that I’ve hit the bottom, well that’s when I start drowning. God help me.

Everything is muddy and brown, like shit or cemetery dirt. Nothing has been clear for a long time. I feel like I haven’t seen things clearly for a hundred years. Sadly, it’s only been three months. How does anyone come back from something like this? There are ghosts and shadows everywhere.

Where once there was love and laughter, now there is only pity and anger. “Get up!” She tells me. “I need you!” She insists. My wife. I know she does, she needs me, but I can’t even help myself – how am I supposed to help her? I haven’t slept for more than two hours a night since it happened. Slowly I lose my mind as the hours tick by. Days. Weeks. It’s like having my teeth pulled without Novocain.

She stands in the dining room doorway, hands on hips, asking me, “Why can’t you talk to me? What’s going on with you?” As if it isn’t obvious. The man of the house isn’t supposed to feel sorrow or loss. No, the man of the house is supposed to comfort her while he feels nothing but the need to move on. What kind of man am I?

This cold, robotic response is what she’s looking for. That’s what she’s used to. Her father raised her and her sisters that way, never having emotion, but always being there for them and their mother. But I can’t do that. Not when Jenny sleeps under six feet of mud. My niece - the child of hope.

I cannot be the man that my wife wants me to be. She asks me, “What kind of man are you? Can’t even take care of your own wife?!” She wasn’t always this mean. Before Jenny died, my wife’s words didn’t drip with venom, they didn’t sink teeth into my bones. But now…now we’re shadows of our former selves, deep and heavy shadows. There's no air to breathe.

All I can do is remember her, sweet Jenny. These memories are the ghosts that haunt me. They wake me up in the middle of the night to twist the knife. Sometimes, I dream that she’s talking to me at the kitchen table over macaroni and cheese shaped like cartoons. She’s telling me a joke and we both laugh. When I wake up, I wish I were dead.

Nothing helps. I’ve tried it all. Therapy is impossible, because I can’t bring myself to leave the house. Alcohol only makes it worse, it doesn’t numb anything. I can’t get any kind of prescription, because I won’t leave the house to go to the doctor or the pharmacy. My wife won’t give me any of her tranquilizers. She's become a dragon that hoards her gold.

Friends call, distant relatives too, but I stopped picking up the phone a long time ago. All I get is sympathy and that only makes it all so much more painful. I want to feel normal, but that would make me feel guilty I think. To be pitied, it’s like a big fucking joke. “Oh we’re all so sorry for you, but there ain’t shit anyone can do to help you. Sorry. Sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry.”

Maybe I’m just not the man I used to be. I don’t even have the courage to kill myself. There’s something, something making me hold on. I don’t know what it is, but I wish it would go away. My wife, well it certainly might be her, but the more she stabs me with that gaze and those words…well I just don’t know. For the rest of my life I will love her, but she hurts.

Sometimes, when she wakes up in the morning, I fall in love with her all over again. Her hair is a mess and her eyes are foggy with sleep. She’ll give me this sexy, sleepy grin…but then she remembers everything. When she remembers, her face goes slack – you can see it all seeping back in behind her eyes. That’s when she goes to make her coffee. That’s when she makes me feel like a worthless piece of shit. But I love her all the same.

Hell, maybe I am a worthless piece of shit. My boss is a day away from firing my sorry ass. He was generous and sympathetic for a long time, but now he’s on me about getting back to work. “A few more weeks.” I keep telling him. And maybe that’s all it will take. Maybe…if I got back to work…things might get a little better.

The last time I tried to leave the house was about a month ago. The front door was open and I stood there, staring at the sidewalk. Fear and anxiety I have never known gripped me like the cold breath of death. I vomited all over the sidewalk, and then I passed out. My wife found me. “Let me take you to the emergency room.” She insisted.

Shaking my head was all I could do at that point. She was kind enough to help me to the couch, not our bed. It hadn’t been our bed for some time. Ever since the accident, I’ve retired to the couch in the den. My constant waking up in the middle of the night was too hard on my wife.

This has been so hard on both of us. So much in such a short time. You never think such misfortune can enter your life. That’s when it makes itself at home. It moves right into your safe, happy home. You lose hope, faith, yourself. If there is a god or some universal driving force, it is a cruel and grotesque being – the bogeyman under the bed.

Two years ago, that’s when everything was set into motion. A domino effect that struck every chord of a dark and fateful song. My wife and I have been married for twelve years now. We have always been crazy about each other, until now. We started dating in high school and got married sometime after.

Once we both had good paying jobs and a house together, we wanted to have kids. More specifically, we wanted three kids. We didn’t care whether it was two boys and a girl or two girls and a boy or all boys or all girls, that didn’t matter. We just wanted three kids more than anything. It was our dream. But it didn’t happen.

We tried to get pregnant for a long time. Two years ago, we finally went to the doctor. After all of the tests, we found out what the problem was. The doc told us I had a low sperm count and our chances of getting pregnant were slim to none. My wife was supportive, she didn’t blame me at all. She suggested adoption, but there was no way we would ever be able to afford it. I fear that she started to resent me after awhile. The pain in her eyes was obvious whenever we saw kids playing outside or babies in strollers.

What could I do? I felt awful. I hated myself for not being able to give her everything she wanted, everything we both wanted. What a joke. Our only answer, financially, was foster care. It wasn't our dream, but it was better than not having kids at all. We both liked the idea of helping kids, but they wouldn’t be a constant presence in our lives nor would we be a constant presence in their lives.

Foster care was our only hope…that is until a cursed miracle occurred eighteen months ago. My brother, my only sibling, had been a single father for five years. His wife died during childbirth and so he raised his daughter Jenny on his own. He did a damn good job too, but there's only so much you can do. Tragedy struck about a year and a half ago when he stopped at the wrong gas station.

Terry, my brother, had to work late that night, so my wife and I were watching Jenny for him. He saw that he was low on gas, so he stopped on his way home to fill up. When he pulled up to the pump there was a man and woman standing near the door to the station. They were arguing pretty heatedly.

Terry got his gas, went inside, and paid for it. When he walked outside, the man had the woman by her hair. His nose was touching hers and he was screaming at her. Pain twisted her face into a fearsome mask. Mascara tears stained her freshly bruised face.

There was a flash of metal as the guy pulled out a switchblade. Terry was already on his way over to the scene by the time the knife made its way to the woman’s throat. The man was threatening her when Terry confronted him. The man’s eyes were wild. He pulled the woman’s hair so the she fell backward to sit beside him like a dog.

The knife pointed at Terry, but Terry was trying to calm the man down. Words were exchanged, no one knows what was said for sure. The black and white tape didn’t have audio. Within a space of seconds the man rushed forward, plunging the switchblade into my brother’s abdomen. Black liquid spilled out of Terry’s shirt when the man removed the knife. The woman screamed and the man turned around, smacking her hard enough to knock her out.

That’s when the station clerk ran out with a six shooter. She pointed it at the man, yelling at him. The man came forward to try and stab the clerk, but the clerk shot him dead before he could close the small gap. Terry bled out at that shitty little gas station, right on the piss stained pavement.

Poor Jenny didn’t know how to take it, she was so young. My wife and I did everything we could for her. The funeral was the hardest. Jenny cried and blubbered into my wife’s shoulder through the whole ceremony. I hadn’t wanted to take her to the funeral, but my wife insisted that it was necessary. I’m not sure why.

Every night for six months, little Jenny would wake up in the middle of the night screaming. She would be calling for her daddy. It broke my wife’s heart, she could barely deal with it. But that was okay, because I would take care of Jenny. Every single time she woke up screaming I would go to her, hold her, and talk to her.

Most nights she would fall back to sleep within ten or fifteen minutes. On especially difficult nights though, I would carry her to the kitchen and make her some hot chocolate. We would talk and watch cartoons until she fell back to sleep. My wife felt horrible and guilty, but she didn’t know what to tell a little girl who wanted nothing and no one but her dead father. I told my wife, “No one knows what to do in these situations. You just do what you can.”

Jenny became attached to me after that. My wife and I would wake up to find her curled up at the end of our bed like a puppy. She hated going to school, because she had to go alone. When she came home from school she would once again attach herself to me. “Tell me another joke Uncle Jim.” She would say with a big smile. Even though I had told her all of the jokes I knew, she would still want to hear them again and again. She asked to hear them and then she would laugh like it was the first time she had ever heard it.

My wife was a little jealous, I could tell, but she was happy that Jenny was getting better. We were both happy that we finally had a child, but we hated the circumstances it was under. Jenny had no other family, so when she came to live with us we felt blessed. At the same time though, we felt guilt over the horrific circumstances.

We painted her bedroom green because it was her favorite color. We also bought her butterfly everything, because she just adored butterflies. She was such a neat kid. She didn’t care if she got her clothes dirty in the yard, she didn’t cry when she happened upon a spider, and she certainly did not mind just sitting and watching a thunderstorm.

Very quickly, she became a part of our home. When the nightmares finally stopped…well I think that’s when she finally felt safe and at home there with us. We used to sit in the backyard and watch her, arms stretched wide, pretending to be an airplane. She would make silly airplane noises, flying around the yard, under and over flowers and tree branches.

Jenny’s high pitched giggling laugh would fill the whole house. That laughter was the life-blood of our home. The heartbeat was her footsteps as she trotted down the stairs, a quick one-two – one-two – one-two. She was only five years old, but she had the temperament of a peaceful flower child. That little girl could have grown up to inspire people toward better, happier places. She could have been the next John Lennon or Gandhi.

This was why I couldn’t leave the house, it was all that was left of her. Her pink, flower-print backpack still sat propped against the staircase. Even my wife, who was so keen to move on, couldn’t bring herself to move it. I didn’t want to touch anything. I was hoping that I could somehow transport myself back in time by keeping everything the same.

When the accident happened...that’s when everything was ripped apart. All day long, the weatherman had been calling for thunderstorms. The only sign of bad weather that we had seen was the dark clouds above. There hadn’t been any wind or rain, just dark clouds. My wife was in the basement, looking for something, when it happened. I had gone into the kitchen for a glass of water when my world ended.

The first burst of thunder rumbled when I was reaching up for a glass in the cabinet above the sink. I hadn’t seen the first lightning strike. The second bolt of lightning struck when I was drinking the water. The quick following thunder masked the sound a bit, but I heard it nonetheless. Wood splintering…it sounded like reality itself had ripped open.

The glass shattered as I ran for the backdoor. No, please god, no. “JENNY!” It was a scratched, guttural noise coming from my mouth. Jenny, five years old with short, little pig-tails, lay underneath a tree branch about ten times her size. The tree branch was heavy, so heavy. I did everything I had to, to move it. It didn’t matter though, she was killed the instant the branch had landed on her.

It was my wailing that brought my wife up from the basement. She collapsed as soon as she saw Jenny. She fell to the ground, sobbing and shaking her head with disbelief. I cradled Jenny’s soulless, lifeless body, rocking back and forth. Her eyes were closed as if she were sleeping; it was such a grotesque sight that I couldn’t handle it. All I could do was clutch her tiny body and cry.

I’m not really sure how, but somehow we got to the hospital. The doctor told me that I had dislocated both of my shoulders when I moved that huge tree branch. I didn’t even feel it when he reset them, I was completely numb. My family, my blood, was dead. That sweet, angel of a child was dead in an instant – just like that.

My wife is all I have left now. I think that’s why I can’t bring myself to eat a gun or a handful of tranquilizers. Despite her anger and resentment, and probably her blame on me too, she is still the only small light I have left in my life. There has got to be some strength left I me, to keep us going. I decide right then and there to go back to work on Monday.

Footsteps sound on the stairs – one-two-three-four-five – not the quick one-two-one-two-one-two that I always hope to hear. My wife appears, looking sullen, dark, and maybe even dead. “Hun.” My words sound like old shutters in the wind. She looks at me with frustration and annoyance. “Please sit down.” The shutters croak.

She moves to the couch where I’m sitting. Very slowly, she sinks down, staring at the wall across the room. I take a deep breath and begin.

“I’m sorry I haven’t been what you need me to be.” I say slowly.

She huffs a sarcastic laugh.

“I’m going to try…” Try what? Just try.

She sighs, looking down to her bare feet.

“I’m going back to work next Monday.” Even if it kills me.

She looks up at me.

“It’s going to take awhile, but I want us to be back where we were.” I try to sound loving, but it sounds…strange.

She mumbles something.

“What?” I ask.

“What if who we were is already dead?” She asks me.

It’s my turn to look at my feet.

Without another word she stands up to go to the kitchen. She pulls her bottle of tranquilizers out of her bathrobe pocket at the kitchen sink. She pops one, and then gulps down a half a glass of water. Screeching alien noises burst through the house. It's been so long since the phone has rung that I’ve forgotten what it is.

My wife shoots a glance my way. This is her way of telling me that I need to answer the phone. We pass each other as I go for the phone and she goes back upstairs. With a shaking hand, I reach for the phone and pull it off of the hook. The receiver feels as if it weighs fifty pounds.

I feel like a decrepit old man. My hands are shaking and my body is stiff from lying on the couch for so long. Just answer the damn phone.  

“Hello?” I answer.

“Jimbo?” Comes a familiar voice.

“Yeah, how’s it going Burt?” Asks a scratchy voice that must be my own.

“I’m doing well, how’re you?”

“Alive.” I say.

“Well listen, I was thinking that we could go out for a beer or somethin’.” Before he finishes the sentence I’m already shaking my head.

“I don’t know Burt…”

“It doesn’t have to be for long, even just one beer or a half a beer. Just let me help you get out of that house for a little while.” He says.

Maybe…maybe one drink wouldn’t be so bad. It’s been so long since I’ve seen Burt…a week or two after the funeral. He came to check on me by request of my wife. After several hours of trying to get me out of the house he gave up. But now…well if I was going to leave the house for work, I’d have to be able to leave first without having a panic attack.

This could be like a test run. Besides, Burt had even said that I didn’t have to stay long. I could only stay for a half a beer if I wanted to.

“Jim?”

“Yeah, sorry…was thinking.”

“Well, what do you say?”

“I say okay. Give me an hour and I’ll meet you at McFinn’s Pub.” I’m going to try. Try what? Just try.

“Really?!” Pure shock and awe filters in from Burt’s end of the phone. This actually makes me give a short laugh – another alien sound.

“Yeah, really. See you in a bit.” I say.

With great effort, I make it into the shower. The hot water manages to loosen a lot of my muscles. I almost don’t make it, though. Jenny’s No-Tangle shampoo is still sitting on the edge of the bathtub. Closing my eyes, I focus on the smell of my shampoo and the hot water easing my tight tendons.

While I’m shaving, I hear my wife leave again. Because I am unable to take care of the both of us, she goes to visit her sisters a lot. I’m not sure why she doesn’t just go stay with them. Maybe she’s afraid if she leaves me I’ll actually find the balls to kill myself. And who knows, maybe I will.

McFinn’s Pub is across town, I chose this bar for a reason. I haven’t driven a car in three months. By going to McFinn’s I could relearn how to drive my car, nice and easy. And that’s just how I do it, nice and easy. It takes me a long time to get there, but I manage to do it nonetheless.

The dashboard clock tells me that it’s seven-thirty. It’s Tuesday night, so the parking lot is pretty empty. My car makes five cars total, but this is just fine by me. I’m not ready for huge crowds just yet. Burt is standing by his car, smoking a cigarette. He’s tall and skinny, kind of like a scarecrow. If he’s not careful, that cigarette will set his hay on fire.

Burt sees me as soon as I pull into the parking lot. He approaches me the moment I get out of the car. He’s just started smoking his cigarette so we have to wait before we go inside. “You wanna go for a walk around the block before we go in?” He asks me. He's obviously happy to see me out and about, which makes me feel a little better. Walking sounds like a good idea to me, it feels good to stretch my legs.

Burt has to take smaller steps than usual so that he doesn’t walk too quickly. His long legs give him a step twice the length of my own. I’m not a short guy, but most people do look short standing next to Burt. It’s nice to think about all of this, to not think about Jenny. As soon as this thought crosses my mind I feel sick from guilt.

Push it down, I tell myself, be a functioning member of society, do it for your wife. That keeps me going. “Did I tell you about the saucy red head that just moved in across the street from me?” Burt asks in a cloud of smoke. He knows he hasn’t told me about the saucy red head, but I say no like we’ve been talking frequently for the past few months and he just forgot to mention the woman.

He laughs, and then takes another drag off of his cigarette before he starts the story. “So, she moved in a few weeks ago right? And she’s totally gorgeous. I helped her move in and everything, real sweet girl. She can’t be more than twenty three with the body of a goddess. So anyway, Mike’s over the other night and he’s kinda drunk.” He explains.

I give another short laugh. Our friend Mike is known for getting himself into trouble. It’s really no surprise to me that he would be involved when it comes to beautiful women. “Right,” Burt chuckles. “And he invites her over for a beer. She comes over and we’re talkin’, havin’ a good time and whatnot. She’s tellin’ us that she’s from Memphis and she’s a big Elvis fan and this and that. Mike is acting all interested and shit, but he hasn’t heard a word this poor girl has been saying.

“Night goes on, we’re all just hanging out. Finally…” He laughs again. “Finally, Mike says, ‘You are so beautiful.’ She goes, ‘Well thank you very much.’ Mike says, ‘You ever been in porn?’” We both start laughing now. Mike is an idiot and just does not know when to shut up. “I’m just like, ‘Oh shit, what did you just do Mike?’ when the girl just smiles and says, ‘Yeah. You too? I could see you suckin’ lots of dick.’”

We both stop in the middle of the sidewalk, howling with laughter. Tears form at the corners of my eyes from laughing so hard. It feels great. In that moment I feel normal again. When we are finally able to breathe again I look at Burt and pat him on the back. “Thank you, Burt.” I say. He just nods, and then we both start laughing again.

Once we begin walking down the street again I notice a woman standing in front of a new store. The store is the bottom floor of a house which is probably hers. She’s wearing a long, sweeping purple skirt and a black sweater. We get closer and I can see that the glowing sign in the window is a palm. The fortune teller looks at us and I can see that she looks to be barely twenty years old.

She reaches her hand out to me, long fingers brushing my shoulder. This startles me, the first human contact I’ve had in weeks. My initial reaction is to swat her hand away and I do. It’s rude, I know, but I’m just not in a good place right now. The thought of people touching me kind of freaks me out for some reason. The only person I can stand to touch is my wife, and that is usually just her squeezing my shoulder or lightly touching my arm because I’m in her way.

The young fortune teller looks at me with disdain. I’ve obviously offended her, but I can’t stop to explain. The story would be too long to tell and I’m sure she wouldn’t care anyway. Burt looks at me strangely, but I just walk on. I hear him mutter an apology to the girl.

“Don’t you have a woman?” The young woman asks me somewhat defensively.

“What?” I turn around, confused.

“Where’s your woman?” Her expression is set in stone, but I see anger in her eyes.

I just look at her like a deer in headlights.

“Don’t know where she is?” A devilish grin creeps across her face as she sways back toward the shop's door. Her skirt shifts like a heavy curtain in the wind.

“No.” I say with a tone that asks, “Why do you care?”

Burt is next to me now, ready to continue walking around the block. This whole situation is confusing me and kind of freaking me out. Maybe I will only have half a beer. I turn to start walking again, when the young woman speaks again. “I do.” She says more seriously. When I turn to look at her, I notice an old woman standing behind the screen door, blind eyes looking out into the night.

Could this be the young woman’s mother? No, it would have to be her grandmother. She looks about a hundred and fifty years old. The old woman is also wearing a long skirt and a heavy sweater.

“Wait, what now?” Burt's curiosity is getting the better of him.

“I know where your woman is.” She’s only speaking to me.

“What are you talking about?” I ask with more frustration than anger, but it doesn’t sound that way. I sound angry, very angry.

“Go on.” She said, nodding for us to move on.

“Jesus Christ.” I mutter, turning to leave.

Burt and I go on a ways before I turn to look at the fortune teller again. She’s staring at us, but she’s out of ear shot. Burt turns to look too. “They just moved into town. Seem nice enough, but I think you hurt her feelings when you pushed her hand away.” He explains. All I can do is nod. That was the weirdest thing I’ve experienced since the accident.

The pain and loss come back to me in a wave. The run in with the fortune teller threw it off momentarily. But now it was back. I pinch the bridge of my nose lightly, trying to focus. “You okay?” Burt asks. When I bring my hand down and open my eyes I mean to answer him, but I can’t. We’ve just turned the corner and there’s something happening that I can’t quite make sense of.

A man is standing halfway down the block, pinning a woman against his car. The woman has her arms wrapped around him affectionately. They’re kissing deeply, passionately. This is not what is bothering me, no. What is bothering me is that this woman looks exactly like my wife. This woman is my wife.

I’ve stopped dead and so has Burt. From the corner of my eye I can see his face. The shock and pity appear from his expression at the same time. All I feel is rage. This is the first strong emotion I have felt, other than pain, since Jenny died. Sure I felt anger toward god or whatever, but nothing like this.

Burt is saying something, but I don’t hear him. I’m already moving, something has taken over me. Burt is trailing behind me, saying things that I can’t hear. A loud, deep, and all too terrifying voice is yelling my wife’s name. If I hadn’t known better I would say it was the devil himself calling to her, but it’s me.

She jumps up, pushing the man away. He looks over to me, confused. My wife looks terrified, this is the first emotion other than pain and resentment I’ve seen from her since Jenny died. Her mouth is opening and closing, trying say something, but her vocal cords aren’t working properly.

“What is this?!” I yell.

“Jim…I…” She stutters.

“Is this where you’ve been going? While I am fucking crippled from the loss of my niece, you’re blowing some guy across town?!”

“Because I’m not feeling any pain from losing Jenny?!” She says, suddenly defensive, but still with a tremor of fear.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” I’m screaming now, I can barely form words.

“Now…just calm down.” The man says from behind me.

I turn to him with wild eyes.

“What?” I ask, trying to sound calm, but failing miserably.

“Just…”

Before he can say anything else something has happened to him. He’s on the ground and there’s a splash of blood next to his head. My hand hurts like hell because I’m beating the shit out of him. My wife is screaming in fear, Burt is trying to get me off of this man my wife has been cheating on me with. A glimmering white light on the sidewalk shows me that I’ve knocked out one of the man’s teeth.

Burt then pulls me off and starts dragging me down the street. My wife’s face is a mixture of shock, fear, and fury. She kneels down to help the man and I want to kill her for it. My heart is lying on the sidewalk, covered in that man’s blood. “You’re dead! You’re dead!” I yell over and over and over. I have the rage to kill them both with my bare hands, but I know I could never do it. I love my wife too much, I will always love her too much.

We are around the corner again, back the way we came. With a small struggle, I get out of Burt’s grasp. He lets me go though, because I’m trying to walk back to my car. Burt is trying to talk to me, but I’m still not hearing him. Hot tears of anger and pain have already dried on my face.

Suddenly, there is an old, long fingered hand. The old, blind woman is now sitting in a chair outside her granddaughter’s shop. I’m not sure why, but this woman’s outstretched hand stops me dead in my tracks. She turns her face up toward me as if her blind eyes can see me. Long, ivory white hair blows in a light wind like sheets drying on a line.

Her lined, wrinkled face looks up at me with patience. Her voice is soft, slow, and smooth, hinting at a wisdom and knowledge I could never know.

“I can do it.” She says to me.

“What?” I ask, still out of breath.

“What you cannot do, I will do for you.”

“I don’t…” But I did know what she was talking about.

“When you see her again…” She started.

“Look, lady, I’m not a believer.” I say, trying to be as respectful as I can in my broken state.

“No, sir.” She says firmly, taking my hand.

All I want to do is get out of here, but she takes my hand in both of hers. The contact makes me jump a little as if an electric shock was passing through me. The woman's hands look frail, but they feel strong as iron. Her thumbs press into my hand, into the blood left there from the other man. For one, swift moment all of my rage is put on pause. I almost feel like I'm frozen.

The woman is quiet for a moment, but continues, “I will help you.” She lets my hand go then as if it were too hot to touch. Burt pulls my arm, more human contact that unnerves me even further. I’m spiraling. “Come on.” He says to me.

Back at the bar parking lot, Burt is trying to get me to calm down. I won’t listen to reason, I won’t listen to anything. Everything is spiraling out of control, everything is gone. Nothing matters anymore. That vile bitch thinks she can get away with pulling shit like this. I can’t even believe it.

“I have to leave, I have to go.” I'm shaking like crazy. With fumbling hands I take my car keys out of my pocket. Burt is trying to stop me, but there’s nothing he can do now. Where am I going? I have no idea. Away, I am just going away. Before I realize what I’m doing, I’m driving out of town. That town is filled with death, that’s all it holds for me.

My speed is climbing as I pull onto the forest lined road that leads out of town. My grip on the steering wheel is so tight that I wouldn’t be surprised if my knuckles tore through the skin. So many things are running through my mind, I can’t think straight. Focus, I tell myself, focus on the road.

The road turns, straightens, turns, and straightens again. Just as I’m wondering again where it is that I’m going, something darts across the road a few feet in front of me. I slam the breaks so hard, I’m almost sure I'd fly through the windshield were it not for the seatbelt I somehow managed to put on in my rush. The car comes to a complete stop. My heart has spiked up into my throat, but not because of the near collision. “Not something, someone.” I say to myself.

Someone has crossed the road, a child. A little girl with arms out wide like an airplane. “No, no, no, no, no.” I stammer. For what seems like ten minutes, I fumble with the seatbelt, but only a few seconds have passed. The road scrapes my hands as I tumble out of the car.

I get up, but I stumble as I move to the side of the road where she had been headed. There was no collision, I hadn’t hit her. And out of nowhere…there she is. She is sitting on the side of the road, smiling at me. Tears of joy stream down my face as I smile at this impossible miracle. She gives a small giggle as I sit down and take her into my arms.

Her dark hair is pulled back into pigtails how she always liked them to be. Those pink sneakers on her feet are still grass stained on the bottom from when she helped me mow the lawn. And that sparkle in her eye is still there too. Am I waking up from a long, drawn out nightmare?

I don't care. I don't care what's happening. She reaches out to me, wrapping her little arms around my neck. “Everything's okay, baby girl, everything's okay.” I whisper through happy tears. She sighs contentedly as she always did when she was about to fall asleep. “I know, Uncle Jim.” My heart seems to open with new life as I sit, cradling her in death.

***

Rain fell heavily onto the windshield of the police cruiser. Big, fat raindrops shining in the afternoon light. Officer Tyler Walker watched the streets as his partner, Officer Adam Bryant, drove to their destination. The streets were wet and shining with fresh rain. Kids jumped into puddles on the sidewalk as they drove past, sending splashes of water into the air.

Walker hated this part of the job, this part was always so damn hard. Bryant said it got easier, but Walker didn’t believe him. He could deal with drunk teenagers vomiting on his just-shined shoes and drug addicts shoplifting left and right, but this…this was something a lot more difficult to deal with. “My mom always told me when I was a kid, that when it rained while the sun was shining, that meant that the devil was beating his wife.” Bryant said as he turned the corner.

With an expression of surprise, Walker turned to look at Bryant. “Are you serious?” He asked with a kind of laugh. Bryant glanced at Walker, then back to the road.

“Yeah, why?” Bryant asked.

“Why would you ever tell that to a kid?” Walker laughed.

“What? Your parents never told you fucked up shit?” Bryant asked with a smile.

“Not that Satan went to town beating his woman when it was raining while the sun was out.”

“It’s an old wives tale, give my mom a break.” Bryant laughed.

“Whatever, partner.” Walker shook his head.

“So, you wanna tell her or should I?” Bryant asked after a moment.

Walker sighed.

“I know man, I don’t want to do it either, but we have to.”

“That’s the job.” Walker said, repeating the words of his Sergeant.

“That’s right, that’s the job. So, who’s it gonna be?”

“Flip a coin?” Walker offered.

“Yeah, just do it quick before we get to the house.”

Walker reached into his pants pocket, fishing around for a coin. He pulled out a nickel, shiny and new. “Call it.” Walker said as he placed the nickel on his thumb and index finger. With a quick flick, the coin jumped into the air. The metal shined in the sun, flipping over and over. “Tails.” Bryant said.

The coin landed heavy in Walker’s hand. He flipped it over onto the back of his other hand. The back of the coin looked up at him dismally. “God damn it.” Walker muttered. Bryant chuckled at his win. In his mind, Walker went over just how he was going to do this. There was a wrong way to do it, but there wasn’t exactly a right way to do it either.

Walker took a deep breath as Bryant pulled the cruiser into an open spot in front of the house. “Ready?” Bryant asked as he turned the car off. Walker looked up at the house. “Nope, but let’s go.” He said. The two officers walked up the front steps, filled with tension. Walker was not ready for this, but you never can be ready to tell someone that their spouse was found dead.

How do you tell a woman that? How do you tell her that her husband is dead? How do you explain to her that early that morning, a local farmer was coming into town and found her husband’s car sitting in the middle of the road? How was he supposed to tell her what they found?

The memory flashed in Walker's mind. The passenger side door was left wide open, but there was no one inside. When Walker and Bryant arrived at the scene, the farmer showed them where he had found Jim Patterson on the side of the road.

As the farmer tells it, Jim looked peaceful. At first, the farmer thought that Jim had had too much to drink. He thought that Jim had pulled over in a drunken panic and laid down in the fresh air to sober up. After laying there for so long, the farmer thought, Jim had fallen asleep. When the farmer went to wake Jim up, he realized something was very wrong.

Jim was clinging to something. Something small was cuddled in his arms. Jim’s body was huddled around it, cuddling it like a teddy bear. When the farmer got a closer look, he realized that it was a dead dog. Someone must have hit the poor thing while driving, maybe Jim himself. But now, Jim was cradling this dead dog like a child.

Old blood stained the animal’s brown fur. It smelled horrible. The stench of wet dog on top of the smell of rotting flesh would be forever stuck in his memory. At this horrible sight, the farmer reached down and tried to shake Jim awake. Jim was stiff though, he barely moved despite the farmer’s insistence. When the farmer realized that Jim was dead, he called the police right away.

When Walker and Bryant arrived on scene, they weren’t sure what to make of it. A man, stone cold dead on the side of the road, hugging a dead dog. It was a horrible sight to see, but somehow, there was still a warm smile on Jim’s face. A smile frozen in time, preserved in death. As it turns out, Jim died of a severe panic attack. Everyone found this ironic, because Jim had died with a smile on his face.

Now, Officer Walker stood on Jim’s front porch. Walker would have to tell Jim’s wife that her husband was never coming home, that he had died on the side of the road, cold and alone. It was sad, Walker thought, but Jim didn't look sad, no, he looked as if he were right where he wanted to be.