#BUT TETRIS IS STILL ALLOWED TO LIVE FOR SOME REASON?!?!

[49telecast]

my papas freezeria save…… it got deleted……… god i’m ready to go up

[m0chitown]

🕷 Redback Spider | EARTH-90605: Manila, Philippines, 1968.

It's a change of scenery, hm? Welcome to Manila. It's 1968, and it's as hot as you can imagine it to be in a tropical nation. Oh, yeah, no, don't expect yourself to be slick and sneaky with your arrival-Word can get around everywhere in a second! And within those seconds, you're already family.

"Anak, meron kang alikabok sa ulo mo, halika dito, aayusin ko lang your buhok mo."

(My child, you have dust on your head, come here, let me just fix your hair.)

"Ang ganda mo talaga!"

(You're so totally pretty!)

"Foreigner ka ba?"

(Are you a foreigner?)

"Gutom ka ba? Gusto mo ba ng Halo-halo?"

(Are you hungry? Would you like some Halo-halo?)

I love Halo-halo...Anyways, allow me to introduce myself! I am known as RB. I was bitten by an extraterrestrial Redback spider. His name is Kanan, and what makes him extraterrestrial is his Symbiote form he injected on the right side of my neck, hence his name. He bit me when I got caught in my own web, being cornered by my boss and his subordinates from a mafia I work for...

Let's rewind a bit...

I work as a sketch artist for the police department. Can't do much with the pay that I have, especially with my circumstances of being both a woman and of a lower class. my Tito(Uncle) Aaron, works as a bartender at a pretty okay saloon. Our pay is enough to allow us to sustain ourselves in this grand, lively city despite the state of our economy so, it works out. Thing is, my Papa, my grandfather, was KIA during WWII and left me and my uncle a large sum of money we keep for absolute emergencies. As far as we knew, we were the only ones who knew about his inheritance until a little later down the line when I'd get surrounded and pinned to a wall by men in suits in a dark alleyway. Cliche, I know, I told them that too. They introduced themselves as Papa's former subordinates who were left with distasteful lives because of Papa's business with them. Until this day, I have yet to find out what tainted my Papa from being someone other than a sweet military guy but they threatened to hit the nail on my own coffin and harm my Tito in addition if I declined their offer to not only provide my Papa's old documents but to become their hitman. Someone who could do their dirty work for them in order to take down other mafia rings and eventually rise to the top as millionaires.

...

So...I took the option to withdraw those threats. I joined the mafia as their new hitman, all while having to keep this all from my Tito. It was rough, I couldn't take anyone's life just like that, and that is where we left off. With Kanan, such a transformation as such into a Spider-Person was gorey and unsettling, to say the least.

Kanan told me not to worry about it. Not to worry about them.

And the next thing I remember was my vision blacking out and gaining my own conscious back to shaking my boss' hand surrounded by the pools of mixed blood around us.

I'm still a sketch artist, and I'm still a hitman. And I'm still the RB. Needless to say, I've grown desensitized to my double life. I've gotten to be a better hitman, but it's not something I'm proud of and it's never going to be something I will be proud of. And one day, I'm going to bring this entire mafia down with me.

I'm just glad I'm not alone.

And, well, you know the rest!

Thanks, Kanan.

AAAAA This was super fun to write! And I'm so excited now that my Spidersona is finished!! :,,] It was a tough process seeing as I had to do a lot of self-reflection within myself as I don't typically have a reason to study myself and how I'm structured. It was especially difficult before as I used to shy away from analyzing myself too much due to past insecurities so putting everything I have in a character and realizing how pretty she truly is makes me want to cry :,0 I can't change the way of how I look much, not like I can play Tetris with my bone structure LMAO but it feels really good to be able to put my insecurities off and make a character I now love a lot :,,]

Translations of Baybayin: "Kanan," "Grabe...," "RB"

[valleydreamt]

✧ PREVIOUS.

⋆ She gives a little nod of thanks as the lion moves to allow her to sort; she can at least appreciate that Scar can let her do her thing whilst speaking-- she gave a little smile as she moves to take a smaller box; full of clay gathered from her farming plots, it's easier to handle than the previous, she turns as she places it next, careful to not accidentally bump against anything ( with how many resources she's been getting recently from doing her duties, sorting through these things felt like a very weird mix of Tetris and Jenga; not that she'd say so, everyone's still getting back into the groove of Scramblecoin ). But her ears perk as the lion speaks in turn and her head spins to look at him to listen.

⋆ ❝ I guess Remy's having struggles? ❞ She states, before her eyebrows raise and she lets out an exasperated sigh, ❝ I should probably talk to Gaston about that, sorry Scar… ❞ She shakes her head, ❝ He's got a one-track mind, it's gonna take a while to drill it into his head not to say stuff like that--! ❞ Maelie's smile turns a little apologetic, she knows that Gaston's talk of hunting tends to raise a few hackles with the animal villagers-- she should start to remind him more, she thinks.

⋆ But she listens to him, and she seems to think about it-- Scar's way of living before the Valley wasn't normal for her; as he said, she thinks that, maybe, it's because there's a lot of different animal races there-- hunting to prevent potential overcrowding or things changing on the food chain could be one of the few reasons why, and Maelie could never do that to humans-- because they're all the same, maybe? She's not sure.

⋆ At his question, she pauses to let out a little hum, before looking over again, ❝ I'm not sure, actually. ❞ She admits, ❝ Some meat from certain places could have negative effects, or that it can cause disease where I'm from. ❞ She explains, ❝ It's a safety precaution in a way? Poultry is a safe meat for everyone, but it's actually a wide range of birds that are kept and prepared in order to eat. Chickens take up a good chunk of them, but turkey is also an option. ❞ She states, ❝ Other birds are kept off-limits due to what they might have in them, or that there's so little of them that they could become extinct, I think. Preservation is a big thing for us humans, I guess? ❞

[absolutepokemontrash]

Beach Day!

Masterlist~

As requested by an anon, The Half Demon kids get to have their beach day! Please enjoy!

‘‘Twas a summer’s day in the Devildom, and school was out for the next couple of months, what else was there to do other than have a fun little beach vacation?

“Do we have towels?”

“Check.”

“Umbrellas?”

“Yep.”

“Beach toys?”

“Uh huh.”

L!MC and Lucifer were running through the long list of items as the rest of the family loaded everything into their (several) cars. Mammon grunted and shoved one of three umbrellas into a gap in the piles of luggage, they were all packing the rapidly filling car like they were playing a game of Tetris from hell.

“Ya know, you two can try and, I dunno, help a little?!”

Lucifer raised an eyebrow and looked up from his list. “I am helping, Mammon. I’m making sure this doesn’t end up like the last family vacation we took.”

“What happened last time?” The soft voice of A!MC piped up, they were carrying roughly four different carryon bags into one of the cars.

“Mammon forgot to pack sunscreen during our last little visit to a human world beach and we all got horrifically sunburned. That’s why this year we’ll be visiting a proper Devildom beach.” Lucifer explained.

“That stupid mistake nearly cost me my perfect skin.” Asmo grumbled, A!MC patted him on the shoulder.

“Don’t feel too bad, dad. You look great!”

“Oh little butterfly,” Asmo patted A!MC on their head, much to the kid’s delight. “Go on~.”

“Hey pop!” Mammon’s head whirled around as he looked for the source of the voice. “THINK FAST!”

A duffel bag slammed into the side of Mammon’s head, knocking him into the side of the car.

“What the hell M!MC?!”

The little culprit gave their dad a fanged megawatt smile and shrugged. “I said think fast.”

“M!MC, he can’t think fast, he doesn’t have a brain.” Asmo smirked over at Mammon, who not so graciously flipped him off. A blast of water from wiped both the smirk and some of the makeup off Asmo’s face.

“Whoops,” M!MC lowered their water gun. “Misfire.”

Lucifer massaged his temples as he watched this complete and utter chaos unfold. This was ridiculous, he turned to L!MC. “I refuse to subject you to this, I don’t was CPS to come knocking. You are riding with Lord Diavolo and I.”

“Wooop!” L!MC cheered, then paused. “Was I not riding with you two before now?”

——————

After arriving and unpacking, everyone set out to the beach, per Lucifer’s totally reasonable beach rules, no cameras within eight feet of the beach. Asmo had to compromise and take his Devilgram selfies at Diavolo’s villa in the five minute window of time before everyone set out for the beach.

While the group made their way to the beach, M!MC proudly presented their shiny new metal detector to the crowd of not too impressed family members. Well, everyone but Mammon, he was hyped as all hell to try and find buried treasure.

As M!MC and A!MC lagged behind and chattered aimlessly, something flew right into M!MC’s face. Reeling at the sudden loss of their sight, M!MC’s hands flew to their face and peeled the thing off of them. A…piece of paper..?

No, not a piece of paper, it was a map! Well, half of a map!

“Woah… Pop! Check it!” M!MC waved the piece of paper in the air. “What if we use this to find treasure or something?”

Mammon’s eyes practically sparkled as he swiped the map from M!MC. “Kid, we’re gonna be rich. Not the lame kinda rich either, we’ll be… multiple yacht rich!”

“Oh geez…” A!MC murmured.

By the time the entire group had gotten to the actual beach, Mammon and M!MC had already had the layout of their fabulous Hollywood mansion planned out and were busily describing the kinds of cars they wanted to own. Armed with only half a treasure map and a metal detector, the two set off down the beach.

L!MC, Belphie, and Satan snickered like a bunch of kids as they set up their new pink unicorn floaty. It was just perfect for just slightly ticking off Lucifer. A!MC hummed happily as they unpacked all their sand toys, perfect for making a sand-empire! The rest of the adults set up the umbrellas and beach chairs and practically deflated when all the work was finished.

Hang on- where was Levi- OH! There he was. He had ran right into the water and was petting Lotan. Man… Lotan was fucking massive.

“Hey, Luke,” L!MC called out. “Why are you wearing water wings? You know those things don’t work, right?”

“H-huh?” Luke tilted his head in confusion. Like a chihuahua- “What do you mean?”

“Well, water wings aren’t like life jackets, water wings only keep your arms out of water. If you start to drown, those aren’t helping.” L!MC dutifully explained. “There are documented cases in the human world of kids drowning with their arms still afloat because of the water wings.”

Luke was having such a good day forty five seconds prior, now he was petrified.

——————

“Ah, this is the life, right Sea Monster Levi?” L!MC leisurely floated around on their giant pink unicorn floatie as Levi swam around them.

Levi couldn’t exactly speak, but the terrifying eldritch shriek of delight was enough of an answer.

“See, you should go outside more often, the ocean is outside, fresh air is outside,” L!MC continued to list lovely things that just happened to be outside until Lotan poked four of his heads above water. “Lotan’s outside,”

Levi grumbled and slammed his tail into the water, sending a massive wave over to L!MC.

“Fuck.”

Those were L!MC’s last words before the wave crashed into them and tipped over the floatie, leaving them angrily starfish floating in the water. “You fucking hikikomori.”

—————

A!MC carefully placed their bucket full of sand onto the ground upside down and slowly pulled the bucket away. Perfect! That made a great castle tower! The sand-city that A!MC had concocted could put any city to shame, there was a town hall, a bank, a museum, and multiple construction projects headed by Luke. Well, the chihuahua wasn’t doing too well with his castle-building.

“Aww…” Luke pouted as his castle crumbled. “I ruined it…”

“You should add a bit of water to the sand, Luke.” A!MC said as they carefully placed some seashell decorations around their castle tower. “It’ll help stop your towers from crumbling.”

Luke vehemently shook his head. “There’s no way I’m going near that water. Not after what L!MC said…”

“Luke, L!MC’s just being a butt, you won’t drown-” A!MC was unceremoniously cut off by Lotan rising from the depths of the ocean and L!MC’s squawk of protest when he began to bat their unicorn floatie around.

“Y-yeah… I won’t drown, I’ll be eaten by a sea monster…” Luke shuddered.

“A!MC, I’m living here.” Belphie laid his towel out a little ways away from the sand-city and collapsed into a snoring heap on the sand.

“Great! A new citizen!” A!MC smiled and clapped their hands. “Beel, are you going to join us?”

Beel took a large bite out of a watermelon and sat down next to Belphie. “Yeah, I’m going to live here too.”

“We’ve got a real kingdom now!”

—————

The metal detector beeped for the thousandth time that day and M!MC and Mammon were beginning to get tired. They had found a total of 45 cents and a bottle cap, not the heaps of pirate treasure their map promised.

“Alright old man, dig.” M!MC lazily motioned towards the spot in the sand where the metal detector beeped.

“Why do I gotta dig?” Mammon whined. “You do it this time!”

“I’m holding the metal detector!” M!MC snapped. “Lookit! This shit’s heavy!”

“UUUUUUUUGGGGGGGGHHHHHHH.” Mammon dropped to his knees and began to dig, unearthing a second bottle cap.

“Have our intrepid treasure hunters struck gold yet?” The taunting voice of Satan wormed its way into M!MC and Mammon’s ears as they both rolled their eyes.

“Why do you care, Satan?” M!MC sneered. “Shouldn’t you be off waxing philosophical about the demon condition or some other pretentious shit right now?”

Satan scoffed and shook his head. “So you haven’t found anything, shocker.”

“Ya didn’t answer the question, Satan.”

“Fine, you two dumbasses forgot to bring water after you immediately ran to go find your treasure.” Satan chucked two metal water bottles at Mammon, both of which hit him in the face. “So where’s your little treasure map?”

M!MC grumbled and pulled the map out of their pocket. “Here.”

Satan raised an eyebrow as he looked over the map, then looked back up at Mammon and M!MC. “I’d expect this level of idiocy from Mammon, but not you, M!MC.”

“WHAT WAS THAT?!” M!MC and Mammon shouted in unison.

Satan flipped the map around so it was facing the pair, he pointed at the X. “You’re supposed to be going that way,” Satan pointed back towards where they had set up the towels and umbrellas.

“…shit.” Mammon murmured. “I swear if we just wasted two fuckin’ hours on this-”

“Don’t blame me! I’m a mathematician, not a fucking geographer!” M!MC hissed.

“Actually, cartographers are the ones that make maps-”

“SHUT UP SATAN!”

——————

“Ugh… I hate the ocean now…” L!MC trudged over to Lucifer and plopped themselves down next to him. “0/10. Next year, can we go somewhere with significantly less seaweed?”

Lucifer wordlessly pulled a clump of sea-gunk out of L!MC’s hair and dropped it on the sand next to them. The fucking gunk-thing then began to MOVE-

“…is that alive?”

“Probably.”

L!MC grabbed the thing and threw it as hard as they could into the water. “I’m not allowing that eldritch terror the privilege of evolving.”

Lucifer chuckled and shook his head. “This is karma for the unicorn floaty.”

“That wasn’t even all my idea!” L!MC hugged their knees to their chest and grumbled. “Where’s Belphie, Satan and M!MC’s karma?!”

“I’m sure it’ll come soon.”

“Now would be nice…” L!MC growled.

“If you’re going to go sit and whine for the rest of the day you can walk back to the villa by yourself.”

“Ugh!” L!MC threw up their hands and walked away. “So Belphie can angst all he wants but I can’t?! This is bullshit!”

“LANGUAGE!”

—————

A!MC’s burgeoning kingdom had grown in population in the last few hours; Barbatos and Diavolo had moved in and were gleefully helping out with the construction projects (well, Dia was gleeful, Barbatos was standing off to the side holding lemonade), Simeon had joined in and was making a moat, and L!MC was designing the flag.

“Our walls will be impenetrable!” Diavolo proclaimed as he continued to reinforce the sand-walls. “No one would dare invade us!”

“Where’s our sand-army? I call dibs on being sand-general.” L!MC raised their hand. “Luke, you can be a sand soldier.”

“Huh?”

“Here’s your sand-sword.”

“L!MC this is driftwood…”

“Hit a bitch with it.”

“There will be no hitting of any bitches.” Simeon gently took the driftwood from Luke and chucked it into the ocean.

“Lame…” L!MC rolled their eyes.

A little while into the kingdom building, A!MC surveyed their land with a proud smile. Every little building was adorably decorated with shells and pebbles, the roads were laid out perfectly, the castle was stable… Ah. Perfection!

A familiar trio sauntered over looking down at their map and occasionally back up at the surrounding beach until they stopped right outside the moat outside of A!MC’s kingdom. Satan, Mammon, and M!MC looked up at the group and pointed their shovel and metal detector at them.

“Hey kiddos, and… not kiddos. We’re gonna need ya to move over. There’s treasure in the area and we gotta dig!” Mammon proclaimed, standing up straight and putting a hand on his hip.

“Uh… no?” A!MC sat down on their beach chair, but to them, it was more like a throne. “We spent forever building this, we aren’t just going to let you destroy it.”

“Can’t you build somewhere else?” M!MC waved their hand to a place farther down the beach that was just littered with holes from M!MC and Mammon’s treasure hunting. “Couldn’t have taken that long.”

“Are you stupid or just ignorant?” L!MC hissed, protectively moving in front of the sand-wall next to Diavolo. “This took literal hours. You three can piss off.”

“L!MC, don’t be dramatic.” Satan rolled his eyes, then looked to the adults. “Come on guys, this may actually lead to something historical. Can you guys move out?”

“Uh… fuck off?” Belphie sleepily looked up from his towel. “We were here first. Finders keepers.”

“Yeah,” Beel paused his job of helping clean up the toys and buckets. “Belphie napped here, this spots been claimed.”

Barbatos and Diavolo nodded in agreement.

“A!MC has claimed this land, therefore, it’s their kingdom.” Diavolo said.

“Guys, this ain’t a joke! There’s actual treasure here!” Mammon waved the map in the air.

“That doesn’t matter. our sandcastles, our rules.” Luke crossed his arms and huffed.

“Oh bullshit! Move over! Money and treasure is under your city and we’ll take it by force if we have to!” M!MC crossed his arms and glared.

“Really now~?” L!MC cooed, slamming their fist against their open palm. “Fucking try us.”

————

A fight would have broken out if it weren’t for Lucifer calling for everyone to eat. Everyone sat down on their towels and angrily munched on their macaroni salad and sandwiches.

Team Treasure hunter (it was generous to call them a team considering there was only three of them) were forming a plan to try and get passed the much larger Team Sandcastle. M!MC and Satan bounced ideas off of each other while Mammon stole everyone’s potato chips.

“So, we need to lure at least some of them away… but how?” M!MC stuck their hand into the much reduced bowl of chips and took out a fistful.

“Mmm…” Satan murmured. “Well, there’s a thief in our midst…”

M!MC knitted their eyebrows in confusion, then began to nod in understanding. “Ah… and we have someone very quick…”

Both Satan and M!MC turned to Mammon, who was polishing off the chips and counting their metal detector money. He stopped mid chew and tilted his head.

“What are ya lookin’ at?”

Over with Team Sandcastle, L!MC carefully traced Belphie’s hand onto a piece of paper with a vindictive smirk on both their faces.

“What are you doing?” Luke asked as he bit into his kebab.

“It’s an official declaration of war.” L!MC quickly finished up the tracing and proudly showed the picture of Belphie’s middle finger to the assembled team. “I think it’s very clear and concise.”

Simeon slapped a palm to his forehead as Luke let out a gasp.

“L!MC! That’s so vulgar and awful-” Luke’s irate yapping went completely ignored.

“It’s a very nice picture.” Beel calmly observed, turning over the paper in his hands.

“Enough about the declaration!” A!MC stood up and put their hands on their hips. “We need to take action immediately! I’m not letting our sand kingdom fall into their hands!”

“We know that A!MC, but we need to at least give them some kind of warning that we’re going to beat them into the ground.” L!MC said.

“They got their warning. Now is not the time for being polite, now is the time for curb stomping.”

“Is it just me,” Belphie leaned over to Beel and cartoonishly whispered. “Or is A!MC getting really intense about this?”

—————

Team Treasure Hunter’s battle plan did not go as well as they thought it would. Satan and M!MC did not factor the fact that Mammon would be stealing something and then running in sand, and next to no one can properly run in fluffy beach sand, what this poor narrator is trying to say is that Mammon got football tackled immediately because he couldn’t run after he stole something as a distraction. Oh well… at least the sand was soft…

Team Sandcastle’s superior numbers meant superior ideas, and one of their ideas was for A!MC to politely ask some of the beach dwelling creepy crawlies to attack the other team. Well uh… toes were pinched that day…

“Fools,” A!MC sat straighter in their beach chair. “All of them.”

“I’m loving the supervillain vibes, A!MC, but-”

“But nothing!” A!MC cut L!MC off with a huff. “I’m not a supervillain either!”

“Sounds like something a supervillain would say.” Belphie snickered, only to be blasted in the face with a water gun. A!MC was turning on their own people…

“Alright, everyone who dares to doubt me gets the water gun.” A!MC sneered. “My kingdom won’t fall!”

The kingdom fell.

One giant wave caused by Lotan and Levi playing in the water nearby crashed onto the beach and absolutely flattened the detailed sand kingdom. A!MC slowly moved their hair out of their eyes and turned to Lotan and Levi in the water.

“You… you…” A!MC growled, a tick forming in their right eye. “YOU SHUT-IN PIECE OF [Hello, this is the narrator, I’m very sorry but I cannot repeat what little A!MC said here. I hope you all can find it in your hearts to forgive them for this outburst, their kingdom just got destroyed after all.]”

Simeon vaulted forward and covered Luke’s ears while the rest of the group on the beach stared in wide eyed shock as their sweet little A!MC cussed out two giant sea monsters. This was… not what they expected from their beach trip…

Beel quickly recovered from his shock and scooped A!MC up into his arms. A!MC didn’t seem to care all that much as they continued to kick and scream profanity at the giant sea monsters. Beel lumbered over to Asmo and handed the screeching A!MC to him.

“This is yours.”

“…Beel dear,” Asmo looked at the practically feral child that had managed to shift into their demon form, then looked to Beel. “Are you sure?”

——————

Ever the opportunists, Team Treasure Hunter managed to dig in the area where the sand kingdom once stood. After roughly an hour of digging, Mammon struck something… wooden. Hmm…

“Hey I uh… think I found somethin’!”

“Really?” M!MC exclaimed. “Lemme see! Let’s get it out!”

“Allow me,” Diavolo motioned for everyone to move away and leaned in. He yanked a massive treasure chest out of the sand like it was nothing and plopped it onto the beach. “Oh! It is a treasure chest! How novel!”

Mammon jumped forward and yanked the chest open, inside was an absolute mess of glimmering gold and jewelry.

“DON’T TOUCH THAT.” Lucifer’s booming voice stopped Mammon dead in place. Everyone’s heads swivelled to look at him. “It’s probably cursed gold, you idiots.”

“As much as I hate to agree with Lucifer, we should at least check before we touch anything.” Satan crossed his arms and grumbled.

The gold was hella cursed and basically useless. No one went back to the villa happy.

———————

A!MC sulkily kicked off their shoes and flopped backwards onto their bed. They stared half-vacantly up at the ceiling, they were so tired despite the fact that they hadn’t even gone swimming… they had spent their entire day building that stupid sandcastle kingdom…

M!MC flopped down next to them and let out an explosive sigh. “Hey.”

“Hey.”

“Sorry about your sandcastle stuff…”

A!MC sighed and shrugged. “Yeah… sorry about your treasure…”

“Yeah… so far this trip blows.”

L!MC flopped down next to A!MC and practically deflated.

“What’s wrong with you?” M!MC asked, rolling over onto their side to look at their cousin.

“I’m in mourning…” L!MC grumbled, holding up a piece of pink stretchy plastic. “Lotan ate my unicorn floaty.”

“Aww… I’m sorry L!MC.” A!MC patted them on the shoulder. “Let’s go fight Lotan and Levi for revenge.”

“A!MC. I’m grieving, not suicidal.” L!MC said seriously, then their face melted into a grin as they began to giggle. “Dummy…”

“I’m not a dummy! I think we might have a chance!”

“Yeah, a chance of gettin’ eaten!” M!MC snickered.

“Okay… maybe…” A!MC giggled.

“Hey guys,” Simeon knocked on the door and poked his head in. “We’re making a fire for s’mores, you all better hurry up before Beel gets to everything.”

The three kids stuck their thumbs up and got ready to go. S’mores fix everything!

————

Author’s note: Okay, back in like… May, I promised I’d write a beach day episode for these characters, and it’s finally done!!

The whole sandcastle war is something that actually happened when I went to a summer camp ^.^

It was less about digging for treasure and more about who had the best sandcastles, and I shit you not, a wave slammed into the rival team’s sandcastle. It was funny as S H I T. HA! TAKE THAT RIVAL TEAM! MAYBE YOU SHOULDN’T HAVE MADE YOUR CITY SO CLOSE TO THE WATER!

[fitgothgirl]

So I’m starting to make some plans to change up my room and it’s exciting! My bf and I live in a house that’s three bedrooms, so we have our bedroom and then we each have our own rooms for our offices. It’s glorious and I love having my own space, but there’s no bed in my (or his) room. But my bf snores with a good amount of volume though lol, so even with earplugs, I have to go sleep on the couch like half the nights... Our couch is actually super comfortable, but if I’m going to be sleeping somewhere else half the time on a regular basis, I’d prefer for it to be a bed, especially since I don’t want to wear out our couch faster than it would be.

And honestly, we’re not cuddlers or anything and I do like my space, so I’m excited for those reasons as well. I don’t really understand the appeal of sleeping in the same bed, at least if you’re already living together and it’s all the time. It’s more understandable once in a while or if you’re living apart and having a sleepover at someone's house. Otherwise it’s just fighting over blankets and space, and worrying about disturbing them with noise/movement, etc. And that’s even considering that we have a king bed... Also my bf has a lot of allergies, so he never sleeps with the window open (understandably), but that’s something I LOVE to do in the summer. But since I haven’t been able to do that since we’ve lived together, the summers have had me pumping our AC at nighttime...

Don’t get me wrong, I’ll still sleep in “our” bed a good amount of the time, but I’m just happy I’m going to have this option. And it’ll be good for my bf too, since he feels bad I go to the couch so much, so sometimes he’ll just elect to sleep out there to give me the bed. But this way, he won’t have to feel bad since I’ll have a legit bed.

The only thing is my office is the smallest of the three rooms. It’s just under 100sqft (9m²). I’ve measured and I can Tetris things in a way that would actually allow for an XL twin, which would be even nicer (same width, but five inches longer than a regular twin). I just have to get a new desk that’s much smaller, but I can deal with that. I think I want to get a bookshelf desk too so it can be skinny but still have good storage above it. I don’t need the space of my current desk, since I’ve realized most of what I use the space for is just knick knacks and clutter.

Now to just save up like $1000 real quick so that I can afford all this new furniture at once... Lol. I know it’s going to take time, but it’s just exciting to be planning right now. I love decorating my space. Brings me back to being a kid living at home, I was one of those people who would move their furniture around like once a month haha.

[bluepenguinstories]

Remoras Full Chapter XXXI: Treant

There wasn’t much interesting about me. Not really. That wasn’t me being self-deprecating or anything. If anything, I quite liked being in the background. Others around me have always been more interesting, and I was happy enough just to help those others out.

That’s why I worked from childhood through my adulthood in order to become a doctor. It wasn’t like a total dream of mine, and I wasn’t sure if I’d call myself “passionate” (one of my top qualities, I think, is that I’ve been called a dispassionate person. But I shouldn’t humblebrag), but when I was in grade school and saw one of my classmates get injured, I couldn’t help but be compelled to want to help them. Then there were times, like when my sister or my mom would get sick and I’d be like “gee, I wonder what would help them get better.”

Skip past many years of boring details, and the rest is history. Got my own apartment after completing my internship at one of the nearby hospitals. When my sister helped me move in, we found a time travel device in the closet that I mistook for a Nintendo 64. It’s not as interesting of a detail as it seems. Anyway, that aside, there was still work to be had just about every day.

Skip ahead a few more years after that…

...And there was still work to be had.

It was about that time in the morning when it wasn’t yet bright and early and the coffee I poured tasted like sludge. When the showers were scalding and suffocating fumes filled the bathroom, yet when I turned off the shower, I shivered like a nudist at the north pole.

Towel was too small. Quick shimmy and I groaned and threw it in the laundry basket. No one else was around to see me naked, so whatever. Even if there was, my bedroom door was closed. On the bed were my work clothes, which in my groggy state, I tried to fit the shirt on my legs and the pants on my head. After a few tries and tired moans and groans, I got it right. Still, my tie was a little loose.

I’ll fix it on my way there. Or I won’t and I’ll just say I’m setting a new fashion trend.

I glanced down at my limited edition Kamen Rider Black wristwatch and my blood pressure spiked upon noticing the time.

“Fuck,” I cursed, though in my hoarse tiredness, it sounded more like a donkey braying.

Yes, it was ‘fucktime’, that universal concept of that time of day where one looks at the time and exclaims “fuck!” There were many reasons for cursing at a time of day, and it didn’t have to be any time in particular, but the most common reason was due to the situation I was in: I was running late for work.

In a state of fight or flight (which I am always in flight since I could use the exercise), I put a couple of bagel slices into the toaster, wished that my toaster had a turbo speed button, and paced about until those two slices popped up; they weren’t crispy enough, but they’d have to do. Like the skilled painter that I wasn’t, I swiped across the two halves of the bagel with a messy gloop of cream cheese.

No more time left.

I ran out the door, or whatever constituted as a run in my mind, with the bagel halves held tight in my mouth.

This ridiculous display persisted for about...oh, to hell with it, let’s just skip all the embarrassment. Fast forward to when I got to the hospital, drenched in sweat and cream cheese on the cuff of my shirt.

“Ran late again?” The receptionist, I think her name was Wormwood, looked up from her computer. Her thick brown hair was in a bun and she didn’t just have bags under her eyes, but bags under those bags. That’s okay, I’ve had those days as well. From the reflection of her glasses, it looked like she was playing an intense game of Tetris.

“A doctor is never early nor late,” I huffed, trying to sound more self-assured than my short breath would allow.

“Yeah, you wish. Go change your shirt. You’ve got a patient waiting for you in room 413,” she clucked. Was clucked the right descriptor? Well, it was a vague chicken-like tone, so cluck was good enough.

“Why’s it always patients with me?” I joked. She didn’t so much as give a half-hearted chuckle. She could have at least said, “A for effort,” but I guess everyone was a critic. I hurried over to the hospital’s resident dry cleaner, who always had a spare pair of uniforms, scrubs, nice shirts, you name it. Our dry cleaner guy was a typical average dude with stringy red hair, named Marion or something. He always had that strung out look about him that gave the impression that he was pretty trustworthy. I showed him the cream cheese on my shirt and he made an OK sign with both hands, closed his eyes, and shook his head.

“Say no more,” he assured me in the most endearing bored-out-of-your-mind voice imaginable.

As I waited for him to grab me a spare shirt, I looked up and saw a couple of green scrubs hanging around.

“I can’t do this on my own. I’m no superman,” I hummed the tune. Marion (that might not have been his name, but it was pretty damn close to what I imagine his name was) turned and asked, “what?”

“You know, Scrubs? It’s a reference.”

“Oh, man, I don’t know the first thing about references,” he bemoaned in both a disinterested tone and a disoriented one.

Man, nobody appreciates a good reference these days.

After I received my change of shirt, I went into the nearest bathroom and speedran the Trent Dress Up game. Not to brag, but I might have set a new record that day. Okay. Moving on.

Up four flights of stairs I lumbered up, each foot dragged behind the other. Yes, I could have used the elevator, but then that wouldn’t have been very doctor-like of me, would it? I mean, plenty of doctors took the elevator, and there was nothing wrong with that, but I always tried to do healthy things. It didn’t really matter much, I mean, I was already healthy, I was just a little chubby, was all. So what? I was a big ol’ teddy bear in a lab coat. At least I rocked the look.

Twelve rooms down. Then the thirteenth: that was where I heard the assistant.

“Dr. Bark will see you now,” the assistant informed the patient. After she left, which I didn’t really get a good look at, but I’ve probably worked with her before, I opened the door and greeted the patient.

“Woof, woof!” I made my best dog voice, which probably sounded closer to a howler monkey than a dog.

My patient just looked at me, not amused in the slightest. He was an elderly man who looked like a bad caricature of an elderly man. Not one of the kind ones, either. No, more like the grumpy kind who would yell at you if you so much as lived in the general vicinity of the same neighborhood he lived in. Then again, I knew looks could be deceiving and if anything, his face was probably contorted in pain.

“Okay, so I’m not that clown doctor, but if you honk my nose, I will still make a sound,” I gave a nervous laugh as I said. He just continued to stare at me.

It turned out that he had a small seizure just as I entered the room. Lovely timing, really.

Before I could take a break and have some lunch, there were a few more fun moments, gross moments, sad moments, silly moments, the whole gamut. Really, I loved my job because there were many opportunities to treat others and get them to better health. But also I hated my job because it was a job and I hated being the bearer of big bills due to the malicious concept of private insurance.

My sister-in-law was always going on about how I should be more ambitious. How I could try to start my own clinic and treat people for free, out of the kindness of my heart. Which I loved, that really was a dream if I ever had one. But there was the matter of means. Equipment costs money, I’d need more space, I’d have to get all those good prescription drugs that all the cool cats liked. I wasn’t even sure if I could do it, legally.

But hey, if it were possible, I’d do it. For sure. Maybe.

Once I made it to the hospital’s cafeteria, I grabbed a lobster salad with a garlic roll and a pink lady apple for an extra layer of irony. It was ironic because no matter how many times I ate one of those, I could never keep myself away from the hospital. Shame, too. The busier I was, the less time I had to play Monster Hunter.

Anyway, as I looked for a place to sit, I hummed a tune I heard over the radio.

“Don’t call my name, don’t call my name, Alejandro. Fernando,” I hummed. Or rather, mumbled. Because I knew for a fact that I said those words out loud, whether or not I should have saved myself the embarrassment.

“Yes?” Crooned the seductive and husky toned voice of a man I didn’t recognize. I looked around, then noticed that the owner of such a voice was seated all by his lonesome at a table in the middle of the cafeteria.

Oh good, finally a table that’s not crowded.

I made the no-brainer decision to sit across from him at the table. His head sported a vast field of curly black hair as well as the stubble-laden remnants of a rugged black mustache. He reminded me of the guy from that Just Cause series of games, though not sure why, as I’ve never played them, though I had to admit, grappling hooks were pretty cool.

“Did you say something?” I stared into his inviting rosemary colored eyes. Mostly because I felt it rude if I didn’t. Imagine if someone did that to me, just looked away when they spoke to me. Actually, that’s probably happened many times.

“You said my name,” he replied, more plain this time, without as much of a soothing effect, but no less friendly.

“Oh? Alejandro?” I blinked, unaware that I had said anyone’s name.

“No, Fernando, but you may call me Fern. Everyone does,” he smiled as he told me, a smile as soothing as his voice could be.

“Well, I certainly wanna do what everyone else is doing,” I chuckled. “I’m Trent, by the way.”

He gave a slow nod.

“What a beautiful name. Do you know who does the song that you were singing?”

Oh god, if ever there was a time to be embarrassed.

“I just heard the song on the radio! I don’t know anything about it, I just thought it was kinda catchy.”

“I’ll give you a hint: it starts with ‘Lady’.”

Fuck. I was bad at guessing games.

“Lady and the Tramp?”

“No.”

“Lady Marmaduke?”

“No. You have three more guesses.”

Wait. He never said I had a limit of five. Now I was really feeling the pressure.

“Lady Groudon?”

“Close.”

Oh! Now I knew what it was!

“Lady Goomy!”

“...No, not quite. But really close.”

Damn. I only had one guess left, too. The heat was really on now.

“Lady Gloop?”

He bit his lip trying to hold back laughter, but couldn’t, and it all came flooding out.

“Um, did I win?” I wasn’t sure what to make of that laughter, but I had to know. I just HAD to know.

After he settled down, he shook his head and with an aching calm assured me:

“It’s not important.”

“Well, what is important, then?” I grimaced, the answer not given to me.

“The lives of our patients are what’s important.”

Yeah, that seemed a little obvious, though, considering our professions and all. Actually, I wasn’t quite sure whether he was a doctor or not. I didn’t recall ever working with him.

“What do you do here, by the way?” I couldn’t help but ask.

“I’m a nurse, mi amor.”

Once he said that, everything clicked into place.

“No wonder you’ve got that gentle voice,” I observed.

“I don’t have to be gentle if you don’t want me to be.”

“No, no,” I shook my head. “For the sake of the patients, I think you ought to be.”

We went back and forth after that, chatting about this and that, though nothing really important. Really, it was nice, I didn’t usually chat with anyone. Afterward, however, it was back to the grind. Oh joy.

Once said day one was done, I flopped on home and collapsed on my sofa. Next to me was a controller, and I had bought my copy of Final Fantasy XVI the other day, but haven’t had a chance to play it.

“My body...too feeble…” I wheezed out the words as my hands shook trying to reach for the controller. Just as it seemed like the controller was within my grasp, my phone rang.

When there was something in closer proximity than the item that I really wanted, the natural urge was to reach for the one in closer proximity instead.

“Hey Trent. It’s me,” came the sudden and to the point tone of my sister-in-law: Vesuvius.

“Oh, hey. What’s up?” I snapped to my senses and sat right up. “Is everything okay? Nothing too serious, I hope.”

“Yeah, everything’s fine. I’ve got a nice little apartment with my beautiful wife. I just haven’t spoken to you in a while and wanted to see how you were doing.”

“Oh, what a relief. I was worried you were having another mental health episode.”

“Hey! I don’t go around pointing out the time you had food poisoning, do I?” She scolded. Yeah, okay. That was fair.

She didn’t have many mental health episodes, but ever since that incident with her and Juniper’s stalkers, she had been more sensitive and more on edge. That said, I really was happy for her and that she was at peace.

“You’re right. God, that was a rough time. Who knew blueberries could be so poisonous?”

“All things in nature can,” she stated. Gee, if anyone knew that, it would’ve been her.

“How are all things with settling into the apartment?” I asked. She hadn’t been there long, but it was a bold step for her, considering her social anxiety, which she tried to act like she didn’t have.

“You know, it’s an adjustment. It gets lonely when Juniper isn’t home. I’m not used to her having anything resembling a job. I hate to sound possessive, but I don’t like that she has one. I wish we didn’t have to make money to live.”

“Be as possessive as you want,” I chuckled. “Er...within reason. Say, have you saved up for anything?”

“No. Why?”

“Well, you always go on about wanting to do that whole ‘cottagecore’ lifestyle thing. So maybe you could save for that and go for it?”

She drew a deep breath, as if she were about to blow a gust of wind out of every orifice.

“First off, I don’t know what a ‘cottagecore’ is, but I’m cautious around anything with the suffix of -core. You know I’m a delicate flower.”

“And a poisonous one,” I pointed out.

“Yes, well, poisonous flowers can be delicate. And hey! Be nice to me!”

I coughed up a chuckle.

“Okay, well, second off,” she continued. “What I want is to live off the land, in a field of flowers. Growing my own field. Having peace and quiet in the middle of nowhere.”

“Yeah, that’s cottagecore.”

“Don’t say words I don’t understand to me!” She scolded. “It’s really demeaning.”

“Okay, okay,” I tried to settle down with the teasing. “But for real, it’s not like it’s impossible. Juniper could build a house, she likes making things.” Then again, she probably wouldn’t build a house very well, but I’m sure she’d enjoy the attempt. “It may take a bit of money for the resources, but it’s not like it’s impossible.”

“Yeah, well, first thing’s first is I want to see a therapist. Like, an actual therapist.”

“Oh, that could be good for you.”

“Yeah…” Her voice trailed, and the tone of her voice shifted to a more mournful one. “I still remember how I was during that time. I have trouble believing that it’s really over. All of that pain lingers with me. It’s not something I wish to remember, but it’s something I’m unable to forget.”

“Don’t beat yourself up too bad,” I tried to reassure her. I assumed she was referring to the whole stalker incident that occurred at the same time she dealt with her mental health episode. “Everyone has a breaking point. There’s nothing to be ashamed of there.”

“No, but there is. I was confused. Desperate. I hurt the most important person in my life. I hurt someone else that I could have helped. That I could have saved. If I had just known how. If my mind was more clear back then,” her voice shifted into a growl. “I hate it. I hate inflicting pain. Especially because it’s not who I want to be. No who I am anymore,” her voice then grew sharper. Harsher. “Yet I can’t help but feel like it’s still with me, buried somewhere, and I just want to punch a wall, rip my hair out, something! Something to cut this off from me!”

“Hey, hey,” I could tell she was working herself up. “You and Juniper are both sensitive people. Sometimes people lash out when their emotions are heightened. It doesn’t mean you’re bad or anything, but you can work on it. For what it’s worth, I do think you two are good together.”

“Thank you,” her voice quieted back to the mournful tone it was at first and I could hear sniffling and weeping in the background. “I’m sorry. I told myself I would keep composed and yet I went off into that rant. Gee, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re a better therapist than the one I pretended to be.”

“Heh. It’s nothing. You’ve definitely been through a lot. Get yourself some tea or something, that might help.”

“Thanks,” she sniffled again. “What about you? Is there anything new with you?”

“Eh. Same ol’ boring stuff at the hospital. People get sick and die, some people get better.”

“To which?” She let out a weak chuckle.

“Oh, definitely the sick part. I’ve yet to someone get better from being dead, but anything can happen. Fingers crossed, right?”

“Heh…so there’s nothing new at all? What about at the house? I bet you’re glad to have Juniper and I out of your hair.”

“Eh. You guys weren’t that bad to deal with.”

“That’s a relief. Do you miss us?”

“Hmm...a bit. It’s a bit quiet now, but I like it. Means I can play video games in peace and walk around the apartment in my underwear.”

“Indeed, that is a positive. Though I didn’t need to hear the last part.”

I tried to think about anything of substance I could actually talk about.

“Oh! I met someone new at the hospital today! This nurse named Fern. He’s got these beautiful murky green eyes and maze-like curly dark hair. Oh, and his mustache. I bet I’d be ticklish if it rubbed against me,” I announced with a sense of excitement at the prospect of actually having something to say.

“Are you attracted to this Fern person?” She inquired.

While I didn’t quite know where she got that idea from, I wasn’t going to say that he was ugly or anything like that.

“I’m certainly not repelled by him,” I joked. Heh. Magnets. “Why do you ask?”

“Just curious, since you described him in such exquisite detail.”

“Eh. Isn’t it normal to describe people you talk about?”

“Not in my experience. Not like that, anyway. But hey, what do I know?”

“Yeah, well, I just met him today, so I doubt I’ll describe him every time I talk about him. He seems nice, in any case. Hey, maybe the four of us could play D&D together sometime?” I perked up at the prospect of having someone else to play D&D with. That was the most important thing about meeting someone. If not D&D, maybe I could gush about 80s Sci-Fi movies or J-RPGs.

“I don’t know...that game always brings out the worst in me...I try to be a healer but whenever I encounter a monster I just want to grind them into dust and then I curse the fact that I didn’t pick a class like barbarian.”

“Heh. That is a problem. You could always just be a barbarian.”

“No. I don’t want to,” I could tell she stuck her nose up just by her tone of voice alone.

“In any case, we gotta get this going on! We never seem to finish a campaign!” I was SO pumped to get this thing going on.

“That’s because I always either quit out of frustration or you end up too busy and we decide to start over from a new campaign as soon as you have free time again,” she pointed out. At least she was honest.

“We’ll figure something out, I’m sure!”

“Mm...well, it was nice talking with you, Trent. I’m glad you seem to be doing well, and good luck with this Fern person.”

“Thanks! You take care too! Bye!”

We hung up and I spent the rest of the day being an exhausted nerdy Trenty bear who somehow did nothing yet time still passed.

As the days went by, I’d spend lunch having conversations with Fern and he said I could talk about whatever I was passionate about, so OF COURSE a bunch of nerdy shit came up.

“About halfway through the game, she dies, but you can get her final limit break later on. This is a way to show that she’s still with the party in spirit and the party keeps it as a memento, even though they know they cannot use it, OR they refuse to use it to honor her memory.”

“I see. And it’s not just the developers making a mistake?” Fern pondered. The gall.

“No way. Game developers wouldn’t just do that. In fact, you can hack the game to make it so Aerith lives, by coming back after she dies, but she’ll say at a certain point, ‘I’m not supposed to be here’. That’s because the developers knew that players would try to bring her back, so they were prepared.”

“Wow. That really is haunting,” he looked moved by my explanation. As he should be.

“The game devs were also brilliant for making her and Cloud be besties instead of a romantic interest. There’s a part where Cloud and Aerith go on a date on a ferris wheel and right before they go on the ferris wheel, Aerith turns to cloud and goes ‘wa...wassup homie?’ and Cloud says, ‘golly gee’ in response. By having them be besties, it shows the importance of friendships over romantic relationships. It’s actually shown in a prequel that Cloud had a boyfriend named Zack, but despite it being canon, many fans prefer to act like the game doesn’t exist.”

“That’s a wonderful message for them to show,” he nodded along.

“Yeah. So anyway, Zack dies in the prequel.”

“Damn. This Cloud guy just can’t catch a break.”

Before I was able to continue the conversation further, I received a beep on my pager.

“...And neither can I. I gotta split.”

That was how our typical conversations went. I did most of the talking while he stared and smiled the whole way through. Most of the time, I didn’t mind that, but it also meant that I didn’t know much about him. He hardly seemed like the mysterious type, and I should’ve known the mysterious type due to the people I’ve let in my apartment in the past.

So the next chance we got I decided I’d hold nothing back. We both sat together, once again with our lunches in front of us, and I popped the question:

“Do you have any siblings?” I was casual as I asked him, plain as day with an egg and lettuce sandwich in my hands. He tilted his head and rested it on his palm, looking even more radiant than usual.

“Why yes. I have four sisters. Two of them are engaged. One of them’s married. The fourth one is still looking for love.”

“Oh wow,” I replied. “You know, you could tell her that she doesn’t have to find love. It’s not the be-all and end-all, after all.”

“I think she already knows that. Still, she wouldn’t mind the experience. What about you, Trent?” He spoke my name with such a delicacy that it made my heart tackle the walls of my chest.

“Uh, yeah,” I stammered. “I’ve got a sister. I don’t even know why you mentioned relationships since I just asked about siblings, but she’s in one. I mean, she’s married, so I guess I’ve also got a sister-in-law. If that counts as another sibling, then I’ve got two sisters, maybe?”

He coughed up a chuckle against his fist.

“Love is a beautiful thing, isn’t it?”

I shrugged.

“Yeah, I guess it can be.”

For some reason that simple exchange reminded me of an early memory when Juniper and I were kids and we shared a room, bunk beds, in fact.

She hung upside down from the edge of the top bunk of the bed. I always did tell her to be careful, but she never was good at listening to me.

“Hey bro, bro, bruh, bruv,” she pestered me.

“What is it?” I looked up from the book I was reading.

She held down a magazine with pictures of women in hiking gear.

“Look! Aren’t those girls cute? Aren’t they your type?” She pressed it up to my face. Or as well up to my face as she could. Her aim wasn’t the best when she hung upside down. Nevertheless, I took a glance. Of course, as I was more interested in the book I was reading, I didn’t really pay attention.

“Uh-huh. Sure.”

Not satisfied, she grew in intensity.

“Come on! You didn’t look!”

“Yeah I did!” I shot back. “I’m just more interested in this book right now! You have no idea how cool the Shannara novels are!” Oh, but I wasn’t done. “Also, I’m pretty sure those are your type, not mine!”

She stuck her tongue out.

“What even is your type?” She teased.

I shrugged. Really, I didn’t know then, and even into my 30s, as a doctor, I had no idea if I even had a type. For anyone. After a pause, she then asked.

“Do you think you’d ever have a crush on anyone?”

I gave it some thought. Then, as if it was a no brainer, it clicked.

“If someone was actually interested in me, sure! But c’mon, I’m a nerd. You know how hard it is for people like me.”

She scowled at that.

“That’s just a myth. That shouldn’t stop you.”

She was right. Both back then, and in the present, if she were to tell me that again. But over the years, I grew to have a different excuse.

“Would you ever be open to the idea of love?” Fern’s question brought me out of the memory, back to the moment that I shared with him.

I shrugged.

“Sure, I wouldn’t mind. If the opportunity were to occur. But then, I’m always too busy to think about things like that, so it’s never really crossed my mind. I’m sure you can relate, seeing as you’re probably about as busy as I am.”

“Indeed,” he agreed. “But it has its advantages.”

“Oh? Like what?”

“Like how we can spend the same amount of time together.”

Oh yeah. That was a really good point.

“Heh. It is nice to have someone to chat with,” I agreed.

It was a surprise how little time had passed, but I was glad for it. Considering how unpredictable this job could be, I had to be thankful for any precious minutes I got.

“Let’s not worry about that. If we run out of time, we can pick it up another day. So what do you say?”

“So tell me, how did your sister meet her lover?” His curiosity took me by surprise. Not something I thought would be worth asking, but who was I to say what someone did and didn’t find interesting?

All right. So I told him. It seemed he just had that kind of effect on me.

Maybe it was a little cliché, I don’t know, because I don’t know what constitutes as cliché, but it was a rainy evening. I had just gotten off work, I had my umbrella, but it seemed to do me little good as there was a mighty gust of wind and the rain just slid down the umbrella and managed to force itself onto my jacket.

On the way home, I took a shortcut through a side street. I guess it was like an alleyway, but more open. I don’t know, side street sounds appropriate. Curled up underneath the cover of a building’s awning was a homeless woman, a single orange striped blanket over her, damp. Her hair seemed covered in dirt, she shivered, but made no attempt to voice her discomfort. I couldn’t quite make out her face, but maybe it was pity that brought me to pay attention to her in the first place.

Yeah, typical “boy meets girl” story, huh?

At last, she looked up and croaked. Despite facing me, her face seemed to droop low and she looked downtrodden.

“You got money?”

I jumped. Startled. Yeah, not too dignified, but I really just didn’t expect for her to notice me. Once I composed myself, I dug through my jacket pocket and pulled out a twenty dollar bill.

“Here, it’s not much, but it’s what I got on me.”

“Thanks,” she replied and took it. No more than that. Of course, if that was the extent of the exchange, there wouldn’t really be anything to tell, now would there?

“Hey, I know it’s late, but there’s a cafe close by we can visit if you want a coffee or something. They’re not open forever, but it’ll keep you dry for a little while,” I offered.

She looked up again, scowled.

“I don’t trust strangers,” she stated.

“Oh, yeah, definitely. I’m a stranger, you’re a stranger. I get that,” I chuckled. “I just figured I’d offer, but you can decline. If you’re worried about me being someone dangerous, you can punch me. I’m not really interested in being cruel or violent or anything like that.”

She squinted. I would later find out that was less because of how ridiculous she may have thought me and more because she had poor eyesight.

“Are you that desperate that you would ask a homeless person out on a date?” Her biting remark might have gotten under the skin of just about anyone else, but I’ve probably heard much worse from some of my patients. Instead, I laughed.

“You don’t have to think of it as a date. I don’t. I’m not really the dating type, anyway. It’s just a spur of the moment thing.”

She shifted eyes, turned her head from left to right, then looked back up on me.

“I can’t believe I’m going to agree to this…but sure,” she heaved out the words.

“Cool,” I stuck my thumb out, then continued, “it’s just a couple of blocks away. I really like the place, since I sometimes don’t get off work until real late and it’s open past midnight.”

“I don’t care...when it’s open...but I could use something warm...to drink,” she sounded lightheaded, in a daze.

Once we made our way through the door of the dim lit cafe with neon lighting, she wiped her shoes on the mat.

Oh. What good manners, I thought. As someone who often forgot to wipe their shoes when entering places, it was a nice reminder to see someone else do so. At least I remembered to put my umbrella down, but that kinda went without saying.

As soon as I approached the counter, I turned to her, still drenched.

“Don’t worry about the cost. Order whatever you like,” I assured her. After I said those words, she looked up, squinted, then closed her eyes.

“I would like a lavender mocha latte, but no dairy. Almond milk if you have it. Coconut would be even better. Give four extra shots of espresso, and if you have dark chocolate syrup, use that.”

Damn. It was like she had the whole thing recited and ready to go. All right.

“I’ll just take a black coffee,” I shrugged. I didn’t need all the sugar or any of that extra stuff.

“Oh. I should have went with that too,” she looked down, possibly embarrassed at her order.

I laughed.

“Don’t worry, I said you could order whatever. My treat.”

She made her way to the table nearest to the window, and took the seat closest to the window as well. As soon as she sat down, she lowered her head onto the table and her arms outstretched to cover her head. Behind her, raindrops slid down the window. It wasn’t much an interesting sight, but I wasn’t a very observant person, so I felt I ought to have taken note of something.

“Just so you know, you should probably forget about me after this,” she uttered and despite her words being muffled, I could still make her words out clear as a river.

“If you want,” I shrugged.

“I’m serious. You shouldn’t associate with me. There’s people after me. I’d rather not get anyone involved.”

I pondered if there was any validity to that. Maybe she ran from an ex, or there was some trafficking ring. That last bit was a little dark. As a middle ground, I thought that maybe she had run off from home as a kid (surprisingly, that part was sort of true, in a sense).

“You probably think I’m crazy. Paranoid, even. I get it. Some homeless woman tells you there’s people after her. You don’t have to believe me. Just so you know, I’m homeless by choice. It’s easier this way. You don’t have to believe that, either.”

“Well, if you’re on the run, maybe it’s not by choice?” I suggested.

She looked up, her face still semi-buried in her arms. Still, I could make out eyes through her bangs. Grayish-purple bags under her eyes, but eyes nonetheless.

“Yeah. You’re probably right. It’s been so long, it’s hard to tell anymore. My head won’t cooperate,” she seemed to agree with my assessment, and as if to confirm as much, she lifted her head up and rubbed her forehead with her palm. With one eye visible, she glared at me.

“Just so you know, even if you considered this a date, I wouldn’t be interested. I’m…” she looked around, then stated, “men don’t interest me.”

I chuckled.

“It’s okay. My sister’s a lesbian. You don’t really have to beat around the bush about it.”

Her eyes widened, then squinted again.

“I don’t know why you would tell me that. I’m not interested. My main focus is my survival, it’s just…” She began to glance to her side and down at the floor. “I’ve been running and hiding so long, I’m growing tired. Sooner or later, I might just give up. It’s a terrible thought, but I don’t think I can go on.”

My concern began to grow, even if I didn’t know the scope of her problem.

“I don’t really know what it is you’re dealing with, but you don’t have to deal with it alone.”

“No. I refuse to endanger anyone else,” she seemed adamant about that.

Maybe she was justified, but in a selfish way, that also made me want to help more.

“You can refuse if you want, but the weather forecast says it’s going to be raining over the next few days. I’ve got a spare room in my apartment you can stay in. If nothing else, it’ll keep you dry.”

“I wouldn’t want to impose,” she looked away once more.

“You wouldn’t be. I’m the one that offered,” I shrugged, a favorite gesture of mine.

“Well...maybe my head is just messed up enough right now, but...fine. As long as I reserve the right to leave at any time.”

“Of course,” I assured her, and I even lifted a feeble smile. Once our coffee was brought over, mine a regular paper coffee cup, hers a ceramic cup filled to the top, we drank in silence. Between intervals of me sipping the bitter bean, I peeked over and noticed how she held onto her cup with a sort of elegance; one hand on the handle, the other grasping the base of the cup, and slow sips taken, not a single slurp to be heard. It was probably a little weird of me to pick up on something like that, I admit.

“I’m Trent, by the way,” I told her out of courtesy. Depending on how long she’d stay, I felt it wise to tell her my name.

“Et...err...Vesuvius. You can call me Vesuvius. Or Ves. I don’t care which,” her eyes shifted and she stammered out the words.

After we finished our coffee, we headed out, umbrella up and ready to go. There wasn’t a long walk ahead of us, and she was silent the whole way through. Not that I tried to make small talk anyway, since the rain was kind of gloomy weather for conversation. She walked with a slump, something I should have warned her to be cautious about, lest she get a hunchback. Maybe she did so because she felt she was too tall to fit under the umbrella, or maybe she had been under such duress for so long that standing up straight no longer registered to her.

Before long, we made our way inside and I showed her to where the spare room was. She didn’t speak a word, not so much as a nod, just went inside. Before I closed the door, I told her, “if you need anything, just let me know. I’ll be down the hall and to your left.”

Still, no acknowledgment. That was fine. Just as long as she heard me. For whatever reason, it didn’t register until after I closed the door that I didn’t have anything like an air mattress or a futon for her to sleep on. That room was bare, empty. Not a single item to be found.

Despite that, I was too tired to do anything rational like look for some spare blankets or pillows, and decided it was high time for me to get some rest. At the very least, I turned the heater on and let it run. It wasn’t something I liked to do, and I didn’t think Juniper would be all that comfortable with it on, but screw it, I was the one who paid the bills.

“Well, time for me to get some shut eye,” I announced, thinking there was no one around who could hear me. However, I soon noticed from the corner of my eye a foam basketball being tossed up into the air.

“Who’s the babe?” Juniper, asked in a rather dull voice. I soon turned and saw her laying on the couch, flat on her back.

“Don’t be disrespectful,” I scolded. “I found her on the street. She’s just going to stay over for a few nights.”

“So now you’re picking up homeless chicks?”

Really, maybe she was just moody ‘cause she was tired, or maybe she just felt like giving me a hard time that night in particular.

“I just felt like doing a good deed, there’s nothing behind it,” I corrected her. Again.

“That’s rather nice of you. Just make sure not to overexert yourself. Your health is important too,” she reminded.

“Thanks.”

I thought I could just go to bed, but then a smile which signified mischief spread across her face.

“So, tell me about the babe,” she wouldn’t drop it so soon.

“Oh, come on,” I groaned.

“C’mon, the babe.”

“No,” I folded my arms on my hips. If she could nudge me from where she was at, she would have.

“You remind me of the babe,” her cheery voice returned, coupled with a sing-song tone.

“What babe?” I finally gave in.

“The babe with the power.”

“What power?”

“Power of voodoo!”

“Who do?”

“You do!”

“Do what?”

“Remind me of the babe! Ha ha ha!” she kicked around the couch and laughed. There were certain nights where I could just tell when she watched Labyrinth that day.

“Okay, okay, don’t stay up too late,” I reminded her. “You know where your room is.”

“Yeah, yeah. ‘Night.”

Ah, Labyrinth. Classic. David Bowie and his tights. Things didn’t get much better than that.

Somehow I managed to tell him all of that with time to spare.

“You have a big heart, Trent,” he told me, which kinda made me want to sulk.

“Yeah...I do try to have a good diet, though,” I pouted.

“No, no, I mean metaphorically,” he patted the air as he spoke, a sure sign of sincerity.

“You mean…?” I stared into his earthen rosemary colored eyes.

“Yes. You are very kind.”

“Oh, phew. For a second there I was worried you meant my weight.”

“No, no. Dear. You are adorable. When I first saw you that fateful day, I said to myself, ‘this is an adorable teddy bear’. I would never have anything unkind to say to a teddy bear.”

“Well, thank you. Does that mean I’m a cuddly looking teddy bear?” I let slip my curiosity.

“I’d have to find that one out for myself. Hey, your story about your sister’s wife got me thinking. How would you like to go out for coffee after work?”

Gee, the possibility never even occurred to me, but it was so simple. Of course.

“Yeah, I don’t see why not. I’m pretty sure the place is still open.”

“And,” he leaned in a little closer. “May I consider it a date?”

I laughed a little at that.

“If you’d like to.”

“And,” a little closer still. “Would you consider it one?”

That time, my heart went “boing boing” against my chest. I didn’t know the answer to that one. It was too much being put on the spot, I was used to the attention being on other people.

“Um...not no, but maybe yes...I’m not sure…” Came my disgraceful blabbering until I managed to catch myself and re-compose. “Er...I’m not used to thinking about things for myself...but...sure. You’re a pretty cool guy. Let’s consider it a coffee date.”

So we did. Just a few nights later, after work we walked into the parking lot. He had a motorcycle, with enough of a seat for me to fit in the back. It wasn’t awkward in the slightest and in fact, it played out much the same as many of our conversations at lunch before. It all felt natural between us, like trees. He ordered an oregano tea latte and I had my usual black coffee.

As if by miracle, the sun had yet to set and there wasn’t the slightest hint of rain. We sat across from each other and immersed ourselves in the ambiance of the hums and smooth glitchtunes playing on the coffee shop’s speakers.

“So, if I were to come over to your place tonight, would I see your sister and her wife?” He posed the hypothetical question.

“Nah, they both moved out almost a year ago. They’ve got their own apartment somewhere else in the city, though they’re also saving up to move elsewhere again.”

“So soon?” He tilted his head.

“Well, it’s a dream of Ves’ to live in a field of flowers, open nature, all that stuff. Psychedelic drugs, flowers in hair, tie-dye, I could go on. Juniper’s already found a place a couple of states out, and she found an old beat up pick up truck in a ditch and decided to repair it just for fun. So now all they gotta do is assemble the wood, get some electric lining, plumbing, all that stuff. Which...I don’t have a lot of faith in my sister, she’s no architect or electrician, but she’s the type who gets insistent about doing everything herself, so it’s not like I could talk her out of it.”

“That’s great, though! They’re pursuing their passion. Isn’t that beautiful?”

I shrugged.

“I dunno if ‘beautiful’ is the word I’d use, but yeah. I suppose I’m happy for them.”

“What about you? Do you have any goals?” His eyes fluttered, almost like he wanted to lull me to sleep.

“Sorta, but it’s kinda dumb? I just don’t like the whole ‘charged ten thousand dollars as soon as you walk in and good luck getting your overpriced insurance that you can barely afford, if afford at all, to cover anything’ so I was thinking how it would be cool if I could run my own clinic. I don’t know, maybe it could be funded through donations, but in no way would people have to pay. Like, I doubt I’d be able to do the big stuff like surgeries or transplants, but it’s still something, right? Thing is, that’s kinda impossible, don’cha think?”

Rather than some kind of agreement, he reacted in a rather ferocious manner: he stood up, leaned over, and slammed his hands on the table.

“Trent,” while his voice grew in intensity, it certainly didn’t sound angry. More...motivating. “You must never be afraid of your passion.”

“Uh...okay…” I scratched my cheek. “But what about you? What are you passionate about?”

He sat back down.

“You. Of course,” he answered, so simple, so straightforward in his delivery.

“So, like, does that mean you’d want to play D&D with me sometime?”

He laughed.

“I’d love to.”

“Really? Are you sure? What if you don’t like it? I mean, I don’t even know what your hobbies are.”

“If I end up not liking it, then at least I’ll have found that out for myself. But all of your hobbies, everything that interest you, I want to immerse myself in. Because all of you...is my hobby.”

“Bro…” I leaned forward. “That’s kind of...uh...cool!”

“Oh, and I also like to ride around on my motorcycle. I like watching the sunsets, going hiking, mountain climbing, kayaking, and making ceramic cups.”

Hiking, mountain climbing, kayaking...he sure looked fit. Not to mention, those things sounded like fun, even if possibly dangerous.

“Do you think I could do those things with you?” I asked, hesitant, but I figured if he was wanting to do the things I liked, I may as well ask him in return.

“Of course. You can do whatever you want with me.”

“Then in that case, can I kiss you?” I joked, though it seemed to come out of nowhere. However much I meant it, it was out in the open now.

“Of course. Would you like to do it here, or at your apartment?”

“Err...at my apartment?”

To be honest, I’ve never kissed anyone before. Or been kissed by anyone before. That thought never even crossed my mind and I pretty much figured I’d be fine not having such a thought and continuing on with my life, but dominoes were falling or something like that.

“Let’s go, then,” he stood up and motioned for me to head toward the door. In a hurry, I chugged down my coffee.

I should probably brush my teeth first. Coffee breath probably isn’t a good taste. Then again, would he want to brush his teeth. Should we just use the same toothbrush? Or maybe he packed one with him.

When we shoved our way through the door of my apartment, those questions were erased from my mind.

“I’ve actually never kissed anyone before...I know, in my thirties and…” he put his finger on my lips and made a “shh” sound.

“Relax. I’ll take the lead,” he lowered his hand, then leaned down and spread his lips against mine. As he released, I wished that he hadn’t. But then the thought of my breath returned to the front of my mind.

“Sorry, uh, hope my breath doesn’t bother you.”

“Does it bother you?” He asked.

“Well…it’s probably good to take care of your teeth. I’m not a dentist, but I do think good health is important in all aspects of one’s health and --”

He pulled out a box of mint chews.

“Here,” he opened the box. I took a couple and popped them into my mouth. On instinct, I bit down on them and chewed, despite knowing that I wouldn’t be prepared for the icy hellfire that was the minty taste. After a couple of seconds of huffing, I looked back at him.

“Okay, I’m good now.”

“There is one more interest I have now,” he decided to pick back up from our conversation at the coffee shop for some final choice words.

“Yeah? What would that be?”

“Supporting you and your dreams.”

Then we kissed again.

So flashforward a year or so and through some sort of miracle, such a dream was realized: we converted the apartment into a clinic and moved upstairs to the apartment directly above. Both of us quit our jobs at the hospital so we could focus on the clinic. Really, I couldn’t have done it without him. Or, maybe I could have, but I’d like to think he gave me that sort of push, y’know? That little “oomf.”

There were many improvements that could have been made, and might be made as time went on, but I liked seeing the genuine attempt to help, and the look on people’s faces when they knew they wouldn’t have to worry about cost...worth it. What’s more, people donated freely, and often. We met several people around the community and even convinced some to play D&D with us. I think the biggest surprise was how much of a hit the game was with the elderly.

Oh, and also, Fern and I became boyfriends. Not really sure how that happened, but it did and I’m cool with it.

On one particular slow day, an interesting thing happened: see, it had been a while since any strange people walked through my door. After a streak of Ves, Blanc, and that weird stalker lady my sister hugged, I figured I’d see the last of any weirdness. In fact, I never even thought to tell Fern about any of the weird visitors (besides Ves, of course). But then as I was doing a solo hunt against deviljo in Monster Hunter on my PC in my office, Fern ran into my office.

“Hey Trent, dear, there’s someone outside the front door saying she’s your cousin,” he informed me. I looked up, a little perplexed.

“I have relatives?” I asked, even though it might have seemed like a pretty dumb thing to say.

Never mind the dumbness, I stopped what I was doing and rushed toward the door only to find a short lady with blonde hair who looked to be in her 20s.

“Hello, can I help you?” I asked her.

“It’s me, your cousin. Demetria?” She folded her arms and scowled.

It took a few seconds to click, and then I remembered.

“Ohhh. You were at my sister’s wedding. I think. Probably.”

“Yeah, I probably most definitely was,” she turned her head and spat on the ground.

Fern stood beside me and gave me a kiss on the cheek.

“Who might this be?” He asked.

“Fern,” I gestured to Demetria. “This is apparently my cousin, Demetria. Demetria, this is Fern, my receptionist-slash-boyfriend.”

“You make me sick,” Demetria growled in response.

“What?” I blinked, and I was quite surprised to hear such a thing. “Are you homophobic?”

“No, I’m not homophobic, I just can’t believe you’re dating someone named after a tree! You were supposed to be the chosen one! You could have broken the cycle!”

That was an odd thing to focus on, but good to know it wasn’t too serious.

“It’s short for Fernando, actually, and technically, Ferns aren’t trees,” Fern explained to her.

“All right, buster,” she pointed up. “But you’re on thin-fucking-ice!”

Then she turned to me.

“Also, grats on being gay, I guess. That’s kinda cool,” she eased up her abrasive tone.

“Well, I might be bi. I don’t know. I haven’t been interested in women before, but that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t be interested in any women. I think the real question we need to ask is, is it gay to be in a relationship with another man?” I suggested. Demetria just looked at Fern, who then looked at me.

“Yeah,” they both said at the same time.

“Well, in any case, what can I do for you, Demetria?” I shifted focus.

“Right. I need you to tell me where Juniper lives.”

“What for?”

“So I can go live with them. Why else?”

That was an odd thing to want to do, and I didn’t even think Juniper and Ves would agree to such a...oh, who was I kidding? Juniper was that kind of person.

“Right. Uh...I guess there’s no harm. I’ll write down their address for you. You got a way to get there?”

She shook her head.

“I make it up as I go. I got here just fine, didn’t I?”

Yeah, that was a good point.

I pulled out my notepad from my shirt pocket as well as a pen and scribbled down the address. After I handed it to her, she squinted and scowled.

“Shit. How am I supposed to read this chicken scratch?”

Right. Doctor.

“Here, I’ll just spell it out for you, so you can just type it in the notepad app on your phone or whatever you have.”

“Oh, great. More work for me to do,” she grimaced, but pulled out her phone and pressed the power button.

“Let’s see...a few missed calls from my mom. Typical. Also, a text from Ray. ‘If you ever consider coming back here, don’t. I don’t want to see you again.’ Gee, wasn’t planning on going back there, but good to see I’m not wanted. Typical...oh, here we go. Notepad.”

I didn’t really know what that bit was about, but I wasn’t about to pry. Wasn’t my business. As soon as I told her the address, she turned her phone back off and put it back in her pocket.

How are you going to know where to find the place if you don’t even look at the address?

Oh well. Juniper and Ves’ problem now.

“See ya,” she waved, then ran off. Fern and I waved too, then Fern turned to me.

“Well, she was interesting,” he remarked.

I shrugged.

“Yeah. It tends to go that way. I never really told you, but besides Ves, there’s been some strange people who showed up here a couple of times. First there was Blanc, this amnesiac who was missing an arm. Juniper decided to make a prosthetic limb for them after learning about Fullmetal Alchemist and we kinda let them live here until they just disappeared one day. Then there was this one stalker Juniper had who wanted her and I to leave town but didn’t really explain why and then Juniper hugged her and she freaked out. Not a clue what that was about, but we never saw her again, so I guess we never needed to leave town.”

“Wow, your sister had a stalker?”

I shrugged.

“Yeah, it was horrible, I guess. She seemed rather nonchalant about it, but I could tell it affected her in some ways. She was paranoid for a bit until she met this stalker in person, and then said stalker turned out to be harmless.”

“Still, I would’ve been scared too.”

“Oh yeah, and by the way, Ves is a time traveler. Yeah, you probably think I’m nuts now, but she was originally from the ‘60s and my sister and I found this time travel device that looked like a Nintendo 64 when we moved in. It apparently belonged to Ves’ father. So that time at the coffee shop when she was homeless? Yeah, apparently I met her before that actually and neither of us realized that. Of course, she was a teenager back then and only showed up to take the time travel device back but anyway…”

I realized I started rambling and the more I went on, the more ridiculous things probably seemed.

“...Anyway, you don’t have to believe me, but that was all to say that everyone else who’s ever been in this apartment has been more interesting than me. Including you. Compared to them, I’m kinda just...there.”

He shook his head and placed a firm grasp on my shoulders. He looked me in the eyes.

“No, you are very interesting. How could you not be when you’ve met all of these interesting people? Take it from me: I wouldn’t be interested in you if I didn’t find you interesting.”

“Gee,” I looked away, embarrassed. “Thanks. But also, there’s one more thing: my family has this weird tradition of naming people after trees. Yeah, I’m Trent, but I was named after Treant, this tree monster in D&D. My mom wanted to name me Ent, but apparently couldn’t because the Tolkien estate has the rights to that name.”

“See? Another interesting thing about you!”

“Ha. I’m glad I met you. My mom wasn’t exactly a nice lady, but it was cool that she was into D&D. That’s probably where I got it from. Maybe it’s genetic. Still, neither mine nor my sister’s personalities are like her, although Juniper’s probably closer, though way nicer. It’s hard to explain, but you’d just have to trust me.”

“Every time you tell me something new about yourself, I’m fascinated more and more,” he smiled wide.

We kissed once more before getting back to work. Our day hadn’t yet come to an end.

[andmaybegayer]

[Warning: this post is mostly me talking to myself in text form for journaling purposes, and as a result is boring and sucks. I told you so.]

I've been listening to The Anthropocene Reviewed for the past couple months, slowly working through the episodes. A couple weeks ago I listened to the one on "Tetris, and, The Seed Potatoes of Leningrad."

You've probably heard about the seed potatoes of Leningrad, there was a post from the @tilthat bot going around. TL;DR, during the siege of Leningrad, scientists at the seed bank in Leningrad protected the enormous cache of food crop samples in storage there (many unique) and didn't eat any of it, while the scientists and people around them starved to death, cut off from supplies by the siege.

There are of course, two ways to look at this. Those scientists were brainwashed idiots, who protects mere crops while human lives are ending, how cold and heartless can you be. Those scientists are stoic heroes, they understood that the value of a seedbank far exceeded the value of the individuals around them, a fact they knew truly and objectively as professionals in their field.

Lots of problems people face look like this. Do you do something that helps you and the people immediate to you in the short term, likely leading to long term benefit for your group, or do you do something that is suboptimal for you and yours but helps many more people who may not help you in turn or even know you exist.

This post takes a turn now, and we’ll talk about Brain Drain.

Brain Drain (more formally "Human Capital Flight") is when people trained by one nation emigrate to another, usually because of actual or perceived improvement to quality of life in the second place, carrying their skills with them. The classic example is Jewish scientists fleeing the Nazis, or for a more controversial example, Soviet professionals defecting to the USA.

Now those are highly politically charged situations, so let’s look at the one I’m dealing with: South Africa is kind of a lame place to live compared to some other places.

South Africa is a rich and functional country by African standards but it’s still not a First World Country. Our currency is weak. Our Gini index is a joke. Education is poor the moment you step outside of urban centers, and even then, there are problems. The electrical supply is mostly reliable but regularly suffers from rolling blackouts. Violent crime rates have fallen dramatically over the years but are still higher than in many other parts of the world. Cities are unnavigable sprawls with little public transport. Internet is expensive. We get lower quality produce because the best stuff gets exported to richer countries who can pay more for it. The political system is deeply corrupt in ways that make even normal corrupt politicans go “well that’s a bit much.”

But I also grew up here. I got my immunizations from government clinics and government nurses. I attended a government school, and my university education was heavily subsidized because I am a citizen. I drive on public roads, My house is lit with electricity from a nationalized electrical grid. I was part of a team that had government funding to compete in a high-profile supercomputing competition, which included a completely free 10 day long training course for 80 undergraduate students. At some level, the investments of the government (and by extension, taxpayers) function and provide a return, if by return you mean training individuals within the population who can produce value in the standing economic system, workers with high school certificates and medical doctorates and welding qualifications.

Lots of South African professionals seek to leave the country. It is all at once a sufficiently modern and unequal country that if you grow up and become University Educated, you will likely identify more with other countries than with South Africa at large. I have lost count of how many people I know who have moved to Australia or the Netherlands or the UK or the USA. Many of them went through the same school and university system I did, and benefited from the same subsidies.

People frequently encourage me to leave the country, both for the primary reason (you can make more money as an engineer in the West) or for other reasons (you should see the world/you should experience other people) and I always feel torn between those. I have long been on the side of those Soviet scientists protecting their seed bank. I like to believe that I would choose the mass benefit over short term personal gain, that is the Socialist™ way after all. I feel (at some level) an obligation to live here, work here, to work to (at least) give value to people around me and (at best) to directly improve the systems around me.

But there is a thin line between obligation and nationalism. This is a nationalist tendency, at some level. Not quite “this country is good because it is mine,” but “this country has a claim to me, and I to it, and so I should stand by it,” which is, worrying, at times. How do you tell the difference. Should you even contribute to a system that you think creates a great deal of pain, suffering, and violence, and which sustains many harmful cycles. Can the good cop improve a bad system. Or should you just take what you can get and run as far as you can, because nothing you can do will help.

(Incidentally, I believe that a lot of things tied to the fascist aesthetic are not implicitly bad, but rather things that combine poorly with other traits. Nationalism is theoretically a powerful attribute to cultivate, if, of course, you are a truly virtuous nation which can vouch for the aims of its people en masse. Not that those nations exist anywhere.)

A deep part of me also /wants/ to flee. The work to improve a country (even when you are in a good position to do so) is slow, frequently hopeless, and does not often bear fruit in your lifetime. I have ADHD, so that’s a rough proposition. I can barely wait for things that I know will bear fruit in the next three days. I have been to New York City twice, and since the first time my heart has ached for dense public transport, the alien experience of white people walking in the street by choice, and the strange sense of certainty New York has of its place in the world. I love central Johannesburg, I like walking and being there when I get the chance, it is a place that is full of people and occurrences, but I am always reminded of a line by Neal Stephenson.

The only ones left in the city are street people, feeding off debris; immigrants, thrown out like shrapnel from the destruction of the Asian powers (and) young smart people... who take the risk of living in the city because they like stimulation and they know they can handle it.

Many people despise central Johannesburg, because it is a dangerous kind of stimulating which does not allow much room to relax if you, like me, are an outsider to the place. This isn’t the USA where every seventh person has an iPhone, it is easy to be a mark. Hell, several of my friends have been robbed in the suburbs, the city is a whole other animal.

That was fairly off topic. This is also my post, so I don’t care.

I have mostly been on the side of staying. The potential benefits of moving away are often just ideas of greener grass on the other side. There is no reasonable proof that I would be happier with public transport in the long term, merely more mobile. There is no reason to believe that living in the country that produced the media I am inundated with will somehow make that more meaningful to me, just physically closer. There is no reason why people from elsewhere could make better friends in person than the ones I already have here. These are mostly thoughts that are appealing to think because they cannot be proven, and so benefit from being hypothetical.

[thysparrowsdrew]

I won’t post this on AO3 until the whole fic is done, because I’m sure I’m gonna go back and need to add/change things after writing the ending, but I finally have a full draft of the second chapter

They end up at a 1950s-style diner with the best patty melts in the state. Movie memorabilia lines the walls; above their corner booth, an actress stares out from a glossy poster, pistol in hand. Dean, Castiel, and Sam are piled into one bench, leaving the opposite to Margarita. The table puts two and a half feet of distance between them: not enough for Benjamin, but he bears it without complaint.

The Winchesters take charge of the discussion, reviewing everything they know so far. It isn’t much. Did Mirabel have any enemies? None living. Were there any witnesses to the attack? Same answer as previous. Have there been any other attacks that might be linked? Mirabel is the first angel to die in Arizona in two years.

The first time Castiel addresses a comment directly to Benjamin, Margarita answers for him. There isn’t a second time.

And, Margarita notices, Benjamin isn’t the only one avoiding speaking to Castiel.

When Castiel first rebelled against Heaven, the rumor -- though neither Benjamin nor Margarita believed it -- was that he was trying to claim the Michael Sword for his own use. After Armageddon was averted, the rumor changed: Castiel had indeed laid a claim on Dean Winchester, but as something other than a vessel. In the second month of the civil war, after seeing how Castiel rebuked a soldier for insulting Dean, Margarita decided that the rumor might not be wholly true, but it wasn’t wholly false, either. After the first time Castiel vanished mid-battle to rush to Dean’s side, Benjamin drew the same conclusion.

Dean’s sway over Castiel had been the civil war’s worst-kept secret. Now, the man sits shoulder-to-shoulder with Castiel, pressed closer against his side than propriety allows for-- and at the same time, he pointedly avoids speaking to Castiel except through Sam. Margarita idly wonders if it’s any less bewildering for Castiel than it is for bystanders.

“So what now?” asks Dean, around a mouthful of hamburger. The disgusted look his brother shoots him is either unseen or ignored. He was the Michael Sword, destined to bring about the end of the world, and Margarita is watching him rudely stuff his face at a diner in Phoenix on a Tuesday afternoon. “We got no leads and no witnesses.”

“We do have a witness,” says Benjamin, reluctantly. “Mirabel’s vessel.”

“Didn’t we rule that out at the morgue? She’s dead, and she ain’t coming back.”

“To this plane. You’ve only been dead a few dozen times, so you’ll be shocked to learn there are others.”

“You’re talking about visiting her in Heaven,” says Sam.

“No, I’m talking about visiting her in Tahiti. Unless anyone has any other ideas?”

Margarita feels Benjamin hope that someone will provide an alternative. No one does.

“He’s right,” says Castiel. “This is our best option.”

“Is one of you gonna...?” Dean waves his hand vaguely in the direction of the ceiling.

/I was hoping to avoid this,/ says Benjamin. /If we were closer to the portal--/

/I know,/ says Margarita. If they had twenty spare hours to drive to the portal, or if Benjamin’s wings hadn’t burned, he would take her with him to Heaven. But they don’t have time, and he doesn’t have his wings. /I’ll be fine. Will you?/

Warmth floods Margarita’s veins as Benjamin fills them with extra grace. /As long as I have you to return to./ Out loud, he says, “It has to be me. From what I understand, Castiel is unpopular in Heaven at the moment. I can’t imagine why.”

“Benjamin--” starts Castiel.

“This shouldn’t take more than an hour.” /Volveré pronto a ti, amiga de mi corazón./ Benjamin tilts back her head, opens her mouth, pours out of her in a radiant cloud of shimmering blue-white, and disappears through the diner door.

The comedown hits like a hammer to the skull. It always does, no matter how hard she tries to brace herself, no matter how many hundreds of times she’s been through it before. The physical world jolts into sickening focus: the lights are too bright; the booth is too hard; the air is too cold. Margarita slumps over, elbows on the table, a headache building behind her eyes. Tightness burns in her chest. Oxygen: her body again needs oxygen. Her lungs stutter before finding their rhythm, in-out, in-out.

Benjamin’s grace swells up to soothe her headache, but she pushes it back. Mirabel’s killer is still out there somewhere. If anything happens before Benjamin comes back, Margarita will regret wasting grace on something as small as a headache. Despite herself, Margarita half-expects to hear Benjamin scold her for this: You’re in pain, he would say. That isn’t small. But his voice doesn’t come, and the silence is as deafening as standing inside a church bell.

She has it easier than most, she knows. She could be one of the many vessels whose angel never eats or drinks. A more careless angel might let her wake in a strange place, no way to get home, thirst scraping her throat and hunger clawing her insides apart.

Castiel inhales sharply.

When a vessel is inhabited, their thoughts are shielded from other angels. Margarita is no longer inhabited. If she connects that line of thought to the sound Castiel made, she’ll throw up, so she instead focuses on building a shield in her mind. She pictures a game of Tetris (never one of Benjamin’s favorites, but always one of hers). She pictures a J-block falling. In her mind, she moves the block to the right.

“I apologize,” says Castiel, his voice sad and lost. “You don’t need to do that.”

His tone startles her into looking at his face; his expression makes her look away. It’s wrong, that tone in that voice, that expression on that face. Too human. The last time she saw Castiel in this body, he was a granite-eyed whirlwind of flashing silver, cutting down soldier after soldier (vessel after vessel) to keep the relics of Saint Demetrios out of the hands of Raphael’s army. The fight left sixteen pairs of wings burned into the red carpet of the Patriarchal Cathedral in Bucharest. Castiel, God’s Chosen, was responsible for eight.

“Do what?” asks Sam, confused.

She’s focusing on positioning the block, not guarding her words, and so she answers Castiel in blunt Enochian: “I have no reason to trust you."

Seven years ago, Castiel put out the clarion call for angels to join his war for free will. Eight months later, Margarita was in Bucharest, feeling her hands sink a blade to the hilt in Ammiel’s chest. She remembers light pouring from Ammiel’s eyes as angel and vessel both died. Remembers glass raining down. Remembers a voice shouting, and Benjamin spinning just in time to parry--

An O-block appears at the top of the screen. Left. Left. Her headache throbs behind her eyes. Again, Benjamin’s grace swells to soothe it; again, she bats it away. Sam is asking another question, she thinks, but the words don’t reach her.

Two booths over, someone’s knife scrapes against their plate.

Margarita’s feet answer without consulting the rest of her. The Tetris game falls apart. Before she knows it, she’s standing, heart pounding in her ears. Her head throbs and throbs. “Need some air,” she manages to say. “I won’t go far.” A bell rings as she pushes the door open, high and tinny. The sound digs into her like a scalpel.

A wall of desert heat hits her the moment she steps outside. Palm trees dot the parking lot; Margarita takes shelter in the shade of the nearest, sagging against it, pressing the heels of her palms against her eyes. Without Benjamin, her body is no different from the body of any regular mortal. Sweat forms beads on her forehead and dampens her palms.

The voice that saved her in Bucharest didn’t belong to one of Castiel’s soldiers, but the vessel of one of Raphael’s. He took control just long enough to shout: Kill me.

His name was R��my Samson, Margarita learned later. His body was returned to his family (who would never learn how a librarian from Ottawa wound up dead on the floor of a church in Romania), and when his wife and three children buried him, Margarita and Benjamin were there, hidden from sight. One of Rémy’s daughters had an undetected tumor in her bone marrow that would have turned into stage four lymphocytic leukemia within a year. Benjamin cured it with a touch, and Rémy’s mother’s arthritis, and another daughter’s torn ACL.

After his family left, Margarita laid flowers on Rémy’s grave with the same hands that killed him.

He prayed for death, Benjamin said, staring down at the hydrangeas and gladioli. Why do I regret granting it to him? I don’t understand. Rita, please, help me understand.

Benjamin’s grace again rises to soothe her headache. Margarita is less successful at denial than St. Peter; this third time, she allows the grace to do as it will. It brushes against her like a cool breeze; it rinses away the pain like a bath rinses away dirt. The memory of Bucharest doesn’t fade, but the grace blunts its edge enough for Margarita to breathe again.

If she asked him to, Benjamin would take those memories away entirely. He would erase Bucharest, and Zipaquirá, and Marrakesh, and all the others. Every fight he fought with her body, every drop of blood he spilled with her hands-- he would wipe it all clean, if only she asked. He alone would remember, he alone would carry the burden, and he would do it without complaint.

She has never asked.

“Sister Margarita?” asks Sam Winchester’s voice from behind her. The Boy with the Demon Blood, the breaker of the sixty-sixth Seal, Lucifer’s true vessel, is looking at her with open concern. She’s heard enough stories of the Winchesters that his kindness shouldn’t surprise her, but it does, and she feels a twinge of guilt for it. “Are you okay?”

“I will be,” says Margarita, once she finds her voice. “The first few minutes are always difficult.”

“You don’t mind him possessing you?” blurts Sam. From the look on his face, it wasn’t the question he meant to ask.

With her headache gone, Margarita can manage a reassuring smile. She understands why he would be concerned: he was an unwilling vessel to Lucifer for a time, and Gadreel too, if rumors are to be believed. “If I wanted him to leave, he would. I’m his partner, not his prisoner.”

Sam looks thoroughly unconvinced.

“Benjamin is my best friend,” Margarita continues. “You’re kind to be concerned, but you should save it for a vessel who needs it.” More somberly, she adds, “Most of them do.”

Her thoughts go to Josephine, unwilling Josephine, and the vessel who killed her. Was that vessel asleep? Locked in a fantasy world? Awake, watching her hands murder another innocent human, feeling the blade sink into flesh, begging the thing inside her to not make her do it, please, I don’t want to do this, just let her go, this is wrong, stop, no, please--

Sam’s voice jolts Margarita from her thoughts: “Cas said Benjamin was an old friend.” It’s a question wrapped in a statement.

Margarita sighs. They aren’t even a hundred feet from the table; if Castiel isn’t trying to tune them out, he’ll hear every word. “What else did he tell you?”

“Just that they were in the same garrison. From before Cas had his own.”

She takes a moment to compose her answer, knowing an extra ear might be listening. “Castiel was an old friend. When he asked angels to join his war against Raphael, Benjamin answered. He believed in him. He bled for him. And after Raphael was dead--” Wings charred into grass. Be obedient, children, or this will be your fate. In the back of her throat, Margarita tastes bile. “Those were bad days. Castiel broke Benjamin’s trust in ways I didn’t know it could be broken.”

“You need to know Cas wasn’t himself when he did that. He was sick from taking in Purgatory.”

“Was he sick from Purgatory when he made a secret alliance with the King of Hell?”

Sam winces. “He thought he was doing what he had to do. I didn’t like it either -- I still don’t like it -- but he was trying to do the right thing.”

“I know. He was trying to do the right thing when he joined forces with Crowley, and he was trying to do the right thing when he did the same with Metatron.” Two days after the Fall, Margarita woke up in a hospital in Madrid. The doctors told her she’d had a seizure. She could barely hear them over Benjamin sobbing apologies. “Sam, the only reason we’re here is to find Mirabel’s killer. If that requires working with Castiel, then Benjamin will work with Castiel through me. But you need to understand: If there was any bridge left to rebuild after Raphael, and I don’t know that there was, it burned in the Fall. This doesn’t end with them reconciling.”

Benjamin hadn’t been the only soldier left devastated by how the war ended. Margarita remembers a conversation with Jehoel two years ago: even then, she and Benjamin could barely begin to speak about what they’d seen.

Jehoel, who was also part of that original flight.

Jehoel, who would have heard the distress signal.

Jehoel, who lives seven hours away.

“What’s wrong?” asks Sam, but Margarita is already striding past him, back to the diner.

When Margarita enters, she sees that she didn’t need to be concerned about Castiel listening to her conversation with Sam. Dean has moved to the other bench so that he’s sitting across from Castiel, and all of Castiel’s attention is focused on him, glaring with such intensity that the diner is fortunate to still have windows. Uncharitably, without bothering to shield her mind, Margarita thinks of how unsurprised she is to find Castiel occupied with Dean Winchester while angels are dying.

If Castiel hears the thought, he doesn’t react to it.

“--cosmic consequences,” Dean is saying. Margarita is immediately determined to neither learn about nor get involved with whatever he’s talking about. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but--”

“Castiel,” interrupts Margarita, without apology. “What was the last news you heard about Jehoel?”

“I haven’t heard anything since the Fall.”

“When Benjamin talked to her two years ago, she was living in Santa Fe.”

Castiel’s head cants to the side. “You believe something happened to her since then.”

“Santa Fe is a seven hour drive. She should have been here before any of us.”

“People move,” says Dean.

In that conversation two years ago, Jehoel had talked about the house she’d moved into. How she was slowly restoring it with her (vessel’s) hands, just hands, no grace involved. “Jehoel wouldn’t have. Not by choice.” Margarita takes her phone from her pocket, Googles “santa fe” cult murder, and scrolls through the results.

“What’s going on?” asks Sam, approaching the table.

“Sister Rita’s worried about an angel friend,” answers Dean.

Towards the bottom of the first page of results, Margarita finds the article she hoped she wouldn’t. She zooms in on the crime scene photo and holds out the phone for Castiel to see. “I don’t recognize the vessel. Are those--”

“Jehoel’s wings,” Castiel confirms.

Margarita hates to pray standing, but kneeling in the diner would draw too much attention, so she makes do with a bowed head and clasped hands. For the Winchesters’ benefit, she prays in English: “Holy Ishim the Angel, Holy Kadmiel the Angel, hear this prayer. Mirabel is dead, and only Castiel and Benjamin have arrived at the location of the distress signal. Jehoel was killed four months ago. If you’re still alive, please call--” and Margarita recites her phone number, which she’ll have to change after all this is done. “Amen,” she finishes.

“What now?” asks Sam.

Castiel’s mouth is a grim line. “We wait.”

After a minute of drumming her fingers against her leg, Margarita’s phone starts to ring. She answers before the third note of Baka Mitai hits the air. “You’re speaking to Benjamin’s vessel.”

“Why am I speaking to his vessel?” asks a voice that Margarita recognizes as Ishim’s. Even if he wasn’t still possessing the same vessel, his disdain for her, beyond that of anyone else in the flight, would be identification enough. “Put a person on the line.”

Margarita holds the phone out to Castiel. “Ishim wants to talk to a ‘person.’”

“Sounds like a charmer,” says Dean.

Castiel holds the phone up to his ear. “This is Castiel. ... He went to Heaven to ask Mirabel’s about the attack. ... What? When? ... Why didn’t I know about this? ... I would have. I do. ... We’ll be there. Be careful.” He ends the call, the look on his face promising bad news, and hands the phone back to Margarita. “Kadmiel was killed last year.”

Fear clenches Margarita’s stomach. Angel deaths have gotten rarer in the past two years: when a species is nearly extinct, the survivors tend to be good at surviving. And for three of their flight's six members to be killed in that time-- that doesn’t say coincidence. Again, she bows her head to pray. “San Benjamín Ángel, amigo de mi corazón, escucha mi oración. Kadmiel y Jehoel también fueron asesinados hace unos meses. Lo lamento mucho, querido. Ishim sigue vivo. Estoy sana y salva, no te preocupes por mi. Ten cuidado y mantente a salvo. Amen.”

“Did Ishim say anything else?” asks Sam.

“He has a safe house outside the city. He wants to meet there.”

[tinylilemrys]

Symmetry – a Reddie fic

Read it on AO3

Pairing: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier

Rating: T

Word count: 1,814

Tags: Marriage Proposal, Fluff, Fix-It, Post-Canon Fix-It, Character Death Fix, What Could Have Been

Summary: Richie was always sure he couldn’t possibly love Eddie more than he already did, but then he would learn another of his quirks and his heart would grow another size. He had no idea how Eddie did it, but the asshole had a way of challenging everything he thought he knew about his heart.

Though he knew that the next thought that popped into his head was impulsive, there was no way he could wait anymore. Telling Eddie he was just getting something from the drawer in his nightstand, he rolled away and rummaged around for a few minutes before his hand closed around a small velvet box.

Richie used to dread coming back to his apartment every night. Though it was undoubtedly luxurious, it was mostly enormous and empty and the large windows that lined the outward-facing walls of his apartment made it him feel like he was in a reptile tank or something. Since Eddie had moved in with him, however, he hadn’t felt that way. Eddie had made it home.  

The thought occurred to him as the two of them lay in bed, Eddie on his phone and Richie preparing for his next comedy special. Realising that he probably wasn’t going to get any further in the process now that he was thinking about Eddie, he set down his tablet on his nightstand and turned to watch his boyfriend tapping away on his phone.

He had sworn for years that he wasn’t the type to settle down, that no one was going to matter enough to him for that to even be an option, but he didn’t have all the facts at the time. It had taken just meeting Eddie’s eyes across the room at the Chinese restaurant for him to realise that the reason for his commitment issues was that after all these years, and despite forgetting that the man existed for a good portion of his life, he was still hopelessly in love with him. The revelation that he was married had initially come as a blow, but as the two of them talked and caught up after all the years apart, it became clear how unhappy his marriage was and something like hope began to flare up in Richie again.

There had been some brief, albeit fairly traumatic bullshit with a demon clown, but they had miraculously all survived it (even Stan, though his situation had been really touch-and-go for a while), Eddie had divorced Myra as soon as he got back to New York and now the two of them lived in Richie’s over the top LA apartment and Richie got to watch his boyfriend’s handsome and ruggedly scarred profile while he concentrated intently on whatever he was doing on his phone.

What was he doing on his phone? The incessant tapping suggested that he wasn’t texting or scrolling through any of his social media apps, so it had to be a mobile game. Shuffling closer under the guise of wanting to cuddle (though only just barely under the guise – he always wanted to cuddle Eddie), he snuck a glance at his phone and was amused to find that he was playing Tetris.

“Oh my god, you’re still playing it after all these years?” he blurts out, unable to contain his delight at this revelation.

“Shut up, it’s a classic,” Eddie retorted, eyes not breaking from his game.

“I’m not disputing that. I’m just ecstatic to finally find myself in a position where you’ll let me watch.”

“Baby, you know how much I love you, but I swear to god if you distract me and make me fuck up in the first five minutes of this round I’m going to fucking rage as you’ve never seen me rage.”

“Noted,” Richie laughed and leaned his head on his shoulder to finally, after all these years, watch him play the only game in the arcade that Eddie had ever really seemed to properly enjoy. He was never allowed to watch him play before (Eddie always said he was far too distracting), though he was starting to think that the real reason was an embarrassment at the way that he played Tetris. It was so fucking tidy. Where there was an S-tetromino on one side, there was a corresponding Z-tetromino on the other. Same with the L and J tetrominoes. The result was a complex, but perfectly balanced board.

“You play Tetris symmetrically?” He asked incredulously.

“As far as I can,” Eddie replied. His cheeks were flushed with colour.

“Doesn’t that just needlessly complicate everything? You’re just filling up your board without actually clearing anything.”

“It’s how I like doing it, alright?” said Eddie, cursing as he set down a piece in the wrong place, throwing off his symmetry.

“Ah fuck, sorry, baby. That was probably my bad,” said Richie, pressing a small kiss to Eddie’s shoulder.

“No, don’t worry, it had to happen at some point. Once that happens, I just play the game normally. I just like challenging myself to see how long I can keep it balanced.”

Richie was always sure he couldn’t possibly love Eddie more than he already did, but then he would learn another of his quirks and his heart would grow another size. He had no idea how Eddie did it, but the asshole had a way of challenging everything he thought he knew about his heart.

Though he knew that the next thought that popped into his head was impulsive, there was no way he could wait anymore. Telling Eddie he was just getting something from the drawer in his nightstand, he rolled away and rummaged around for a few minutes before his hand closed around a small velvet box.

Eddie was concentrating far too hard to acknowledge what Richie may or may not have retrieved from his drawer and though Richie’s heart was racing now that he knew what he was going to do in a few minutes, he watched Eddie’s game with fascination. If the high score in the corner of the screen was anything to go by, Eddie was really good and he seemed to have a sixth sense about where to put the pieces so that the pieces coming up would fit perfectly.

When he managed to completely clear his board despite the mess it had been moments before, Richie let out an impressed laugh.

“See, now and then if you’re lucky, you get a fresh start,” said Eddie, already beginning to set out his tetrominoes symmetrically again.

“I have never found you sexier than I do right now,” Richie replied without a scrap of irony.

Eddie laughed.

“I should play stupid arcade games more often.”

“You should.” He pressed another kiss to Eddie’s shoulder. “Makes you irresistible.”

“Okay, remember when we said no distractions? This is very distracting.”

“I’ll bet it is,” he said, scraping his teeth lightly over the skin he’d been kissing a moment ago and enjoying the huff of frustration he received for his efforts. “I’ll stop now though I swear.”

Though Eddie put up a good fight – even managing to best his previous high score – his game ended a few moments later and Richie’s heart kicked into high gear. Needing something to anchor him again, he kissed Eddie and revelled in the way that Eddie always kissed back with such longing and desire. There was usually nothing that Richie wanted more than to melt into that kiss, but he was still holding the velvet box and had an important question to ask.

“Hold on, babe,” he said, pulling back from Eddie. “This is great and I can’t wait to get back to it, but I first need to talk to you about something.”

He watched the concern and anxiety flash across Eddie's face and pressed a quick reassuring kiss to his forehead.

“It’s a good thing, I promise,” he said. “Firstly, this past year, having you here with me has been the best of my life. I thought when I was buying a king-sized bed I was just giving myself extra space to starfish at night. I never could have imagined us both starfishing together, or the way that you hog all the covers because you’re so small that you’re in danger of hypothermia all the time and have to protect your tiny frame with a cocoon of cosy.”

Eddie scoffed and began playing with Richie’s hair.

“I couldn’t imagine how fucking adorable I’d find you first thing in the morning when your hair is sticking up in all directions and the way you always turn and smile like you’re surprised to see me. And like shit, Eddie, for that alone you deserve way more than the amount of effort I’m about to put into this.

“The thing is, I wanted to do this perfectly because you deserve perfection, but since I’m also a messy and impulsive bitch and because the way you play Tetris is just so fucking you, this is how it’s going down.”

He opened the box and held it between the two of them. Eddie’s eyes widened to the size of dinner plates and though Richie began to doubt himself, there was no sense in stopping now.

“I realised, watching you play now, that I can’t live without you. Not again. And though I have no idea how to put this in any kind of eloquent way like Bill or Ben would be able to, I love you more than anything in the world and I want to spend every day for the rest of our lives proving it to you. So, Eddie Kaspbrak, would you make me the luckiest motherfucker on earth by being my husband?”

Eddie didn’t reply. Instead, he grabbed either side of Richie’s face and kissed him. It was deep and sweet and just so perfect in the way it hadn’t been with anyone else that Richie was annoyed that it had taken him as long as it had to do this. When they broke apart, Richie kissed the tip of Eddie’s nose and looked into his eyes.

“I take it that’s a yes then?”

“Yes, yes, yes, so much fucking yes,” said Eddie, letting Richie slide the ring onto his finger. “For the record, I also have a ring downstairs in my jacket pocket. I’ve been trying to find the right moment to ask you.”

“Ah fuck, I should have just let you do it. You’ve done it before,” laughed Richie, pulling Eddie close and pressing a kiss to the top of his head. “If it wasn’t clear, the answer would have been yes.”

“You’re such an ass,” Eddie laughed and the two of them lay cuddled in blissful silence for a few moments before Richie laughed again.

“I can’t believe I’m going to have a husband,” he said. “I can’t believe I’m going to be a husband. What were you thinking?”

“I was thinking that it was the least I could do after the number of times you’ve saved my life,” Eddie replied. “I mean it’s obvious that you have a crush on me or something.”

“Now who’s being an ass?”

And the two of them burst into peals of laughter that had very little to do with Richie’s remark and all to do with the relief and excitement that came with knowing that after all the years of pain and longing and fear and loss, the rest of their lives lay ahead of them, bright and hopeful.

And beautiful, thought Richie, pressing a kiss to the scar on Eddie’s cheek.

[chicagocityofclans]

Helo Adama → Dylan O'Brien → Rat Animal Shifter

→ Basic Information 

Age: 28

Gender: Male

Sexuality: Straight 

Born or Made: Born 

Birthday: August 1st

Zodiac Sign: Leo

Religion: Deism 

→ His Personality Helo personality is most accurately described as intelligent, hyperactive, and curious. He is a notorious bookworm who excels at piecing together clues and figuring out mysteries. Helo enjoys puzzles and acts as the main IT guy for the pack in order to gain information and evidence regarding the threats that they face. For this reason, his intelligence is his greatest strength within the pack and has either given them an advantage or has outright saved them in multiple situations. He is slow to trust people, but once he warms up to them and the person gains his trust, he becomes very close to them and will do whatever he has to do in order to protect them and ensure their safety. Because of his hyperactiveness, Helo can often become so overwhelmed by trauma that he both physically and verbally lashes out at those around him. Despite his increasingly violent reactions to bad news, he is a very loyal person who would do anything to protect his loved ones, even if it means giving up his life to do so. 

→ His Personal Facts

Occupation: Full Time Head of CTRL

Scars: None

Tattoos: Matching Tetris Pieces with Hanna 

Two Likes: Technology and Amazon

Two Dislikes: Best Buy and LEGO

Two Fears: Blackouts and Losing Hard Drive Data

Two Hobbies: Videos Games and Role-Playing 

Three Positive Traits: Outspoken, Sarcastic, Clever

Three Negative Traits: Long-Winded, Awkward, Arrogant

→ His Connections

Parent Names:

Graeme Adama (Father): Graeme is Helo’s number one fan and motivator. Graeme has always had an active role in Helo’s life, whether it was reading him Harry Potter or Lord of the Rings before bed as a child or helping him build foundations for CTRL as an adult. Graeme has taken time off from RED and joined Helo on CTRL after the Underground attack. Nick has been pushing for Graeme's return and Helo has been pushing to find a way to help RED win some leeway Underground. He wants his father to return with some type of advantage. 

My Bellarose Adama (Mother): My Bellarose seems like a character from a book that Helo’s has not read yet. Everything about his mother is perfect enough to be unreal or made up by an exquisite writer. She can do no wrong in his eyes. She is currently teamed with BOND and SKIN. Helo has no idea how she jungles Graeme, work and their family but somehow it all gets done and more. Helo is happy she has taken a liking to Hanna, just like the rest of their family. 

Sibling Names:

Radak Adama (Brother): Radak is Helo’s older brother. They are complete opposites of each other but surprisingly get already well. Radak has never been into technology or science fiction/fantasy. Radak joined BOND in order to travel and get away from Chicago, he always wanted to see the world and learn about different cultures and languages. When Radak is home he usually works on SKIN. 

Vala Azalea Adama (Sister): Vala is Helo’s older sister. She is one of the RED survivors and has recently celebrated her 30th birthday. She had a mental breakdown recently, feeling unaccomplished and with a shit ton of survivor's guilt. Helo feels absolutely helpless. He has taken to constantly checking on her and is trying to include her in wedding plans to brighten her up. Helo is considering hooking her up with Louis or Achilles to get her spirits up. 

Tahmoh Adama (Brother): Tahmoh is Helo’s little brother. Tahmoh is a 23 year old nerd that has recently joined the ranks of GOLD. Helo is proud of him, knowing he worked hard for the position while attending community college full-time. While Helo had gotten his degree online, Tahmoh rebelled and went to one of the local colleges. Helo was surprised that Nick allowed Tahmoh to attend college. However, it was not until after Tahmoh graduation that Tahmoh was able to tell their family that he was only allowed to attend if he kept an eye out for the Jackals and other shifters who attended college there too. 

Children Names:

None

Romantic Connections:

Hanna Moore (Mate and Fiancee): Hanna and Helo have been dating for 5 years. They met on an online dating app. The first time they met in public, Helo brought Louis with him, thinking it was a scam. Helo and Hanna clicked in person just like they did over the phone; adding Louis as their third party too. 6 months into their relationship, Helo asked Hanna to move and join his pack. A long distance relationship wasn’t hard, but Helo wanted her close and running CTRL, which was still new at the time, was becoming too much to leave for a weekend getaway. Helo does not reject the decision at all and does not think that they are moving too fast. He knows whether he is living until 90 or 400 years old, he wants to share his life with Hanna. Which is why he proposed and they are planning to start a life despite people thinking they will not last or will regret it. In the history of Adama’s there has never been a divorce and there are currently 30 living generations. While Helo does not want to add kids to their equation yet, he does see them there in the far future.

Platonic Connections:

Louis Martin-Rovet (Best Friend): Helo cannot remember when Louis and he became best friends or when they actually met. Every time a question about how they met comes up they both spin an outrageous elaborate story, coming up with it and crazy details as they go along. Despite their obvious age difference, Louis being older than Helo’s parents and maternal grandparents, the two of them might as well be brothers. 

Theo ‘Hibachi’ Easton (Friend): Helo and Hibachi could easily be described as being your typical nerd buddies. Helo was there to help Theo when he needed his Tumblr page set up, and Theo was one of the very small numbers that knew about Helo dating Hannah first. Their friendship is an easy one, where both are simply comfortable being themselves around the other.

Achilles Idris (Friend): Helo really likes Achilles and enjoys having him around. It is hard to believe that Achilles is Jax's older brother. However, this adds to Helo theory that Nick and Jo raising Jax had a large effect on the person he grew up to be. Achilles is currently a part of GOLD and BOND, thus Helo has been seeing a lot of him. It is nice having someone else closer to his age in his inner circle too. 

Ray Hamelin (Associate): When Helo first developed CTRL, he had to implement it into NERVOUS and BOND before CTRL could become official. Helo and Ray formed a professional relationship during that time. Helo has nothing but respect for Ray and the job he does for their pack as a whole.

Jim Montgomery (Unsure): Jim has been coming around more and more often. Helo is unsure as to why but also does not want to find out why either. Helo has been running micro surveillance cameras in and out of the police department for SKIN and is currently working on a credit card system for them. Helo is hoping to match their spending habits to different names the human shifters may have, which could possibly bring a large amount of unknown shifted forms to light.

Ryan Cleirigh (Possible Contact/New Friend): Ryan has an amazing podcast that Helo listens to on his down time or whenever he needs something playing softly in the background and music isn’t cutting it. Helo has joined Ryan a few times for shows as a guest and accompanies Ray whenever he goes too.

Hostile Connections:

Jaxson Idris (Annoyance): Helo and Jax never got along and always clashed with one another. Helo does not know what it is about Jax but the air around Jax always ruffles his feathers and sends him up a wall. Helo has tried in the past to bury the hatchet but it has always come to bite him in the ass. Jax will never receive mercy from Helo or his personal CTRL care; which Helo usually gives to his team members.

Pets:

None

→ History Helo was raised by loving parents and has always had a close relationship with the entire family; including siblings, cousins, aunts, uncles and grandparents. Helo grew up around the supernatural but did not grow up as a typical rat. Helo’s family, the Adama's, have always refused to sleep with tens of thousands of other rats. They enjoy the finer things and as a result, Helo grew up within a separate house which is unlike many of the local rats. While he did not follow in his families by joining GOLD, SKIN or RED, Helo did start his own team called CTRL when he was old enough. That won the approval of both his family and extended family. CTRL is in control of surveillance, tech support, data processing, basic hacking and virtual mapping. They are also in charge of accounting for SUGAR, research and development for BOND, and simple tracking for other teams. → The Present Helo’s love for technology is how he stumbled on an online dating app for supernaturals and how he met Hanna. Hanna was in Fort Wayne, Indiana when they were matched, but the two commuted alternating weekends to make it work. Hanna eventually moved up to Chicago to be with Helo and join his pack. Hanna moved to Chicago only 6 months after meeting face to face for the first time. They celebrated their 5 years anniversary where Helo had proposed to Hanna. They are slowly planning their wedding much to everyone's cringe. A lot of people disapprove but Helo has always known what he wanted, and it has yet to come to bite him in the ass. Helo’s immediate family and his best friend, Louis seem to be the only ones that are in support of how quickly their relationship is moving.

Helo’s to-do-list has been overflowing for CTRL. He is slowly but surely knocking them all out by working overtime and pulling all nighters. Helo is working on big projects for BOND, GOLD, SKIN, RED and CAMO that has taken priority over other projects that he has been handing off to his team members. CTRL is currently without a second which Helo isn’t actively looking for but is willing to consider after missing an important wedding venue appointment.

[cetaceanhandiwork]

Disneyland Reloaded

So a week ago, give or take, I replied to a post on another website which basically asked “if you were given the job of rebuilding Disneyland, would you change anything?” The question got me thinking a fair bit about the Anaheim Disney resort’s overarching themes, and where they work or don’t work, resulting in a giant three-part comment to fully explain my redesign.

Today, I feel like sharing those ideas with y'all over here, too!

Let's begin with the assumptions that...

we can get permits in Anaheim but no new land...

we have a budget that could theoretically rebuild the whole park if it had to but not too much beyond that, and...

original Walt-era Disneyland stuff may be difficult to move without damaging or destroying, and deliberately destroying and rebuilding it, while allowed, may not be desirable for reasons of preserving park history.

Given that, my high-level approach would be a refocusing of each park's experience on its core concept. I envision three parks:

Disneyland - worlds of "yesterday, tomorrow, and fantasy" - embodied by the genres Walt himself grew up with.

A reimagining of California Adventure that synthesizes the original idea of "Califorina, the real place you are visiting right now, presented as a fictional place to explore" with the running Pixar theme of "secret peoples and communities that live alongside humanity, in the here and now, just outside our line of sight".

A new third gate that focuses on stories of larger-than-life heroism and villainy - the native park of Star Wars, MCU, Pirates-the-movie-series, and other similar properties.

This effort, as I see it, would have to start with some Tetris-ing, in an attempt to make the most of the limited Anaheim acreage:

Utilidors. This Disney World system - of putting backstage and CM areas underground - was invented precisely because WED wished they’d done it in Anaheim. If we’re starting from scratch, we can backport this design and immediately unlock a lot of space.

Drop Disneyland Drive north of Cerritos underground as well.

Consolidate remaining parking. At worst, this is a third Mickey & Friends that encompasses all other resort parking. At best, we get permits to put underground levels on parking structures and reduce the footprint further. Put this in the southeast corner of the resort; get rid of the Paradise Pier Hotel for now.

Strip Avengers Campus off of DCA, strip Galaxy's Edge and the Fantasyland Theatre off of Disneyland. This will free up enough space to put DCA and the GCH east of Disneyland, with its gate on the other end of a rerouted Downtown Disney.

That done, we can move on to the main event.

❖❖❖

Of these, Disneyland itself would see the fewest changes, both in the interests of preserving the history and because it's already fairly close to what we want. The paradigm is as it always was: each "land" represents a genre in microcosm, matched not against any particular IP, but presented as a... prototypical or archetypical space in which all those stories might occur.

This is a good framing device and a solid core concept, and I'm not gonna mess with it. However, there are still a few things I'd rearrange.

For instance: Critter Country would move to the eastern side of the Rivers of America, placed between the rural American Frontierland, the funny animals of Toontown, and the fable-laden Fantasyland. I imagine it taking up sort of the same space as the old Big Thunder Ranch and Fairgrounds, connected with Frontierland on one side (with Splash Mountain still bordering the Rivers of America) and Toontown (bordering Winnie the Pooh) and Fantasyland (bordering a new indoor/outdoor Robin Hood darkride) on the other.

Toontown would need few changes, other than a careful touching up of the effects to match modern standards. I would like to squeeze in one minor expansion, though, if possible, by moving the Monorail wheelhouse: a small Disney Villains themed area - perhaps a seedy watering hole? - nestled away in Downtown Toontown.

Fantasyland, meanwhile, would reclaim the Theater and some backlot space (thanks Utilidoors!) and use that room for a couple new rides - particularly, a Beauty and the Beast attraction and a Frozen attraction. I resist here the impulse to put Frozen next to the Matterhorn mainly because that Fantasyland real estate has another important purpose: the Fantasia and Tomorrowland lagoons get rejoined, and become the show area for a Little Mermaid ride, boarding near Small World, that actually takes place "unda da sea". (The technology for underwater, low-occupancy-vehicle ride systems does exist in the current state of the art, although it'd need some iteration to theme as properly Fantasyland.) As much as I would personally regret seeing the submarines go, I can't deny that their ride system is claustrophobic, stuffy, and poorly accessible, and that guests deserve something with lower "minimum requirements" to ride.

Compared to those, Tomorrowland would get a more comprehensive refocusing. I've posted before about my take on Tomorrowland's DNA: that isn't just "the future", but "the challenge and promise of the future". People talk a lot about how it's a Land that's perpetually out of date - that our vision of the future changes too fast for the Park to keep up. Aesthetically, that's a fair point. But on an attraction level... we don't have to aim a mere five minutes into the future to talk about its challenge and promise - to talk about the future optimistically, as as better world we can reach towards today and eventually grab onto.

Space is, of course, an easy example; space has been an "unreasonable but longed-for future" since Walt's days. Bring back the mission to Mars. Add a space elevator that you can ride as an observation tower, or take the "express" and make it a droptower that uses its drop to simulate zero gravity. On a more terrestrial side... put in a dinosaur or giant animal dark ride - fantastical experiments in biology, at once excited for the potential there, and cautious about how important it is to get right. Maybe do something with Inside Out as a "fantastic psychology" concept. Give the Land an AI caretaker character, puppeteered by several CMs behind the scenes to create the illusion that it's a single person multiplexing.

You can keep Star Tours - the galaxy of Star Wars may be a gritty and cynical world, but Star Tours is a lighthearted and hopeful take on it. You can keep the monorail, too - it's still futuristic to Americans - and route it through the Land's rides the same way the PeopleMover once did, and the same way the boats and trains do in other Lands. Maybe you can even fit in a Wall-E based attraction - now that's a story that's an emulsion of the future's "challenges" and its "promise" if ever there was one in Disney's catalogue.

As for Adventureland? It's got a different obsolescence problem than Tomorrowland: not that the world has left a particular vision behind, but that the world has left the whole genre it represents behind. Walt grew up with the "Adventure" genre, of pith helmet explorers in the Southeast Asian jungle or the African veldt, but we don't really have that genre anymore. And with Disneyland as a worldwide tourist destination, it becomes... strange to have people coming from the places that genre was based on, only to see this caricature of the places they know reflected back as it was seen by clueless Brits a century ago. I want to believe there's something sensible to do with this Land, something that can preserve its essence and history while still making it meaningful to the stories we tell today and the people who were on the other side of the old stories, but I honestly don't know how to do it, or what it would even look like when we were done. All I know is that if nothing else I need to stick a giant bookmark here, because I'd have to do something.

Main Street, finally, would remain mostly unchanged by the advancing years, except for one upgrade: its illusory second floor would at last become a real one - not as shops, but as Dream Suite-esque prestige accomodations. On any given night, roughly half of these would be booked like on-property hotel suites, at rates befitting the rare magic of spending the night inside the Magic Kingdom's pomerium. The other half would be handed out at random to guests who bought resort/GNH packages, or otherwise booked their trip such that Disney knows they're staying overnight, to put that magic, in theory, within every guest's reach.

❖❖❖

So for Disneyland, the changes have been less structural, and more focused on rearranging an existing structure to update and future-proof it.

California Adventure, on the other hand, needs something deeper, because at the moment, its theming is... confused. When it first opened, it was designed single-mindedly as a pastiche of California as a whole: Hollywood, San Francisco, Yosemite, Sonoma, Monterey, the Central Valley, and Santa Monica Pier. Over time, this theming - which proved less compelling than the Imagineers had hoped it would be - has eroded to make room for Intellectual Properties that could find no space on the other side of the Esplanade.

Today it's a hodgepodge of the old California theming, skin-deep Pixar references, and an increasing amount of Marvel stuff. There's no central idea like there is at Disneyland, or at Epcot and Animal Kingdom down in Florida.

Where I see the potential here is in Pixar's long-running theme: "what if [fill in the blank] were people", often imagined as those people secretly existing in our modern everyday world, which just so happens to be paired with a park that's themed to a real place, in the present day.

In other words, what if we made that pairing of themes explicit? What if we lean into the idea that you're "exploring" California, both to discover what's prosaically there, and what's fantastically there? What if we present that sort of Californian adventure?

I'm imagining a park pomerium based on the concept of the "road trip", inasmuch as it is the classical way to explore California. No miniature rail here; you'll pile into a trailer towed by Goofy and Max in their (now window-tinted) car, or by the Onward boys' van, or so forth. (I'd love to get the Cars cars in on towing duty but I don't know if the animatronics are good enough yet.)

You'll still pass through places like Grizzly Peak (where e.g. Bugs might also Live), a Pacific Wharf that's annexed some of Paradise Pier (where we can Find Nemo now that the submarines are closed), and the Hollywood Backlot (where city-dwelling nonhumans - like Monsters and Muppets - might lurk). Radiator Springs would be easily reconciled to this Park concept - melding it with the old Route 66 and I-5 travellers' towns, building it about half for humans and half for cars.

I would need external advice, at this point, to figure out how far this theme can go. I see... some potential in making explicit room to pay homage to Mexican heritage of California (with its hidden world being Coco's fantastical take on the Land of the Dead). But it'd have to be done respectfully, and would be easy to screw up without guidance on what exactly qualifies as respectful or not respectful.

From another angle, I'm also not sure yet quite where Toy Story fits into the picture, but every element of the park's Pixarish theming points to that headline IP needing to fit in somewhere.

❖❖❖

And with that taken care of, comes the question of the third gate. We position it across from Disneyland proper, in California Adventure's old real estate. Pragmatically, this mystery Park must support stories like MCU or Star Wars - the new additions to Disney's IP stable, set in soft sci-fi universes chock full of larger-than-life heroism and villainy. It would have more strict, single-setting-per-Land theming, to support Galaxy's Edge, the Avengers Campus, the new Artemis Fowl series, and so forth. Perhaps Tortuga as well - the cinema vision of Pirates is popular enough that it should be able to support a home, and building one for it here will ease pressure off of its Disneyland predecessor to be flagbearer for an IP it was never designed to host.

How does one support this with a gateway/hub Land? How does one define a pomerium around it? Strict set construction as a principle of the park implies that we have to invent a new IP for this purpose, something Kingdom-Hearts-like but less... cartoonish, to match the less cartoonish worlds it lets you visit. A futuristic mode of transportation seems called for to ferry guests from Land to Land. Perhaps this is where the iconic Disneyland Monorail design finally finds its place in Disney fiction and not just history: to be - within this new setting - a vehicle for interdimensional travel. The park's hub would then have platforms for two Monorail lines: one bound for "Earth 1313: Tomorrowland, Hollywood, and the Disneyland Hotel" (for we would expand the resort-wide monorail track to support park hopper travel), and the other bound for this new park's immersive Lands.

The third gate's position across from Disneyland proper, combined with the increased use of underground tunnels and infrastructure, adds another potentially useful gimmick: the ability to link it to Disneyland in a manner similar to Universal Orlando's Hogwarts Express. Imagine park-hopper-only lines where your Star Tour will land on Batuu, or your Pirate cruise will end in Tortuga.

There would, of course, be a new hotel attached to this park, just like the Grand Californian was attached to DCA on its opening. I'll leave the specifics of this up in the air; it could be another Galactic Starcruiser, but it could just as easily be based on some other property.

❖❖❖

And what of the rest of the resort?

As mentioned, Downtown Disney shifts north, encroaching slightly into what's currently the backstage area of New Orleans Square, to better link up with the new position of DCA. So as not to "isolate" DCA, the third gate's entrance would be halfway along this new route.

Trams would use underground infrastructure to cross from the southeast unified parking area into the DTD/Esplanade corridor at the appropriate places for different Parks.

The Disneyland Hotel would remain, as a nod to its historical status, but against two park-adjoining hotels, it's clearly the farthest from the action after all this rearranging - hence hooking it up to the Monorail as a way to give it connectivity.

[bamon4bamily]

TVD 9x05 (part 3 of 3) Enjoy! =)

Cut back to the October 31st, 1886, flashback scene –  New Jersey State Lunatic Asylum.

DOCTOR: (Infuriated) What do you mean the patient is gone?!!

NURSE: I went to get more medication and when I returned, she was gone. Doctor, I’m sorry, I don’t know what happened, she was fully restrained and sedated…

DOCTOR: You, incompetent fool! Do you realize what you just allowed to be released into this world?!! Leave, immediately!

NURSE: Doctor, please, I…

DOCTOR: Are you also incapable of comprehending words? I said, leave! (Nurse leaves, Doctor 2 enters).

DOCTOR 2: Doctor, what on earth is going on?

DOCTOR: We have a serious problem…

Cut to, present-day, October 31st – Freaky old mansion. Darius and a group of hooded people are in the backyard woods, doing some weird ritualistic ceremony. As the full moon rises, they gather around a Hecate’s wheel symbol and chant.

CHANTS:

Nos stare in lumine lunae.

Sanctifica eve est, ille est aditus.

Electus ortu tenebris est virtus.

Et infirmi erunt: et cum exarserit post ortum iluminati.

Cut to – The Mayor’s House. Edward is in the dining room, having dinner by himself. The black box he had received earlier is placed in front of his plate; the balloon, tied to the chair in front of him. He looks out of himself… staring into nothing.

 ANTHONY: Sir, your guests will be arriving soon; shouldn’t you start getting ready?

EDWARD: (Dazing at nothingness) Yes… probably…

ANTHONY: Sir, if I may say… I know this night brings up memories, but you must allow yourself to let that go. You are a good man; you deserve to be happy, find some peace.

EDWARD: After everything that I have done, do you honestly believe that?

ANTHONY: With all my heart. I know you, Sir; I have seen your dark and your light.

EDWARD: You have probably seen much more than what you bargained for.

ANTHONY: At my age, Sir, I have seen much worse, trust me.

EDWARD: Got to love your sense of humor. I will never understand why genetics didn’t make you my father.

ANTHONY: Excuse me for saying this, but I think I am the only father figure you have ever known.

EDWARD: That is very true… And, I want you to know, that whatever happens, I will forever be thankful for having you in my life. After my mother, you are the only person that has made my life have any sort of meaning.

ANTHONY: Sir, don’t say that. I’m grateful for your kind words but with or without me, and dare I say, with or without her, your life has meaning. You just need to see beyond those smoking mirrors that cloud your mind, believe in yourself.

EDWARD: Always so observant….

ANTHONY: So much that I’m going to step out of my place and ask, have you told the Sheriff? 

EDWARD: Oh, will you look at the time! I need to go get ready before my guests arrive. (Takes the black box and leaves, a saddened look on Anthony’s face).

Cut to - The Salvatore house, the gang is back from trick or treating; they are having a drink before heading out to Klaus’s.

 ALARIC: Well, gang, the time has come… everyone ready to do this?

RADKA: As ready as we will ever be; so, (puts her cup up for a toast) I propose a toast: to friendship, family and love, the most important things in life!

EVERYONE: Cheers! (They toast, hug, share a laugh or two).

CAROLINE: (Chugs a shot) Okay, Alaric and I need to go tuck the girls in; we’ll be back in a sec. (They go upstairs).

 As they start getting ready to leave, Damon takes Bonnie outside.

BONNIE: Damon, what’s going on? Don’t tell me you changed your mind about the costume!

DAMON: No matter how many times I try, I don’t seem to get this right, so I’m just going to say it…

BONNIE: Say what?

DAMON: 73,0408...

BONNIE: (Confused) Damon, that makes no sense, are you honestly drunk right now? 

DAMON: That’s the number of days I’ve been on this earth, give or take. And, out of those, 3650 have been the best ones… because you have been a part of them...

BONNIE: Damon…

DAMON: It took me multiple lifetimes to realize what the best things in life are truly about… and that was thanks to you, to this unlikely friendship, which is, beyond a doubt, the best thing that has ever happened to me. Even when I didn’t know it, and, for the life of me, I still can’t believe I was so blind…

BONNIE: Damon, please, don’t…

DAMON:

Day 1:That Halloween party, when I tried to grab your amulet… I didn’t realize what it meant at the time, psycho mode an all, but it was the first time in my life that I had ever felt an instant connection, an unexplainable draw towards someone… 

Day 2: When I went looking for you at your school, leaned into you and told you I was only trying to protect you… granted it was not the best approach, I know, but I felt it, the tension, the chemistry...

Day 3: The 60’s decade dance… (looking into her eyes) God those eyes… I could have danced, and stared at them all night… 

Day 4: When I finally found you on that creep island… that hug spoke for itself, but swear I had never felt such relief…

Day 5: There were probably about a million people you would have rather been with… how lucky was I to be the one?

The 122 days back in 94. I think those were one of the best ones... Just you, me, vampcakes, crossword puzzles, plaid shirts, The Bodyguard, Monopoly, Tetris, Miss. Cuddles, bourbon, Boyz II Men...

.. and, well, Kai, but...

BONNIE: (In a cold and harsh tone) Damon, stop! (Damon stops cold in his tracks, then Bonnie transitions into a teasing tone) You aren’t really gonna go on for 3645 more days, are you? We’ll be here forever…

DAMON: However long it takes… 

(Softly, places his hands on her cheeks and stares deep into her eyes) You are my person, Bon-Bon… You make me laugh, so much that I actually cry! You make me think, own up to my decisions, don’t take my crap, and boy, do I have some crap! When I’m with you, I feel at home... I am home... you are my home, Bon. You are the reason I know what it means to be alive... the reason I know what it means to love...And, well...I just can’t fight this feeling anymore...  (Damon takes out his phone, puts on a song, and holds the phone above his head, in reference to the famous John Cusak scene. Bonnie can’t help but crack up). 

BONNIE: You’re crazy...

DAMON: Absolutely bunkers, one flew over cuckoo's nest, for you... I love you, Bonnie Sheila Bennett and all I want to do is to keep loving you, every second, minute, hour, day, week, month, year of my life… and afterlife…  (slowly leans in for a kiss… ).

CAROLINE: (Caroline walks outside, unaware of the situation). Hey guys, the girls are tucked in; we are ready to… (she realizes the moment she has, once again, interrupted) Oh my god!!! I’m so sorry!! Leaving now! (Vamps out).

DAMON: I swear, I could kill Goldie Locks, right about now!!!

BONNIE: (Laughs) Hey...come here (pulls him in for a kiss).

 Caroline vamps her way back into the living room, pulls Stefan aside.

 CAROLINE: Oh my god, Stefan, you won’t believe what is happening right now! Granted I almost sabotaged the moment, once again, but at last!

STEFAN: Damon and Bonnie?

CAROLINE: You know it!

STEFAN: Well, it was about time…

CAROLINE: Right!?

KATHERINE: (Who has sneaked in on their conversation) Please, I called it from a mile away! But, hey, good for them! I mean, let’s be honest, we all knew the Elena thing was rooted on Damon’s fixation over me… I mean, their relationship was even more toxic than ours! But I must admit, I’m actually happy for him, despite my everlasting loath, it’s somewhat nice to see him make the right choice, for once.  

CAROLINE: Aw, hello, creeper!? Did we ask for your opinion?

KATHERINE: What about bygones?

CAROLINE: One day at a time… (Damon and Bonnie come back inside)

KATHERINE: So, are you two love birds ready to go? (They all look at them with a smirk on their faces).

Cut to – The Mikaelson mansion. Danae comes running through the front door. Klaus, looking pissed, is sitting on the piano bench, playing random keynotes.

 DANAE: Hello dear (kisses him on the cheek), I’m sorry I’m so late; I had one of my migraines and needed to compose myself before heading back. (Looks around) Good, no one is here yet. Love, what’s with the face? I told you I was sorry …

KLAUS: Just get ready, they will be arriving any time now.

DANAE: Don’t be mad, I told you I’d be here… and I’m here… better late than never.

KLAUS: I’m just a bit on edge, nothing personal.

DANAE: Don’t be, we have nothing to worry about. With my migraine came a vision, and I can assure you, we are going to be fine, I promise (hugs him). Now, let me go get changed, I’ll be down in a few. (Doorbell rings, Klaus opens the door).

KLAUS: (Looks at Damon, cracks up). Don’t you look lovely!

DAMON: Oh, shut up! (Pushes him aside, walks inside).

KLAUS: Now, you (referring to Bonnie)... I think you just stole my soul…

BONNIE: As if you had one… (pushes him aside, walks inside)

KLAUS: Ouch, Bonnie, that hurt. So, where are the others?

BONNIE: They were right behind us, they should be here soon.

KLAUS: (They settle down in the living room). Can I offer you a drink?

DAMON: Yes, two bourbons, on the rocks.

KLAUS: (Doorbell rings again) Well, you are going to have to fetch it yourself (signals to the bar, then goes to open the front door).

STRANGER: Is Tamara here?

KLAUS: Sorry, love, wrong house. (Shuts the door, goes back to the living room)

BONNIE: Who was it?

KLAUS: Drunken teen… Anyway, while we wait for the others, I must ask one last time (to Bonnie) are you sure you are ready to do this, love? We can call it quits, come up with another plan…

BONNIE: Oh, I’m ready. (With sarcasm) Question is, are you?

KLAUS: Feisty, I love it (gives her a smirk) …

DAMON: Hey, down boy…

KLAUS: Oh, relax Damon, always so protective of your precious Bon-Bon. (Danae comes down and joins them). Love, you look breathtaking (kisses her on the cheek)…

DANAE: Thank you, dear, this was all five minutes could do for me. (Turns to Bonnie) Hello Bonnie, you are looking ravishing…

BONNIE: Thank you, (to herself) I guess?

DANAE: (Turns to Damon) You, on the order hand…

DAMON: Yep, I know. (Doorbell rings).

BONINE: That must be Caroline and Alaric…

DANAE: I’ll get it (goes to open the door). Caroline, (referring to her costume) I must say, I expected more from you…

CAROLINE: Don’t even get me started… (walks in).

DANAE: Alaric, Radka, love the costumes… where is Sergei?

ALARIC: He stayed at the mansion with Stefan, in case he needs back up.

DANAE: Good call; come on in, everyone is in the living room. (As she is about to shut the door)

KATHERINE: Hey, wait for me (walking clumsy, trying not to stumble on her dress again).

 (Everyone gathers in the living room)

 ALARIC: Tyler, Matt, Lexie and Khuyana should be here soon; in the meantime, should we go through the plan one last time?

KLAUS: I think we have done that more than enough; let’s just enjoy our drinks while we wait.

 Cut to - The Salvatore mansion, Elena and Sam ring the bell; Stefan opens the door.

 ELENA: (Stares at Stefan in disbelief and tear eyed, she was not expecting to be so affected by seeing him) Stefan… (tears dripping down her face) Oh, my god… (hugs him real tight and for quite some time).

STEFAN: (Also tear eyed) Elena… (bit of an awkward moment with Sam just standing there; after a couple of minutes they finally stop hugging).

SAM: So, you are the famous Stefan? Great to finally meet you, I’m Sam (they shake hands).

STEFAN: Nice to meet you too, come on in.

ELENA: (As she walks inside and realizes no one is there) Where is everyone?

STEFAN: Guessing Caroline and Bonnie didn’t put you up to date?

ELENA: About?

STEFAN: Oh god, let me offer you guys a drink first, and I’ll explain. (As he is preparing the drinks).

ELENA: Stefan, what’s going on?

STEFAN: (Nervously) Lemons, we need lemons… lemons, yes, in the kitchen... (rushes out).

SAM: Well, this is really getting awkward…

ELENA: Something is going on... (gets her phone out, calls Caroline, goes to voice message) Caroline Elizabeth Forbes, what the hell is going on! (Calls Bonnie but it also goes to voice message) Bonnie Sheila Bennett, you better tell me what is happening!!! (To Sam) I can’t believe they’d leave me out of the loop like this!

SAM: Maybe they are just looking out for you…

ELENA: I don’t need to be looked for; I can handle myself.

SAM: I know you can, but I think they just wanted to respect your wishes of not being involved with the crazy supernatural things anymore…

ELENA: That’s no excuse… (gets up, walks to the kitchen, where Stefan is desperately trying to reach Caroline on her phone). 

STEFAN: (Leaving a voice message) Care, I think you forgot one tiny little detail in your master plan... Elena! (Hangs up).

ELENA: Stefan, tell me what is going on?

STEFAN: Fine; let’s go back to the living room, I’ll tell you everything I know.

ELENA: (As Stefan is walking out) Wait, what about the lemons?

 Cut to – The Mayor’s house. Edward is greeting his guests as they arrive.

EDWARD: Welcome everyone... (To a mysterious looking lady, wearing some very peculiar gloves) Madame (kisses her hand), always a pleasure.

MADAME: Thank you, my dear (winks at him; walks inside).

EDWARD: (Greets her companion) Mr. Northcott (shakes his hand), happy you made it. Please, come in…. (points to the lounge are) indulge.

 Cut back to the Mikaelson mansion.

 KLAUS: I think it’s safe to say that Donovan is a no show; why am I not surprised.

KHUYANA: (Rolls her eyes at him) I’m sorry you guys, he promised he would be here.

ALARIC: Well, we can’t wait anymore, it’s almost midnight, we need to take our places.

BONNIE: We really do.  (To Danae) Let’s go. (As they are about to head upstairs…)

DAMON: Wait… (pulls Bonnie towards him, kisses her, and whispers in her ear) I love you, don’t you ever forget that. Please, be safe.

BONNIE: (Whispers back) I will… we got this… we are Batman and Robin, we kick ass! (Damon smirks) Oh, and just in case it wasn’t clear before, I love you too (kisses him).

 KLAUS: (Snarky) Oh, lovely... 

Cut back to – Creepy old mansion, in what looks to be an underground bunker lab. Darius is outside a heavily sealed and guarded door, with some weird-ass Scientestis that are injecting him with something; Matt, walks in.

 DARIUS: Sheriff (with sarcasm), glad to know you can figure out coordinates. You actually made it...

MATT: I didn’t have much of a choice.

DARIUS: Oh, come on, you know better than anyone that there is always a choice… (Matt hands him the key that had been sent to him before). Oh no, there is a reason why you are here; you are the only one that can access it.

MATT: And why is that?

DARIUS: I only know the how not the why… (hands him the chess piece that had been sent to him before by Edward. Matt turns the chess piece around; a code and the letter “L” are engraved on the bottom).

MATT: (Knowing Edward had been sent that same chess piece just a few hours ago) Wait… how?

DARIUS: Oh Sheriff, you truly underestimate my intelligence; you do know I am a certified genius, right? Edward might have more pull, you know how “the elite” are, but I am much smarter than he is. You really should have better instincts when choosing your alliances… (Darius looks at the clock). One minute till midnight…Time to play (winks).

 The clock strikes midnight… the witching hour has begun.

Bonnie shuts her eyes and releases her psychic block. Danae is holding her hand, chanting. Suddenly, an overwhelming energy blast emanates from Bonnie… 

Then, a total blackout, absolute silence. An uncanny feeling of calmness, not fitting with the expected scenario. Seems like the moment, and everyone in it has been suspended in time. After a few minutes, Bonnie opens her eyes, she looks around. The place seems familiar, but something is off… Why is she alone? Why can’t she remember where she is, or why she is even there? The darkness, the smell of ashes, the silence, the debris… something horrible must have happened here… but what? And why was she there? Bonnie gets up slowly, the place in utter devastation. She walks, for miles and miles amongst ruins and debris… no movement, no sound, no light, no life…  

Why did this place feel so familiar to her? As she continues to walk, trying to remember anything that can help her figure out why she is there, and how she can get out, she stumbles upon another familiar sighting… an old mansion, which strangely, still stands intact. Maybe not the wisest decision, but she had to check it out, it was as if something was pulling her in. She opens the door, walks inside… 

How could this be possible? Where did all these people come from? That music, she has heard it before… How could this place have survived? She takes a glimpse of herself in a nearby mirror… How? She looks ravishing, no doubt, but when did she change into that that attire? 

A man approaches her, she knows him, so much in fact, that she is pretty sure she is in love with him. The man grabs her hand, kisses it with delicate caress…

DARIUS: My love, I’ve been expecting you…

BONNIE: I know… (winks, then pulls him in for a passionate kiss).

TVD 9x06 coming next! =)

Sorry, it took me so long to update, has been quite crazy, but at last! =)

TVD Season 9 Fanfic, hope you keep stopping by, reading and enjoying! =)

[somethingusefulfromflorida]

What We Make for Ourselves

A story set soon after the events of Terminator: Dark Fate

Oakland, 2021

Sarah Connor’s knuckles were white as she maneuvered her jeep down the residential streets at highway speeds.  She and Dani were cutting it close as is, having spent the last year preparing their plan to storm the no-name tech startup in Silicon Valley that would soon create Legion.  She’d stopped Judgement Day once before, and she was sure she could do it again, but there was one last detour she needed to make in case their plan didn’t pan out.  Someone she wanted to warn.

She’d never thought about visiting him before.  She figured it would do no good, serve no purpose other than reopen old wounds.  Until recently, she didn’t even know where he lived, but with Judgement Day drawing nearer she decided to take initiative.  It didn’t take long to track him down; you’d be amazed how much you can find about a person on Google in a few minutes with just their full name.  By sheer coincidence, he lived in the Bay Area, so she waited until they were already headed up for their mission to squeeze in time for her little visit.  Might as well kill two birds with one stone.

Dani sat idly in the passenger seat, cradling a small manila envelope stuffed to the brim with building schematics.  Grace hadn’t given them much to work with in terms of intel besides a company name and a short window for when the grid was supposed to go down, but somehow they’d managed to find the right data cache and download the floor plan for the server farm that would soon host the Legion software; Skynet by any other name still reeked of shit.

Dani would rather be at the motel finalizing their game plan than out in the open so Sarah could wax sentimental for no good reason.  This outing was tactically dangerous, as they both had warrants for their arrest, Dani by ICE, Sarah by every intelligence community in the western world.  A couple of fake driver’s licenses and Milwaukee accents would do little to hide their identities once the feds got back on their trail.

Sarah slowed the jeep to a crawl as she rounded the final corner onto a dead end street that butted right up against MacArthur Freeway.  She parked on the curb between two houses, no doubt to the chagrin of their tenants, but immediately she knew she wouldn’t be there for long.

There he was

Right across the street, piling a small mountain of boxes into the back of an old pickup truck.  Sarah didn’t dare take her eyes off him, even for a second, lest he disappear back into the void that was her memory.  She hadn’t seen him in almost forty years, had almost forgotten his face, but all at once everything came flooding back.  Good memories and bad, of the last normal day she ever lived.  The day her best friend and mother were murdered by a machine, the day she went from an English major waiting tables to make ends meet to a soldier hellbent on stopping the end of the world.  That was a lifetime ago, but here he was in front of her, younger now than ever before.  She couldn’t help but stare, drinking in his face, memorizing every line, every curve. A man, probably his father, popped the truck’s hood and called to him as he checked the engine.

“Kyle, I’m topping her off with oil, but you need to remember to get gas before you hit the highway.”

“I’ll burn that bridge when I get to it, we’re not done loading my crap yet.”

Kyle Reese gingerly set down a duffel bag stuffed with unfolded clothes, and threw open the passenger side door.  He was getting ready for his first semester at school, and packing his truck was proving to be the hardest part of the transition.  “It’s like playing Tetris,” he quipped as he rearranged a few boxes, trying to will more space out of thin air.

He was taller than Sarah remembered.  This Kyle had had an unremarkable childhood and never missed a meal, he was a far cry from the malnourished guerrilla she knew.  Seeing him, this ghost from her past, living a normal life in a future she never thought she’d see, it was almost too much.  She only turned away from him once she began to feel tears well up in her eyes.  This encounter brought back too many painful memories, but pain, he once told her, can be controlled.  

Just disconnect it.

His dad disappeared back into the house, and was soon replaced by three boys around Kyle’s age, carrying even more boxes.

“Why you got so much shit, Reese?” asked a short black kid with glasses.

“Because I’m trying to make things are hard as possible for you guys, that’s why.”

An tall Asian kid propped his box on the trucks roof so he could free his hands.  “I’m really gonna miss you, man.”  He walked over to Kyle and scooped him in for an awkward bear hug.  Kyle tried not to laugh as he was lifted off his feet.

The kid with the glasses punched him playfully on the shoulder once the hugger finally put him down. “Hate to see you go, Reese.  You know, it’s never too late to drop out and stay home.”

“Tempting, but I’m already balls deep in student loans.  I might as well actually be a student for a while, otherwise they’d just be loans.”

“Things will never be the same without him,” cried a kid with a buzz cut, dramatically splaying himself out on the truck’s hood.  “Poor kid, he was so young!”

“I’m not dying guys, I’ll see you in a few months, I’m coming home for Thanksgiving.”

“I can still hear his voice.”

Sarah didn’t bother stepping out of the jeep, but turned to face the small crowd of high schoolers, legs dangling out the missing driver’s side door.  Dani followed her gaze across the street as she stowed the envelope in the glove compartment.

“That’s the friend you were talking about? He’s younger than I am.”

“I knew him, another him, from another time.  Things have changed a lot since then.”

Kyle’s mom came bounding out the front door and embraced her son in an even more awkward hug than his friend’s.

“My little Kyle, heading out to college, paying bills.  When’d you get so old?  You’re not allowed to be an adult yet, you were still in preschool last week.”

“Mo-o-om,” Kyle complained with a smile.  Only two of his friends laughed.  “You didn’t act like this when Derek left for school.”

“Sure I did, every year, and I’ll do the same for you because I like embarrassing you in front of your friends.  Now everyone come together.  Marc, Andy, Sawyer, stand next to Kyle, I want to get a picture.”

“You already took a ton of pictures.”

“And I’m gonna take a ton more before you leave, now stand there and smile.”

They all huddled together against his truck, and she kept directing them like she was making Christmas cards at Sears.  “Okay, now let’s have a funny one, everyone make a face.  Great.  Now let me get some with two of you at a time; Marc you’re first.”

Marc, the kid with the buzz cut, took this as an opportunity to force an exit.  “Hey, Mrs. Reese, why don’t you go get his dad, and I’ll take a photo of all three of you.  A family portrait, wouldn’t that be nice, Kyle?”

“Oh, I can’t think of anything better.”

She smirked, taking their hint.  “I’ll be right back,” she said as she disappeared back into the house, calling her husband’s name.

“Quick, help me pack everything now and I’ll be gone before she gets back,” Kyle joked once she was out of earshot.

Three of the four boys began stuffing thing into the passenger side, well after it was full to capacity, but the bespectacled Sawyer stood back by himself for a few moments.  Sarah’s eyes were still locked on Kyle, but Sawyer’s eyes were locked on her.

“Hey,” he called to his friends.  “What’s wrong with this picture?”

“What’s up?”

“There’s an old lady staring at you, Reese.  She’s been staring for like five minutes.”

Kyle looked over at Sarah, and she immediately turned away.

“Good for her,” he said without a second thought.  He continued with the task at hand, trying to force an uncooperative shoe box into the space beneath the passenger seat.

“Isn’t that creepy?”

“Not really, she’s just some lady, she’s not hurting anyone.”

“You ever heard of stranger danger?  She’s giving you the bedroom eyes, you’re gonna wind up in her windowless van.”

“Dude, shut up, she can probably hear you.  Besides, that’s a jeep, it’s got nothing but windows, I’ll be fine.”  Kyle turned back to Sarah who was trying to keep herself busy by reading the warranty sticker on the windshield.  Dani nudged her to let her know Kyle was looking, and when she turned back to him, he smiled at her and waved.

Sawyer punched him on the shoulder again, less playfully this time.  “Stranger. Danger.  Windowless van.  It’s your funeral, Reese.”

“Shut the fuck up, man. She’s probably a friend of my mom’s or something.”

With that, Sarah emerged from the jeep and walked over to the boys.  Dani also stepped out so she could have a better look, but remained on the far side of the street.  Sawyer tried to motion for his friends to head back towards the house, but none of them moved as Sarah stopped a few feet short of the curb.

“Kyle Reese?” She didn’t mean for it to come out as a question, but she couldn’t believe it was truly him.

“Never heard of him,” Sawyer said at the exact same moment Kyle responded “yes.”  A third punch, not playful at all.

“It’s really good to see you, Kyle.”

“Um, yeah, it’s good to see you too.  How, uh, how have you been?”

“You can stop pretending like you know me.  You don’t.”

“Okay, cause I was gonna say… Can I help you? What’s up?”  This woman was at least a decade older than his mom, and her face wasn’t familiar at all.  He had thought that maybe she was an old babysitter of his, or he’d seen her at church or something, but he was now drawing a complete blank.

“I’m actually here to help you, Kyle.  You see, there’s a storm coming.  Something big, something bad, and I don’t know if I’m gonna be able to stop it.”

Kyle’s friends had backed into his yard, but he remained where he was on the curb.  As she took a step closer to him, a gear in the back of his mind began turning, and he got the feeling that he had seen her before, but still couldn’t place where.

She told him a date and a list of cities to avoid, suggesting he head out into the desert and stay there. Andy inched his way towards Kyle and gingerly grabbed his shoulder.  “C’mon man, I think your mom’s calling us, we should head back inside.”

Sarah stared into his soul with such intensity that he was a deer in the headlights, unable to move. She reached into a jacket pocket and pulled out another manila envelope, thinner than Dani’s, and handed it to him. His friends shook their heads, silently imploring him not to take it, but he did anyway.

Dani, seeing that the handoff was complete, beat the hood of the jeep to call Sarah back over.  “We’re burning daylight, we should head out.  Andale.”

“Just a second,” Sarah cried over her shoulder.  She turned back to Kyle, who was holding the envelope out at arm’s length like it could explode at any moment.  “I don’t have time to explain everything right now, but it’s really important that you trust me on this, Kyle.  Your future is at stake.  I don’t have a lot of people left I still care about, but you’re one of them.  Have courage in the dark times to come.  I’ll try to help you with what you must soon face, but just know that the future is not set.  There is no fate but what we make for ourselves.  You must be stronger than you imagine you can be.  You must survive.”

She turned and walked away, climbing back into her jeep without another word.  The engine roared to life, and she and Dani sped away, returning to the mission at hand, leaving the four cowering boys in their wake.

“The fuck was that?” Sawyer finally managed.  “I mean, what the fuck was that about? What kind of shady ass drug dealer shit was that? Do not open that envelope, it could be a bomb or anthrax or something.”

“Dude, that was sketchy as hell,” Marc said, his voice wavering with adrenaline.  “You need to tell your parents.”

“Who was she?” Andy asked, clutching his chest.

“I don’t know,” Kyle answered, tearing open the envelope before his friends had time to yell anything coherent.  Inside was a long handwritten note which he’d accidentally torn in half.  He had no time to read it before his parents came bounding back out of the house for their last family photo.  The four friends broke apart and pretended like they had been loading the car this whole time; Kyle’s dad could tell they were hiding something, but didn’t want to ask what.

Kyle balled up the note in one hand and unceremoniously tossed it into the open window of his truck. He’d read it later and give his friends the full report, but he didn’t want his parents to know a thing, not yet at least.  They took their photos, said their goodbyes, shared more hugs, and finally got all of his stuff wedged in such a way that nothing would fall out, and he hit the road just in time to get stuck in rush hour traffic.

He unwadded the note and barely made it through the first line before he froze.

“My name is Sarah Connor,” it read.

Sarah Connor.  THE Sarah Connor.

He’d heard her name a few times over the years.  She was a domestic terrorist wanted for blowing up a computer company back in the 90s. They called her the Cyberdyne Bomber, and her name was up there with the likes of Ted Kaczynski and Timothy McVeigh. She’d been in the news recently because she was finally caught at the US-Mexico border trying to sneak back across. She’d apparently killed a ton of guards and stolen a police helicopter, then crashed it into a dam or something like that. Kyle hadn’t kept up with the news with quite the same intensity as his parents.

He realized now that that’s where he knew her face from…

“Holy shit.”

He pulled off at the first exit he came to and parked at a gas station so he could read the whole thing in peace.  He’d heard that she was a crazy person, the news said she was schizophrenic, that she believed there were evil aliens robots trying to take over the world. Her note was legible, to say the least, but no less fantastical than the news made her out to be.

The end of the world was coming, fire and fury would rain down from the heavens, machines would rise up against man to exterminate all life on Earth.  And here he was, stuck in the middle of it all.  She claimed she knew him in a past life, one of his past lives apparently, or a future life, it didn’t make a lot of sense.  Something to do with time travel, with a rogue AI called Skynet, but it’s also called Legion, but then only recently?  She was trying to stop the end of the world, but didn’t know if she’d be successful, and just wanted to give him a heads up so he didn’t die like four billion others.

He’d lived through several end-of-the-world prophecies since he was a kid, but he’d never given them much thought.  June 6, 2006, 666, Biblical Revelations, nothing happened.  May 21, 2011, the rapture, nothing happened.  December 21, 2012, the Mayan calendar, nothing happened.  And now Connor was convinced that the world was going to end later this month, but for real this time, and wanted him specifically to know about it.

Why had a domestic terrorist singled him out like this?  Was he in danger?  Was his family?  He considered calling the police, the FBI, the crime stoppers hotline, anything, but he wasn’t sure what he’d even say.  At the bottom of the note was a cellphone number with too many digits, obviously international, and he typed it into his phone almost without thinking. He couldn’t stop himself from doing it anymore than he could force himself to call the police.  He was on autopilot, fight or flight mode, and he had apparently chosen fight.

It rang once, twice, then connected with no greeting.  He could hear the wind whipping by on the other side, a car on the highway.  With caution, he threw out a feeble “hello,” secretly hoping she wouldn’t be there and he could pretend none of this had happened.

“Talk to me, Reese.”

Fuck. “Is this really Sarah Connor?”

“Yes, Kyle.  It is.”

“What’s going on?”

“Did you read my note or not?”

“None of that’s… it’s not… But that’s all BS… Isn’t it?”  He sounded unconvinced, one way or the other.

So, Sarah had some convincing to do.

“Kyle, listen to me very carefully…”

[jawnjendes]

the truth hurts but secrets kill | shawn mendes

chapter 8/?, university au, shawn x goth oc

AN: lol the taglist didnt work on my last chapter so if you havent read but i’ll show you my teeth pls do eet. anyways this chapter is an angsty buildup full of angst. my specialty.

***let me know if you wanna be added/removed from the taglist

masterlist | playlist coming soon

"Where do you live?" Annalise asked for what felt like the thousandth time.

"Do you even think she's capable of answering?" Patrick said, his arm supporting Alessia's waist as he helped her stumble down the university road.

The Lyft to campus went without any major issue. Alessia did not puke in the car, she merely leaned against the door in the backseat. Annalise had gotten annoyingly chatty with the driver, talking about childhood trauma and the inevitability of death. She claimed it was practice for when she's a real therapist, though the driver was trying to focus on the road. Patrick left the driver a generous tip through the app.

The three of them were left just close enough to the dorms, but there was still a walk to be had, and it felt like it was taking centuries with how much Alessia slowed them down. Annalise kept looking around at the dark surroundings as they paced with her pocket knife in hand. Alessia mumbled something incoherent, her head lolling from side to side.

"I've never heard of that building, where is it?" Annalise asked her.

"Dude, you're gonna have to take her back to your place," Patrick told her. "I don't even think she knows her own name."

With a reluctant sigh, Annalise closed her pocket knife and wrapped her arm around the smaller girl's waist. They were approaching the corner where she and Patrick would typically part ways. Alessia noticed the shift and leaned all her weight into Annalise, mumbling under her rancid breath. It wasn't her first time babysitting a drunk toddler, but that doesn't mean she likes doing it.

Patrick was kind enough to walk the two girls up to Annalise's dorm. Alessia was swaying ominously in the elevator, like she wanted to be cradled like a baby. She was definitely ready for bed.

"Ya casi, mi vida," Annalise said as they stumbled down the third floor corridor.

"Why do you call her that?" Patrick asked. "’Me veeda.’ Isn't that what you would call your boyfriend?"

"It's the same thing as a waitress would call you sweetie or something," she replied. "Or the way you'd talk to a toddler. A drunk one."

She managed to pull her key from her back pocket and give it to Patrick. He unlocked the appropriate door, and the three of them were met with more people and more loud music.

Apparently, Stella hadn't planned on staying alone this Saturday night. She was on the armchair, with Camila squished in right next to her. They weren't alone, either. Shawn and Brian were on the couch, each holding a beer. All four of them stared at the two goths holding the short normie up on two feet.

"Oh my god, you're right on time!" Stella exclaimed. "Shawn's working on an EP! He's giving a us a preview! And he made another duet with Camila!"

"Este guey se puso peda," Annalise said with mild snark, gesturing to the girl on her arm. "I'm gonna put her down."

"You're gonna kill her?" Patrick asked, his blue eyes wide. "Damn, I didn't know you hated her that much!"

"Shut up, I brought her here, didn't I?"

She did not look at the guests on the couch as she carefully led Alessia to her bedroom. She ignored Patrick starting up a conversation with everyone. She had things to do, and it was hard enough with her fluffy mind racing.

"There we go, my dear," she said as she sat the intoxicated girl on the bed. "Acuestate, mija. Tomorrow's gonna suck, but you can rest now."

She patted Alessia's head before moving to take off her sneakers. Then, Annalise took her phone from her jacket pocket and plugged it into the charger on then nightstand. Before she could sigh in relief that they all made it back alive, she heard a voice at the door.

"Hey, you."

When Annalise turned to face him, it was like a million fireworks went off at once. Her entire body froze in the best way, and the air in her lungs was knocked out of her. He's even prettier in person.

"Someone have too much fun?" he asked, nodding towards the now sleeping Alessia.

Annalise could not tear her eyes away from his face long enough to think of an answer. All she wanted to do was stare at him for the rest of eternity.

Then, Patrick came up from behind Shawn, an amused grin on his face. "Bro, she's high as a kite right now."

Shawn looked confused for a moment and then turned to him. "Ann doesn't smoke."

"She used to all the fucking time last year." Patrick was still grinning. "She wanted to have fun tonight, so I gave her a hit of my pen."

"So you drugged her up, eh?"

"Bro-"

"I'm not your bro. Don't you care about her health at all? Don't you remember she was in the hospital a couple of months ago?"

The grin faded. "I care about her and her freedom. Not that I have to explain that to you." Patrick excused himself.

Annalise heard every word, but her wide eyes were still on Shawn. She was stepping towards him before she even realized, and then her arms were going around his middle. He was still warm and soft and he smelled good. It was like personified crack. Annalise smiled as her head rested on his chest. "I love you, my baby."

Shawn hesitated, but he hugged her back. "Love you too." Then he pulled back, his hands on her shoulders. "Where are you gonna sleep?"

"The couch." Annalise's fingers were gripping the back of his t-shirt.

"You sure? Wouldn't you rather come stay with me? I'm leaving soon anyway."

Annalise giggled so much her voice squeaked. But she frowned almost instantly. "Don't be like Chad."

"Who's Chad?"

"No one important. I think sober Annalise is gonna be mad at you."

"What? Why?"

She pointed to the sleeping girl on the bed. "That one told high Annalise some things. Sober Annalise might not even remember, but if she does, she'll probably talk to you on check in day. Like, actual talking this time."

"Why can't we talk now?" Shawn asked. "I think high-you will be more understanding than sober-you."

"High Annalise is stupidly in love with you. We'll get nowhere, my dear."

He chewed the inside of his cheek as he gazed down at her. "Yeah, you always call me cute names when you're on drugs. Like that time in the hospital. And all those times you got high with me. Oh wait…" he trailed off. "Every time I asked you to smoke with me you said you didn't trust me enough. But tonight you trusted somebody else, eh?"

She giggled. "I knew you'd be mad at me too. We have much to talk about, baby boy."

~

In theory, the reason for Alessia's disappearance the following morning would be that she remembered the tea she spilled upon waking up and now she wanted to avoid the wrath of the goth girlfriend. In reality, she wouldn't be entirely wrong.

Even after sleeping for twelve hours, Annalise couldn't get those bits of forbidden information out of her head. She had dreams about catching Shawn and Alessia having really loud sex, but she woke up to hear her roommate doing exactly that. Then, she had a recurring dream of Shawn admitting to cheating on her, except this time he had twelve versions of Henry the orange tabby surrounding him. The last dream she remembered having was one where she ended up back in the hospital, and that she was given no anesthesia for her surgery. She had her stomach removed, and she watched every drop of blood and guts come out of the gaping hole in her body.

She woke with a start after every one of these vivid dreams. Maybe it was the after effects of being stoned, but she felt uneasy for that whole day. She typically binged to her heart's content, but the hospital dream was still on her mind. She allowed herself to have a Lunchables, but not much else.

Then, Monday rolled around and Annalise found it difficult to act like a person. She got out of bed, had an unsatisfying breakfast. She did it, and that's the only thing that matters right? Screw all the other feelings. The paranoia she felt after the Abnormal Psych lecture about eating disorders doesn't matter. The impending embarrassing discomfort  from sitting alone at a table in Bio Lab doesn't matter either. Who cares about the sad ache in her chest after seeing Shawn and Alessia leave their class together? Who cares if they're still in high spirits even though they knew that Annalise knew? Who cares?

Annalise doesn't, that's for damn sure. She was perfectly fine. She pushed herself out of bed today even though she wanted nothing more than to induce a coma on herself. Who cares if she still felt shitty after?

Although, she was putting off the impending chat with Shawn until check in on Saturday. He had to know it was coming, why else would he just stop texting her?

Unless he's already with Alessia, and therefore playing me like a violin. Maybe Shawn was just ignoring me to make me go crazy.

"Oh, for fuck's sake," Annalise whispered as she put on her headphones. She was glad she caught herself slipping, she didn't want the wide-eyed crazies on display as she walked out of the Social Studies building.

Her steps were slower and more careful as she picked a song to play from her phone. After settling for Halsey, she pulled out her black, round sunglasses and put them on. Gotta hide them nightmare eyes.

Maybe… perhaps… I need to check in earlier than normal?

"Don't be stupid," she told herself.

It wouldn't hurt though, would it? Maybe he would be happy to see me since I would be breaking my own rule. Unless, of course, he's hanging around Alessia again. Perhaps he doesn't care anymore.

The only solution Annalise had was to dump herself on the couch in the dorm and play Tetris 99 until the thoughts and feelings sorted themselves out.

When Stella came home, she knew the drill. She sat on the couch and ranted about her day. She rambled on about her fascist history professor and the lack of a GSA club on campus. Then, she mentioned a Halloween party coming up at one of the frat houses, and that she needed a hot costume.

It was the month where Annalise and all her spooky darkness was socially acceptable, and she couldn't even be excited about it. A different type of darkness was taking over, and it was stupid that it was over a boy. Why did she have to be so dramatic? Why was she so goddamn crazy?

"I'll pick your costume," she said over Stella's rambling.

She paused, her brilliant hazel eyes wide. To say she was surprised that Annalise cracked so fast would be an understatement. But she smiled. "Would you? Ooo, can I pick yours?"

"Ah, I don't think I'm gonna do anything for Halloween this year."

"What? But it's your favorite holiday! You need to come to this party with me! Buddy system, remember?"

"Is that the only reason-"

"Of course not, you dummy! We haven't spent enough time together since the semester started! Let's go find some costumes, yeah? I'll even let you dress me up as scary as you want!"

Stella's a good friend. Annalise should really try harder to spend time with her. Why didn't she try to be a good friend in return?

They went to the local costume store that Friday. It gave Annalise a wonderful excuse to not go to the gaming club meeting. She really did not want to reflect on the Bart adventure, or see just how bad she fucked up Chad's nose.

After returning to campus with a dark but still cute witch costume, Stella was summoned to Camila's dorm. She thanked Annalise for the lovely costume choice and practically abandoned her. Annalise couldn't find it in her to really care. It was only a few more hours until Saturday.

She had barely settled herself on the couch when her phone buzzed. For the first time this week, Shawn had texted her. Annalise held her phone up, staring blankly at the screen. Her heart should be pounding right now, shouldn't it?

"Hey, I know check in is tomorrow but I can't make it at our usual time. I have a gig tomorrow night. You should come and we can talk after."

The next text was the address to the lounge he would be performing at.

Any other time, Annalise would have been happy to know Shawn was performing again. But he cancelled on her, knowing that he was in trouble. Is that what it took for him to start booking shows again? Was this just an elaborate way to avoid Annalise? Perhaps this was just some form of reverse psychology so she wouldn't go to the gig.

You can't psych out a psychology major. Of course Annalise was going to this gig.

However, she had a mostly sleepless night, really unable to shake the fact that Shawn was probably avoiding her. When she finally did sleep, she slept too much. Annalise woke up in the afternoon and was late for work. She had planned to ask if she could leave early, but she didn't dare try anything now. The gig was at eight, when her shift ended. She ended up going to the lounge in her work uniform, a button up with the dealership name on, and baggy slacks. Not exactly the sexy outfit she had planned during the late hours of insomnia.

The show had already started by the time she got there. As she was showing her ID to the bouncer, she heard Shawn's voice over the mic, and she felt something for the first time in days. Her stomach felt tight as she slowly stepped into the lounge.

The turnout was decent. Every single table and bar stool was occupied, and all eyes were on the band performing on the stage. Annalise looked around for any empty space; She wasn't dressed her best but she did want to be anywhere but against the wall opposite the stage. Her eyes spotted the group of people standing directly in front of the stage.

It was the normal group of girls who swooned every time Shawn blinked, but there were also three other girls that Annalise knew all too well. They were jumping and singing along to Lost in Japan, not a single care in the world. Annalise wondered why Stella didn't tell her that she was going to this event, but the way she looked at Camila as they sang to each other said enough. Maybe they chose Alessia to be their new third wheel too. So Alessia was too embarrassed to face Annalise, but not Shawn?

Annalise always stood in the back of every one of Shawn's shows, knowing she would stick out like a sore thumb in the midst of the usual fangirls. Not that that's a bad thing, it just wasn't her usual place to be. She figured that showing up at all would be enough.

Perhaps Shawn already had enough. Three of his friends were already cheering him on, and surely he had more of them scattered in the audience. Not to mention, the people here that didn't know him were going to adore him by the end of the night. Besides, Shawn most likely invited her as a ploy to get her to turn it down. She wasn't needed here. Annalise chewed the inside of her lip as she back up towards the exit. She stepped outside, away from the people trying to get in, and she pulled her phone out. She composed a new text:

"Hey, I'm drowning in work so I won't make it to your show. I'll meet you at your place later so we can talk🖤"

_______

taglist: @normalcyisoverrated-beyou @ilsolee @mendesromano @1-800-khalid-mendussy @kitykatnumber @strangerliaa @iloveshawnieboi @poppyshawn @shawnsunflower @shawnvvmendes @ruinhoney @someoneunimportantxx @calyumthomas @yourdeflightfullyleft @havethetimeeofyourlifee @shawmndes @wronglanemendes @chillingbythesea 

[definitely-not-an-alb]

I f*cking love Frostpunk

Frostpunk is a really good game. Like I want to say that, because yes, it's beautiful to look at and play and engaging and the score is awesome and it has a really good, touching, engaging story and story structure (rare in the genre and rare in games, period), what really struck me is that it's such a good game.

Ludonarrative as a concept is still kind of ??, but here's a video by Dan Olson explaining the concept - tl;dr ludonarrative is how the narrative and the game influence each other, and ludonarrative dissonance is when they don't work together - either because they contradict each other (Say, because the narrative says Slavery Bad! but the only way to mechanically win the game is slavery, like in Shadow of Mordor) or because the story presents two moral options and then straight up doesn't let you pick one (can't think of an example, but I think the Bioshock Games fall into this sometimes) or makes a point about you being able to pick a predefined 'good' or 'bad' option, but makes it very clear through game play that one is intended over the other, whether to teach the player a lesson or just through bad design. You know the ones. Sometimes the ludonarrative is just really, really bad because the game has some dumb, un-thought-out, half-assed black and white 'morality system' throughout or something similar.

This is the first thing I really like about Frostpunk: It sidesteps all that morality-bs, and does so really well, I think, by straight up not judging you. The games assumption is at every turn that you are in the hardest of circumstances, and that you are doing what you are doing for a good reason. But it also doesn't pull any 'no good solution, I had no choice' bs on you - you always have a choice, and sometimes, it's very obvious what the morally upright thing to do is, except if you want to tell me that leaving a hoard of orphans to die in a cave instead of taking them in is a morally good thing to do. But the game will not judge you if you do! Even if you pass laws to allow cannibalism, or start a fascist dictatorship, or, you know, leave a bunch of Orphans to die in a cave.

It also doesn't force you to commit to an 'evil'/'good' path. You can build a very child-friendly, compassionate, cannibalistic society. You can be the most lenient ruler and also leave everyone who isn't under your direct rulership to die horribly. 'Free Will' and 'Your Own Choices' is the big thing in games rn, but Frostpunk actually delivers.

Now, the game won't judge you, but people will, thought never unreasonably so - say, if you safe leave the orphans, people will be depressed and angry and loose Hope, but if you keep them, you'll have more kids to feed and house (and if I recal right, people will bitch about that, too), but that's also a different equation depending on what your child labour laws say - is taking the kids exclusively because you have abysmal and inhuman laws and want to deploy them in your coal mines for 10 hours a day on half rations and thin soup instead of letting them fall asleep and not witness any more of the apocalypse actually a morally good choice?

So, Frostpunk is a good game that actually delivers on it's Free Choice promise, doesn't judge or harasses you in dumb ways and simulates your decisions not in a dumb moral system but as a complex, interdependent story.

But that's not all I have to say about Frostpunks ludonarrative! And the next thing is actually huge, because I have never seen it in a city planer - or any game like this - before, at least not this consciously.

So. What's the thing Frostpunk does that no other game I know has?

Most games of the Frostpunk type a resource-management games. If you have enough resources and aren't fucked by bad luck, you can do it. There's some minor citizen happiness stuff, but that's in almost all cases just more resource management in a social hat; Use Resource: [High Quality Food] on Object: [Population] = Gain Resource: [Happiness]; if [Storage = Food] [>50] gain [Population.Resource Unrest + 0.5/s].

In Frostpunk, you have 'Hope' and 'Unrest', and they are managed like resources.

Ludonarrative point one: These are resources, and treating them as such is a narrative choice. You are a commander of an arctic post-apocalyptic hellscape, and it doesn't matter how hopeful or angry you feel today or what your expeditions actual situation is, it is your job to provide your people with Hope and take away their reasons for unrest, or suppress their dissent, because both depression and rebellion will mean death for everyone.

Ludonarrative point two: It's Hope, not Happiness. Your people can feel like absolute shit right now, the important part is that they still believe they can do it, believe you are a good commander (even if you're not!) and believe that a future in your city is possible (even if it's objectively not!).

Then there's the actual people. And while yes, their workpower is still also managed like a resource, Frostpunks narrative and ludonarrative keeps in mind that People are people, not coal piles or stacks of wood; that they are not objective at all and that they will do insane shit.

Frostpunk's people derive their hope not from objective facts about your play-style or numbers, but from the lived reality of their collective experience, and that is insane. You can have a town that is constantly teethering at 1/0 food rations and coal and people who are Hopeful as hell because they don't know or don't worry about how empty the stores are as long as they are well-fed and warm. Conversely - they will get disgruntled if you cut rations to build up emergency funds, even if that, objectively, is the better and safer choice. But the people you're managing there don't care about optimized playstyle or long-term-planing they care about being hungry right now.

If you get them all to be really, really hyped on your religion, they will be happy about more draconian pro-religion laws (and others will become rebellious). If you get them to like you, they will regain hope from you clambering on a pult and telling them that Everything Will Be Alright, Trust Me, I'm A Doctor, even if it objectively won't.

Now you could say that's unrealistic, too, people wouldn't be chill if they knew their  stores are empty, and you would be right. And it's not just that I prefer my virtual subjects to behave like irrational idiots instead of dully calculated numbers, it's that the game knows that too. But I'll have to vaguely spoil major stuff about the first campaign to explain, so if you don't want that, stop reading here. Because playing that mission for the first time as it unfolds is a fucking experience.

Still here? At the end of the first campaign you get the forecast that Everything Will Not Be Alright. There's A Major Catastrophe coming. You can prepare and try to manage it as good as you can, but The Catastrophe Will Come and It Will Be Bad.

And your people loose their shit.

It doesn't matter how hopeful they were before or how well-build your city is or how full your stores - Hope will plummet and people will panic. There's just no other way to react to news like that!

Any lesser game would, at this point, give you missions to make sure you are at least somewhat prepared for this Catastrophe. Frostpunk gives you missions based on your populations' fears and meant to reassure them, and you will get these missions whether your city is, at this point, ten starving people huddled in a tent in front of a burned-out generator or a booming town. And on both extreme ends of this the missions will be absolutely illogical, and that's kind of the point, I think.

I was watching a playthrough by a guy who was really, really good at the game - he'd played extreme building tetris from the beginning on and used almost every available square, his entire outer ring was made up mostly of additional storage, and that storage was full. He was stocked up to the point where he'd turned off all resource production safe for food and one of his five or so coal mines/thumpers and had enough coal in store to run the generator at highest setting for a long time, in game. Cue the Bad News, and he almost had a riot in his well-fed, overstocked city and had to tear down buildings to build another, unused coal mine, because the population was panicky and if he didn't reassure them right now that there would be enough coal by specifically building a new coal mine, people would leave the city out of desperation and die.

And that might sound really, really dumb to play, told like this and in a world full of games where you get pre-calculated checklists that autocomplete if you already have enough stuff in stock, but the actual atmosphere created by getting a pop-up in the middle of your own, reasonable preparations and the desperate attempt to manage the evacuation efforts that basically says 'Sir, we know this is absolutely unreasonable, but people demand [thing that is either absolutely over the top if you're well prepared or almost unmanageable if your desperately scraping by]' is indescribably. Especially the first time around when you don't know yet just how bad it will actually get.

And like I said: people in this game will do insane shit, and they will do it against your Command. They'll leave the city and die out on the ice and they'll steal and hoard food even if the store are full and they'll beg you to let them go on suicide missions. Frostpunk is the only city management game I've ever played that makes me actually feel like there's irrational, passionate people behind that population counter, and that made me care about them so desperately I cried at a pop-up. And I love it.

[personaehq]

INCOMING MESSAGE …

FULL NAME: yeon eojin ALIAS: iris DATE OF BIRTH: 2119/12/19 ALIGNMENT: pro-android OCCUPATION: employee at old but gold retro shop AFFILIATION: hacker for the matrix ACCOMMODATION: agata suites, ginza FACECLAIM: oh sehun

ACCESSING: BACKGROUND …

yeon eojin was born in seoul, south korea, in a small household: it was only him, his mother and older brother. he has never met his father, the man left his wife when she was still pregnant with their second child. his absence made things very difficult for mrs. yeon, once the man was the main source of income for their family — and now, she’d have to make up for that, with two young children to take care of all by herself. she didn’t stay home taking care of her newborn as much as she should, as much as recommended by the doctors, because she had to find a job to bring food to her little boys. she worked extra hours, worked on weekends and on holidays, nonstop, just to make sure little eunsoo and little eojin had full bellies — even if that meant her own health was in risk. she’d skip meals just so the two of them could eat as much as they wanted. but she’s a mother, and mothers always put their kids before their own needs. but she managed to raise them as healthy little boys, despite her own well being compromised by it.

though eventually, eunsoo ( the oldest of the two brothers ) got himself a job pretty early just so he could make things a bit easier for their mother. things did get a bit better for them in that time, but that meant little eojin would stay home all by himself for the most part of the day. and as any pre-teen would, he’d spend most of his time in front of the family’s computer. he played games, made friends online, watched funny videos and learned new things. eojin was a good student in school, he was really good with numbers and calculations, but on his computer, he’d do more than that. at first, he got really into puzzle games, those you’d need hours to solve, and eventually, he got into coding. html was something he’s never heard of before and it didn’t take long for him to learn all about it, when he was still only twelve. it’s when he turns fourteen that he finds out about programming, and starts learning about it — being online for so long, he met enough people to help him understand and apply all that knowledge.

eojin found his true passion in programming and coding, and as he got better and better at it, he also started to become braver. bolder. greedier. he was seventeen years old when he started hacking into people accounts — he started small, accessing his brother’s social media and his mother’s bank account just as practice, before he could go further: hacking into other people’s social media as well as bank accounts, but never doing anything too bad that could maybe get him in jail. until he had the opportunity of his life.

he managd to hack into south korea’s prime minister’s phone, go through his contacts and text messages, as well as see stuff that he wished he had never seen ( the old man was a disgusting freak ), and the content of some of the minister’s text messages… it was too good to let it pass. eojin saved all and every information he could get from the man, the undeniable proof of a major corruption scheme right in his hands. he couldn’t let those people get away with public money, not when the country was breaking down with poverty and starvation after past conflicts. he leaks the text messages. he sends it to the country’s biggest newspaper, which spread the news on the same week as they receive the content of the text messages, and it becomes a great scandal.

eojin’s identity remained anonymous, and instead of focusing on the scheme made by the minister, the government and its supporters did their best to turn the citizens’ attention to the hacker who leaked the information. but eojin was careful enough, and they never found out who he truly is — the hacker remained a mystery.

but not for the m̦̗̜̟͙̮̳̘̺̭̒̀͑̆̂̊͘̕͠͠á̧̛̤͍͉͖͔̗͉͋̋̈̄̏̐͂͜͝ͅt̨̡̨̩̩̖̳̣̘͆̂̽̓̅͗̉͛͒̕͜r͙̮̻̖̲̯̤̫̥̂̎͊̓̾̍̐̚̕͝ͅĭ̡̧̛̩̲͕̲̰̠̹͆̂̒̾͆̇̐̅ͅx̨̳͔̬͖̦͎̪̖̩̽̒̔̀̋̓͌̓̋̇.̢̛̯͚̣͎͈̠̟̩̈̒̀̓͆̊̋̕͝ͅ

he was eighteen years old when they reached out to him, offering an opportunity that he could never refuse: to be a part of their organization. eojin didn’t even know what they did, or how much power and influence the matrix had, but he had heard enough about them to know he had to say yes to their offer. even if he had to move out of the country — which to be quite honest, wasn’t a bad idea after what he did to the government. and of course, moving to japan didn’t sound bad at all. but it felt bad to leave his family like that… not after everything they had done to him.

he gave them the excuse that he was going to japan to study, that he had the chance to study in the shujin university, which was a reference in the whole continent. that way, mrs. yeon and eunsoo couldn’t oppose to his departure. still, there was a heavy feeling on eojin’s conscience. he promised he’d send them money monthly, enough to give them a better life than they had in the past.

when he got to japan, he did apply to the shujin university to study computer programming. he passed the application exam and scored enough to receive a scholarship that covered a hundred percent of his tuition fee. and he also applied for a small job at a retro game shop known as old but gold — after all, his love for games never ceased, in fact, it became one of his addictions. there was no one better than yeon eojin to work at the place. the payment was enough to give eojin a comfortable life, but still wasn’t enough for him to send money to his mother and that was when he started streaming his gaming adventures — he was known for his tetris battle royale live streams. the donations he received from his viewers were finally enough for him to help his family, he could finally send them money and give them a better life.

but of course everything was too good to be true, something had to ruin the cycle of good things happening in eojin’s life.

an accident was all it took to turn his world around.

he doesn’t remember exactly how it happened, all he can remember is waking up in the hospital — the white surroundings almost blinded him, he could remember it like was just yesterday. and despite being confused, completely disoriented, he still managed to understand every single word the nurse told him. the tears ran down his cheeks as he listened, but it only got worse when they told him about the surgery: the accident left him with dozens of broken bones, but the situation of his right leg was way more severe than they had imagined. he had to go through surgery, but for some reason ( one that was no revealed to eojin ) there were no doctors available in the moment — which resulted in a surgery done entirely by androids, under the permission of the nurse that spoke to him.

“it was the best option! if we kept the leg, you’d have to live with constant pain for the rest of your life.”

that man. in eojin’s head, it was thanks to that man that he lost his leg. he told the androids what to do when he could have waited for a surgeon to be available. when he could have waited and asked for eojin’s consent.

also, why the fuck were there no doctors available! what type of hospital didn’t have extra doctors waiting for an emergency? his emergency. his leg could still be there. they were asking to be sued, and that was what eojin did — he sued the hospital for 1) not having extra human doctors to do his surgery, 2) allowing a group of androids do surgery without the proper supervision, 3) amputating one of his limbs without his consent. they paid him a few millions. but suing the hospital didn’t mean he would get his recovery in another hospital.

hell no.

and to make things even worse than before, the nurse that told the androids to amputate his leg was the one designated to take care of him, to help him recover — not only in the hospital but also when he was released to go back home. oh, joy.

with the money he received from the hospital he bought himself the best and most organic-looking prosthetic leg in the market, as well as some others that looked cooler and more robotic — and he would only wear them when going outside, at home he relies on his crutches. and despite the promises that his life would be better and painless after the amputation, eojin still felt pain. a lot of pain. something called ghost pain.

and an extra pain: a nurse he detested. well, at least for now.

ACCESSING: PERSONALITY …

POSITIVE TRAITS: playful, loyal, protective NEGATIVE TRAITS: sarcastic, indifferent, insistent

yeon eojin is often described as being either a big dork or a big brat, and neither of those are wrong. he can be both things, depending on how many cans of grape fanta he has drank — he is addicted. he loves his job at the games shop and also love his job at the matrix, both bring him the two things he loves the most in his life: programming and games. he couldn’t be happier doing anything else. regarding his alignment, he’d say he’s pro-android, even though he doesn’t trust them fully — but that doesn’t stop him from helping them from time to time. in fact, his apartment has become reference for androids that need help blending in with humans ( he’s not a hardware guy, but he will take your identification collar off if you ask nicely ). when it comes to people, he doesn’t care much about them and doesn’t really have a filter when talking to them, he will say whatever is on his mind without worrying about how it’ll affect the people around him. he’s kinda dense. he’s really good with numbers so if you need help with them, he’s your guy. loves tetris and puzzle games way too much, you’ll definitely see him trying to solve random puzzles and riddles when he has nothing else to do. he’s very awkward when it comes to romance, he’ll be very stiff and nervous if he has feelings for someone. he likes sweets way too much. also a big pervert.

… END OF MESSAGE.