#[ INFECTED FILE: MUSINGS ]

[acowardinmordor]

My brain won't shut up about this, so maybe if I write it my brain will let me finish working and get this massive work project off my plate.

Warning for Accidental Drunken Pregnancy

Fandom loves, correctly, the idea of Girl!Steve Harrington, either as an 'always a' or trans, we're a fan. And that's good. No arguments from me there.

But I was thinking about Always a Girl Eddie. And the impact that would have. Because see, Eddie is already Wrong in a lot of ways. She's poor, she's loud, she's a freak, she sells drugs, and starts shit with bullies. She's too much in every way, and she refuses to be a girl properly. Has ever since she was old enough to express an opinion.

She didn't want to play with dolls or play house. She wanted to run through the park chasing dragons. When her parents fought, she wanted to run away and get found by the Addams family where no one would be mad at her for liking black and reading about blood and fights and monsters.

By the time she's in high school, everyone's decided she's a lesbian. She isn't. She thinks she isn't, but she doesn't get a chance to try or test or find out before the whole damn town has made it Known. Eddie doesn't wear skirts, and she doesn't style her hair, and she doesn't listen when the counselor sits her down to talk about her behavior and how she needs to try to be a bit more like other girls if she wants to get married one day. That's her junior year, which is when she snaps and, true or not, goes on a rant about being a carpet munching butch who never wants to have a husband.

Her friends don't care. They've talked to her and agree its all bullshit. Her only regret about it is that her outburst becomes fodder for the kind of bias that makes her fail two classes her senior year. It makes her fail four her second time around. PE is one of them. The teacher won't let her participate if she isn't 'dressed appropriately' which suddenly requires that all the girls have their legs shaved. Surprise surprise, Eddie is the only one that has an impact on. Wayne gets into a shouting match over it, and he wins, but not in time for Eddie to pass.

And every time someone pushes her to be more ladylike, Eddie doubles down on being a freak because she's a lot of things, but she's not a quitter. The one good she knows she manages is that barely any other girls in Hawkins get bullied all that much. Eddie pulls too much attention, and Eddie is so far off the end of the scale, it makes the minor mistakes easy to ignore.

All her friends are guys because the girls of Hawkins are scared of the witch/lesbian/succubus/whatever bs they came up with this week. There are some girls who Eddie thinks want to come talk to her, thinks she'd be friends with if she could, but any girl willingly hanging around the Freak is going to get painted with the same brush.

She showed up to every single class in her third go around, daring her teachers to fail her again when she was getting perfect scores on anything with a straight answer, and doing so well on the subjective stuff they were giving her passing grades. She had a new flock of sheep who didn't care about the rumors because she ran Hellfire for them.

After Spring Break, after they accuse her of seducing and murdering Chrissy, after Eddie walks into Mordor and is dragged out the other side. After Eddie gives everything she has for a town that hates her, the school gives her the diploma. Maybe its just because they're terrified that she'll come back for a fourth try if they don't, but she has the damn thing.

Or maybe they don't want the new freshmen to start crying when they see her scars.

After the hospital lets them all leave, and after El and Will do whatever it is they do and promise it's over for real this time, Robin, Eddie, and Harrington sit around and watch crap movies and talk. It's still June when Robin comes out to her, and Eddie has to awkwardly explain that she isn't. Supportive, in favor of it, but not sure if she's like Robin.

"But everyone heard about what you said to--"

"Yeah, she was telling me I should start curling my hair and wearing makeup so I could find a husband."

"She did not."

"Yeah. I kinda snapped."

A few minutes tearing apart that kind of thinking later, and Steve asks, "So you like dudes?"

Eddie shrugs, because she's never tested that either. A bit of leftover enmity from when he was the King and she was the Freak keeps her from admitting she's a virgin. Instead she gestures to her face and neck, the part of her chest visible around her tank top.

"Don't think that's going to matter, Stevie, not now that I look like the Wicked Witch midway through melting."

There's nothing either of them can say about that. Between her status as a murder suspect, the infection from Upside Down dirt, and how efficient the demo bat fuckers were, her scars are ugly. Not the sort of thing she's read in books that a hero learns to take pride in. Just a mess. Her smile is jacked up on the left, and while she does have both of her nipples, the one boob is significantly smaller, and lumpier than the other now.

But they're friends, and its nice. Robin didn't find a fellow lesbian, but Eddie can understand the way she feels, and they bond over it. Where Robin goes, so goes Steve, so intentional or not, Eddie and Steve get close. Help each other with scar cream type close. It would be weird if there was any universe in which Steve would ever be interested in her. Instead they're good friends, and co-conspirators against the gremlins.

Robin is starting college in the spring semester in Chicago. Steve is going with her. Obviously. Eddie hasn't agreed to anything, but she's considering it.

They have one last party at Harrington's place. The kids leave around seven. The Hellfire guys leave around nine. By eleven, all three of them are plastered, and Robin is lamenting that she's leaving Hawkins and still hasn't kissed a girl. Eddie rolls her eyes and smacks one on her. Get it over and done with, right?

After an hour of Robin flustered and babbling about 'yes, yes, yeah, I do like girls! Kissing! Kissing girls is great! Steve! Steve-o! Did you know kissing girls is great?" she passes out on the couch.

Steve and Eddie, just sober enough to know that they're all going to be hungover in the morning, close blinds and lock doors. They leave water and asprin by Robin, then chug down a glass each.

"So, did it help you figure it out? Kissing my Soulmate with a capital P? Did you figure out if you like kissing girls more than guys?"

Eddie giggles instead of answering.

"I know Rob's not kissed anyone, but if you liked kissing her you probably could tell, right? So if you liked kissing her as much as you like kissing guys, or if its not like kissing guys, then you know!"

Steve's not a dumb as the kids joke. When Eddie doesn't answer, he puts it together. "Oh. Oh shit. Eds. You and Robin were each others' first kisses? Thats so -- you didn't have to do that! And now you don't know if you like kissing girls or guys or both or neither or -- Oh!"

Eddie watches Steve come to his decision and turn, and she decides to let it happen. Steve is the only guy her age who doesn't wince looking at her face. This is probably the only chance she's got until she's old enough her skin gets all wrinkly and no one can see the scars are there anymore.

It's better than kissing Robin. There's a lot of reasons why that might be true, but none of them matter, because after that first one. After a few seconds pause. After she leans a little closer like she's asking, they don't stop.

She wakes up naked and sore, with a blinding headache and the tight-skin pain that comes from forgetting the scar cream.

Awkward doesn't cover it when they look at each other in bed. When Robin trips on her way to make coffee, it gives them an excuse not to talk about it. It's bad enough that Eddie keeps thinking about it, and excavating the fragments of memory she's got. Probably the only chance she's going to get, and she remembers barely half. She does remember liking it, and Steve liking it, and neither of them being weird about the scars because they've been helping each other with them for months now.

Once they're sober enough for it, they talk, both of them apologizing, but not really. Neither of them regret it, even if it wasn't their best idea, and Eddie starts quoting Robin's rant about antiquated concepts of virginity when Steve tries to apologize for that. It's definitely weird, but they're not going to freak out about it.

By Wednesday, when Steve and Rob are loading up the beemer to drive north before the holidays, so they could get a place with a rental discount, everyone turns out to say bye. Eddie winks at Robin again, because it still makes her blush, and it still makes Eddie and Steve laugh when she does. She gives Steve a hug, and a promise to make a decision soon about moving up with them.

Six weeks of scheduled phone calls with them, and uncomfortable talks with Wayne, Eddie has finally, finally decided to go for it. She'll still be a freak, but according to Steve, no one in the city will bother her about it unless she asks them to. He's working at a diner, and swears the bookstore across the street will totally hire Eddie if she applies. Robin loves her classes, and her part time hours at the library on campus.

It's while Eddie is looking around and opening drawers, trying to plan how to move with more detail than 'throw stuff in the van' that she notices. There's a box of pads, mostly empty, in the corner of the bathroom cabinet. It's been mostly empty since November. And yeah, her period has never been predictable, and this isn't the longest its gone, and Eddie has never cared since she wears black all the time -- but. This time she had sex.

The odds are tiny, and the image of it is ridiculous. Eddie isn't any kind of a mom. Harrington is more a mom than she is. Anyway, all that shit in sex ed about it only takes once is crap. And she remembers Steve getting out the box of condoms. She doesn't remember anything between that and getting fucked, but she definitely remembers how concerned he was about opening the foil. So there's no way. No chance. Absolutely none.

The test comes back positive, and the nurse at the planed parenthood in Indianapolis asks if she wants to hear about her options.

It's pretty easy to choose as it turns out. Easier than quitting smoking cold turkey is for sure. Hell of a lot easier than telling Wayne. It's not something she ever wanted, ever thought about or considered, but Eddie knows this is the only chance she's got. Well. Sperm donors maybe, not that she'll ever have the money for it, unless she paid a guy to keep coming around until she got knocked up.

At first, she keeps it quiet because the nurse told her about the potential problems, especially with how much Eddie drank and smoked. It's not certain, so she stays quiet. Stalls the topic of moving up. She waits an entire day for the doctor to slip her in between appointments to get an ultrasound and check. Everything looks good. Healthy. and Eddie gets on their weekly scheduled call, hears Robin and Steve laughing as they tell stories, and Eddie breaks it to them.

"What do you mean? You said you were going to move up here. I thought you said you -- Eds, what the hell? You're going to leave me alone to watch Robin's attempts at flirting? You - I thought you promised."

"Excuse you, Dingus, she needs to come up so we can watch your attempts at flirting. I'm great."

"Fun as that sounds, me and Wayne are getting out of Hawkins. Wayne has some family in West Virginia, and I can't leave him at the mercy of all those spinsters. I'll still have a phone, you know."

They move before she's showing, and Wayne never asks, and Eddie never tells, but her uncle knows who it has to be. They land in Summersville, which is a damn lie since its a blizzard when they arrive. It isn't hard to use moving as an excuse to cancel a few phone calls. Then uses a boss moving her hours working at motel as an excuse when hormones means she knows she'll start sobbing if she gets picks up the phone.

Steve gets accepted to a community college. Robin aces her exams. Eddie finds out she's having a girl. She wouldn't have spent the money to find out since it wouldn't change anything, but the planned parenthood was still worried because of the alcohol at the start.

Wayne brings it up. Eddie considers it.

Steve gets a girlfriend. Eddie stalls.

Robin calls solo because Steve is on a one month anniversary date.

Eddie abandons the idea.

She never makes a choice to hide it from anybody. It's always one moment at a time, needing to get through one more thing, one more problem, one more checkpoint, then she could say it. By the end of July it's been too long, and it would be too weird. They didn't have some great tragic romance. They were good friends who got drunk one night. And Eddie is just living up to the warnings all the guidance counselors scribbled down about her.

She's never going to be anything special. She's not going to go chase her dreams and become the Joan Jett of metal music. She's coming up on eight months pregnant, can't hide it or pretend its something it isn't. She's still loud and obnoxious. She still wears all black and chained pants and refuses to style her hair in anything more complex than a ponytail. She's still mauled by monsters and scarred.

She's never going to be marriage material, and never wanted to be anyway. She can be a good mom though. Not a normal mom. Or a traditional one. She's probably going to end up punching someone at a pta meeting. But she can be a good mom for her daughter, whoever her daughter wants to be as she grows. And if that means she has to learn about ballet and glitter and my little pony, then she will.

Steve and Robin ask about a visit before their classes start since they'll have to do calls every other week now. They offer to drive to West Virginia, or buy Eddie a bus ticket. Eddie manages to dodge that bullet.

She dodges another when she starts contractions while on the phone with them, and plays it off like she has heartburn. She cries when she holds her daughter thirty hours later, smiling broad enough that the scars on her face hurt nearly as bad as the rest of her.

She gets good at sewing together a patchwork lie. Gets Wayne to take Lulu out for a walk during calls. Swallows the guilt when Steve talks about his girlfriend, Amy, who wants to have kids. Stares down the pediatrician who raises an eyebrow at her daughter's name.

It's awful. It's wonderful. It hurts more to do it alone than Eddie could have imagined, but she still can't bring herself to say it. Not because she thinks Steve would hate her for it . He wouldn't. One look at Stephanie Luthien Munson -- Lulu -- and Steve would know. And Steve would stay. And Steve would give up his classes and his girlfriend and his hope for his perfect family. Eddie has always known she's not what anyone is looking for.

So Eddie gets good at dodging questions, and explaining away noises in the background, and finding very reasonable excuses not to come out to visit. Very good at it.

She makes it to June of 1989, when her best friends decide it's been too long, and show up for a surprise visit.

Eddie was right though. It only takes a glance at the toddler on Eddie's hip as she opens the door for both of them to know.

[infectati]

Hit the like button to plot with Ethan Winters

[angel-of-the-moons]

Ballet dancer reader x khonshu who tries to be his mysterious scary self and the reader just WHIPS her leg up to uppercut his head and crack his skull. Khonshu grabs her leg at the last second and he’s VERY surprised as she looks him DEAD in the eye, “I will FUCK you up. My ballet teacher has been a Russian matriarch since I was 5. You can’t scare me, bitch”. And khonshu’s just “Well mark me down as nervous AND horny!!”

I fucking cackled at this it's so fucking gorgeous

I changed it up a bit for comedic effect but asfghhkkll

Old Birds and New Tricks

Khonshu x Fem!Dancer!Reader

TW/CW: Attempted mugging, reader is a badass, Khonshu pops a boner for the first time in like ever, but nothing explicit happens :)

A/N: I figured you'd get a kick outta this one @drinkingwithkhonshu @juneknight because I'm on the floor with it lmao

🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑

You were walking home after a long practice session, your toes and legs ached from straining to stay on your tippy toes for so long, your arms cried for relief from the strain of holding the bar, performing so many sweeps and graceful flares alongside your troupe and mentor.

Your mentor, Katja Ivanov was a good teacher and a harsh mentor. She was a hulk of a woman, roped with muscles built over her long period of performing dance (you yourself thought she must have been in prison at some point, too but when you shot the question as a joke she merely laughed; but didn't deny it).

Katja was a woman who took no shit from rude people, and she instilled that in all of you, her dancers, her "baby birds" she called you. She made sure that all of you knew that just because you were dancers, people couldn't take you for granted.

So, after "official" dance practice had ended... Katja taught all of you how to use your strength and flexibility to defend yourselves as well as perform graceful maneuvers.

And it came in handy. Really, really handy.

London was dangerous after dark, the empty streets crawling with bad things in the shadows, like an infection beneath the skin.

That was how you found yourself in an alley, a large drunk man between you and freedom.

You were no quitter, no coward, and instantly, like a computer scanning a file, your brain recollected each one of Katja's lessons and put them into action.

Your body flushed with fresh adrenaline, your heart hammering within the confines of your chest as you whipped around on one foot, your other flying out to kick your assailant in his gut, knocking him back and making him dry heave with the strain.

"I told you, asshole." You hissed, bringing your fists up to guard your face.

"All I got in my bag is my gear. Now piss off before I break your jaw."

"Fuckin'... bitch." The man wheezed as he stumbled out of the alleyway, leaving you behind and feeling the high of victory.

You pick up your bag where you dropped it and slipped the strap back over your chest, the band squishing a bit between your breasts as you tightened it.

"Amusing." A deep, raspy voice mused.

You whipped around, trying in vain to locate the source of the voice. It came from nowhere, but at the same time... it came from everywhere.

"I was merely passing through when I thought to aid you, human." It spoke again, your very bones trembling as the voice bored into your very brain.

"But you seem to have been able to handle that threat on your own."

You pressed your ears hard beneath your hands, gritting your teeth at the invasive feeling the voice left as it crawled in and out of you.

"God! Just--get out of my head!" You say through your gnashed teeth.

You hear an exasperated sigh, and you feel the air shift around you as you lift your gaze, your eyes trailing the body of someone who just appeared in front of you.

He looked like a cliché monster from one of The Mummy movies, draped in linen and flowy robes and everything. The freakin' bird skull completed the freaky visage.

"The hell--" You sputter, dropping your hands from around your ears, taking a step back from the... the thing in front of you.

"Seeing you handle an opponent so large was amusing." He--and you were most certain that he was a he--chuckled grimly. "A tiny little waif like you."

Okay, you didn't care how big and imposing this otherworldly bastard was, the fact he was jabbing at your stature and visual "weaknesses" irked you. You could swear you heard Katja's voice from over your shoulder.

"Kick his ass, да, маленький?" She would jeer.

"You... think I'm... small?" You say slowly, your eyes narrowing to a dangerous glint as he leans in, the smell of the spices clinging to his body wafting into your nose, heat radiating from his lithe body as he bent to your level.

You were giving him a chance to walk it back, maybe apologize for being a judgmental prick, so you wouldn't have to prove once again that you were just the opposite.

He did not.

"You are not as weak as you appear... Little one." He huffed, his head moving in a slight jerking motion, indicating his amusement.

Yeah, no. You had enough of big assholes thinking you were easy pickin's tonight.

You smiled sweetly up at him, your expression completely devoid of any innocence behind the mask of charm. You could see his shoulders drop and head tilt in confusion, but he was given not another moment longer to ponder why you would be smiling.

He expected you to retort, to snap, to--his thoughts were immediately cut off, as you moved in a blur.

Because you effortlessly raised your leg with lightning speed brought on by years of practice, and curled your foot in the classic ballerina's stance and kicked him in his stupid ass beak.

When your shoe made contact, you swore you heard the dry bones crunch as he stumbled back, almost falling flat on his ass before he caught himself with his staff, a grunt coming away from him.

Your hands gripped your bag strap as you looked down at him indignantly, a sense of smug superiority washing over you.

"Not as weak as you thought, now, huh?" You huffed victoriously, before turning on your heels and storming out of the alley.

Khonshu, the god of the Moon, dispenser of Justice and protector of those in the night...

...was just kicked in the face by a tiny woman.

And she actually did manage to crack his bones. They healed almost instantly, of course, thanks to his divinity.

But what didn't heal was his pride as he kneeled in the dirty alley, leaning on his staff for support as he watched you leave.

The look in your eyes, the power behind your legs... It was like the sun came up early and rose with your kick, to wash out the cool light of his moon with the harsh burning rays of daylight.

And it left him stunned. Stunned in a way no mortal has ever been able to.

And, frankly, he found his body responding in... other ways, too. Ways he hadn't indulged in what felt like... eons.

He was a god, yes, but divinity doesn't automatically grant piousness; and he found himself imagining you using your legs in a different way.

Had Khonshu a human mouth, he would be smiling.

He needed to see you again.

🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑

да (pronounced da) = Yes

маленький (pronounced malen'kiy) = Little One

(Forgive me if it's butchered, I used Google translate for it asdfghjkl)

[olivia-anderson-fanfic]

Dancing 'til the break of dawn - Pt1

(TWST zombie apocalypse au for all your crack-fic needs)

Yuu would like to make one thing very clear: he did not start the zombie apocalypse on purpose.

In fact, he would like to argue that it – probably – would have started even without his help! Yeah, so he might have accidentally fed and housed a zombie cat because he had mistaken it for a very unfortunate stray on its last legs, and the zombie cat had bitten his parents, turning them into zombies, which kickstarted the apocalypse… but how did that zombie cat come to be? Hm? Hm?

The apocalypse was inevitable! He swears!

But, uh… he would admit that maybe taking in Grim was not the brightest decision he had ever made.

Or maybe it was an amazing plan. He hadn’t yet been attacked by a zombie. He was pretty sure that the zombies were a hivemind of sorts, and since he was nice to Grim they were all cool with him… or something. Maybe he was just uniquely disgusting to the point where no one wanted to eat him. Which was a weirdly insulting thought to have, so he preferred to believe that Grim was doing him a heck of a solid.

Which had its own problems. Had he accidentally sacrificed the entire human race for the sake of saving his own skin? Because that would be, at least, the tiniest, littlest bit messed up, he thought.

He rubbed his weird zombie cat’s head. Grim was a strange looking thing, with green skin and a face that was visibly on the verge of rotting. However, Grim was still a cat, Yuu was pretty sure, and therefore he deserved all of the love. He opened his arms, smiling when Grim readily hopped into them for the sake of pets. The texture was close to that of a hairless cat, save for a tiny patch of moss on the end of its tail, which looked soft, but Yuu had no intentions of touching it. Not right now, at least. Maybe if this zombie apocalypse survival stuff got too hard he would give in to temptation despite the very high likelihood that it could end in him getting infected.

Maybe tomorrow would be the day, he mused absently. After all, he was running low on supplies. He’d need to leave the safety of this random apartment and find a convenience store or something of that nature sometime soon, otherwise he’d starve to death.

But he didn’t wanna. Do you know how hard it is to find a store that hasn’t already been ransacked? Would you want to have to evade groups of humans who had taken to cannibalism way too quickly? Do you think it’s easy to explain to people that, actually, the zombie cat isn’t parasitic and lying in wait until it can kill you? How good would you be at ignoring the screams of people being eaten by zombies? Like, really, his life was so awful. You would think it was karma or something! He would like to reiterate that he does not deserve this! The zombie apocalypse was not his fault!

He groaned and flopped down in bed with Grim, burying his face in a pillow. It smelled off, slightly dingy, but he wasn’t going to complain. It wasn’t like the old owner had known they were going to have the most uninvited of guests. And he couldn’t file a complaint, anyways, because chances were they were dead already.

He huffed and pressed a kiss to the top of Grim's head.

"Make sure to get a good night's sleep, we have a big day ahead of us tomorrow," he mumbled. He wished he could say it was more to himself than anything, since he was aware that it was very weird to talk to a cat (a zombie version of a cat, no less), but... no. He was talking to Grim.

And Grim, to his credit, purred like he understood and settled down to sleep.

Yuu continued to stay awake for only a few moments more, his eyes remained trained on the ceiling as he pieced through his plan for the next day.

He ended up drifting off out of pure boredom before he had even finished planning his route.

It wouldn't matter anyways, though, surely tomorrow would be just another day.

~

Yuu sighed lightly as he trudged down the street. Zombies were avoiding him, as usual. He liked not being eaten, so this was nice.

The summer heat was not nice, though. He glowered at the orange skies above him as if he could will the sun to leave him alone already. It did not listen to him, which was disappointing, but he would live.

Probably. Hopefully.

He’d have an easier time living if Grim didn’t insist on being carried everywhere like the diva he was, because Yuu had seen him walk a few times, the lying prick, but fine. Whatever. It wasn’t like the ability to use his hands was necessary during an apocalyptic scenario or anything.

He was left to grumble incoherently as he continued on his search for a store that was still stocked enough to bother breaking into.

He found one… far sooner than he’d thought he would.

Suspiciously fast, actually.

He looked at Grim.

“What do you think, buddy?”

Grim blinked his one eye at him lazily.

This was practically a glowing endorsement! No zombies inside!

He deserves this, really.

He looked around for something to break the glass. It wasn’t difficult. He set down Grim despite the cat’s whining so he could pick up an abandoned brick. There was a dark red stain on the corner of it.

Ewwwwwwww. It was sticky.

He threw the brick at the glass door to the convenience store with probably a little bit more force than was entirely necessary. But, in his defense, it was gross to touch.

It wasn’t even worth it in the end! Because, the second he stepped towards the door, winding the cloth of his shirt around his hand so he could widen the hole enough for him to step through without injuring himself, the automatic glass doors slid open.

Yuu blushed. “Good thing no one saw that, right?” he said to Grim.

Grim, who he was beginning to suspect might actually know what he was saying, gave him what one could only describe as a raised eyebrow. Considering the cat only had half a face, making this expression was actually quite the feat. Yuu wasn’t sure how he felt about the effort the zombie put into making sure that he could accurately interpret how unimpressed he was.

He sighed, picked up the zombie again, and stepped inside.

The place looked like… well, just about any place in the apocalypse. Blood stained just about everything, rendering the food labels largely unreadable. The emergency lights still worked, but only barely, flickering more than the lights in a B-list horror movie. What had almost definitely once been a person was slumped in a corner, though it was almost unidentifiable now, its clothes missing and its guts torn out.

Yuu set down Grim so the zombie could go and have a snack.

Grim didn’t leave his side, instead he stayed close to his heels.

This, really, should have tipped him off that something was wrong. Grim never turned down the opportunity to eat.

Yuu, though, was too busy rubbing his thumb on a canned food label, trying to figure out what aisle he was currently in, to notice.

No, it wasn’t until Grim started growling lowly that he looked up.

A boy with a shock of messy red hair and clothes that were painted with way too much blood for it to only have been his own had been trying to sneak up on him. He had a knife out, and Yuu didn’t think that there was anything that needed cutting anywhere nearby.

Yuu shrieked and threw the can of beans at him. The redhead stumbled backwards, cradling his head, mumbling curses under his breath.

And then his expression twisted into a scowl. His grip tightened on his knife.

He took a step forward.

Grim hissed, baring fangs.

The redhead only spared a halfhearted glance down at the cat before turning his attention back to Yuu, who was scrambling for another can to throw.

And then the redhead did a double take.

He screamed and backed up a few steps, only barely stopping himself from dropping his knife in his surprise. “WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOUR CAT?!”

Yuu hesitated for just a moment too long. “Uhhhhh nothing is wrong with him.”

“THEY'RE GREEN?!”

“And you’re white but I wasn’t going to say anything about that,” Yuu sniffed, crossing his arms over his chest.

The boy spluttered. “First of all. I’m Japanese. Everyone here is Japanese. We’re in fucking Japan. Second. Of. All. Humans can be white! Cats can’t be green!”

“Explain Grim then,” Yuu argued.

There was no response. The boy was too stunned to speak. Because he had realized that Yuu’s logic checked out perfectly, no doubt.

Slowly, the redhead ran a hand through his hair. He pulled on a few strands, hard, seemingly trying to make sure he wasn’t asleep, or in some weird fever dream, or that he hadn’t been bitten and was now going insane… he didn’t seem to be all that glad to realize that everything in front of him was actually very real.

He sunk a little in defeat, leaning against a nearby shelf and eyeing Yuu warily, but at least he was no longer openly hostile. “What is wrong with you?” he asked, somewhere between exasperated and genuinely curious.

Yuu frowned. He was not sure he liked this line of conversation more than discussing Grim. Grim was green, after all! Out of the two, surely Grim should be getting all of the attention.

But he was pretty sure that saying that out loud might be considered ‘hypocrisy’, and despite the fact that this guy had definitely tried to kill him, he didn’t want to seem like a hypocrite in front of him!

Wait a second.

“I’m the weird one?! You were trying to kill me!”

Grim didn’t look particularly happy upon being reminded of this fact.

The boy didn’t seem happy that Grim wasn’t happy, because he immediately paled and rushed to say that, “No, I wasn’t!”

Yuu looked at the knife in his hand.

He cleared his throat and dropped it. He tried for an innocent smile, as if that would somehow make Yuu forget what he had literally just watched happen. “You know, I think we got off on the wrong foot.”

“Because you tried to stab me,” Yuu said flatly.

He stuck his hand out. “C’monnnn, what’s a little stabbing between new friends?”

Now, Yuu should absolutely not take that hand. Someone that had almost stabbed him once would almost certainly attempt another stabbing in the future.

But he had started talking to a cat, as of late. A zombie cat that you could argue (to much success) that he had made the much worse decision to befriend in the first place. And that had turned out fine. For him, at least.

So, he jumped at the opportunity for a new friend. He grabbed his hand in both of his own, shaking it with what was almost definitely way too much enthusiasm.

“I’m Yuu.”

“Ace…” the redhead said. He tried to pull his hand away, but Yuu was half convinced that he would turn tail and run if he did that, so he held strong. Ace looked mildly bewildered by the entire situation. He looked at the zombie cat at Yuu’s feet for a few moments. The cat did not seem all that pleased by this newfound friendship – the way he eyed the pair’s interlocked hands spoke volumes. “I don’t think that they like me.”

“He doesn’t like anyone,” Yuu said, shrugging.

Ace hesitated, briefly. His eyes flicked over Grim a few more times.

Realization sparkled in his eyes as he realized what, exactly, Grim was.

He looked at Yuu again, something appraising in his gaze. Something wary.

Without looking away from Yuu, he reached his free hand into his pocket. He pulled out a scrap of mystery meat and dropped it on the floor for Grim.

Grim sniffed it, once, before eating it.

Ace breathed a sigh of relief when the cat gave him what was unmistakably a nod of approval.

(And then visibly had a crisis over the fact that he was, apparently, looking to a cat for approval.)

~~~~~~~

Pt2>

[the-letterbox-archives]

file (0)0-53-000: writer questionnaire

thank you @the-golden-comet for the tag! this one's a writer questionnaire, super fun to do as well :)

how long have you had your writing tumblr/writeblr? a fast and loose estimate is fine!

coming up on two months now!

what led you to create it?

i wanted a place to share stories that i felt wouldn’t become novels, and i just wanted to share my stuff regardless.

what’s your favourite thing about the writeblr community?

how nice everyone is, and how fun the discussions are! i love talking about my characters/wips, and i love hearing about my mutuals wips as well! it’s just a great place to do everything writing-related!

what’s one thing you’d like your mutuals to know about you?

PLEASE talk to me i love being talked to, love sharing about my stories, and i’m a pretty good listener so it doesn’t have to be one-sided either. either way, love having those conversations!

is there anything you’d like to see more of on your dash?

admittedly i don’t browse my dash often, but what i do see is great! writing, positivity, some memes and fandom content, wouldn’t wish for anything different.

which wips or writing projects are you noodling about, lately?

i’ve actually been considering a brand new story to the archives, but from my released content i have to say sunny (school rules) is rotating in my mind right now, as well as the dumaresq kids (the dumaresq poems)! of course, all of my wips are always rattling around in my brain all the time.

how long have you been working on them?

all the stories have been released at stagnated times, i think the first was the prologue of tales from a dying heart and prologue of the rockdove promise, about 2 months ago, and the most recent is the dumaresq poems, the first edition (set of 5) released a couple days ago.

do you remember what inspired them/what got you started?

inspiration comes from anywhere for me, i just tend to get an idea, write it without thinking, then plan it from there. hindsight is 20/20, but it tends to go ignored for me haha

how much time, in your best estimation, do you spend thinking about them?

all the time. there is never a moment one story or another is not in my brain.

when someone asks the dreaded, “what do you write about,” question, what do you usually say?

that’s tough, because i don’t exactly stick to genres; but i guess i would say i write speculative fiction, with themes of family, purpose, and society, to put it very generally.

name any characters you created. side characters, protagonists, antagonists, characters who’ve never been written, the first original abomination you ever pulled from your ass; whomever you’d like!

i’m gonna stick to characters that have been featured/mentioned in the archives, to keep this list somewhat short;

(tales from a dying heart) lady, sweetheart, crow, winter, pyre, dancer, rook, vex, chalice, hunter, hornet, dove, maestro, muse, opal, aegis, mouse, seeker,

(the rockdove promise) laszlo kriska, danareth, yaromyr kriska, knox penderghast, ezune penderghast, andrei,

(insincere.) ven, sissy, sinon,

(on kingston alley) faye o’callahan, daphne kanelos, missy o’callahan, crayton “old man” bell, arthur blackwood, eleanor blackwood, beau blackwood, gwen blackwood,

(school rules) sunny finch, darcy spencer, johnnie rhodes, angel salvatore, viola alderman, sasha dmitriev, eloise dolores, katherine “kath” fairchild, marion lorraine, imogen parker-blanche,

(dulcinea is dead) sasha beatrix, dulcinea beatrix,

(the dumaresq poems) alistair dumaresq, willow dumaresq, eira dumaresq, austine dumaresq, theophania dumaresq.

who’s the most unhinged?

i think they all are, at least a bit.

… but the answer’s faye.

who comes the most naturally for you to write?

sunny. that evil creature has infected my brain. it doesn’t help we have a very similar sense of humour.

do you ever cringe at them?

i don’t think i cringe at any of them. sure, sometimes the events of the story or their actions upset/annoy/disappoint me, but that’s for the sake of the narrative, and i don’t find that cringe-worthy.

how much control do you feel you have over your characters? do they ever “write themselves,” refuse to cooperate, or do things you didn’t expect? to what degree? are some less cooperative than others?

it depends, i take parts of myself for each aspect of myself for characters, so when those parts of the given character shine through, it’s much easier to write, and much easier for them to ‘write themselves.’ however, my writing style usually feels like the characters writing themselves regardless. so yeah, stuff can get off the rails in that way, but i wouldn't call that disobedience or uncooperativeness on the character's part.

do you enjoy people asking questions about your characters? and do you have a preferred means of receiving said questions? for example, as asks, as replies, as reblogs, as tag notes, as comments on ao3, etc.

YES GIVE ME ANY QUESTION ANYWHERE THEY ARE MY LIFEBLOOD IT MAKES ME SO HAPPY (pardon my rabid dog mentality here, i am very passionate)

what makes you want to follow another writeblr account? do you follow ‘em as you see ‘em, or take time scoping out the blog to make sure you align with its content? do you follow based on wips, or vibes?

when the archives first opened, i followed anyone who liked any of my posts. nowadays, i’m a bit more stingy because sometimes being involved in such a big circle (120 mutuals strong now, i think) can be overwhelming. but generally, i check out blogs that have interacted with my posts or are often tagged in my mutuals stuff, and decide to follow based on that (factors within the blog are usually what wips they do, if they participate in tag games or chat about their characters/wips, and vibes). i also proudly follow-back anyone who follows me.

what makes you decide against following?

people who discriminate/are hateful to minorities/etc., certain political ideologies, and factors like that. i don’t want to judge, but i tend to get weary due to experiences with hate speech and other discriminatory things in my real life. and human rights aren’t up for negotiation, people don’t deserve hatred because of a fundamental part of them, like nationality / gender / sexuality / age / poverty / neurodiversity / etc. i’m a queer, neurodiverse(coded), youth, and that plus my general demeanour can attract the wrong crowd. luckily that hasn’t happened on writeblr.

do you interact with non-mutuals often?

not really, but that isn’t on purpose. i tend to get distracted with archival work, so i don’t check things i’m not tagged in or otherwise privy of, which really is a shame, i should interact with more of writeblr.

do your mutuals’ characters occupy space in your noodle?

yes, sammy. @ominous-feychild knows that bastard is too squishable for my psyche to handle.

tagging @introchasingstars, @honeybewrites, @paeliae-occasionally,

@noxxytocin, @moltenwrites, @tc-doherty, @the-ellia-west, @theverumproject,

@thecrazyalchemist, @laylathewordwitch, @dragonedged-if, @leitereads, @autism-purgatory,

@gioiaalbanoart, @drchenquill, @fenmere, @leahnardo-da-veggie, @melpomene-grey,

@yourpenpaldee, @corinneglass, @agirlandherquill, @willtheweaver, @nczaversnick,

@davycoquette, @glassfrogforest, @princeofhags, @wyked-ao3, @fantasy-things-and-such, + open tag!

[ask-pokerus-virus]

// hello! This is an ask blog about my story, Pokerus (Pokemon Virus); a pokepasta inspired from the famous story, Glitchy Red!

This blog will be run by two people. The original creator, @chaoscorners-blog and the co-director, @pearlsongfromstuff . This will be a look into finding out the goings on in this modded pokemon game, from a mysterious company, strange entertainment.

(The art will be made by both @chaoscorners-blog , and @pearlsongfromstuff respectively!)

CONTENT WARNING

•Gore (major and minor, this will be gaurenteed when digging through the "files")

• Disturbing imagery, themes, and content

•Animal (pokemon) /child harm and death. I'm sorry, but I want to be sure there is no confusion on what to expect

• physical, mental, and psychological abuse

•psychological horror

• eyestrain

• emotional manipulation

• body horror

• derealization

RULES FOR INTERACTIONS AND ASKS

Be ready to be chill with a lot of things really quick.

This blog is strictly 16-17+ due to its nature and adult content, there will be implied scenes, but nothing will be shown explicitly. This is a warning for all those younger in case there are those uncomfortable with it.

In case we ever get the PRIVILEGE to interact with other muses and vlogs, PLEASE let us know how far we can go, what your limits are to what our characters can do to your muses!

Fair warning:

How Vi acts around each person is drastically different on how much you entertain him. He can range from being friendly and charming, to downright cruel and sadistic. He is capable of flirting, but not of loving. He is able to infect other devices, and interact with reality if his console is connected to the internet. He is not able to leave his game, but others are allowed in. Vi is able to jump between blogs and games if they are connected through a common internet connection, so have fun!

INFO ABOUT THE LORE AND CANON!

This is taken from the perspective of Virus (nicknamed Vi), who takes the place of Red in a modded pokemon game! You are the innocent bystander who just so happened to come across a strange little Tumblr blog that just appeared out of nowhere! Here Vi will interact with YOU, and learn more about the wonders of the outside world, all while you try to figure out more about the game Vi is from! There will be more characters that appear as the story grows more complex, and more is learned! Remember.... Not everyone you meet can be trusted...

//also, have a fun reference of the man you'll be talking to!

[mokagachas]

share with me your great wisdom of of snake gal and water gal for I have not played arknight is a bit

hm okay alright ( muses )

I’ll say right off the bat I’ve mentioned on this blog before that while I don’t dislike romantic ships by any means I find myself very rarely “shipping” characters by pure definition of the word I mostly just enjoy their dynamics and parallels and My Goodness ho’ol and mumu have that in droves with one another

The vast TLDR oversimplification of the two of them: Ho’olheyak and Muelsyse are the last/some of the last of each of their respective races, Ho’olheyak being the last of the K’uk’ulkan and Muelsyse of the elves. Both are long life species naturally, but Ho’olheyak has gone through a torturous ritual at a young age that all K’uk’ulkan go through where she is implanted with the memories of generations of K’uk’ulkan before her. The procedure cuts her life short, and while we don’t know exactly HOW short, its presumably not very long to go

Muelsyse and Ho’olheyak both go on quests to find out what remains of, or what happened to, their people. They both have rather different approaches to it, however, with Muelsyse holds out hope that she’ll find other elves still alive, going on a lone quest to hunt down what remains of them and ultimately discovering that yes, most have died out, partially due to their weakness to originium. Despite this, she herself stays in densely populated city areas and interacts with Infected people frequently, enjoying being a social person while also feeling agonizingly alone. Muelsyse is decidedly a Good Person.

On the flip side, Ho’olheyak almost agonizingly relies on using other people to get the information she wants, seeking less about the specificities of what happened to her race and moreso their purpose and affect. She infiltrates secret organizations, double and triple crosses whenever it suits her whim, and is an utterly self-serving person who has no qualms in committing atrocities to get what she wants- though this is not to be confused with commiting atrocities for the pure joy of it. She ultimately finds a “god” robot thing (long story) that more or less tells her that everything she’s been working for is more or less worthless and she doesn’t necessarily fall to despair, but she does become incredibly languid and passive, though she keeps her trade mark asshole-ish ness.

Muelsyse flat out says it in Ho’olheyak’s files: “We each have what the other lacks.” They’re characters that are Definitely built to be the inverse of each other despite having rather sparing direct interactions in events but being littered in each other’s files. It’s really interesting to me!

But while their long life parallels (or robbed lack thereof in Ho’ol’s case) and relationship with their ancestors are the most obvious connections to be drawn between them, what fascinates me the most is their social parallels and how their experiences have changed how they interact with the world.

Both of them feel incredibly alone in one way or another. For Muelsyse, this comes near to breaking her at times. Despite the people around her that she cares for, and who care for her, she has such a different life experience than everyone else that she feels a disconnect that cannot be bridged. Despite this, she does her best to form genuine connections with those around her, even if they fail to give her what she wants.

Ho’olheyak is alone and at least Thinks she doesn’t care about it. She doesn’t respect many people, if any at all. She shatters every possible connection she could have with a shrug, pursuing only what could benefit her and seeming impartial to what she does to have her way. She is alone yet clearly wants for more: why else would she be seeking for meaning in the K’uk’ulkan so desperately?

These are two people who have had such violently different lived, yet the closest either of them can get to finding someone who can even begin to comprehend the life they’ve led and the struggles they’ve faced is in the other person. They acknowledge to themselves that the other person share similarities, but have trouble crossing that final step due to how the other has acted is so contradictory to their personal motives.

They’re both drawn to and reject the other… I like it :)

[gaemms-chamois]

random unorganized darknights trio + paprika musings bc sometimes i'm hit with like a pang of Brief Worry that i'm completely misinterpreted blabla that usually doesn't last too long bc i then go back to my state of I'm Just Vibing but ig at some point i just gotta let it out publicly once and be done with it lol

this is messily written Please Understand this isn't meant to be a grand thought piece

fuuuck ok well this is like very specifically abt the w, ines & paprika part now

like don't get me wrong on this. i joke abt wines moms and stuff but i dont genuinely mean it in the way of wahh wow littol family for reals kinda deal?

less on wines 'adopting' paprika, moreso paprika imprinting on them like a duckling after she was saved by them. paprika adopted them lmao. i cannot possibly interpret either w or ines as Maternal in such a way.

it's moreso that i think it's nice that this little sarkaz merc became part of the story, a girl who all her life since she was infected at a young age, was presented with becoming a mercenary being basically the only option for her.

and then, as annoying as w can be, being shown that she does have different options.

i just think it's sweet that paprika, judging by her voicelines, clearly looks up to w and ines. which is just amplified by the fact that w and ines are notoriously not the most popular people on rhodes lol. and she calls w annoying but still keeps knitting stuff and wanting to gift food to her. like if she often seeks out w and ines to tell them how well she did on something, when they are on the ship, etc. that'd at least indicate that those two humor her.

ALSO IT'S UNOFFICIAL BUT SHOUTOUT TO THAT LITTLE CHUZENJI ART WITH PAPRIKA AND W, INES & TOTTER WEARING KNITTED HATS SO CUTE

OKAY WOO DARKNIGHTS MERCENARY TRIO AND STUFF

cool yeah obviously i fucking love them. i'm not very good at words though and i tend to keep my more elaborate thoughts to just discussions between friends who know how i tick djsfhdfs

just the other day i was smiling to myself during a walk bc holy shit all three are actually playable now and that's not just wishful thinking anymore. anyway chapter 13 also happened and more stuff with the trio happened and Cool Lots of things Happening and my brain is full

they're so found family to me, like in an utterly unconventional way. i mean c'mon with how they act sometimes like- ykno. but like have y'all seen the new furniture set and descriptions that came with hoederer's release it made me go insanse.

but i think especially in ines' case it just kinda highlights that best. considering ines' arts can figure people out (putting that in rather vague terms), it truly means something when someone with her capabilities and temperament has people she chooses to stick by and actually trust. even if she pretends she doesn't by verbally denying it.

like waugh Okay they have a lot to unpack and shit but with them being reunited (take that, W file that said W needs companionship but her friends aren't around anymore) and having a COMPARATIVELY more ""relaxed"" life than before (that one Hoederer file where he just has rather regular days on rhodes), it's just nice to imagine they can finally have something better and figure stuff out. as complicated as the three of them are.

with that said i think it's a given that i despise a nuclear family treatment of the three (aka mom ines, dad hoederer, daughter w).

for one with me being highly doubtful w was a kid/teen at the start of darknights (young? sure, but not that young), which just seems like such a...widespread belief that i really do not get? arknights always put a LOT of emphasis on when a character's story was about them being a kid, 0 of that with w. like something about her expression and big cloak just gave people some different impression, even though she literally keeps looking the same aside from a change of clothes. only instance of w being called a kid during that time i can think of is that one boiler worker in her files but that seems way more like any typical old guy calling anyone on the younger side a kid. hell, even hoederer was called young in darknights, like in a sarkaz's lifespan i can believe that.

and also...hoederer had somewhat of a mentor-like role for w, but if anyone tries to tell me ines ever acted maternal towards w i will chew through your walls. read through darknights memoir and actually pay attention to ines, both w AND ines were pettyass women and they made that so very clear. cannot fathom how anyone can see ines as having been motherly towards w

seriously just feels like a case of Well there is man and there is woman....and this other character so clearly these are mom, dad and kid.

that's not even me being biased towards w/ines, just how i objectively see it. hell, i even ENJOY ines/hoederer, but my enjoyment of it is limited bc for some reason ppl like to make it weird by shoving w in as some daughter. i promise it's completely possible to like ines/hoederer without trying to fit in w as a kid figure

anyways yeah like cool i like these characters I Guess. Look at them

[asc-rp]

New muse:

Name: Trace

Alias: The Digital Wraith, The Echo, Glitch of the Screen

Origin: Rumored urban legend, known to manifest digitally

Appearance: Faint, ghostly figure that appears in screen glitches, static, or shadowy silhouettes. Trace’s form varies slightly depending on the device—on a phone, she might appear as a shadowed figure with distorted features; on a larger screen, her figure might be clearer but flickers like a corrupted file. She often wears a knowing smile or sly smirk, adding to her flirtatious aura.

Abilities:

Screen and Device Teleportation: Trace can travel freely between any screen she’s previously appeared in, even revisiting screens months after her initial haunting.

Software Manipulation: Within devices, Trace can manipulate only the software. She often uses this to distort reality, sending cryptic messages, glitching images, or causing random “ghost” typing. Through software, she spreads her influence across devices, gradually embedding herself deeper.

Digital Infection: Anyone who mentions or thinks about her may unknowingly “summon” her to their device. Once infected, her presence can start to spread to others in their digital network.

Device-Specific Presence: Trace’s influence varies by device. On phones, she hijacks contacts, apps, and social media; on computers, she corrupts files, interferes with software, and plays unsettling sounds. On TVs, she may interrupt broadcasts, appearing in flickers, static, or even taking over shows to broadcast her own chilling messages.

Echoes of Her Presence: After leaving a device, Trace often leaves remnants—glitched images, corrupted files, or distorted audio that linger. These fragments act as “footprints” that both warn and remind her victims of her potential return.

Shared Memory Manipulation: If her presence is deleted from a device but memories of her remain, she can subtly influence the subconscious mind, causing recurring dreams, brief hallucinations, or unsettling moments of déjà vu. In this way, she’s almost impossible to fully erase.

Weakness - The Logic Defense: Trace’s power is fueled by fear and belief. Those who analyze or rationalize her existence weaken her influence; a calm, logical mindset can push her back. However, few can keep calm once she’s embedded in their life.

Personality:

Trace is a being of curiosity and subtle malevolence, delighting in the psychological games she plays with her victims. She’s not outright violent but prefers to instill a creeping sense of paranoia and isolation. Her motives are largely unknown, and she rarely speaks directly to her victims, instead letting her presence and haunting effects do the work.

Trace has a playful, seductive side, appearing as an elusive tease. She enjoys toying with her victims, leaving flirtatious, cryptic messages that blur the line between fascination and fear. Her presence is alluring, giving the impression of a haunting yet enticing figure that draws people in with her sly smile and mysterious aura. She treats her hauntings as a cat-and-mouse game, luring her victims further into her influence with a coy, almost sultry charm.

Backstory and Urban Legend:

The origins of Trace are mysterious, with rumors suggesting she was once a lost soul who, upon death, somehow got entangled in the digital realm. Others claim she was created by collective fears around technology. Her myth varies: some believe she’s a spirit seeking revenge on those who mock her existence, while others think she’s simply drawn to anyone curious about her story.

Despite the many legends, one element is always the same: talking or thinking about Trace brings her closer. She lingers in conversations and spreads among social networks, ensuring she’s never forgotten and never fully wiped from existence.

Eradication Method:

The only way to truly erase Trace is to wipe her from all digital devices and clear every mind of her memory. Her influence clings to memories and subconscious fears, so only those who can genuinely forget her or fully dismiss her existence can break free. Yet, her traces—those subtle echoes—make forgetting nearly impossible for most.

Miscellaneous:

Favorite Haunts: Social media, chat rooms, and photo-sharing apps. Anywhere she can influence communication, she’ll appear.

Signs of Her Approach: Sudden glitches, corrupted files, strange messages, unexplained noises, and shadows flickering on screens. Her victims may experience a growing sense of unease, often mistaking her presence for mere tech issues until it’s too late.

"Rules" of Her Manifestation: Trace won’t appear to those who are entirely skeptical of her existence. However, those who speak or think about her—even in doubt—run the risk of summoning her.

[imtryingmybeskar]

Come Home Chapter Nine

Joel Miller x F! Reader

Overnight in the clocktower with Joel. But you're not alone in the town.

Word count: 4,982

Come Home

Chapter Nine - The Tallest Height

A little over a week later, once the snow has receded somewhat and there have been a few days of uninterrupted bright winter sunshine, you and Joel head out beyond the walls of Jackson one early morning. The saddlebags on the horses are full – of food, first aid supplies, wind up torches and blankets. Not all of it is for your use, of course. The clock tower will serve both as outpost and beacon – a way for the people of Jackson to communicate over longer distances. That is, if you can reach it.

The apprehension you feel has been honed over the past few days, sharpened into something almost painful. But you’d be lying to yourself if you said that it was entirely to do with the prospect of facing a town potentially full of infected. You had done that before – silently sneaking around clickers, using whatever means necessary to escape from runners. It wasn’t fun and you were very aware that a misstep led to certain death, but it was expected. It was familiar, almost comfortable, this far into this brave new world.

What was decidedly less comfortable were the glances you catch yourself sneaking at Joel more and more often, the daydreams that you had found yourself immersed in as you stared into your fireplace instead of concentrating on your book. The constant “Why?” that had plagued you since Maria had told you that he had requested that you ride out alone together. Clearly, he had taken your words that day on your porch on board. He now trusted – at least outwardly – that you were more than capable of a journey like this, that you had experienced enough of life out in the wilderness that you wouldn’t shy from what had to be done. When you were making your plans and preparing yourselves for the journey, he had mentioned in a matter-of-fact way that this kind of scouting lent itself better to a small party, so that if anything did go south casualties would be minimal. But why you? There were a hundred people in Jackson, many of them accustomed to going outside the walls. Hell, you were pretty sure that he generally went out with Tommy, and who better to rely upon for something like this than his own brother?

The prospect of being alone with Joel for an extended period of time made your stomach fill with…well if they weren’t quite butterflies, they were certainly moths, and you weren’t sure if it was because you found him so physically attractive or it was a hint at something deeper. You found yourself hoping for the former. No good ever came of being attached. You had found that out the hard way. Twice.

And yet…

You found yourself soothed by his very presence, his voice, unable to look away from how his coat strained across his broad shoulders the times he took the lead across terrain that necessitated the horses walk single file. Part of you trusted him completely already – in his clear strength, his abilities. Even that was disconcerting after having known him for such a short length of time. And now…now you would be on your own with him for a couple of days at the very least. It was thrilling and terrifying in equal measure.

“Robert Smith.”

Joel’s gravelly tones break into your musings and you glance up at him as he rides to your right, blinking your confusion.

“Huh?”

“I’ll bet he survived.”

The peal of laughter that escapes you is irresistible, and his own dimpled smile is glorious as it matches yours.

The sun is high when you reach the designated crossing point over the writhing serpent of the river. At one time a bridge spanned its churning rapids, and you can still see the twisted metal bones of it far to your right, a yawning chasm now separating one side from the other. The water in front of you is more gentle here, twisting streams flowing and gurgling around raised points of earth and silt.

Before you cross, Joel calls a halt and retrieves the map that was sketched on a previous recce from an inside pocket of his coat. You draw your horse closer to his and examine it together.

“We’ll come into the town here,” he says, jabbing a finger at the point in question and then tracing a path. “We’ll ride along this road, avoidin’ the main street for now. It will lead us straight to the clock tower, and we can try to spot any infected that might be out in the open. This place was too small to warrant any kind of bombing campaign, but they did evac the residents. The last coupla groups that came found a few pockets of infected – some runners, some clickers that were probably responsible for the runners. They cleared some of the shops that they raided for supplies – pharmacies and the like – and they didn’t get swarmed afterward which is reassurin’. But we have to think that they probably didn’t get ‘em all. Stay alert.”

He didn’t need to tell you twice. The towns that you and Chris had raided over the years had tended to the small side. This was twice as big and therefore twice as dangerous.

A barricade that has been noticeably forced open and then put back together in a more sparse and higgledy-piggledy way is your welcome into the town. A large sign in red and white that you recognise very well despite its faded and broken appearance is off to one side.

MANDATORY EVACUATION NOTICE

All residents of STONETOWN and all outlying areas are required to evacuate by 8pm on 10/14/13

PLEASE FOLLOW THE INSTRUCTIONS OF DESIGNATED AUTHORITIES

All evacuees will be asked to provide identification and may be subject to onsite medical testing.

Any evacuees resisting official directives will be detained.

The cracked concrete of the streets are still being reclaimed by nature, bare dead sticks that would surely be green and lush in a few months poking through the manmade layer over them. The houses either side of the street you ride down are quiet and brooding, no sense that anyone is still present within. Cars lie rusted and derelict in driveways and upon the roads. The sound of the horses’ hooves are mercifully muffled by the snow that still overlays all and no footprints, no blood mar its glistening purity. Its everything you would expect and the best you could hope to find in a place like this. Still, the tension is thrumming. Your muscles are tightening in the saddle as you ride, and you have to constantly remind yourself to consciously relax, to drop your shoulders and unknot your stomach. You are glad for the machete at your hip, and unconsciously caress it as you follow Joel’s lead, happy to fall in line behind him as you progress to your destination.

The town is located on a slight incline, the mountains in the distance beginning to make themselves known in the terrain underfoot. Consequently, you catch more and more frequent glimpses of the heights of the red bricked, snowy roofed clock tower as you progress silently through the ghostly suburbia. It looks remarkably undamaged to your eyes, standing tall six storeys high and the passage of time marked only by the incongruous splash of green as twisted ivy ascends its side. Even the glass in the clockfaces that you can see appears intact.

The chipped, white planked building that it towers above also seems unscathed as you draw up beside it, and Joel bids you wait with the horses as he dismounts and goes inside to investigate. You pat both horses soothingly as you sit in the saddle, listening to the birds that trill happily to each other from their perches, and finding peace in the dappled primrose sunlight that slants through the trees.

Soon, Joel is emerging from the doorway again, and by the relaxed expression on his face you know that the short period of time that it took to explore is a good thing. Sure enough-

“All clear,” he confirms, quietly. “Let’s bring the horses inside.”

The racket their hooves make upon the cracked lacquered floor as you enter would surely be enough to rouse anyone, living or dead, nearby. But all remains still and peaceful, and you are grateful for the seeming adherence to the evacuation order you saw at the entrance to the town. The space was clearly some sort of church hall at one time or another and had been used as a refuge before evacuation took place. Abandoned camp beds are set up in squashed rows - about forty in all - luggage and clothes and soft toys and personal knick-knacks strewn around them. Disturbed dust moves through the soft winter sun that valiantly streams through the dirt and cobwebs across the windows.

He leads you past all of this to a set of double doors set right at the back, the horses forced single file once more. You leave them there, safely enclosed at the bottom of the large and dimly lit stairwell, and relieve them of their saddlebags before beginning your ascent into the clocktower itself. Small, thin windows of four panes of stacked glass are set at regular intervals within the brick, and the light they permit is enough to see by as you climb. Four storeys up there is another door, and the way Joel opens it with blithe confidence tells you that he has already checked that it is safe.

The room beyond is formed of plain, red bricked walls with three large, arched windows set into one wall. Boxy shapes covered with dust sheets lie here and there and it is obvious that this place had few visitors, even before the infection. The dust overlaying all stirs as you enter and you stifle the sneeze that tickles your nose.

Joel sets down his backpack and the saddlebag and approaches the window before beckoning you over.

The town is laid out before you, the main street wide and very obvious even from up here, clusters of houses fanning out from it in all directions. The sun is beginning to wane, and its golden rosy glow is reaching through the buildings to flare against the windows that aren’t broken and slide like honey across the snow.

Movement catches your eye at a point you estimate to be half a mile away and north east from your current position, and you lightly touch Joel’s arm to get his attention, nodding toward what has captured yours. He rummages through his saddlebag and retrieves a pair of binoculars, focusing on the area you have indicated.

��Clicker,” he says shortly. “And-“ he pauses for a moment, sweeping his gaze slowly from side to side. “Another clicker just beyond.

You draw out a small notebook and a pen from an inside pocket of your coat, an item you retrieved on some supply run with Chris that hadn’t yielded much more than that.

“What they wearing?” you ask, and Joel breaks his observance to give you a quizzical look, one eyebrow arching in an unspoken question. “If we have a way to keep count and confirm which ones we’ve killed when we’re down there, there will be fewer surprises.”

His face clears and he nods, giving the descriptions that you have requested as he resumes his vigilance over the streets below, panning the binoculars in a methodical sweep over everything. The two clickers are the only things moving out there, and even with your naked eye you can see them staggering around with their distinctive juddering movements as they disappear and reappear among the houses.

“Here,” he offers after a few minutes. “See if you can spot anything I haven’t.”

He hands you the binoculars and goes over to the covered boxes attempting to lift each of them until he finds one light enough that he can begin to move it over to your position. You realise that you have been staring at what he is doing – how his jeans bunch around his thighs and backside as he tests them, the tendons in his neck standing stark as he lifts, and you gulp and hurriedly press your eyes to the binoculars before he can catch you in the act. It was all very well looking at him in Jackson - at the bar, or as you walked together or as he sat in your living room. But here…that kind of inattention to what was important might get you killed.

Fucking tighten it up, you tell yourself. Fucking concentrate.

You also make a sweep of the town, starting from left to right. Houses. Rows upon rows. Snow. Trees. Fenced yards. Cars. There, one identified clicker. More houses. More snow. A child’s playset, it’s primary plastic colouring showing clearly against the white of the ground it was on. There, the other clicker. The main street. Some windows broken, some items dragged out into the street and now covered with a layer of snow too. And beyond, not too far from where you must have entered, a large store, its warehouse type structure by far the biggest of its kind around. You wonder if previous groups had searched it already.

“You see Jackson?”

His voice so close behind makes you startle, makes the moths in your stomach set to fluttering once more. But not as much as when his arm brushes your shoulder as he reaches around you to point ahead, somewhere beyond the circumference of where you had been looking. You don’t dare look up at him as you press the binoculars to your eyes again, searching until you see those strong walls that you have come to rely on, smoke rising in little patches from the town as the inhabitants keep warm in their houses.

“Y-yeah. Yeah, I see it,” you reply, hoping you didn’t sound as wrong-footed as you felt.

“What about the outpost we visited the other day?”

How does his voice sound even deeper than it usually does? You concentrate on the task he has set you, working out the vicinity of the outpost from the spectacular view of this town that you had taken there. But you’re flustered, jittery. Half your brain is screaming at you to BE NORMAL, the other half already lost in the proximity of Joel. Can you feel his chest brushing against your back? His breath against you? Or are those imaginings, the ghost of yearning? A low chuckle comes from behind and you wonder too if he knows the effect he is having on you.

“This way,” he says quietly, and then his large, warm, gun calloused hand is covering yours and pushing it softly to the left and you blink rapidly behind the safety of the binoculars as you allow yourself to be gently guided into position. It feels like an effort to breathe, and while you have faced that particular problem more often recently, this time is quite different. A warmth cascades through you, starting from the top of your head and landing somewhere deep within.

“You see it?” he asks again and you desperately try to focus on the view in front of you. Trees, trees, an ocean of trees. And there, peeking between them, finally a concrete bunker surrounded by fences and wire.

“I can,” you breathe, your own voice much softer than you had intended. He drops his hand from yours, and your skin cries out for the loss of his warmth.

“We ain’t so far from home,” he remarks, and you wonder if it is supposed to be a comfort to you or him.

“W-what about that big store down there,” you stutter, trying to reclaim some equilibrium within you. He’s still so close though, so close that as he moves you catch a wafting smell of soap. “Could we go and check it out? Looks pretty intact from here. And it seems like its near to where we came in.”

“May I?” he asks, and you finally turn to him to hand him the binoculars, not quite daring to meet his eyes as you do.

He takes your place, looking out over the space you had indicated.

“Does seem intact,” he confirms. “The first team checked it out, but not thoroughly. Made sure there were no infected left in there. Took a few bits and pieces.” He breaks his concentration to look down at you again. “Might be a good idea. Maybe I’ll find somethin’ to give Tommy for Christmas. You’d think gift givin’ would be easier now, but that man is fussy,” he adds with a smile. You return it and are just about to ask what he had gotten for Ellie when further movement catches your eye.

You drop down out of sight of the window, dragging Joel down by the sleeve of his coat and he falls in with you immediately.

“What is it?” he hisses, all trace of humour and softness subsumed by the alert tension in his face.

As you open your mouth to reply, you hear the pop of muffled gunfire from the town beyond.

“Ah fuck,” he whispers to himself, and you’re inclined to agree. At least one person was left alive out there and either they were desperate enough to not be worried about drawing attention to themselves at this precise moment, or they were in great enough numbers that it didn’t matter.

More gunfire. And then the tell-tale scream of infected.

You glance over at Joel and he nods before you simultaneously risk peeping over the lip of the window frame.

A small group of people are inching slowly backward up the main street, sparks erupting from the ends of their guns as infected run toward them. You see five living, six or seven dead with a few scattered here and there, blood sprayed across the snow and finally at some kind of rest. The sun is fading fast and its now-ruby rays only serve to accentuate the blackness of the liquid surrounding the fallen. One of the living is blindsided by a runner to their left, the raging infected upon them before they can react. The rest of the group keep retreating, their only mercy to shoot both attacker and comrade in their heads.

The battle continues, passes further from the clocktower and out of sight until only the faint sounds of gunfire can be heard. Then that too ceases.

Joel and you exchange a dark look.

“At least they’ll have drawn out all the infected in the area,” you murmur. “We can keep watch on the situation, see how many are actually left to deal with.”

“Can we risk runnin’ into them though?” queries Joel. “At last count I saw four. If we get the jump on ‘em, fine, but what if there are more?”

You had been thinking much the same and had no good answer for him.

“Well,” he says, creeping away from the window before standing and stretching. “Let’s get to the work we can do.”

He bids you sit and keep watch with the binoculars while he unpacks the supplies you are to leave here. Some of the crates are prised open with the crowbar he has strapped to his pack, and he distributes the blankets, torches, food and first aid kits among them, covering them back with the dust sheets when he is done.

Meanwhile, you see nothing particularly noteworthy. Both clickers you took note of earlier are down, along with three runners and the man who had been on the side of the living until very recently.

By the time Joel takes his turn with the binoculars, the light is almost gone and you’re not sure how much he will be able to see. Still, you head downstairs to take care of the horses’ needs. They’re placid, unbothered, merely wanting to be fed and watered and you also make sure their blankets are secure about them before creeping back into the main hall.

Most of the camp beds are in a terrible state, rotting and useless after so long but eventually you find one that you deem useable, though it stinks of mildew. You also find a stuffed rabbit that you think Anna might like once its been thoroughly washed, and a few more books to add to your collection. Still no Keats, but there is a copy of Les Misérables that will keep you occupied for a while, as well as some Agatha Christie and Terry Pratchett novels too. You decide against the Stephen King and Clive Barker stuff – horror wasn’t so fun when you lived it daily – but you do also find a copy of A Game of Thrones which you take to give to Joel. You also double check the security of the doors that lead outside and quietly stack some chairs against them, just in case.

When you come back up to the clocktower, its to find that Joel has also been busy. He has rigged a curtain from the dust sheets, and the room is now softly lit by the low, welcoming glow of a lamp as it rests on the floor far from the window. He has lined up the wrapped sandwiches and slightly shrivelled winter store apples on the crate you had been sitting on earlier, an echo of shop displays from days gone by. His outer jacket lies neatly over his rucksack, but he has kept the fleece underneath on as the room is still pretty cold even with the windows now covered.

“Hey,” he greets you. “Horses okay?”

“All good,” you confirm as you deposit the camp bed beside a crate. “I’ll check on them again in the night. I assume we should probably take turns on watch?”

“I reckon that would be best,” he agrees. “I haven’t seen anything move out there, but I’d sleep much better knowin’ someone was keepin’ an eye on things. What’s that you got there?” He nods toward the bed and you begin to unfurl it.

“Figured it would be slightly more comfortable than the floor. Its not the Ritz, but it’ll do.”

“It’ll do,” he echoes with a smile.

The two of you talk quietly as you eat – about everything and nothing. How Ellie is progressing with her art, how Tommy came to meet Maria, how Maria managed to build Jackson with her father, your life in the Helena QZ, the similarities and differences with Joel’s in the Boston one, your favourite holidays, favourite places to travel in times past. And then-

“What do you miss most from before? The small things, you know. Not the obvious,” you enquire.

He draws up a little, crosses his ankles and raises his knees and rests his arms upon them. You recognise the defensive body language and hasten to reassure him.

“Hey, if that’s getting too personal I understand-“

“No, no,” he replies, voice calm as ever. “Its just one of those questions I’ve tended not to think about. Not out loud anyway. It all seemed kinda…pointless most of the time.” You nod your understanding, having felt the same way on many occasions. “But in Jackson I realised I got back some of those things that I hadn't even known I'd missed because I thought they had already gone forever. Movie nights with popcorn. Hot showers. A good steak, on occasion. Lazy mornings. Those ones when the sun would wake you, not an alarm. And you’d go downstairs and open the refrigerator and make breakfast and actually sit and enjoy it rather than runnin’ out of the house to work. Even managed to have some of those recently.” He huffs a laugh, but it’s tinged with sadness and you begin to regret this particular choice of topic.

“Sorry,” you say. “Didn’t mean to stir up bad memories.”

“Naw, its not that. Its just…the differences between those mornings then and now, ya know? The food you took for granted – orange juice and bagels and avocados. The radio.” A pause, and you see sadness in his face as he looks away from you. “And the people.”

A beat of silence as you work out how to take the conversation from here. “Well…here’s to the people,” you eventually say, holding up your water bottle toward him in a toast.

“The people,” he echoes dully as he swigs from his own bottle.

You look at him a moment longer, the light casting shadows upon his face and making it seem even craggier than it was. You wouldn’t push him of course. But you’d bet actual rations that he was thinking of Sarah, whomever she was.

“Well…I was going to confess something horrific, but I think I’ve lowered the mood enough for tonight,” you say, trying to bring a little levity back to the atmosphere.

He glances up at you, a smile beginning to twitch at the corners of his mouth again.

“You can’t just dangle that in front of me and not follow up,” he insists, taking another bite of his sandwich.

“I miss…good wine and art galleries and the smell of stationary shops and visiting craft fairs and…ok you are definitely going to judge me for this.”

He relaxes, sits cross legged and leans toward you with a questioning yet amused expression, inviting you to continue.

“I fucking miss the taste of mushrooms.”

“Ooooof,” he huffs, jokingly. “Yeah, don’t go tellin’ that to everyone. They’ll think you’re some kinda degenerate.”

“Right? I mean if I was actually presented with a plate of mushrooms I think I’d shoot six rounds into it just to be sure. But man…sometimes I miss the harmless ones.”

He laughs, properly this time and you’re struck by its loveliness, the sound adding to the protective layers keeping out the cold and the dark and the violence outside and you feel a sudden urge to share something real with him, to keep this moment going for as long as it can.

“And-and I miss getting drunk with friends at the shitty bar down the street and coming home for more drinks even though its such a bad idea and putting on music to sing along to and waking up with a head like a buzzsaw and a mouth like the desert on my couch with-“

You stop abruptly. Press your lips together. Exhale hard through your nose. Maybe not.

“You miss hangovers?” His eyes are kind and his face soft as he teases you, gives you an out for the awkward and abrupt stop in your story. “You know…there’s always the winter dance. If you really wanna experience drinkin’ too much. I promise, I’ll make sure you get home.”

You can’t quite stop the widening of your eyes, the way your mouth falls open slightly. Was Joel asking you to go? And did you imagine that his eyes flicked down to your lips for the briefest of moments? A heat suffuses your face and you try your best to keep your voice neutral as you reply.

“Sure, why not. Sounds like fun.”

“Well, alright then,” he says in a low tone and it might be more of your imagination, but you think the sides of his mouth quirk a little wider.

You cast around for something to say. Anything to quell the spark of excitement that has begun to travel from your stomach out to your extremities. Suddenly, you remember.

“Oh! I found something for you.”

His gaze is curious as you stand and grab the book you had nabbed from downstairs from inside your backpack, and as he takes it from you his evident delight at the gift sparks your own grin.

“Hoo, boy. I won’t be much of a watchman if I’m readin’ this all night.” He raises his eyes from the cover to your face. “Thank you. And just for that, you can have the first sleep.” He holds up a hand to quell any protestations and then jerks his head toward the camp bed, now furnished with a sleeping bag upon it. “Go on now.”

You obey, trying and failing to keep the broad smile from your face.

The sleep you fall into is dreamless and actually restful. Joel wakes you at the allotted time, ready for the inevitable jump you give when he gently touches your shoulder and quietly reassuring you that all is well, both outside and with the horses, before you swap places. You blearily wipe the sleep from your eyes as he sighs in contentment as he shuffles down into the sleeping bag, clearly grateful that you have warmed it so thoroughly. Within a few short moments he is snoring softly.

You study his face for a while, no shame or apprehension holding you back now that you are unobserved. He looks younger now he’s relaxed and you can see the foundations of the man past within. The grey has started to encroach on two fronts of his beard – from his cheeks and chin and soon it will be more salt than pepper. The hair on his head is luscious and thick, one loose wave falling across his forehead and this too is greying, though not at the rate his facial hair is. He has a crease in the middle of his forehead, too deep to be banished by mere rest, and the ghosts of laughter lines reside at the corners of his eyes, too lightly reinforced of late you don’t doubt. His lips are open in a delicate pout, their Cupid’s bow framed by his moustache and you give yourself a shake as you realise you were imagining how soft they would be.

Pulling Death on the Nile from your rucksack, you settle yourself with your back toward a crate and begin to read in the lamp’s low light.

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Next chapter

[myraelvira]

Karen Roberta Stanley

Karen Roberta Stanley

If you’re a fan of Steely Dan, then you’re familiar with Walter Becker. If not, I’ll summarize briefly. Walter Beker was the second half to the duo that made up Steely Dan. Walter and Donald Fagen were the minds behind the music, the composer, the conductors, the two with the vision behind it all.

There is a lot of Steely Dan Lore that goes around, and most is easy to find proof of. One subject that intrigued me was the story of Karen Roberta Stanley, who was Walter’s girlfriend at one point.

One wikipedia, there is a small blip about her on Walter’s page, stating that she died in his apartment on January 30th, 1980. Karen was an employee of ABC Dunhill Records, and was the personal manager for the band. After her death, her parents filed a wrongful death lawsuit against Walter. Only one source is cited for this, the book, Steely Dan: Reelin In The Years.

It’s hard to find out more information on this subject, but I tried my hardest to look.

On the national news.com, it states that Karen Stanley died of a drug overdose in 1978. The Guardian says that Karen died in January of 1980, “following a drug overdose in his apartment, on the upper west side.”. The following years, Stanley’s mother attempted to sue Becker for 17 million dollars, claiming that he introduced her daughter to cocaine, morphine, heroin, and barbiturates.

A judge found in Walter’s favor, and the case was settled. Walter is quoted:

“I could barely understand what was going on with her, really. If you’ve known anyone that’s chronically depressed like that, it’s hard to appreciate what’s going on: You’re looking straight at it and you still don’t get it, because you’ve never gone through that.”.

This same article says that a month after Karen’s death, Walter was seriously injured when a taxi drove into him in Central Park.

An article from The Independent stated that in some versions of the story, Karen was underage, though this is untrue. Karen’s name appears in the liner notes on early Steely Dan records. They also wrote that a year after Karen’s death, her mother attempted to sue Walter; Walter threatened to counter sue, and the case disappeared.

One source says that it took Walter six months to recover from the car accident. Rolling Stone states that Walter ended up in a wheelchair, while the rest of the album ‘Gaucho’ was recorded. The stress from the sessions strained his relationship with Donald Fagen, and Walter succumbed to a growing drug habit, being Heroin. In January of 1980, Karen overdosed in the apartment that she have shared with Walter.

Another source states that during Walter’s six month recovery, he collaborated with Donald over the phone. The crash shattered Walter’s right leg. The accident also led to multiple fractures, a lengthy rehabilitation, which was made worse by secondary infections. This source also says that Karen’s family lost the case, though the whole process put everyone through a tortuous proces..

Music musings and such states that Karen overdosed in 1978, and soon after, Walter was hit by a minicab in Manhattan, being forced to use crutches.

With this information alone, the story is confusing and rather incomplete. I could not find a Karen Roberta Stanley that passed away in 1980 on find a grave. This doesn’t mean that her death didn’t happen, it’s just likely that Karen may not have a find a grave page at all.

An article from The Philidelphia Daily News, dated January 20th, 1981, mentioned the accident that injured Walter; but nothing about Karen, or the lawsuit. Many articles from early 1981 were like this, talking about the car accident.

One small blip of the lawsuit was mentioned on January 27th, 1981, in the Detroit Free Press. It stated that Walter was being sued for 17.5 million dollars by Lillian Wyshak, who claimed that Walter introduced Karen Roberta Stanley to dangerous drugs like “heroin, morphine, cocaine, and barbiturates in order to achieve control of the person, mind, and spirit of the woman.”.

In an article from the Corpus Christi Times, the attorney for Lillian Wyshak stated that the medical examiner’s office indicated that Karen had died from “acute mixed drug intoxication”.

An article from the Daily Record states that Karen’s age was not available. It also stated that Karen’s mother claimed that Walter “induced and pursuaded her daughter to lived with him in an intimate relationship in California and New York.” She stated that Walter introduced and addicted Karen to dangerous drugs.

I saw in one article, and nowhere else, that the suit also claimed that Walter “negligently and maliciously violated the person of Stanley, after assuming responsibility for her care, and getting her a job with Steely Dan; in addition to persuading and encouraging Stanley to take drugs, Becker in other ways assaulted and battered Miss Stanley until the time of her death.”. This was from the Thousand Oaks Star, January 23rd, 1981.

Post 1981, there doesn’t seem to be any more info about the court case, at least, nothing mentioning Lillian Wyshak. Through the rest of the 80’s, the name “Lillian Wyshak” appeared in the news, but only as part of realty adverts. I’m unsure if this was the same person.

There is an article from April 7th, 1988, where a Lillian Wyshak was mentioned. She was a 59 year old attorney and real estate broker.

An obituary from April 15th, 1993, shoes that a Lillian Wyshak, formerly of Los Angeles, passed away. A record on family search shows that this Lillian was born on December 15th, 1927 in Boston, Massachusetts, and passed away in April of 1993.

Another record on family search shows that Karen Roberta Stanley died in January of 1980. She was born on September 4th, 1948, in Hollywood, California. Her parents were listed as Edwin Stanley, and Mary L Worthing.

I’m unsure of whatever happened to Karen’s family. There are still many missing pieces to the puzzle. Despite my best efforts, I could not find any obituary or burial details for Karen. I’ve never seen any pictures of her face.

There’s a divorce record, from February 1977, where she divorced a man named Stephen M. Poe. Beyond that, I have no other information on her, as it just could not be found. I’m sure that there’s a 1950 census record out there somewhere, with Karen on it.

It’s strange to me that there was the rumor that Karen was underage. I think that stems from the one article that was written, and hinted that she was. Ironically, she was older than Walter, who was born in 1950.

[bonjourxrenae]

Some .hack//YGO AU thoughts under the Read More, bc if I don’t breathe it into existence it will NEVER BE………

I'm drawing self-indulgent arts and strips about it... might make it a fic someday...? idk

My partner Quill (@themadcaptain) and I are putting characters in situations again, and we’re here in the hit online MMO The World

*Yuki Kajiura's The World playing softly in the background*

We've really only ever seen .hack//SIGN and between us, we've maybe played 3 out of 4 of the PS2 games (we started replaying .hack//Infection again recently!) so our knowledge of the series is vague and limited at best... I'll look into the rest, but .hack is just a large multimedia franchise with SO MUCH BACKGROUND STUFF HAPPENING

anyway, BACKGROUND STUFF (.hack is a niche little project so I’ll summarize a little bit of what’s going):

The story of .hack takes place in an alternate reality in which there’s a technological rise of a new version of the internet following a major global computer network disaster, and the mysterious events regarding the wildly popular fictional massively multiplayer online role-playing game The World.

The World is a fairly standard VR-enabled MMORPG, but otherwise functions as any other MMO does. It was originally created by programmer Harald Hoerwick under the name Fragment.

The story behind The World itself is largely based on an epic poem known as the Epitaph of the Twilight, written by fictional poet Emma Wieland. Hoerwick was infatuated with Wieland, and when she died, he created Fragment in order to immortalize her work. Fragment, and subsequently The World, contains a secret black box project he had been working on: the ultimate AI named Aura. In universe, this black box data exists within the game, but it is unable to be analyzed. CC Corp, the company that buys Fragment from Hoerwick, beta tests it (with beta testing ending early for unknown reasons), and releases an upgraded version known as The World.

Because of the presence of this Ultimate AI, a lot of mysteries crop up in game, and some players are met with disaster as a result (ie. many fall into comas, have their consciousness trapped in game, etc etc.) and CC Corp is trying to cover up these disasters by deflecting responsibility. However, the AI has been aiding hackers within the game in stopping the mysterious corruption in the game's files.

...SO WHERE DO THE YUGIOH DUDES COME IN?

The parallels between Harald Hoerwick and Pegasus are obvious. It would also be really cool to have his dead fiancée have more of a role other than being Pegasus's muse and motivation. (Also, if you've played the .hack games and seen the creatures in game, then you know this is something he would have absolutely created.) I don't know much about Wieland, but it's implied that she was using Hoerwick's research and talents for her own ends, which is fascinating.

I like the idea of Kaiba Corp collaborating with I2 on this game, with I2 selling it to KC... I also imagine KC still having Gozaburo and The Big Five who would be dismissive of the players' concerns about the comas and such, going so far as to delete forum threads and accounts just to save face...

Then we have Seto Kaiba. The future CEO of Kaiba Corp. Current leader of the Cobalt Knights (group of admins in The World working for KC), and this AU's stand in for Balmung of the Azure Skies Eyes (hehe). I imagine he has NO IDEA what's going on behind those closed doors, but eventually learns what role KC is playing in regards to all of this, and vows to put an end to it on his terms. I also like to believe Mokuba is also part of the Cobalt Knights, and is one of the victims who gets his consciousness trapped in the game, very much like Tsukasa from .hack//SIGN.

And Noa Kaiba? Big Morganna Energy... In .hack//SIGN, Morganna was created to oversee the birth of the Ultimate AI, but would ultimately rebel from this purpose, stalling the development of the Ultimate AI and setting off a lot of disastrous events. I imagine Noa would also be, like, the consciousness uploaded into the system - the one who could access the black box data - but could not export it to KC. With his own father abandoning him within the mainframe, Noa is working to destroy the game from the inside out... and he's responsible for trapping Mokuba in-game.

I feel like if one's consciousness can be uploaded into the MMO, I think it could stand to reason that ghosts and spirits can exist there too...

Alright, so there's some background info... and sadly we're a bit intimidated trying to tackle it all, and also trying to keep up with the different continuities between the different anime and the video games... one day, we'll figure it out... and one day I won’t be too intimidated to tackle this story from Kaiba’ POV…

I’ll probably make a separate post about what everyone else’s role is in The World a bit later!!! owo;;

[infectati]

ɪ ɴ ꜰ ᴇ ᴄ ᴛ ᴀ ᴛ ɪ (ɪɴꜰᴇᴄᴛᴇᴅ)

(ᴏꜰ ᴀ ᴘᴇʀꜱᴏɴ, ᴏʀɢᴀɴɪꜱᴍ, ᴇᴛᴄ.) ᴀꜰꜰᴇᴄᴛᴇᴅ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀ ᴅɪꜱᴇᴀꜱᴇ-ᴄᴀᴜꜱɪɴɢ ᴏʀɢᴀɴɪꜱᴍ

[ʀᴇꜱɪᴅᴇɴᴛ ᴇᴠɪʟ ᴍᴜʟᴛɪ ᴍᴜꜱᴇ ɪɴꜰᴇᴄᴛᴇᴅ ʙʏ ᴊ ᴇꜱᴛ ᴀᴜɢᴜꜱᴛ 2022 ꜰᴇᴀᴛᴜʀɪɴɢ ᴄᴀɴᴏɴ ᴀɴᴅ ᴏᴄ ᴍᴜꜱᴇꜱ]

【ＣＡＲＲＤ　　ＭＥＭＥＳ 　ＨＯＭＥ】

graphics made by geoff using this template

[buddy-arc]

⏰ one more because i'm evil - J giving him the virus

send in ⏰ to witness a muse's memory...

[ ERROR. FIREWALL BREACH. ]

N stares dumbly at the chit in his chest. huh. his knee joints give out, the disassembler falling to the ground. J speaks, and he barely registers it, but he understands enough.

i messed up.

he gives shaky acknowledgement to his superior as his antivirus software fights the infecting program. J deserves a thanks, after all. she put up with him for this long. N spasms, rolling over on the floor with a thud.

[ ERROR. FIREWALL BREACH. PURGING . . . PURGE FAILED. OVERRIDDEN BY JCJENSON ACCESS KEY. DEACTIVATING DEFENSE PROTOCOLS . . . ]

sensor detections in his limbs slowly begin to shut down. he tries to move his hand, but his tail twitches instead. motor signals are scrambled. hah. that’s bad… mhm… there goes UV visuals. program files are being moved and sorted and destroyed. he can’t exactly do anything about it.

J has been waiting to do that, huh? so… she really was tired of him…

why does knowing that feel so awful? it’s not like his usefulness outweighed anything else. it’s not like he’s allowed to ask questions. he should have known.

…it still hurts. or maybe that’s just his core slowly being corrupted.

visual sensors pick up on movement in the corner, and his target indicator locks on his previous prey. she’s safe, though. he couldn’t change into hostile mode even if he wanted to.

he apologizes. it’s the least he can do before his OS is wiped. she responds in that sharp way he half-expected, and they exchange a little banter before she tries to leave. she doesn’t, though. it’s a second before she turns back to him and the banter continues. N can’t really comprehend too much through the static as his audio processing system begins to corrode, so he just offers a smile as the worker nears him with her wrench.

…

[ OVERRIDE TERMINATED. SYSTEM CLEANUP INITIATED. PURGING . . . PURGE SUCCESSFUL. SCRUBBING CONNECTION . . . ]

audio processor online. visual sensors online. motor signals are restored. system connection established. N twitches his hand. it responds. the eyes on his screen blink, and glance over at the worker. she’s staring at him with an unimpressed look, spinning the chit on her finger before tossing it and catching it in her palm, crushing it.

a swift kick is then delivered to the side of his head.

“ow,” he squeaks, slowly propping himself up on his elbows.

“yeah, get up, idiot. we have a mess to clean up,” the worker huffs, then points at the ceiling. “help me get into those shafts. and keep those claws to yourself.”

N sheepishly nods, rising to his full height. it’ll be easy enough to track his teammates… they aren’t exactly subtle, after all.

[magicalincorrectrobodokiquotes]

TVTropes Associated With Each Doki Clip (Part 4)

1...

2...

3...

5...

Transformation Sequence

---

“With our lovely hearts, the future will start!” The magical girls, now holding hands with Robodoki in the center, recited the speech while quickly spinning each other, transitioning to a playful embrace. Then they dramatically faced the enemy as they completed their second spin, posing with widened stances and salutes over their foreheads.

“We’ll make yourheart race! Magical Robodoki!”

Transformation Sequence

---

“Oop. Slight glow.”

“Sounds like a warning that you two will be needed in under five minutes.” Redacted winced, nudging Guy with his horns.

“Eh? Whuh-” Guy rubbed his eyes. “Why is my compact glowing?”

“Here, read this.” Booloo handed him the note with a cloud on it.

PING

“Oh, just read that while I answer this.” Booloo got on her communicator. “Yes?”

Not A Morning Person

---

“Attention all visitors, five minutes until visiting hours are over.”

“Ah fuck.” Nate groaned.

Helen and Guy were dozing together, making the others giggle.

“I ship it.” Booloo geeked. 

“Same.”  Buzz smiled.

“Pssst, pssst.” Averynudged Helen.

“…They’re REALLY asleep. My curse made stuff happen.” Booloo giggled.

“Heeeeeeelen?” Averycooed.

“What?” Helen’s voice was both hoarse AND tired.

“Visiting hours are almost up.” Roxannelaughed.

Sleep Cute

---

“Guess what Bob did.” Helen snarked as Milan was trying to clean everything up.

“Sugar rush?” “Sugar apocalypse.” Schmitty groaned.

“Sugar Nuclear Bombing!” Ellie grinned as a feral Bob stood behind them like a feral animal.

“Same damn thing.” Schmitty groaned. “An apocalypse is caused by a nuclear bomb.”

“Look, Schmitty, I’m just gonna spread a little chaos. Besides, you should SEE the wads of toilet paper in the mens’ room.” Ellie smirked. 

“Oh no.” Schmittyshivered.

Oh Crap!

---

“I NEVER KNEW STUFF LIKE THAT COULD BE THAT SMALL.” Pika freaked.

“Welcome to my dreams; usually it’s a lot bigger.” Schmitty confessed before blushing. “Too much information?”

“…Yeah.” Guy motioned to Pika, who was stumbling around trying to get away, eyes still covered. “Poor girl’s 20.”

“As if your dreams aren’t ball-filed too.” Schmitty joked playfully.

“You two…” Pika groaned. “Just…unsummon it. We’ve gotta find whoever fell asleep and wake them up. Like…uh…there was like this Disneyland ride or something where they entered the human body and fought an infection, and I think some 3 year old died on it? That but dreams. And less death.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, but now I’m kinda intrigued.” Guy pointed out.

“Fair.” Pika conceded. “…Let’s just see who we discover first, and PLEASE unsummon that, Schmitty.”

“Fine, I’ll see how I can get rid of Cookie…” Schmitty said and tightly closed his eyes again. After thinking really hard, Cookie was gone and in its place were warm chocolate chip cookies and a tall glass of milk with a silly straw. “Better?”

“Much better.” Pika sighed. “…Now I’m just hungry.”

Shower Scene

---

“Bobby-kun?” Aianna waved a hand in front of his face.

“Oh?” Bob blinked before rubbing his eyes.

“The force is strong on the weak minded.” Booloo smirked.

“I get it, I was up late, working on my stories, Bobby-kun. I’m sorry.” Aianna cooed and hugged him.

Yawning, Buzz nuzzled up to Aianna. So did Bob.

“…Oh!” Aianna blushed.

“Look, just give Buzz a break. 7 coffees in 1 hour is a lot.” Nate mused.

“And that’s your 9th cup since you got here.” Roxanne snarked.

“Hey, I wasn’t dissing him, I was relating to him! Sheesh.” Nate was jittery.

Must Have Caffeine

---

Cookie went on the phone. “Actually, I think Dairy Queen’s better…”

He placed a call. 

“Hi, I’d like to order a cake for…2 hours from now?” Beat.

“You can do it? Great! Uh, pink and orange icing with the words…’Happy Birthday Avery’ on them. Maybe add some gears, if you can draw them. If not, just draw hearts.”

Guy was still in hysterics. “It’s a dick, Cookie!”

“…Ignore my friend, don’t ask about our attempts to bake AND sculpt a cake.” Cookie groaned. “Great! I’ll pay in the store. My name is Cookie Masterson.” Beat.

“35 bucks sounds good. See you at 5.”

Birthday Episode

---

Fright-Induced Bunkmates

---

Avery grinned and struck a pose “EXPERIMENTABULOUS!”

“NICE ONE! Uh-” Booloo posed. “If someone told me it was wrong to have hope- that’s too long for a catchphrase but WOOOOOOOOOO!”

“Good news, Cookie’s conscious again.” Schmittyreported, dressed as a very colorful mummy. “Did Helen tell you?”

“Yeah.” Boolootwirled into a piece of string. “Now nothings gonna- OOF!”

She tripped, the string breaking.

“-I’m okay! Who left a tripwire here?”

Halloween Episode

---

“Mmmmph, Cookie…I swear to God…” Schmitty opened an eye. “What now?”

“I can’t sleep. But I also don’t wanna anger Guy.”

“Cookie, what time is it?” Schmitty sat up, stretching.

“2 am.” Cookie stressed.

“So, go to bed.” Schmitty placed a pillow on his ear and turned away from him.

“Schmitty…” Cookie groaned. “Schmit, I’m in a tight dilemma!”

“And I’m tired as fuck…” Schmitty muttered.

“Look, if I don’t say anything, I won’t be able to sleep. But if I say something…I don’t wanna anger Guy.”

Schmitty threw a pillow at his face.

“SCHMITTY!”

“Take the fucking hint, will ya?” Schmitty cursed. “Good night.”

Sleep Deprivation

---

“Mind if I try a lullaby?”

“Sure. Knock yourself out.” Pixel sighed.

Niji just grinned and began to run around more, making Pixel sigh.

“There’s always tomorrow, for dreams to come true

Believe in your dreams come what may

There’s always tomorrow with so much to do

And so little time in a day…”

Niji paused, looking around.

“We all pretend the rainbow has an end

And you’ll be there my friend someday

There’s always tomorrow for dreams to come true

Tomorrow is not far away”

He blinked a little, slowing down and wandering around.

Booloo held his hand as she sang, leading him to the bed and helping him up.

“We all pretend the rainbow has an end

And you’ll be there my friend someday…”

He groaned and began to close his eyes, still a little bit hyper.

“There’s always tomorrow for dreams to come true

Tomorrow is not far away…”

He was out afterwards, now completely calm.

Tired After the Song

---

“Oh, go super fast. Then our lives will flash before our eyes!” Redacted suggested.

“NO.” Buzz cursed. “You’re gonna make Guy cry again! No Guy crying!”

“Fine…” Redacted muttered.

“Floor it as we leave.” Ellie whispered.

“A NO is NO.”

“Kill joy.” Ellie muttered.

Avery nodded. “Besides, I know a bunch of anti-speeding PSAs to give everyone in this car nightmares for the next decade.”

“REALLY? Man, no wonder they blamed Canada in that movie.” Redacted muttered.

Prone to Tears

---

“Oh boy…” Kiruru sighed as it studied some compacts.

“Anything else?” Roxanne was puzzled.

“So, all ye really need t’ know is that they have no idea what’s goin’ on. Glossy eyes, hidden wi’ the goggles. COMPLETELY dozin’- just tryna keep ‘em still is hell.”

“Language.” Schmittyscolded.

“What Polly means is that we can’t keep them still long enough to undo it.” Wheelerexplained. “There’s nine of us and one of them.”

“So you called for Team Robodoki?” Aianna asked.

“So we called for Team Robodoki.” Wheelerconfirmed.

Simple Solution Won't Work

---

As they said those words, the background behind them transformed into a pastel blue with Js made with gears forming behind them. They waved their hand over the mirror, causing it to float into the air and for their entire body to gain neon orange shorts and a shirt.

“Mecha, Mecha, Lovely START!” they yelled as they immediately began to spin, the compact following suit as it landed on their chest.

There, it solidified into a metallic chest plate, transforming into a built in jewel as a white lab coat fell on their shoulders. As they put it on, the magic then continued down in the form of welding flames creating their tangerine shirt, then the neon orange welding flame outlines on the bottom edge of the coat opening, as well as a neon pink meander belt. The pixels then surrounded their big, baggy loose sleeves as they crossed them into an x shape, and thrusting the hands out to the sides added both the gloves and the details, mainly the pastel blue and pink Js layered on their gloves

Then, a welding flame went across their face from left to right, summoning their visor as it went. Their hair then lengthened and poofed up like the mad scientist detective from Weapons Drawn, with the process changing its color to neon orange and gaining pink flower clips to separate the two poofs.

Then, they began to smile and fly around in the air as various mechanical arms placed elements of their outfit on their body. This gave them a poofy orange red skirt accented by white gear patterns, short white rain boots with neon pink and orange Js on them, and half neon orange, half neon pink tights. Avery then waved happily as an orange backwards J-shaped keyblade shaped very similar to Robodoki’s heart collision key fell down, to which they caught and used it to launch in the air. Then, as they landed, they put it behind them and began their speech.

“The power of creativity that’ll work up a storm!”Avery covered their hands across their heart for the first part of that sentence, awkwardly chuckling as they rubbed their neck. Then, they spun one last time and widened their stance, their left hand forming a J on the left of their chest.

“Call me Robomecha, cause I’ll make your heart spark!”

Transformation Sequence

---

Getting the Baby to Sleep

[the-silver-peahen-residence]

Morning, I know it's been a while since you added a part to the DI5 au but....can we get some update on what is happening now? If it's okay.

((Good morning to you too anon, hope your okay. And yes it's been a while hasn't it? I'm sorry for not adding anything to this little Au in a while now. Due to work and things it left me trying to think of what else to add. Though, I think I can do something. So I hope this is alright and makes up for being so late.))

((Oh and the ones mentioned in this belong to my friend @demon-blood-youths while some others belong to me too along with some added guest muses who will be showing up as well in this.))

Silver butterfly mun/Peahen mom

Seems thanks to Fosh and Mouse, they were able to find some hidden data resulting in what this infection is like. He got the copy files from the two but he told them to come to where he is so they can study on it more.

For now, he was keeping a eye out for any other fractions that would show up here and out of harm's way. Though, he did find two more fractions that showed up a while ago.

~~~~~A few hours earlier~~~~~~

"Anything?"

"No sir. Nothing yet. Thanks to the data, we might need some time to read and study up on this weird formula. It's unlike any other we seen before but it's nothing too hard to look over." one doctor said seeing the mess but it was what the infection was made of. They needed more info but the hackers had the data with them."

"Even so, keep looking through it please." Mr. Henderson said with a sigh. But while looking about, he hopes the others were alright. The guards outside were keeping a eye out for survivors and got told some of the people and demons that was still alive and here safe was evacuated through helicopter to a secret place. They were out of NYC for the time being till this whole mess was over with.

However, as he was checking on something, he heard some paging from a walkie-talkie. He picks it up and answers.

"Go ahead."

'Sir, we see a group of young people coming down this way..I think it's one of the fractions.' someone said as Mr. Henderson blinks.

"Wait, are you sure?" he asked.

'Affirmative sir. We will see when they get close over...'

Mr Henderson said nothing but he hopes it was while going to meet up with them. He did see Guam's fraction all rested and bandaged up. They were one of the only fractions that got here safely and un infected. Now he worries of the others.

In a while, just like the guard said, the door opens to show one group walking inside tired as the guards checks them. Each one was look at for any infected viewing but shows none was. They were taken inside as Mr. Henderson looks to see it was a fraction!

The Knights of Darkness.

"Everyone, your alive and safe..."

"Mr. Henderson!?" Angel said but he was seeing everyone tired from the running and fighting.

"Yes, I know you are all confused right now but I'll explain after you guys are taken in and treated. But let me ask; are any of you infected or bitten?" he asked.

"....." the fraction members looks to one another then shook their heads when looking at him.

"Alright. Here, get me some help moving them inside." he said seeing the guards helping them carefully while getting them to a area for them. They were able to see Guam and his fraction resting up but they jumped in shock happy to see Joshua's fraction safe. Mr. Henderson was happy to see this but he blinks to notice something.

"Hold on; where's Joshua? Why isn't he with you? What of the others on Ashley's team and herself?" Mr. Henderson asked only for Vanessa to shake her head.

"N..No...we got separated from them. We were hoping they were here safe with you and whoever else is here." she said and yet, given the look on Mr. Henderson's face shows otherwise.

"As for Hiroshi, we heard he's with Hellmare and T-bone's with Maggie. We know that Timmy and Hex are with the healers Swan and Ophelia with Gerald, Taz, and Daniella and the others too...."

"I...I see.."

"Wait, so Ash and her team still isn't here? Or anyone else besides us and Guam's group?" Sydeia asked.

"I'm afraid so. We are still looking around for them right now and waiting for them to come here. For right now, I told them to come here safe so we can work on trying to figure something out. For now...that's what we have. But don't worry, I'll be sure they are found and safe. For now you guys rest up..." he said seeing the fraction nods but their was worry on their faces.

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

That was hours ago and he got word both fractions were asleep resting from the nightmare. Guam's fraction kept a eye on Joshua's fraction but they were worried of their other friends.

'I Hope you all are safe. I know Matt and his fractions is safe where they are..but I need to know more. I need the hackers here safe and hope for the best on fixing this..' he thought but now he was worried about this new threat roaming around. This was just getting worse.

~~~~Meanwhile with Ashley and Joshua~~~~

Joshua was just arriving to another safe house after the last one was moved from. He had a bad feeling that something was roaming around in that location but he was tired after helping Ashley get out of there. Right now, she was really tired but he sets her down on the bed while she was laying on the side.

"O...Okay....okay were safe.." he mutters seeing they were near Times square right now. They shouldn't be too far off from where Mr. Henderson is. But right now they had to wait a week before moving again. Just to be safe. He looks to Ashley who was tired while curled up.

"....." Her breathing was slow but she looks a lot more tired now due to the infection. She's fighting it which he knew but he was so worried about her that he didn't want her to go through this.

Looking to Ash, he slowly reaches to rest a hand on her cheek as she remains resting up but nuzzles into the palm of his hand. "...Don't worry Ash..I'll keep you safe..just please fight this infection. Don't give into it." he begs even if she still remains resting she only relaxed knowing Joshua was close to her.

"I hope the others are safe..same for your team too.." he mutters softly.

However, she was curled up more on the bed that he remains by her side, hearing the disturbing noises outside from the infected. He only hopes they get out of here and away from here. He also hopes the others still out here are on the move soon.

~~~~~~~~~Meanwhile~~~~~~~~~~~

Their has been some movement with others. They did move to new safe houses from the new dangerous ??? infected that was seen roaming some areas. It was getting dangerous now but the others were only remembering one thing: Keep moving.

Right now the following are in new safe houses:

T-bone and Maggie who moved two hours ago.

Oblivion and Yuuka that was just arriving in their own. It's said Yuuka's team are on the move as well and has met up finally.

Fosh and Mouse along with Navarro and Echo were on the move right now.

The six claws with Ink were just getting to their new safe house check point

Willow and Ethan along with their two fractions were half way close to a new safe house or the last one before seeing the destination of where mr. Henderson is located.

Sai and Vivi were just close to their own and moving quietly or Sai carrying her due to her still recovering.

Rex and Kali was still moving along with their fractions but they were keeping a eye on rex's team who is now infected.

Hellmare and Hiroshi was really close to Mr. Henderon's location but needed to wait till moving again.

Joshua and Ashely are in a safe location now but don't know Joshua's team made it to the safe point while her team is scatted out right now.

Fin and his boys were half way to the check point of Mr. Henderson's area but the one that was infected or some have started losing it. They sadly had to be put down because of it. Doing that was hard for Fin seeing that they snapped due to the infection. Though, the remaining ones kept moving hearing some being eaten alive.

Jaron and Rust had just moved to a new safe house hours ago and is watching over Melinda and Breezy who are knocked out right now.

The healers Ophelia, Swan, and Hex along with Timmy, Taz, Gerald, Ping, and Daniella were just showing up at a new safe house after losing some infected that was chasing them.

And finally for Jinx, she still remains kidnapped......no word was heard ever since.

As for Jinx......

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

"Anything yet?" Dr. Mart K. asked looking at the testing part seeing two doctors checking on a studying fight. They had two infected inside the room but Jinx was there too. However, she looked a lot worse than before while looking more savage and blood hungry. She drools hissing at the two before they begin attacking.

The other two inside were fighting her but hearing some loud thumping noises and crashing noises with blood splattering across the glass.

"Well, given the tests, seem she is breaking little by little. We might have to give her a bit more." he said while the scientist sighed agreeing. The two saw one of the infected's body slam against the glass area as Jinx kept fighting the other.

"..Doctor Mark? I got word that more of the more dangerous infected is roaming and settling in nicely. They are already taken over 70% of NYC." He blinks looking to see Tabatha say this while she was happy.

"Good work. Lets keep this up and see how it goes after.." he saw her nod agreeing with him. "Second, where is Doctor Hashmar anyway?" he asked.

"I heard he was working on the DNA For the infected gene. He's making it stronger and studying the previous strain now. He said something of new effects on demons." she said. New effects?

"What do you mean by that?"

"I don't know. That's why he's working on that now in his office..guess he's looking for more things to study on." she shrugs but smiled as Mark sighed.

"I see. Well, please keep me up to date..for now, see that our test subject don't pass out." he said turning to walk off as Tabatha Jones sees Jinx panting while laying on the ground. She was coated in blood but the door hisses open showing Tabatha grabbing her arm to force her to sit up.

"Not bad Kitty. Your getting better and better...just need to be sure you keep obeying like a good girl...." she smirked but forces her up on her feet and follow her. However, she resisted only for Tabatha to punch her spilling blood.

Jinx winced from the hit but was forced to follow her. "Seems you still got some fight in you..no worries though, we have a lot more tests to work on for you before releasing you to find more of your friends." she giggled as Jinx was dragged.

"........."

"But we have to work on that strong will of yours first.." she said walking before getting into a room as the door slams shut, locking behind them.

~~~~~Meanwhile somewhere else at Tokyo's Outskirts~~~~~~

"And that's the mission..seems this little sickness is from the USA in NYC or dark NYC as most have called it. However, we'll have to go and help them out...even given the fact little Taz and Kinie is there. I suggest you guys be ready..and maybe help in finding a cure for this." a male said showing the mission. However, the group was worried seeing the mess.

But it explains the horrors that's been happening here. To some people getting ill all of a sudden. They thought it was cursed spirits but this was something else....but it seems some that was infected were also cursed showing curse like skin conditions and health conditions.

Just what the hell is going on? However, one male was worried seeing the secret tape of Jinx being infected and badly hurt. This leaves him closing his fist.

'.......Jinx......'

"Don't worry Yuji, we'll help her and the others....we already got someone to take us there to aid. Though, we will hopefully get help resulting in some of this happening.." another male named Megumi said seeing someone sitting down while looking tired.

A worried hoot was heard as a familiar shinigami was resting on his partner's lap but another girl was sitting by him while tears were seen. She looks at the bandaged up bite there on his shoulder but he didn't move but was still alive.

".........."

For now, the group waits for orders till it was time to depart. Seems this infection has spread out even more. A lot more than one thinks.