#and then i wonder why my computer has been 'randomly' locking up and needing force reboots every week or so lately

[ereh-emanresu-tresni]

My toxic trait is keeping dozens/hundreds of articles and videos in open tabs to read and watch later, and hundreds/thousands more bookmarked for later ref, then only actually getting back around to like 3 every few months

[xthexrawringx20sx]

who are your comfort characters? wanna talk about them for a bit? :)

oh my god thank you so much!!!!! i actually went to my computer so i can type better/faster with shaky hands lol

added a read more because it’s long

tw for: hallucinations/delusions, idk what else let me know if i need to tag it!

okay so...some of these are because i’m a dumb kinnie but yeah lmao

uh. basically the entire avengers group, but specifically the first movie time period. yknow the fanfictions about them all living in the same place and clint climbing around the vents and thor eating poptarts? yeah, that kind. kinda cringy but i used to vividly daydream living there and them all being my friends.

in a similar note, the most popular creepypastas that were involved in the “slender mansion” type of fanfic/headcanons are also super comforting! i used to imagine that ticci toby, ben drowned, and jeff the killer were all like. my best friends and we’d have huge cuddle piles or whatever lmao

the grunkles from gravity falls! i’m a dipper kin so i guess that makes sense, but even before i knew that they were super comforting. stan because he’s grumpy but still cares about his family, and also just...how easily he accepted people into his family (like when it shows how/why he offered wendy a job, soos, etc). ford because he’s weird!! and everyone’s pretty cool with that! honestly everyone in that show is comforting because they’re weird and it’s okay! seeing how he’d be so involved with whatever dipper was obsessed with made me so happy.

also winnie the pooh! it reminds me of when i was a kid and had sleepovers with my nanny (grandma) because i moved schools a lot and was bullied constantly so i never really had any friends. we’d watch winnie the pooh, chitty chitty bang bang, milo and otis, and sometimes random movies with jackie chan/abbott and costello/elvis because they were her favorite. also mary poppins! i remember she’d let me stay up late and watch whatever i wanted as long as i didn’t tell my parents about some of the games she played on her computer. that was my favorite, because i could watch adult swim and teen titans and goosebumps without getting in trouble

anya from anya’s ghost! i’ve mentioned this before, but she is such a big comfort to me. her negative body image, developing bad habits just to fit in, and forcing herself to change to just...disappear/be “normal” is so relatable. especially when she talks about how her mom is an immigrant from russia and she’s trying to leave all that behind. i really relate to that because that’s something i’ve experienced a lot and felt so alone with it (my mom + grandma are from germany). that distance from who you are, knowing almost nothing about your family, is hard. i’d hear classmates list off family members who were some of the first europeans in america, then i’d be able to back 1-2 generations to say something about germany, and on my dad’s side irish and native american. but that was it! and everyone on both sides of my family know almost nothing about our family past that because here it was a reason to be bullied or hurt. kids would joke that i was from space, or that i was a robot or a bad person and i was “hiding” stuff about my family. i dealt with horrible jokes about world war two. and once i read that book, i cried knowing that someone else understood. someone else felt alone, like that part of them that was supposed to be so important was just...gone. that someone else knew their parents + their siblings, their grandparents, and nothing else.

all of welcome to nightvale. all kin stuff aside, this is about the weirdness and how normal it is. but also, how janice is treated specifically. in old oak doors, when kevin is telling her dad about how they’ll basically “fix her” so she can walk, he tells him that she doesn’t need to be fixed. all my life, any sort of disability has been viewed as either my fault or something that needs to be fixed. my parents tried everything to cure my diabetes, and it eventually led to them blaming me for it at parts of my life where i was still coming to terms with it. i wasn’t diagnosed with anything for most of my life, my mom genuinely thought my scoliosis just “went away” along with asthma. disability was a bad word in my family, and still is. if i can’t fix the issue, i’m supposed to hide it/act like everyone else. they shame me when i can’t do a bunch of things because of my legs or back. they tell me every way i can fix it, even if those things will cause me more pain and suffering. it’s nice to see someone’s disability treated like a part of them, and not something that needs curing.

dan torrance from the shining/doctor sleep. especially doctor sleep. i know they’re not hallucinations, but when i saw it i just...felt so much for him. i’ve tried a lot of things to get rid of hallucinations. some of which i still struggle with. i kind of sometimes imagine him telling me that it’s okay, that they might seem real but that i’m in control even when it doesn’t feel like it. the part of the movies where he locks them in boxes? that’s one of my coping skills. it doesn’t always work but it makes me feel better when it does. i can’t always convince myself they’re not real. that’s the hardest part, so many of the advice i see involving hallucinations/delusions is making yourself believe they’re fake. but i can’t always do that! like right now, i know logically what is outside shouldn’t be there. but they’re there, they’re big and scary and very real. it helps to feel like someone’s there telling me “it’s okay, we’ve seen scarier and can make it through this”. not anything like “it’s in your head”, “they’re not real”, etc because they are and it makes me feel like i can’t trust people when they do that randomly.

that’s all i can think of right now, thank you so much it helps me a ton to just ramble like this! sorry it’s so long and probably a little embarrassing...have a wonderful day/night!!

[writerpyre]

Addendum: Skyhook

So. I’ve been writing this tiny thing on and off since Skyhook came out oh four-and-a-half-years-ago where’s the damn time gone!?, and I finally managed to get it finished tonight. Amazing what an age without looking at this thing -- and randomly getting vibes while trawling through @lenle-g’s old fanart -- can do, but here; have a oneshot everybody.

 *An addendum to the end of Skyhook, because no bloody way did he not get saddled with anything remotely health-endangering. It made me quite indignant, but what can we do about animation budgets and not scaring small children?, but anyway. :) As usual, I only do this for the joy, not money. Many thanks as always to my beautiful beta (co-writer), LexietFive; who, without her encouragement and love, I wouldn’t still be doing this stuff. Love you L. xx

Enjoy. xx

~

John is starting to feel rather unwell by the time he ushers Fischler and his recently-fired associates through the final airlock between Thunderbirds Three and Five, an hour after he'd locked the nosy creatures in the galley to stop them from ferreting out the secrets of International Rescue. His head is pounding, his skin aching, and his scalp to his toes and everything in between feel hot and heavy and painful. His limbs feel like they weigh several tons, even despite the lack of gravity, and his throat feels thick and tight; every inhalation feeling like a wholly unnecessary effort. His heartbeat slowing as the still-lingering adrenaline from the rather unorthodox rescue finally burns out, John lets out a weak sigh of relief as the airlock between finally seals shut behind his three unwelcome guests.

He loves 'Five, but he is heartily sick and tired of spinning around in that damned gravity ring. The ache is intensifying swiftly now the excitement is over. His brain feels like it has been scrambled from the pressure of being flattened against the panels, and has been since he managed to pick himself off the ground, and his right arm and shoulder are pure bruise from where he'd been slammed down in the process of reaching the cut-off switch. Seems to be a rather recurrent event as of late, he muses wearily. At least last time it was only 3Gs, Alan having managed to slow down the spin with Thunderbird Three before the still-malignant EOS turned him into a John Tracy pancake, but still, after that one he'd had a pressure headache and vision problems for three days. He wasn't pleased to be repeating the experience so soon.

Sucking in a painful, stuttered breath against his battered, bruised ribs, John gives himself a moment to regroup, promising himself that he'll do a systems' check shortly, just as soon as the station stops whirling around him. When that started exactly, he's not sure, but he thinks it must've had to do with the black-out he had in those moments before he forced himself upright to deal with the reverse thrusters. This is why he doesn't do gravity all that often, it always screws him up for the rest of the damn day!

"Thunderbird Three to Thunderbird Five, are you there, John?" And there goes that plan. His eyes flicker open and John grimaces as he forces his arm up to bring his comm. level with his face, wincing as his head and neck throb with the motion. That's gonna get irritating real fast...

"Thunderbird Five, reading you strength five, 'Three," He contemplates sitting up and addressing his siblings and their holograms properly, but his eyes and his entire body are turning swiftly into agony right now, so nope, stuff it. It's only Scott and Alan, having come up to fetch the high-ballooning mis-adventurers - crapped-up second engine and all. They won't care.

"Planning on turning us and the Space Invaders loose anytime in the future, Johnny? We're kinda stuck til you release your grip..." John blearily watches Scott's eyebrows rise up his forehead as his sibling takes him in, lolling on his back in midair, and he blinks painfully as a wave of nausea-induced dizziness rolls over him, his eyes shuttering to half-closed with no warning. Yup, definitely time for a nap before those checks...

"Make EOS do it..." John mumbles chokedly, forcing them back open, and his older brother just looks at him, with that ridiculous expression he gets when the Terrible Two are being morons and he can't believe they can be so childish. "I'm tired..." He isn't whining, he isn't, but some part of him says that he should probably be alarmed, especially when his head is aching so, but right now, John just doesn't have the energy to devote to it. He feels all sick and wobbly and... eurgh.

Something's wrong, he thinks as the pain suddenly spikes enormously, forcing him in on himself with a cry of pain, and Scott seems to have had the same lightbulb moment as John, because his brother is suddenly hollering rather inadequately for Alan, and it's all John can do to roll himself over in the air before he's throwing up the gorgeous, floating chunks of what only a few hours ago, there were two rather delicious breakfast bagels and his morning vacuum flask of coffee. John groans and clutches his stomach, his ears ringing as his body convulses, the undersides of his eyelids tinged red by pain.

Wonderful, motion sickness at the very least; bloody centrifugal and gravitational forces have gotten him, goddamnit, and so suddenly too, which means it's a bad bout, because he's not experienced that since he went through astronaut training, years ago. Apparently twenty-five Gs and more can do that to a guy. Yup, his rather muddled, normally-intelligent brain remembers that right now, at least. Yummy.

John retches again - because that thought is definitely not appropriate right now, when he's dirtying up the pristine, sanitised atmosphere of his beloved 'Bird - and he wonders absently where the hell EOS is, as, quite abruptly, the chilled hands of John's older brother are on his arms, pulling him into an upright position and away from the contents of his stomach. He flails blindly, because dear God, his head is killing him, but John tries to wriggle away regardless, because those damned idiots in Three's passenger bay are far more important than him dealing with a bit of nausea... Or not, as the case may be...

Deny it, and it’ll be all okay… Yep, sound advice, Tracy.

It doesn't seem like Scott has gotten that memo though, because he only grips John tighter and pulls his head back firmly but carefully, straightening the slighter man out, literally forcing him to gasp for air to regulate his breathing. That only makes it harder to bear the pain, rapidly growing stronger now, like the veil on the shock of what happened barely half an hour ago and the damage he has apparently inflicted upon himself has fallen away, leaving raw, naked agony in its wake.

"Easy, John, easy..." Scott mutters in his ear. "I know what you're thinking,  but none of them are hurt but for a bit of altitude-headache, and right now, you're coming down with us whether you like it or not. They can wait til we've got you settled in 'Three, and then you can come home and Brains can check you out; you're shaking like a maraca."

Coughing, his eyes streaming even as he grips his brother's arms blindly in dizziness, John glares up weakly at the fuzzy form of his eldest sibling. Scott knows his thoughts on that matter - he knows that John much prefers to spend his time up here unless he has to be elsewhere, and right now, John doesn't want to. He'll be fine once he gets an hour or so's nap, EOS - whenever the apparently-absent AI deigns to reappear - can mind the shop for anything desperate, but so help him, he isn't going to move from his 'Bird, thank you very much, Scott Tracy!

"There will be no arguments, John." Said AI, almost as if she's read Scott's mind, is suddenly right in John's burning face with her green-blinking camera lens, making him squint painfully at the light. "Your body temperature has risen and seems inclined to do so further, your pupils are dilated and unwavering at this time, and if my data on this subject is indeed correct, you are suffering from the condition called Non-Impact Concussion. There are indications of the presence of stress fractures in your subclavian, thoracic, pelvic and cervical regions, and thermal heat readings signify that there is an abnormal level of swelling radiating from the area surrounding the axillary nerves in your right shoulder. Medical treatment on this is strongly advised. Sensors compute that you also may have microscopic muscular, bone and tissue damage, particularly in your internal organs and within your skeletal system... This must be assessed. Scott Tracy,"

The AI that John shares 'Five with suddenly turns her 'face' to his brother, who seems to be containing John and his wobbly limbs now, rather than restraining, much to his puzzlement. John is stuck by an absurd flash of irritation that not only has his body and 'Bird turned against him today, but so has his supposed companion... Brilliant.

"... From what I can determine," The AI continues doggedly, the high whine in John's ears making him cringe, "This situation is not life-threatening to John currently, but according to my calculations of duration and pressure in relation to the fragility and subsequent mortality of the human form, it is suggested that he does not return to work until he is satisfactorily sound. This coming period will be very... What is the term? Unpleasant. It is recommended that he be closely supervised and examined to ensure that there will be no complications. For this, John needs to leave this station and seek appropriate treatment."

"You need some time to rest at the very least, so no arguing." Scott murmurs, his voice raspy and thick in John's left ear. "There are no ifs, buts or maybes about it. You've endured freaking twenty-five Gs of gravity in one hit, and I can tell you right now, you're not in good shape, Little Brother, even if your brain is too scrambled for you to realise that yourself."

And oh shit, Scott actually sounds concerned, God help him, John realises, closing his eyes painfully. That certainly means that something isn't connecting right for him right now, because though they might tease and mock Scott and call him 'Smother Hen' and all other assorted samples of you're-too-overbearing-for-your-own-good teasing, John and the others know that Scott doesn't outright order them around outside of a rescue unless something is actually very wrong.

And yes, somewhere in his shit-that-freaking-hurts brain, John knows the reality of all those things that EOS listed off. He learned the ramifications of that amount of gravity on the human body years ago - twenty-five Gs is nothing to sneeze at - but quite honestly, right now he's in so much pain that it's starting to engulf his rational, sensible mind, and he doesn't really want to uncurl himself from where he's hunched over his screaming ribs and cramping stomach. Lost in the burning waves of pain shooting through him now his body has stopped spinning, it's suddenly all he can do to not pass out properly. This is going to be interesting...

##

Without being aware of it, John realises that he has indeed blacked out, because when he's opened his eyes again, it's to find he's strapped firmly into one of 'Three's jump seats, with the hard ridge of a cervical brace digging into his chin, and the firm, almost painful pressure of the restraints holding him securely in it. Struggling to force his fluttering eyelids open properly - yeah, that should not be as hard as it is right now - John can feel the shuddering of the ship underneath him, and he can barely restrain himself from moaning as his entire body protests the whirligig sensation. Strangely enough, his head, while still feeling like it has the Mole digging through it, feels a little less raw and abused, but the rest of him still feels like an elephant sat on him. And his stomach is still rolling. Fantastic.

Somewhat winning the battle to focus his vision, John is aware that there is sound around him, the voices of what he assumes are his brothers as well as the life-support machinery and the piloting systems, but it's not until he lets out a sharp cough and a subsequent, burning gasp of oxygen, that he realises that Scott is almost right above him.

"Hey Starman," Scott's accompanying smile is strained and relieved at the same time, and John wants to wipe it all away - because his brother being relieved means that John has scared the pilot, and John doesn't like frightening his brothers, any of them... "Nice to have you back." Scott's hand comes up out of nowhere to press into John's dishevelled, sweaty hair, gently carding through it, and John feels more than a little confused and disconnected, because, he should be able to pinpoint what his limbs are doing, and holy effing crap does it actually hurt to breathe right now...

Oh, yeah right; no more microgravity... Blurry eyes, nausea and freaking, disorienting weight on top of him again... Cos returning to earth and all sucks even when he's healthy and hasn't been crushed by his own gravity ring... Why'd he do that again? What a stupid idea.

"Mmmm." John agrees with his brother belatedly, because again, the breathing thing, and good, sorta-numbing drugs apparently affect his ability to make coherent sounds. Not to mention the solid, thumping agony of his head, even despite the clear attempt at pain relief... "Di'nt, w'nna lea'e, Sco'..." He tries to frown - because why did they move him? - but his face scrunches in pain as the hot jagged edges of his shoulder and ribs decide to arc up, and his attempt at displeasure rapidly turns into a fiery ball of ouch.

Well, it was worth a try... He thinks miserably, trying not to let his stomach rebel again - a bad idea in hypergravity...

"Yeah, I thought so," Scott seems to commiserate with him, even if he can't understand him - jee, thanks Scoot, John loves being humoured when he knows he's incoherent - but then his brother brings up a bottle of water into his rather patchy line of sight, and John suddenly is so thirsty that all thoughts of annoyance are crowded out of him by the sheer, one-track gratitude he feels at that fuzzy realisation.

Reaching out clumsily for the receptacle, John can't help but feel irritated as Scott gently but firmly pushes his aching, painful arm back down and holds the bottle to his lips. Not a baby, Scott, he finds himself thinking somewhat irrationally, even as his mouth clamps to the bottle, his tired, burning, painful body mass literally demanding he drain it dry; he feels so dehydrated and parched.

John grimaces slightly as he forces himself not to gulp at the water, summoning the last bit of strength as he sips. By the stars, the water feels so good, he can almost swear he feels it soaking into his tissue. Feeling greedy, he forgets himself and tries to take an extra big swallow of the liquid, before grunting angrily as Scott suddenly pulls the bottle away.

"Nuh-uh, Johnny, no more yet, unless you want to be sick again?" His big brother's voice is low and full of compassion as John feels him sweep a hand over his forehead on the pretence of smoothing away that cowlick curl of red-gold hair that never stays gelled back for long, but exhausted and ill as he is, John isn't fooled, Scott is fever-checking. All four of his younger brothers know the signs, though it's been a very long time since he himself has been on the receiving end of Scott's worry.

Weakly, John attempts to pull away and wreaks his own undoing as the quick movement forces the mother of all headaches to rip through his skull. The pounding ringing, burning pain resonates behind his eyes, through his very brain it feels like, pushing down his nose and through his ears  with such intensity that he can't help but let out a strangled squawk as he forces his hands up in the air. He needs to know what seems to be sluggishly flowing on his face, surely he didn't drop water on himself?

"Oh, shit!"  Scott's voice sounds strangely far away and thickly muffled as John squints painfully through narrowed eyelids, trying so hard to bring the rocket's lounge into focus. He feels something soft and thick mopping at his tingling, sore eyes and covering his nose as his body convulses with the agony he's being forced to adapt to. "Close your eyes, John,"  Scott orders, a note of fear penetrating John's thoughts despite the fuzzy thickness of his ears.

John obeys, he's not stupid, he knows what's happened, that the sharp movement has caused the built up pressure in his head to vent outward, that he's probably perforated his eardrums, that the thin straw like liquid mixed with earwax is running from his ears, and that his nose is definitely gushing with blood, hence Scott's concern. In fact he'd hazard a guess that the sclera of his eyes are now pink and watery, possibly even bleeding out slightly from his ever-increasing blood pressure. As an astronaut, he is well-versed on the dangers and what to expect. So is Scott.

He gropes out suddenly, clasping Scott by the forearm. "H'w b'd is it?” He grunts.

“Blood pressure has skyrocketed dude,” Scott’s voice is tight with worry. “Your heart rate is way up and your respirations are shit. Deep breathing exercises now, you're not having an aneurysm just because you wanted to see what it felt like to try and separate your elements John, do it.”

“Was that a science joke, Scott?” John wheezes incredulously, because that wasn't bad at all. Not like usual. Huh. What's the world coming to?

John feels himself choke painfully with amusement, and immediately regrets it. Laughter is a spectacularly bad idea. He sucks in a breath, and well crap; that’s the end of him isn’t it?

Dizzy is an understatement, John thinks fuzzily.

Hello, darkness.

“Hey, hey! No you don’t,” What must be his brother’s hand snaps sharply at his cheek, and John startles; torn between anger and confusion as his eyes snap open to meet his older brother’s determined stare. “You are not passing out.” Scott orders, voice fully infused with Field Commander deliberation. “You can take an order; your WSA training says so, Starman.” His brother tells him, with a sudden, sly smirk. “Don’t blink out on me now; not after we’ve nearly got the blood stopped and all.”

John is still confused and dizzy, but his amusement returns at his brother’s quip, which gives him some optimism that this nasty little episode might stop soon. Once his body stops throwing a temper tantrum, at any rate. Urgh.

Scott’s brusque love tap seems to have cleared his head a little, however, and blinking a little, even as his brain seems determined to keep bashing itself against the inside of his skull, John’s attempts at deep breaths seem to be at least reassuring Scott. The fear in his face has disappeared, in any case. Phew.

John realises that the older man is still clamping a cloth from the medkit over his nose, careful to not obstruct his mouth, and he can still feel the unpleasant, gritty wetness of his ears leaking awfully down the sides of his neck and into his suit, but at least the nausea has lessened a little. Awareness of his own body comes flooding back with the return of cognizance, and John frowns as he realises both his hands are held in a one-hand vice grip in Scott’s left, and that there’s that hard ridge of the neck brace cutting into his chin again. Ew. The awful feelings retreat a little, to be replaced with an awful lot of oh-hell-no, when he realises exactly what the plan is next for him when they finally get back to Earth.

Honestly, he should’ve seen it coming, and it’s inevitable and needed, but it doesn’t mean he has to like it! He hates being carried out on stretchers. No-no-no no-no-no-no! Shit.

Scott seems to have read his mind, and has a sly, half-amused expression on his face, just barely concealing the undeniable look of sheer relief still lingering there. John knows that it’s because once again, he seems to have scraped himself out of yet another life-threatening situation by the mere skin of his teeth. Gordon has joked in the past that if John were an animal, he’d be a cat, by virtue of the fact that he seems to have an inordinate amount of lives to chew through, what with all his assorted mishaps. He has to get through the damn medical tests and examinations first though, and it isn’t fair, because it’s not like he does these things on purpose.  Not like the idiot younger three, and Scott, who didn’t get his nickname from Dad for no reason. The man fell out of a tree when he was a teenager; too busy trying to see the planes at the airfield, for crying out loud!

John’s eyes widen further as he realises that once they’re all reassured he really is actually okay after this jaunt (not that he feels that way right now, he’s going to be stuck in bed for at least a few days, especially with these ribs, he just knows it), his three younger brothers are never going to let him live the repeat of his out-of-control-hamster-wheel antics down. Not to mention his idiot of an older brother; don’t you dare to pretend otherwise, Scott Tracy!

Huffing out an indignant breath, as Scott suddenly breaks out into full-on-laughter at his epiphany -- still trapped in the dual vice-grip of his brother’s firm restraint and the pain of his battered body -- John can only make a face of resignation.

Jerks. He thinks. Jerks; the lot of them.

~

Fanfiction.net // Ao3

[ciathyzareposts]

Game 39: Dog Star Adventure (1979)

The title screen. Note, if you will, the masterful use of negative space.

Before I kick things off, I should mention that I’ve completely redone all the Final Ratings, and converted them to the new RADNESS Index (standing for Righteous Admirability Designation, Numerically Estimating Seven Scores).  I’m pretty pleased with how it’s turned out, and I feel like it’s a much better representation of the relative quality of the games I’ve played.  The top games remain mostly unchanged, but there was a lot of shuffling at the bottom that put the worst games where they belong.  Check out the link on the sidebar if you care about my arbitrary ranking scheme.

*  *  *  *  *

About a month ago, I played Battlestar, a game that culminated in a lightsaber duel with a thinly veiled Darth Vader.  No doubt Star Wars was still in the zeitgeist in 1979, because Vader is back in the game I’m writing about today, Dog Star Adventure.

Oh, sorry, it’s not Darth Vader, it’s “General Doom”.  Doom and his Roche Soldiers are preparing an attack on the Forces of Freedom, and they’ve captured Princess Leya and taken her to one of their battle cruisers.  Geez lads, couldn’t you have tried a bit harder?  Obviously, this game is nicked from the middle third of Star Wars (and no, I’m not going to call it A New Hope, I’m using the movie’s real name).  Intellectual property concerns were definitely not a thing in the gaming community in the late 70s.

Dog Star‘s creator was Lance Micklus, who’s been featured on the blog before as the author of Treasure Hunt, currently languishing near the bottom of my RADNESS Index.  That game was more of a mapping exercise in the style of Hunt the Wumpus, with some light adventure game elements based on inventory.  Dog Star is a proper text adventure.  Reading up on Micklus, I’m surprised to see how prolific he was around this time.  Not only did he create the games above, but he also made a bunch of boardgame adaptations, utilities for programmers, financial software, and a port of the Star Trek game that was such a big deal on the mainframes.  The dude’s got a resume.

Dog Star Adventure was released commercially circa March 1979 for the TRS-80.  At about the same time its code was published in SoftSide, in the issue cover dated May 1979.  This is it’s main claim to fame; as the first text adventure to have its code publicly released it served as a reference point for loads of future game creators.  Micklus never made another text adventure after this, but his creative DNA will be seen in a bunch of games as I progress forward in my chronology.

I couldn’t find the cover to the commercial release, so here’s the cover of the SoftSide issue.

The article accompanying the code in SoftSide gives the backstory to the game.  General Doom has captured Princess Leya aboard her spaceship, as I mentioned above.  They also took a chest containing Melidium crystals, which apparently comprise the entire treasury of the Forces of Freedom.  Leya was also wearing a Shinestone necklace, and encoded in one of the stones is the location of the rebel base.  The player takes the role of a character (presumably a member of the Forces of Freedom) who has stowed away on board her ship.  The goal of the game is to rescue the princess from Doom’s battle cruiser, find the two treasures, and escape.  So yeah, it’s another treasure hunt, but at least this one’s wrapped up in a rescue mission.

The game starts with the player inside the ship, aboard the battle cruiser.  For anyone who’s played a Scott Adams adventure, the style and tone here are very familiar.  As usual, I went through my adventure game preparation routine.  First I checked my inventory, and discovered that I was carrying nothing.  Second, I typed SCORE, and learned that there are 215 points to earn before I can beat the game.  I also tested movement, and was surprised that the standard NESW abbreviations weren’t implemented.  To move around I had to type the full words NORTH, SOUTH, EAST, WEST, UP and DOWN.  Also, I had to use INVEN instead of a simple “I” to check my inventory.  I figured those abbreviations were pretty universal by this point, but not here.  (I also spent a good minute or so wondering why none of my commands were working, until I realised that I had the Caps Lock off.  The game doesn’t register anything unless it’s in all caps.)

User friendliness is big in the future.

There were only two rooms inside the ship: the cockpit and the storage compartment.  The cockpit had a launch button, but pressing it did nothing.  Storage was empty, but I figured that this was where I’d need to bring any treasures I found.  With nothing else to do, I left the ship to explore the battle cruiser.

North and east I found a Vault, but when I tried to enter a voice asked “who goes there?”.  I answered GENERAL DOOM, but apparently I wasn’t fooling anyone because I was swarmed with Roche Soldiers and imprisoned.  That was a game over, but it was worth a crack.

West of the Vault I found a research lab, with a slightly confusing layout (including a room description that simply says “I’m Lost”.  I found a laser gun in one of the labs, and took it with me.

Heading north I passed through a computer room, where a TRS-80 was happily whirring away.  This is fairly consistent with Star Wars, which has a sci-fi setting where the computer displays haven’t progressed past vector graphics.  A message on the monitor read >> CSAVE TAPE <<.  I tried that message as a command and was told that I wasn’t carrying any blank tape, so I made a mental note to try and find some.

Further north was a test laboratory, where I found an ID card, a cloaking device, and something called a “turboencabulator”.  Also in the lab was an “evil-looking” scientist, which is kind of a shitty assumption to make.  Still, he looked evil so I tried to shoot him with the gun I’d found earlier, only to be told “I’m not carrying a BLASTER”.  Dude, I have a LASER, isn’t that good enough?  Apparently not, because while I was trying to pull the trigger the scientist called for the guards, and it was game over once more.

Getting transferred to cell block 1138.

On the next game I tried exploring south, along the flight deck.  I found some anti-matter fuel, as well as a sign that read >> NEEDS TURBO <<; this was probably a reference to the turboencabulator in the test lab.  Exploring east I came to a supply depot, said to contain “all kinds of things”, which I left without exploring too much.  South of that I came to a decontamination room and an interrogation room, where I found Princess Leya’s cape, and the Shinestone necklace, one of the treasures I was looking for.  I’d thought that it would be better guarded, honestly.

My good fortune was short-lived, because I soon stumbled into a strategy room, and a guard who called for help.  Game over number three…  I really needed to find that blaster.

Exploring further I found a lounge, with a McDonald’s hamburger on the table.  I guess “long, long ago” doesn’t apply here.  Nearby was a bathroom with some graffiti, some of which read >> SAY SECURITY <<.

Climbing up from the bathroom led into a maze of pipes, which was really only two areas that looped back on themselves a whole lot, and not at all difficult to navigate.  In one of the rooms I found a map of the battle cruiser which I couldn’t read, apparently because I’m not a cartographer.

Eventually I found my way down from the pipe maze and into the jail.  There were two empty cells, and another that was locked.  Without a key I left the jail and found a security desk manned by an attack robot.  Beyond the robot was an elevator, but he wasn’t letting me past.

I was a little stumped at this point, so I resorted to the HELP command, which gives you hints in various locations.  In this case it said “Did you bring anything to eat?”  I had the hamburger in my possession, so I tried FEED ROBOT.  Sure enough, he took the burger and I was allowed to pass.  I really should have thought of this, because feeding has been one of the most common solutions in these games.  Anyway, the elevator just looped back to the interrogation room, so it seemed that I was out of places to explore.

Wait did I just feed that robot a citizen of Hamberg, North Dakota?

At that point a guard wandered in, and I was captured.  There are randomly occurring guards who pop up occasionally, and if you don’t have the means to kill them it’s a game over.  I generally dislike random elements like these in adventure games, but in this case it’s not so bad once you have the solution.  Before that, it’s a real pain.

I’d pretty much exhausted my options, and it was obvious that I needed to find a blaster so I could kill the various personnel that were blocking my progress.  I thought I’d found the password necessary to get into the vault (SAY SECURITY), and it did get me past the first level of security, but I also discovered the hard way that I needed an ID card.  Once again, I was stuck.

The answer came in the form of the supply depot, which has among its “all kinds of things” a blaster.  I didn’t figure this out on my own; I had to resort to the HELP command once again, which in the supply depot says “How ’bout a BLASTER”.  Type GET BLASTER while you’re in there, and sure enough you’ll find one.  It’s kind of a clever puzzle, but a little irritating as well.

With blaster in hand I stormed around the place shooting everyone in sight.  The evil scientist got it first, and with his ID Card in my possession I was able to access the Vault, where I found Leya’s treasury, the Malidium crystals (the in-game spelling differs from the backstory).

Next I went and vaporised the guard in the strategy room.  There I found some keys, a communicator, and some death ray schematics.  When I picked up the communicator, someone on the other side said “Sesame”.  I replied with the same word, and a voice over the PA announced that the flight deck doors would be opened.

I’ll have some holy smokes. Menthol.

Past the strategy room was the tractor beam room.  There were no guards there, just a sign warning people not to press any buttons.  I’m not on General Doom’s payroll, so I pressed those damn buttons, and the tractor beam was shut off.  I could have escaped at that point, except for one thing: with the flight doors open, there was no oxygen in the flight deck, and no way to get back to the ship.  I couldn’t figure out how to get the flight doors closed again, and I don’t think there’s another way back to the ship, so I had to restart again.

Getting back to where I was didn’t take long though, and with the keys in my possession I was able to open the locked cell in the jail, where I found the princess as expected.  Somewhat amusingly, she’s implemented as an object that you carry in your inventory.  You can’t interact with her in any way, and she doesn’t even react when you enter her cell, or return her to her ship.  Micklus didn’t even code a response to KISS PRINCESS, which is a real failing.

I’m Lewk Skywarker, I’m here to rescue you!

I ran into one last hurdle, though: my blaster ran out of ammunition, and I was captured before I could make it back to the ship.  I had a hunch, and on my next game I went back to the supply depot and typed GET AMMUNITION.  To my delight, I found some, and used it to reload when I thought I was getting low.

I’d rescued the princess, and stashed her necklace and treasury in the ship’s storage.  I also had the fuel and the turboencabulator, as well as as a bunch of other items that were worth some points (the cape, the laser, the cloaking device, the map, the schematics, etc.).  I’d disarmed the tractor beam, and used the communicator to open the flight doors (this time from the safety of my ship).  So I went to the cockpit, hit the launch button, and basked in a victory well-earned.

Well, almost.  I’d struck a blow for the Forces of Freedom, but I was 20 points shy of the full 215.  The only unexplained thing left on the map was the TRS-80, but I hadn’t yet found the blank tape I needed to use with it.  Once again I went to look for it in the supply depot, and once again that room came through.  With blank tape in hand I typed CLOAD TAPE into the computer, and was rewarded with a printout of General Doom’s secret attack plans.  This was the final item I needed, and I was able to complete Dog Star Adventure with full points.

Way to disguise your Very Secret Plans, dude.

We can be HEROS, just for one day

You can end the game without finding everything, though, and the game gives you a congratulatory message even if you just escape from the battle cruiser without the princess or any of the treasures.  Somehow that’s helped the Forces of Freedom defend the galaxy, don’t ask me how!

You get points for depositing various items in the ship’s storage hold.  The point values are as follows:

Anti-Matter Fuel – 5 points

Leya’s Cape – 5 points

Shinestone Necklace – 20 points

Death Ray Schematics – 20 points

Micro Laser Gun – 20 points

Cloaking Device – 20 points

Turboencabulator – 5 points

Malidium Crystals – 30 points

Map of the Ship – 20 points

Secret Attack Plans – 20 points

Princess Leya – 50 points

Finally, here’s my map for the game, created in Trizbort.

Click to enlargenate

I had a decent time playing this game: it’s short, and it doesn’t have any exceptionally frustrating puzzles.  The ones it does have are well covered by the game’s HELP command, which I’m a bit less reluctant to use than an outside walkthrough.  It’s a solid game for the era, and I think it will do okay on the RADNESS Index.

RADNESS INDEX:

Story & Setting: As with other games that have knocked off properties that I love, I have to be careful to rate what’s actually in the game, rather than what I’m bringing to it from those outside influences.  The story amounts to a treasure hunt once you get down to the gameplay, but it has far more context than other games of its type: there are rebels fighting against an evil force, and every one of the treasures you have to find is relevant to that fight.  The setting is novel, with Battlestar being the only other game I’ve played that’s set on a space station.  Still, it’s very sparsely described, and there’s not much in the way of atmosphere.  Rating: 2 out of 7.

Characters & Monsters: We have the guards, the evil scientist, Princess Leya, and the burger-eating robot.  The first two are obstacles and wandering hazards, and the only thing you can do with them is shoot or be captured.  Leya is a literal object.  The robot is memorable, but again you can’t interact with him beyond his one function in the game.  Rating: 1 out of 7.

Aesthetics: A TRS-80 text adventure with sparse descriptions and no sound is always going to score low.  Rating: 1 out of 7.

Puzzles: Dog Star has one puzzle I’d consider clever, and a bunch of others that are simple (buttons to press, doors to unlock, etc.)  I think I come down on liking the supply depot puzzle, and I’m down with it being used twice as a solution.  Three times might be pushing things, though.  And too many of the game’s obstacles are solved by shooting them.  Rating: 2 out of 7.

Mechanics: The game has a very simple parser, that only recognises about 20 verbs.  It does the job, but that’s all it does.  Still, I had very few issues with hunting for the right command.  Movement was annoying, though; abbreviating it to the first letter should be standard practice, even in 1979.  It’s not a gamebreaker, though, and the game does what it does reasonably well.  Rating: 3 out of 7.

Challenge: Outside of the puzzles, which I’d consider a mild challenge, there are the wandering guards to contend with.  They’re annoying at first, but easily dealt with once you find the blaster.  That’s decent design I feel: things can be frustrating for a short while, just not the entire game.  I’d rate Dog Star as pretty easy, but short enough that it doesn’t matter. By the time you run out of challenges, the game is over.  Rating: 3 out of 7.

Fun: I enjoyed this while it lasted.  It helps that it was short, and I never got stuck for long because of the HELP command.  The guards at the start were annoying, but that just makes it more enjoyable once you get the ability to kill them.  Still, there’s not a lot to this one, and no scope for activities outside of the puzzles required to beat the game.  Rating: 2 out of 7.

Bonus Points: 1.  As the first adventure game to have its source code published, Dog Star does have some influence and a little bit of historical importance.

That gives Dog Star Adventure a RADNESS Index of 29.  Overall that places it equal 21st, and on the chart for adventure games it’s 12th out of 24 games rated so far.  It’s equal in points to Castle, just below Pirate Adventure and above Voyage to Atlantis, squarely in the area of the chart that separates the games I liked from those I didn’t.  Middle of the pack feels about right, I’d say.

PORTS OF CALL:

I also played through the version for the Commodore PET, which was ported in 1980.  The major difference is that it’s even more explicit with its Star Wars connections: General Doom is Darth Vader, Leya is Leia, the ship is the Millennium Falcon, and the guards are stormtroopers.  I’m not sure why IP violation was fine on the PET and not on the TRS-80, but whatever. It mercifully uses the NESW abbreviations, but only recognises TAKE, not GET (my preferred verb).  The blaster isn’t loaded when you first pick it up, you need to also take the ammunition, but it tracks how many shots you have left. The random stormtroopers take potshots at you when they appear, but I never got hit by one.  The most difficult thing for me was that the TRS-80 has been replaced by a generic terminal, and it’s a little harder to figure out the correct command.  It takes 225 points to win, but you don’t need to do anything new, you just get the extra 10 when you escape.  It’s much the same game, and despite a nifty image of Vader on start-up it gets the exact same RADNESS Index. I probably like this one a touch more, simply because it’s explicitly Star Wars.  Still, it’s weirder to treat the princess as a literal object when it’s actually Leia, and not a stand-in.

To be honest, this is a better Darth Vader than most of the artists of Marvel Comics managed in the 80s

At least this version can spell “heroes”

Dog Star was also released by Adventure International, under the title Death Planet: A Dog Star Adventure (although it’s just called Dog Star in the game itself).

This is a much better name

It uses the split-panel style of Scott Adams adventures, with the room descriptions at the top and the player’s commands at the bottom, and is the most technically sound of the three versions I played; it ran really smoothly compared to the others. My major problem with it is that it completely removes the supply depot puzzle: when you enter the room the blaster, ammunition and tape are already out in the open.  It also has a score out of 100 rather than 215, and it explicitly marks the treasures with asterisks.  In terms of RADNESS Index I’d rate it a point higher in Mechanics, but the removal of the supply depot puzzle loses it a point in Puzzles, so it still comes out the same.

Brother, I’ve already finished this thing three times.

NEXT: It’s back to Scott Adams, as I take a look at his fourth effort, Voodoo Castle.  This time his wife Alexis is also involved, so we’ll see how much difference that makes. 

source http://reposts.ciathyza.com/game-39-dog-star-adventure-1979/

[courage-a-word-of-justice]

Waver 1 - 13 (FINAL) | Prisma Illya 1 - 10 (FINAL) | Prisma Illya 2wei! 1 - 3

Another (and to be honest, the last) batch of impressions from the Fate/ project.

Waver 1

Well, this’ll be interesting. I’ve been hyping this show up for a while for myself, so let’s see how it goes.

Geez, this intro is like a dang movie! I’d love to see a proper Troyca movie! (<-Says the fan of Troyca.)

Wait, if it’s Kayneth Archibald, then is Archibald relatd to Archisorte? Or am I just making thing up here…? Also note Reines refers to Kayneth as “Kayneth El-Melloi Archibald”, possibly meaning Archibald is the middle name, since El-Melloi is a shared surname (or is that a title…?). That probably means Archibald =/= Archisorte and both are similar-sounding middle names. The fact Reines is Kayneth’s niece also explains things quite a bit.

Why is Waver upside down…? Won’t the blood rush to his head soon? (Sure, it allows me to ogle his hair more, but…logic rules more than my stupid whims, y’know?)

Interesting. You can see that although Waver grew out his hair, there’s two layers to it – the longer one in the front and the shorter one in the back. (I’m just curious because I like the hime cut – which is pretty similar - and long hair on dudes in general, in part because both are fairly rare.)

Okay, that explained my gripe with upside-down Waver. Thanks, Reines. (<-genuine)

Aw, Waver buddy, even at this stage, you’re plenty cute. Don’t ever change! (<- As you can see, I am an easily pleased person in most cases.)

Melvin who now???

Troyca’s comic animation rules! It’s too bad Idolish7 Second Beat is using chibis instead of this…

Professor Kayneth. I forgot he had a formal title. I wonder, does Waver - I mean, El-Melloi II – have that title as well?

I guess I should’ve known Saber had the capability to look scary, but…I never knew Saber could look so scary…

*cut to eyecatch* - *points at eyecatch* Okay, someone tried to save budget here, didn’t they???

Aw, friendship between fiction boys is cute…until it involves the puking up on blood on one end.

Waver is the OG underdog here…don’tcha think?

“…with several demands.” – Uh-oh…this is gonna be bad, isn’t it?

You need a Tuner for Magic Crests? (…Like a tuning fork, but a person?) *brow raised in suspicion*

…is it appropriate for me to say “Oh, good lord!” now? (Okay, I did that rather deliberately, but normally in these notes I’d self-censor it to be “oh, goodness” or something like that.)

Seriously, the black-haired dude in the Ionian Hetairoi is my favourite, even if only because he looks like Waver (and he’s really easy to spot, to boot).

Why is this in first person??? I’ve dropped entire shows based on their usage of 1st person cam! Room Mate and Makura no Danshi basically scarred me for life on that front…and both of those are TV shorts!

Hey, wait a second. This “use a quote on the titlecard” thing is clearly an Ei Aoki sort of thing to do. I mean, it’s in ID: Invaded as well…

Waver 2

*new blonde girl appears* - So this is the rumoured Animusphere girl (Mary), huh?

Bounded field, huh? I’m glad I chose to watch F/Z before this, then. Now I actually understand the (rough) mechanics of how that works.

There’s assassins and then there’s Assassins…*thinks about the Holy Grail War*

As it turns out, astromancy is basically astrology.

The one thing that bugs me about “Modern Magecraft” (there’s a similar concept of New Magic in Mairimashita! Iruma-kun) is…how is the magic “modern”…? Especially in a work like this, where the magic is based in arcane rituals and bloodlines…you really need to establish how the “modern” bit works.

Gray is facing away from the Animusphere girl (Mary), I noticed.

“When you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth.” – Sherlock Holmes – Basically, the fact I’ve memorised this quote is one of the lingering impacts of my time in the Detective Conan fandom, as it can be used on things like quizzes, not just mysteries.

Can we please use proper English, Waver??? (Says me to a character whose name I still find nonsensical enough to not be proper English.) As I said previously, “whydunit” is modus operandi or motive…the new bit is “howdunit”, which would be the method.

I do believe the geocentric model was overthrown by people like Kepler.

Gray kind of looks like Saber with that hairstyle, come to think of it.

With the way Gray hides herself under that hood, it’s no mystery as to why guys love her…at least, I know ThatRandomEditor does. Of course, I’m heavily neutral on the whole affair because I don’t swing that way, but…you know…

LEMPC seems to stand for “Lord El-Melloi Production Committee”, if I’m guessing right.

I seem to remember there was a quote somewhere that said the only constant in this world was change…hmm.

Waver 3

They seem to keep calling Japan “the Far East” (or at least, Japan is part of the Far East). That’s a pretty antiquated term for a supposedly “modern” magic anime. I get vaguely peeved by the term “the Far East” because it causes people to take an oriental viewpoint on things and thus it’s kind of like people from the Anglosphere looking down on Asians. (I also get vaguely peeved by the term “Westerners” for much the same reason and “Caucasians” because it implies all people of the Anglosphere come from the Caucasus, which is false…then again, these niggles are specific to international studies, so I have a vested interest in explaining them.)

…Wow, that star-eyepatch girl is…really something, to be thirsty specifically for Waver’s Iron Claw. (Then again, with my weird tastes in things, who am I to critique her?)

Flitz von Erich. I was surprised to learn this guy actually exists…on Wikipedia, at the very least.

“Any lady should know about wrestling.” – I disagree, Luvia.

Blue furry electrical creature…I dunno how the zoology in this show works, but the fantasy series I’m reading as of the time I was typing this comment has a blue creature called a Raiju (literally “thunder beast” in Japanese, so it would suit the “Thunder” in the episode title). If it’s anything like that, I’d laugh myself silly.

This girl on the poster seems to be called Flan Noir (or something similar).

“…yellow, round, fluffy-smelling…” – What? Svin, you have no right to call a girl those words!

When is this series set if people don’t have phones as a standard? *Googles* Okay, if F/SN is set in 2004, then F/Z is 1994. That would make sense, actually. The internet as we know it was first used in 1995 and didn’t become widespread for home use until a few years later, as I remember having computers in 2004 (albeit the blocky ones with the dial-up).

I was looking at images for the source material and I think I know why I like Waver (aside from the fact he has long hair). Normally I like the boys whose appearances are hard to get right, such as En…Waver in the novels and manga for this series sometimes looks grumpy, sometimes he looks constipated and worst of all, sometimes he looks like Snape with a hook nose.

Okay, so I googled Caules to figure out who his sister was…and I got Apocrypha spoilers. See, his sister is Fiore, who is apparently in that series.

The videos got encoded funny again…

There seems to be a mystery around why Svin and Gray can’t be together…well, one deeper than just “Svin is gaga for Gray [for reasons we don’t know at this point in time]”.

Ha, the El-Melloi Class is basically just the Misfit Class from Mairimashita! Iruma-kun.

“Only the flesh was bitten off.”  

This Jupiter gibberish, I assume, is drawing upon the mythology of Jupiter – that is, Zeus – as the god of thunder and king of the gods (thus presiding over living beings).

The English is good on the bill, bar a space between “Mystics of magecraft”.

Norwich is apparently a “faculty” which the Modern Magecraft Theories guys – i.e. Waver – rule over.

Can you imagine Waver swearing? Since I had the volume off, I basically made him say “…if Sir Gueldoa had resorted to brute force, we would’ve been f***ed” in my head…and that was hilarious.

Aw, thanks 7Mononoke. “A cowardly thief sneaks away in the night. If you stride away, bursting with song, you are a conquering king.” That’s a quote from Rider himself.

So the Association has set positions for Masters in the War? Geesh…that must be hard on Waver to find out they’re closed, considering how much Waver pines for Rider.

Waver 4

I finally got the chance to listen to the ED last ep and now it’s the OP I can hear properly. This OP isn’t particularly impressive, considering it’s an instrumental (instrumentals always seem to have less impact for me unless I’m looking for something to chill to), but it does capture the London-esque spirit of the setting very well.

What’s up with this metal (?) maid off to the side, anyway?

“Good thinking to leave the door open…” – For some reason, even though it’s a completely different and much more benign context, this made me think of KyoAni and my heart sunk.  

Atrum Galliasta…I hate that man. He may look hot, but he was nothing but a b*stard to Medea.

Bolo ties…nrgh…Basically, ever since Arima wore a bolo tie, I’ve become fairly bugged by them. That’s why Bram’s bugs me.

Aw, Waver, buddy, plase don’t sacrifice yourself again. I read on the wiki you become a Servant’s vessel (specifically for Zhu Ge Liang), so keep your hopes up.

I’m seriously feeling ID: Invaded vibes from this episode, what with the lightning.

I suspect a locked room murder is going to happen soon, knowing the genre. Either that or some other crime.

Considering Fate/ was an eroge-based thing initially, these sex jokes…there’s probably plenty of them out there.

Well, it seems this series only makes sense in that non-Detective Conan way, i.e. you want to know how it all comes together and can’t necessarily figure it out for yourself until you know how the magic works. I’m randomly going to guess this is more Jupiter-based stuff and call it a day on that front.

Seriously, I never got what was up with nightgowns (or just pyjamas in general) having hats. You don’t need protection for your head at night…that’s what pillows are for, yeah? (The only reason I see a hat-like thing working with nightwear is a onesie and that’s meant to be part of the inherent appeal of the thing.)

Waver 5

I feel like Adashino is meant to be an Irene Adler-type figure…

“Peaceful Fairys” (sic)

Where did Kairi’s scar come from…?

The Black Dog was in Mahoutsukai no Yome as well, but this one looks a lot less inviting, huh?

It seems, like the name Rail Zeppelin implies (as “Demon Eyes Collection Train”), most of the people involved in this case have Magic Eyes (or whatever they’re actually called). I wouldn’t be surprised if Kairi had them as well, considering he’s wearing dark glasses in the middle of a thunderstorm.

“King Arthur is a dude, right?” - *laughs madly* They finally managed to parody their own bulls***! (Well, I’m not counting Carnival Phantasm or whatever else because this is the first time they threw a meta joke in there in the whole of this project, as far as I can remember.)  

Trimmau seems to be the maid’s name…huh. They never mentioned that earlier, I don’t think.

So what’s the difference between Fairy Eyes and Mystic Eyes?

Wait, does that even work…? The entire house is the murder weapon? That’s basically breaking the “secret passageway” thing on a larger scale.

So what’s Trevor’s motive…?

The dogs running towards the Workshop reminded me of the Hunger Games for some reason…must be the climax.

That fairy isn’t emoting much…

Oh cra-Wills is going to sacrifice himself, like Adashino was going to do! That’s the second time I’ve seen that in 2 days (the first was in the Hypnosis Mic manga about the Dirty Dawg).

Uh…Waver’s not particularly fit or fast, is he…?

Can you be paid for your case if your client is essentially dead…?

Adra? I read around and Adra seems to be a way to spell the location (or whatever it is) in the first case…which got adapted into a stage play, but not an anime. That’s probably what he’s (Waver) referring to.

Notably, the title is translated to “lance” but yari means spear…

Waver 6

I seriously wanna slap that pink-haired girl…Update: Her name is Yvette.

This is basically Gray fanservice…

If Gray = Saber and Saber =King Arthur…hmm…does it count as a girl’s party?

Homeland? Since Britain is Saber’s (aka Gray’s) home country, I think they meant “hometown”…I’d hav to listen to the Japanese to make sure, though.

I still think Waver is a stupid, or at the very least false, name for a boy, especially if he did come from Britain. That’s basically my one limitation on him as a husbando.

The red bit of the eyecatch was shapd like an eye…it did catch eyes in a sense, after all.

So Trimmau is sustained by magic.

Locked-room…or rather, bounded field…mystery time!

Luvia did mention wrestling in another episode…

I had to google that, but the Separation Castle is from the Adra case mentioned in episode 5. No wonder I don’t remember it…

“Are you suggesting there were faults…” (from Luvia) - Ooh, I was thinking the perpetrator was caught inside their own bounded field or maybe it was an outsider, but that works too, Reines.

Add calld Luvia out for her extravagance, LOL.

Catch-as-catch-can appears to be “no-holds-barred fighting”, particularly wrestling.

That case was both informative and possibly solveable by the audience. Both good qualities for a mystery.

If you summon the spirit again, is it the same Rider with the same memories? Or can you summon a different version of the same Rider with amnesia, much like Rin did with Archer? Update: Oh yeah, I did read this on the wiki at one point but then forgot about it. The next episode (7) confirms that Rider wouldn’t remember Waver if he were summoned again.

Waver 7

…C’mon, admit it, show. The glasses are not only there for plot reasons but to up Waver’s status as megane boy for the rest of this case. Not that I mind – I actually really like megane boys, but I’m nowhere near the love of Meganebu – but in the case of plausibility, I wanna poke holes into it.

Auction for which Mystic Eyes now…?

There’s a guy…with an elephant head…I know I shouldn’t be bugged by it, but I need the MST3K mantra right now.

This is gonna be a Murder on the Orient Express thing, isn’t it? All cases set on trains seem to take cues or make homage to it. (I may not be that proficient on Christie in comparison to Holmes, since Holmes was Conan’s inspiration, but Murder on the Orient Express I have read and I did secure an anthology of 4 Christie novels at one point specifically so that I could improve in this area.)

The main series never explained the bad blood between the Church and the Tower, did they…?

*sweatdrop* Let me guess…when Yvette mentions “multiplay”, she means a threesome, right?

How do anime people see out of those blindfold thing, anyway??? (Or is it that Leandra has Mystic Eyes that were sold off or otherwise tampered with?)

I believe the word is “palate”, Kairi (or subbers).

Anime characters being bagworms with their blankets is always appealing, no matter the gender. It’s funny and/or relatable, after all.

Does Gray get motion sickness…? Update: Seems I spoke about a minute too soon. She does.

Waver 8

How does Waver know that Adashino got the documents about the train? Is it because she was in all those places at all those times and he connected the dots?

This lady has heterochromia. Specifically, one is brown and the other is blue or green.

Hmm? I thought the character design was familiar for this. As it turns out, Jun Nakai (who did the character design for this) also did Gate’s, which explains it.

Dionysus is the Greek god of wine, IIRC. Hephaestion is, as (s)he explained, the confidante of Alexander the Great (had to google this one).

It’s hard to see before the brightly-lit scene where Olga reappears, but as shown, Waver seems to have cut off part of his forelocks on the left side.

What’s an Odo???...ooh, fanservice…*ogles*

The summoning of Hephaestion and Trisha’s murder may or may not be related…we just don’t know how, yet.

I think a Detective Conan Murder on the Orient Express-style mystery would be a good video ga-*googles* There’s at least one of them out there already (albeit only in Japan)...namely, this one. Spoke too soon.

Oh yeah…this is Olga’s new room, isn’t it? I almost forgot about that.

Update: I think this look at the Adra Separation Castle case is interesting. It’s similar to posts I would write, but done by a professional – namely Richard Eisenbeis of Kotaku and Anime News Network.

Waver 9

So if there’s a Servant…you have to find the Master.

Olga reminds me of Reines…kind of.

LOL, whoever thought of a zombie cooking show…?

This series really goes all-in on the zombies and the fake-outs thereof, huh? Dangit, Melvin, don’t scare us.

Melvin has a really odd relationship with Waver, huh? If you’re really insisting you’re “the only person to ever be able to hurt Waver”, I don’t quite see how you guys can be friends in the normal sense of the word.

Why would someone have a violin at a time like this…?

Interestingly, they don’t bother to do any fanservice of Caules. That scene with Gray and Yvette was fanservice for those who like them, but the only guy who’s getting to do any fanservice in this series is Waver himself…(what with him being naked and knocked out right now.)

“Sibyl” seems to be a synonym for “virgin”…(*whispers “Awkward…”*)

Update: After reading some of Marth’s posts on this series, I’m inclined to call this “Murders on a Train (with an Exploding Helicopter for Good Measure)”.

Waver 10

For some reason, there’s episode 0 – 9, then 11 – 13 on the service I’m using. Where’s 10?

I think Waver’s relationship with Rider is interesting because of the way I think of relationships myself. Waver has made it clear that he wants to see Rider again so he can basically prostrate at his feet all over again (and maybe win a wish and/or see Oceanus while they’re at it), but – hey, hear this! - I used to believe, when I was still an impressionable kid, all relationships, whether they be between friends, family or even lovers, lasted roughly in the same state basically forever (as in, friends stay friends forever, they’ll never be so far apart that they can’t kep their relationship alive etc. etc.)…Obviously, I was wrong and arguably, this change in thinking, plus the related changes in technology, are where my ability to fleetingly but passionate love both 2D boys and the series they come from comes from.

Wait, so the Child of Einasshe (sp?) is the forest, yeah? I don’t think I got that 100% straight.

I never thought the shield form of a Mystic Code could be used for snowboarding down a mountain/hill…whatever Gray just went down. I didn’t even know Add had a shield form, for that matter.

“[U]sual individual” – LOL. What a way to refer to Waver.

“Wait a minute!” – I’m just imagining Phoenix Wright all of a sudden. A Waver legal mystery series would be boring as all get out – I’m far less interested in the courtroom versions of mysteries and more interested in how the pieces fit together. (Update: Then again, I am a person who likes the action genre and courtroom mysteries don’t have much of that, which might also explain my choice.)

“…lacking the element of motive to begin with.” – Well, Waver’s not wrong…

I’m observing this apple and noticing someone skimped on the detail around the stem. Does anyone still remember Art Academy for the DS? After looking at some promo material for it, I basically learnt how to draw a proper apple (and nothing else, really). If an apple is just drawn as a circle, it doesn’t quite look like an apple up close. (Two of the main things I screw up on when drawing are perception and the colour of highlights, both of which are covered in something like an apple stem and the related indent.)

Oh goodness…I was hoping Karabo would keep his vision (or actual eyeballs)…but that’s gruesome.

I’m guessing, based on the wheelchair, that Waver’s still paralysed or otherwise not able to move around like normal. Update: Spoke too soon.

Someone encoded the video funny again…

Waver 11

What was that crossword thing…? A warding spell of some sort?

Is that an owl in the back?!

Stealth fighter…Rider wanted on, didn’t he?

Every time he appears on screen now, I basically curse Melvin. He’s entertaining to watch, sure, but he’s annoyingly prodigal (= wasteful). He’s basically Dice from HypMic at this stage (aka he’s the sort of person who’d bet away his own clothes, given the chance and incentive).

Look at the way Waver’s hair drags behind him as he walks…it’s gorgeous…

“Residual Image” (as translated in the title) is literally “the left-over image” (zanzou). Not surprising, but I find the exact combo of characters used interesting since it could be short for “nokoru eizou” (where the nokoru’s character is read as zan in the combo, as you can guess).    

Waver 12

Wow…this series really pulled something out of its butt this time, huh? “The guy without a heart”…no viewer would’ve known that actually referred to a character called Dr Heartless unless they knew of his existence somehow (the closest they would’ve been was having an inkling that this pointed to a name of the culprit).

There is an owl in the back of the auction room!

Ay? So what the heck is Pandemonium in this case?

“dotard” – Turns out this means “an old person, especially one who has become physically weak or whose mental faculties have declined.” You can’t say I don’t enrich my vocbulary through watching anime, huh?

I’m still wondering…why adapt case 7 of this series (Rail Zeppelin)? Why not case 1 (Adra)? Update: I don’t know where I pulled the number 7 from, since this is volume 4 – 5 of the series. Apparently some of the cases were anime-original though.

Waver 13 (FINAL)

Oh, Flat, you stupid…

Waver’s exasperated faces are great. No wonder Reines likes to toy with him…

I can assume Rail Zeppelin is a Ghost Liner, yes?

Can I guess that Adashino ~likes~ Waver…? Update: Turns out that’s not quite the case.

Ooh, Waver without his shirt is se-okay, I’m getting distracted. Seriously though, Waver never showed his Crest in F/Z. I never even knew what it looked like until now! The fact it’s such a simple design in comparison to his Command Seals is…kinda underwhelming, really.

I think there’s a bit of a pattern between Jakurai (from HypMic) and Waver…namely, they suck when it comes to drinking. (Also, of course, the long hair. Don’t forget it, never forget it.)

Shut up, Add!

For some reason, I felt like a lot of that last part, while getting closure for Waver, it almost had connotations of “I’ll meet you on the other side, Rider”…so it felt kind of sad, to be honest. That talk between Reines and Olga I don’t think I’d understand without Apocrypha and Grand Order, but I guess that’s to be expected in such a huge franchise. Anyways, moving right along!

Illya 1

I’ve been a bit worried about what I’ll have to subject myself to for the sake of Magical Girls…

Was that…Taiga?

Who’s Liz…?

Okusama, huh? (Okusama = someone’s wife, although it seems to be used in the plural here since I don’t think Kiritsugu and/or Iri are dead in this timeline.)

The subs I’ve got say Shiro is adopted here too (when it’s not in the Japanese), although I wonder exactly how much of UBW is going to be true in this anime…

Hmm…a bit of digging reveals Luvia’s not a Master. So throwing out Lancer is really just a joke on how Lancer gets roasted early on in Grail Wars, right?

Uhhhhhhhhhhhhh…squick, much…(Thank goodness the source I was using edited out the loli fanservice, so I can tolerate this series a lot more…but still, suggesting you have a romance with your step-brother, even if it’s known you’re not related from the beginning, is…you already know my feelings on that, based on my reaction. Shiro is, what, 15? About twice Illya’s age!) Update: Okay, so he has no confirmed age in Prisma Illya, but he’s 17 in F/SN so I’d assum the same or similar, seeing as he attends the same school. It’s fine if it’s platonic, but this is clearly an Onii-chan, daisuki! thing the likes of which Oreimo throws down! Thank you for calling it out though, Ruby.

Oh my gosh, this looks like the Rhongomynaid (Detective Waver) and Excalibur (or whatever Saber’s Noble Phantasm is called) summoning beam! LOL!

Ruby, you lech! Don’t go praising the angles! *shakes fist* (Seriously, what if magical girl mascots were paedophiles…? *blank face* Welp, considering what’s out there on the internet, I wouldn’t be surprised if a hentai or something had such a concept.)

Hmm? Turns out the word for Servant means something like “celestial hero”. Makes sense.

Nice callback to Saber and Shiro!

Illya 2

I thought Illya would say that her parents are dead…turns out the show’s not that grimdark (to the point where it wouldn’t set the show after Kiritsugu and Iri’s deaths), huh?

Do the sticks have a gender? The subs said “she” for Ruby…

LOL, it’s Rider. I thought Lancer was gonna get his butt kicked all over again (thinking more along the lines of CCS).

It’s Gay Bul-I mean, Gae Bolg! (I’ve been reading TV Tropes again…can you tell?)

This episode was pretty pedestrian. I like it more than the first one.

What’s up with the CGI…?

Oh! Bunbun, who does Yuki Yuna! Update: They only did the illustrations for some of the series. They also did SAO illustrations, although that’s of less significance to me.

Illya 3

The sticks do have genders!!! That’s like claiming Jesus for kakera with Mudae! (Yes, that’s possible. I got him in one server.)

The power of fujoshi…is amazing! How did it get to a girl who’s so young?!

These angles are a bit disturbing…

“Casao”, LOL.

Magical girl nakama, huh?

Illya 4

MST3K mantra!

Whose quote is that again…? “Don’t think, imagine”? Update: It turns out to not be anyone’s quote at all, if Google results are to be believed.

Uh-oh! Saber Alter!

Illya 5

Padding the episode already…?

The mist is a quality of a Berserker, right?

Geez the angles piss me off…

These sticks have brains???

Can you call it teamwork if they’re always complaining about each other?

Illya 6

More padding…

Illya’s UBW!

Geesh, that last-minute shot of Rin and Luvia popping out of the ground scared me for a bit…

Illya 7

*sigh* It’s the sick episode…

I recognise the vacuum cleaner. I have the same one at home.

*sigh* Random fanservice of elementary school girls. This is what gives anime a bad name.

*Sapphire pulls out a USB port* - Ohhkay, is that stick fanservice, in a sense…? Because that’s awkward too.

Maids went out of fashion years ago…

“Lyrical Radical Genocide” - I think this Lyrical Radical things is parodying Nanoha.

Based on the cloak, it’s an Assassin.

“Listen, if you aren’t careful, you’ll die!” – Yep, because people die when they are killed. I almost missed that meme for a bit.

Illya 8

Illya’s still reeling from Miyu’s talk, huh?

I noticed it said tomoda(chi) in the background at one point.

Does Miyu exist in any of the alternate universes?

Ah, there’s yuujou (friendship) in the background as calligraphy.

I think the video got encoded funny again…

Geez, complaining about boobs? The series got worse…oh, I forgot Shiro was around in this series.

…who’s left? There’s been Saber, Archer, Lancer, Assassin, Rider, Caster and…who? Berserker, that’s who.

Illya 9

Ohhhhhhhh brother, not more bath scenes…

Iri looks almost exactly like she does in the Eiznbern Consultation Rooms! (I found those around and watched them today.)

Thank goodness the fanservice is censored…

I never realised Berseker had heterochromia until now…

One thing that I assume makes Saber’s outfit look nice to thos that like girls is the window in the top…but it goes to waste on Miyu, LOL.

I find it interesting Illya has all these concerns – the ones (or similar ones) Iri harbourd in F/Z.

Hey, the bridge! This is the bridge where Rider dies inn F/Z, yeah?

The ED looks different this time…  

Illya 10 (FINAL)

E-Eep…loli fanservice…

Now Miyu is basically what Waver is to Rider, no doubt about it.

Bulls***! Speak of the devil! I was wondering what Waver looked like in the Illya style, because I read on the wiki he makes a cameo in season 2, and…here he is. Didn’t expect him in season 1, though.

Another new ED animation. I find it interesting they’ve never once had to recast any VAs throughout the entire existence of Fate/ anime…not that I know of, anyway.

Hiroyama Hiroshi is the original Illya creator.

Okay, that’s the end of one season. I feel kind of fatigued since I finished the Eiznbern Consultation Rooms today as well, so I’m going to take a break from watching more Illya until it’s necessary to watch again in a few posts’ time.

Now that they’ve collected the cards, I’m wondering what the series intends to do next…

Illya s2 Pt 1 Ep 1

They clearly skimped on the budget when Shiro was leaving the house…

I keep forgetting Illya is meant to be German…

That bad English…is actually there in the ep. title…

Oh great…schoolgirls talking about erotic swimsuits…

This s*** is what you call “Class-S”! I have no interest in it, because I don’t swing that way! (Sorry, yuri fans…)

The problem with series that aren’t 100% made with you in mind is that your favourite characters might look ugly…that’s especially the case with En, Jakurai and Waver.

Ryudou Temple, eh? Let’s hope Assassin still looks good.

I don’t think I’ve seen that before…namely, being able to hear what’s going on outside the transformation while it’s happening.

Now this 2 Illyas thing…this is new, alright.

Illya s2 Pt 1 Ep 2

LOL, what a horoscope.

Truck-kun! I don’t think Illya would make a good isekai protag, come to think of it.

Who is this nurse? I feel like she’s from some other part of the Nasuverse… Update: My guess was right. That’s Caren Hortensia, protagonist of Fate/hollow ataraxia and Kirei’s…uh, daughter. I know he had a wife. We never met said wife, but seeing the daughter really drove that fact home.  

Uhhhhhhhh…okay, now the lesbian loli scene just made things go off a cliff for me. I’m not against lesbians or yuri – to each their own – but that scene was clearly meant to be pleasing to a certain audience.

How does anyone kill anything gently…?

Ohhhhhhkay, strike 2 for loli fanservice.

I seem to remember…that’s right, Alice from the [something] no Kuni no Alice series was evaluated on her coffee-making skills (by Julius, I think it was). That’s why I’m thinking of Alice when I see Luvia praising Miyu on something similar.

Wa-hey! It’s Rin’s Azoth dagger!

Well, the mechanics of the transformation are also something you have to think about. I’ll give the show kudos for that.  

Illya s2 Pt 1 Ep 3

Can we not with the whole “Onii-chan, daisuki!” thing?! That’s it! That’s the last straw! I’m finishing this episode and aborting early so that I can preserve my dignity…and get some proper sleep for once.

The fact Miyu thinks Shiro resembles her brother must not be a coincidence…(I’ve become far too Fate/ savvy, haven’t I?) Update: It seems I was right. Apparently, Miyu was taken in by Kiritsugu in a certain universe, but apparently this is a bunch of spoilers.

Genki na aisatsu was in the back.

This is just getting worse and worse…

So now Kuro’s name is Kuroe (Chloe), huh? Anyways, good riddance, loli fanservice! So long! I won’t miss you one bit!

[doublenuzlocke]

Entry #7: Stellar Flight

“There!”

“I see it, I see it!”

Gold sweated as he pushed the RCS thrusters into use, forcing the Nuzleaf down from their original path. It was a good thing as well, Crystal noted, due to the large bolts of plasma that shot past the location they once were. A quick reorientation to have the engines pushing to their destination saw them speeding towards their aggressors.

The Kanto Flagship, Kanto Military Service Argent, attempted to compensate, the plasma cannons rotating to their current path. Gold reacted swiftly, doing manuvers in a wild fashion that saw the cannons desperately attempting to lock-on. They wouldn’t shoot otherwise, a standard in combat due to the risk of a misfired bolt hitting something important at a later date, the first ones only missing due to Gold’s sudden drop.

Their communication system lit up once more, a crack visible from the last time it had done that. Gold had opted to punch it after their last call to them to surrender, which was likely to be repeated if they opted to respond. Instead, Gold and Crystal opted to ignore the thing and continue their escape from the fleet through the KMS Argent. The fact that they hadn’t just been shot down by now was a testament to Gold’s piloting skills.

They had originally aimed for any stretch of space, the Interplanetary Transport System currently locked down due to their attempts to escape, but had been essentially surrounded. The only vessel that would enable their escape was the KMS Argent due to an act of sabotage by their friend Silver, the shield systems damaged and inoperable as a result. The act of sacrifice haunted Crystal as they fled, but she would focus on the opening first and then deal with that once they had breathing room.

Travelling under the KMS Argent was a worrying affair as the ship was large: they did not know if someone would manage to restore the shield and essentially trap them inside, but the plasma cannons could not get a clear enough aim with Gold’s wild piloting. They know the other battleships wouldn’t hesitate to open fire, however, so wouldn’t have wasted time even if the looming threat of restored shielding was present.

“Almost… almooost…” Gold muttered to himself as the other side of the flagship moved from overhead to behind them. Crystal gripped the console as they barely managed to escape the Argents shields became a solid force once more and Gold activated the Relativity Drive, a fool’s errand outside the ITS due to the dangers of rogue debris as the Mauville Star would attest, but at this point they were just plain desperate to escape.

Gold stopped it after a short period, before changing directions and reactivating it. Crystal knew he was trying to prevent any chance of following them as he repeated the tactic several times, but couldn’t help but wonder…

“Gold… where do we go now?”

Gold looked at her, his expression clear in that he hadn’t put much mind to it. The situation was bad: every planet and fleet would be looking for them, and the outcome of their being alive or dead didn’t really matter to them. After a few more random direction changes, Gold finally slumped into his seat.

“…I dunno. This situation has my head messed up,” he brought his hands to his face and let out a sigh.

Crystal, meanwhile, brought her legs up and hooked her arms around them as she processed the last few hours. Everyone was gone: Silver had merely been the last, his sabotage the result of his being backed into a corner and giving his friends the opportunity to escape. Green, Blue, Kotone, everyone else had already been taken. She attempted to hold it back, barely able to prevent tears actually escaping her eyes rather than pooling around them, and was mostly successful though a soft sniffle did escape.

She and Gold were the last ones. That was all she could think about.

“Damn it… not now…”

Crystal looked at Gold, who seemed to be focusing on a screen she couldn’t see from her side. He turned it off before moving his chair around and standing up.

“I need to check something out, before we keep going. We should have plenty of time before the fleet come about, but can you keep an eye out for them?”

Crystal could only nod as she watched him leave, his eyes not meeting hers as he left. An oddity, as Gold was the type of person who would always try and look another in the eyes. The few times he didn’t would tend toward his focus on something else, like keeping the Nuzleaf from falling apart mid-transit.

She hummed to herself and looked toward the window, keeping an eye out as asked. Yet as she watched the endless abyss, a feeling crept up her back. A glance away, toward the monitor Gold had been focused on, only fed the feeling and prompted her to check it out herself. Crystal pushed up and moved around the divider, coming to the monitor and the readout upon it.

“All Systems Normal.”

…but, then what was Gold so concerned about?

The feeling grew, and Crystal finally recognised it for what it was: dread. She looked toward the door Gold had left through, before following him at a brisk walk. It soon became a jog, and then a full blown sprint as she crossed the small vessel, taking two steps at a time as she entered the lower portion and saw it.

Gold, inside an Ejection Pod, looking down to the floor.

“Gold?!”

He didn’t look up, not even as Crystal cleared the room within a second and was upon the pod, attempting to open it, her nails clawing at the airtight seal and locking mechanism. Gold, however, kept it sealed.

“I was hoping to get out before you realised…”

She looked at him with betrayal, his words stinging her, yet she pressed on in her attempts to remove him from the pod. A frustrated growl escaped her as she gave up her attempts to pry and instead opted to attempt to kick the large steel door in.

“Crystal…”

She ignored him, her kicks turning to punches as she grew more agitated. She needed him. He was the only one left that she knew… Everyone else was gone…

Tears welled up in her eyes as she continued to punch at the pod.

“Crystal… look at me…”

She glanced at him as she reared up another punch, and that took all the wind from her sails. Her body relaxed, not from relief but from shock, as she learned why he had attempted to slip away from her, when she thought him to be the only one left.

Because he wasn’t.

Two purple eyes stared back at Crystal, filling her with absolute dread. As she began to focus, she began to notice that he was starting to sweat, and brought her hand up to his face to try and bring him some comfort, only for her hand to be intercepted by the inches thick transparent steel. Instead, she lay it flat on the separating barrier.

“When…” “Since the Outbreak.”

That surprised Crystal. The Outbreak happened relatively two hours ago, and those infected had immediately been taken. So Gold had been fighting something that had taken even the strongest almost immediately? How could he have…

“I could leave you alone,” He answered her unasked question with a grin, but she knew it hollow. Instead, fear clouded his eyes: he had resisted it, but was now losing the ability to keep his mind his own.

He brought his own hand up and placed it opposite her own on the transparent steel, his skin slowly turning pale as he kept fighting to the bitter end. Crystal couldn’t watch, closing her eyes and bringing her forehead to the barrier as she tried desperately to block out the reality that she had lost him.

“I’ve set the autopilot to randomly jump from here. That should keep you safe, until you can use that nerd brain of yours to figure a way to save everyone.” A more genuine smile graced his lips, although Crystal did not see it.

“Gold… please…”

“Don’t worry, Crys. We’ve gotten out of worse scrapes than this, ain’t we? Outran a tribe, then their fleet after I accidentally got hitched,” he let out a sigh of apparent contentment, “good times. Horrifying, but good.”

A smile couldn’t help but crack on her face, brief and fleeting but there all the same. Only Gold could crack a joke as he was consumed, a fact that reasserted itself as Gold suddenly hunched over in pain, clutching his head and hissing at pain, as if it would flee at the challenge.

“I’ll be waiting… Crystal…” he smiled, a small smile not marred by self-doubt like it usually was when he had one covering his face normally. Crystal opened her eyes to see it, one last visage, before his hand pushed the button that ejected his pod. Within seconds of its release, the Nuzleaf once again began randomly jumping around the galactic quadrant to avoid pursuit.

Not that Crystal would notice. She merely looked at the empty tube that once contained Gold. His pod would emit a distress signal, bringing any nearby vessels to it where he would be taken on board. At that, she could sigh in relief: he would not die, at the very least not physically.

She didn’t know how long she stood staring, fixated on a piece of metal inside a larger piece of metal in a vacuum; minutes, hours, possibly even days. But by the time she pried herself away, she had decided on a course of action: she would locate one of the old war science stations and try and access some of the computers. Hopefully, the old systems would help her discern how the Outbreak occurred, and how to go about destroying it at the source.

Steeling herself, she re-entered the cockpit and sat in her pilots seat, bringing it forward from Gold’s sitting position (something she knew would annoy him once she got him back), and locked in coordinates. There would be a facility in the Dash Cluster, where she could at least get documentation and the last known coordinates of another facility. Once she did that, she’d figure out where to go from there.

But she knew what she had to do. She would not let anything stop her, even her old friends, yet neither would she see them come to harm. What had them all wouldn’t see them harmed either, as it needed them to survive and grow. A false growth, parasitic and eternally hungry, one she would stop.

No matter what she had to do, the Mew-2 Virus would be stopped.

[so-writing]

Digital Get Down - Valter Skarsgard

Terrible title, ridiculously good NSYNC song. 

I’m feeling a little weird about posting this because it’s totally possible he’ll see it, but fuck it, we’re all anonymous here! 

This is the first request for another brother and I didn’t plan to write multiple parts but it really got away from me. Not sure how I feel about it so far, you guys be the judge. 

-

“Someone made you famous, Paige.”

“What?”

I looked up from my book and over at my roommate sitting on the couch scrolling through her phone. 

“That thing you tweeted this morning about having the weekend off work had one other like when I first saw it, it now has 307.”

“Excuse me? I don’t even have 307 followers. Show me.”

Closing my book, I hopped off the chair and joined her on the couch. The tweet had 307 likes and 8 retweets. I had gained a few new followers as well. 

“You went a little viral, can I come when you move out to LA and start selling skinny tea on Instagram?” 

Several hours and six or seven shots of vodka later, I was laying in bed after a night out with friends. Randomly remembering the tweet, I grabbed my phone from the bedside table and opened the Twitter app. 

Who had interacted with my tweet that it got that much attention? I normally got little to no action on Twitter, so this was different. 

A lot of the likes were just random people, there were a few verified checks but most of them were joke accounts. Nothing really stuck out. 

Valter Skarsgård liked your Tweet

Except that.

Throwing the blankets from my body, I stumbled out of bed and clumsily ran to wake my roommate. 

“Anna!” I pounded my fists on the door, “Anna it was fuckin a Skarsgard!” 

“Jesus Paige, you are drunk,” she shouted through the door, “go to bed!” 

Ignoring her, I started jiggling the knob until she grew irritated enough to open the door to tell me to fuck off.

“Wait!” I put my hand up before she could say anything and shoved my phone at her. “Look at this! Look at this!”

“Well damn, he retweeted it too, that’s probably where all the likes came from. He has a decent sized following. I wonder how he found it in the first place?” 

“You should send him a message.”

“I think the fuck not. He’d probably ignore it, I’m sure he gets a ton of messages from random girls.” 

“No, you should definitely send him a message because he followed you too. You have your Instagram posted on Twitter right? I’m checking that too.” 

We had moved into her room and were sitting on her bed. I panicked as she combed through my social media. 

I had been following Valter on both Instagram and Twitter for over a year. I watched his streams when I could but never commented in his chat. I liked his tweets and photos on Instagram but never attempted to interact with him. 

He’s a Swedish celebrity and I’m a random girl that lives on the other side of the world. I always assumed we’d never have any contact, just like all of the other famous people I follow on social media. 

“You have a new follow request. You should decide whether you want to accept or not.” 

The devious look on her face made me tense as I looked to see who the request was from. 

When I saw, I instantly hit confirm.

“Fuck, maybe I should send him a message.” 

“I mean, I’ll be pissed if you don’t. Don’t do it tonight though, you’re still drunk and will send something stupid. Wait until tomorrow morning.”

Sleep came easily and to my surprise, I didn’t wake up feeling as hungover as expected. I went about my usual morning routine and cleaned up the apartment a little bit, purposely avoiding all social media for fear of… I’m not sure what exactly. 

It was still very much a surprise that Valter Skarsgard knew I even existed. 

Anna had left for work, which meant I would have to find the courage to actually send the message that I would probably write and then erase at least ten times. She was right though, if I didn’t at least try to contact him, I’d be regretting it later. 

“Here we go, you think I can do this Giz?” 

Gizmo, my cat, rubbed against my legs and meowed loudly.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” 

Upon opening the instagram app, I saw a notification for a message. I thought nothing of it, Anna and I were always sending stuff to each other through direct messaging. 

The message was not from Anna.

“Funny tweet. Cute cat.” 

Holy shit. Valter had messaged me first and he had looked at my photos, because instagram was the only place Gizmo was posted. 

“Thanks. Yours are cute too. I’ve seen them on your stream a few times.” 

His reply was instant.

“You watch my streams? I hope you enjoy them.” 

“I do, you’re very entertaining.”

“Thanks, I’d hope so, it is how I make my money after all.” 

I wasn’t sure how to continue the conversation. If I started asking him about acting, he might get the wrong idea. I decided to go with what I had been thinking since last night.

“So, not to be rude or anything, but I’m curious… Why did you reach out to me?” 

Usually when you start a sentence with ‘not to be rude’ you’re about to be rude as fuck and I had forgotten that until a second after I sent the message. 

This time, his response wasn’t as quick. Seven minutes passed and I started to get nervous that I’d ruined it and he’d never get back to me. 

Refusing to let myself get worked up over something so stupid and small, I didn’t even fucking know the guy, I put my phone in my purse and decided to grab some lunch.

The taco place I wanted to get food from was a short walk away and I forced myself to only think of what kind of tacos I was going to order. 

It was once I had already placed, received and was seated a in a small corner booth with the tacos in front of me that my hands began to sweat. I needed to check my phone. He might have just been busy and unable to get to his phone.

“I stumbled across your Twitter and liked what you were posting. I’m not really sure, I just felt social I guess. I can fuck off if you want?” 

“No, I don’t want that at all. It was just completely unexpected. I’m glad you did though.”

“Weirdly, me too. I never do this kind of thing. Do you mind if we talk in a different way, though? I get so many bullshit messages that I lose track of actual conversations on here.”

We talked through iMessage for the rest of the day about mostly surface level stuff. He’d given me an email instead of a phone number, insisting that he was sure I didn’t have bad intentions but he still had to look out for himself.

Anna and I were sitting in the living room watching TV while I texted with Valter. 

“You’ve really been talking to baby Skarsgard all day? This isn’t some kind of alternate universe?”

“I cannot confirm or deny anything, but as far as I know, I’m pretty sure all of this actually happened.”

“You know he reached out because he thinks you’re hot, right?” 

“I’m not sure about that.”

“Paige, really?! Your location is on both your instagram and Twitter. He didn’t message a random girl halfway around the world because he liked her tweets and thought she had a sparkling personality.”

“He’s famous in his country! I think he’d have no trouble finding a hookup on his side of the Atlantic.”

“I’m not saying he didn’t like what you posted, I’m sure he did. I’m saying that he looked at your profile picture and probably thought you were attractive so he requested you on instagram and confirmed his thought that you were attractive so he messaged you. I’m also not saying he’s trying to hook up with you or anything, but I am saying that he messaged you because you’re hot. Ask him.” 

“I’m not doing that.”

“I will then.” 

Anna lunged across the couch and snatched my phone before I could react. 

“Anna please don’t!” 

She was quick and made it to the bathroom, locking the door behind her, before I could catch her. 

“Seriously, please don’t, I don’t want to him to stop talking to me.”

“Why do you care so much? You said yourself the conversation has been pretty basic and that it would probably just drop off in a day or two.” 

I didn’t have a good response. I didn’t want him to stop talking to me because I liked the attention but ultimately it wouldn’t matter because we would eventually, probably sooner than later, lose touch.

“Fine, I don’t care. Ask him whatever you want.” 

Giving up, I went back into the living room, dropped onto the couch and waited for her to return from embarrassing me.

Several minutes passed. I muted the TV and listened to what should have been silence. Anna was in the bathroom still, but she was talking to someone.

The door opened a moment later and she held my phone above her. 

“Ok, I’m going to sit down with Paige and you tell me what you think.” 

A shiver ran down my spine and my eyes went wide when she sat and I finally saw the screen. 

If it hadn’t been clear to me before, it was now. I was looking at FaceTime between Anna, myself and Valter Skarsgard. 

“So what do you think? Is Paige pretty?” 

He must have been sitting at his computer, because the background of the chat was what you saw when you watched his livestream.

He ran the hand that wasn’t holding the phone through his blonde hair and then across his face, a smile visible on his lips.

“Yeah, she’s pretty.” 

[almostviki]

Loop

Pairings: None Genre: Is this angst? Idk if it is or not Warnings: Death mentions, non-graphic mentions of violence/gore (descriptions of injury), spooky ghost talk  Summary: Logan hasn’t seen another human being in three years. Then Virgil moves in next door, and Logan is forced to confront his loneliness head-on, whether he likes it or not.  Notes: I know Halloween isn’t for a few days but I go back to school next week so happy Halloween everyone! This AU is so elaborate and I’m so invested now lmao. This is like 7.4k, jsyk so like, super long

Read on Ao3 Here

10 Logan steps out of the elevator. He lives alone on this floor; nobody else has been willing to live up here since the “hauntings” began. The statistical probability of ghosts is so low that Logan refuses to let himself be caught up in the hysteria. The flickering lights and shaking walls don’t deter him. The building has faulty lighting after all, and a weak foundation besides, and this apartment is centrally located to everywhere he needs to go in the city. As far as he’s concerned it’s just a normal apartment building with normal rooms, and the whereabouts of its other tenants are unimportant to him.    He walks towards his apartment and notices another person. He stops short. He’s about average size, wearing an oversized hoodie and large headphones. Maybe a student trying to find cheap rent. This place is less expensive than the dorms the city university provides. The guy looks in his direction, but his eyes completely skip over Logan, which is fine. He doesn’t want to make conversation anyway. They disappear into their respective apartments with a creak and a click of the lock, and the hallway is empty once more.

9 Logan is in the elevator. There are two people in it with him, a bubbly guy with a cardigan and a pompous-looking man with too much styling gel in his hair. They don’t pay him any mind, which is fine with Logan. He’s always been bad at small talk. The doors open and Logan is back on his floor. The other two follow him down the hall.    "This place looks like a haunted house,“ says the one with the cardigan, and the other groans as if the statement is an old and tired gag.    "You say that about every place we go,” he bemoans, and the one with the cardigan shrugs.

   "Actually, there is a persistent rumor that this area is inhabited by some sort of sentient supernatural phenomenon,“ Logan interjects. "That’s why the population of this floor is meager, to say the least.”    They both jump and turn to look at him as if realizing for the first time he’s there.    "I- how did-“    "I’m Logan. I live on this floor. Would I be correct in saying you are here to visit this hall’s only other inhabitant, my neighbor?”    "Virgil?“    "We have not yet been acquainted.”    "Oh, well, we moved in here a few days ago. With Virgil. I’m Patton and this is my friend Roman.“ Patton looks unsure how to carry on the conversation as if he hasn’t had to introduce himself to people in a long time. "We all moved in together. It’s strange we haven’t seen you yet.”    "I’m away at work most of the day. I’m also busy with classes.“    They lapse into silence. Logan reaches his own door and Roman and Patton stop in front of Virgil’s.    "I guess we’ll be seeing you around, Logan,” Roman said, sounding somehow harsh even though Logan was sure he hadn’t done anything to offend them. They’d barely had a conversation.    "I suppose,“ he said and turned the key in his apartment. Three neighbors? What a hassle. He far preferred being alone.    "You should stop by sometime,” Patton says. “It gets lonely around here.”    "I hadn’t noticed,“ Logan says, voice a bit tighter than he intended. The walls of the apartment building groan. Patton’s eyes widen and he looks around nervously. Roman opens his mouth to speak but Logan turns away and goes into his own apartment.    He isn’t lonely. He isn’t. He’s busy, that’s all.    The walls stop groaning.

8 Logan stands at the door to Virgil’s apartment. He promised Patton he’d come by today. They discovered a few weeks ago that they both have a love of classics and Patton had insisted he come over to see his collection. He takes the detour across the hall and knocks on the door of what he still thinks of as Virgil’s apartment, and Patton answers, big smile in place.    Their apartment is the same size as his, but their apartment feels homier, more lived in. Patton has a bookshelf on the far wall of the living room, and they spend hours going over the books in it. Patton pulls out Ulysses and starts flipping through it.    "You’ve read Ulysses? It’s the height of literary pretention.”    "Oh, trust me,“ Virgil says, appearing out of nowhere to flop down next to Patton. "We have a lot of free time.”    "Do you?“ Logan eyes them suspiciously. "Virgil, I thought you were a student at the university.”    Virgil blinks. “I was. I…dropped out. I wasn’t that great at it.”    There’s more to this story than Virgil is saying, but Logan isn’t one for prying. Instead, he fixes his gaze on Patton.    "And what do you do?“    "Me? Oh…a bit of this and that.”    "Hmm.“ He drops the subject.    Logan browses through the shelves, running over titles hoping to find one he hadn’t read before. His fingers stop on The Kraus Project and pull it out, turning it over in his hands.    "That’s mine, actually,” Virgil says when Logan shows him the cover. “Roman recommended it.”    "Roman did?“ Roman reads? he didn’t say and started flipping through the pages. "I read this a while ago. The narrative style is dense but not unreadable.”    "Really?“ Virgil perks up. "What did you think of it?”    "Well, I thought that-“ Logan’s brain stops. He stumbles over his own words, tries again. "I think his criticism of digital culture, particularly in-” Like a computer unable to find a file, his thoughts freeze, and rewind.    "Logan, are you okay?“ Patton’s eyebrows are knit in concern, and he tries to say he’s fine but his mouth freezes around the words. Did he ever finish The Kraus Project? Of course he did. It never takes him more than a week to finish a book even at his absolute busiest, and he’d bought it…when had he bought it? Randomly, he starts flipping pages, speeding through the essays until he reaches somewhere in the middle when the words stop looking familiar. But he had to have read past this part, right? He remembers reading it, remembers buying it on a Tuesday, he was coming home from work at the bookstore, he was holding his page with his right hand and shifted the book to his left to open the door of his apartment and when he got inside-    "Logan!” Virgil calls, sounding panicked. The walls of the apartment groan. The lights flicker. The book falls from Logan’s hand and he is dissolving, dissolving, dissolving-

7 Logan is sitting on Patton’s couch. It is Patton’s couch, Logan’s been informed, as he’s the one who insists they bring it everywhere. They move around a lot, but they’re hoping to stay here because they like this part of the city.    "It’s very central,“ Virgil said once. "Easy know where you are.”    "Exactly,“ Logan agreed.    Virgil is sitting next to him now, and they’re sharing earbuds as Virgil thumbs through his phone and Logan skims through documents on his computer, searching for a particular article he needs for a reference. It’s easiest to exist like this with Virgil, simply taking up the same space but not speaking. He’s spent a lot of time at their apartment lately-more than he’s spent at his own.    It could be hours or minutes that pass, but after a while, Virgil sits up and removes his earbud from his ear.    "Do you believe in ghosts, Logan?”    "No.“ The answer is easy. "It’s highly unlikely.”    "Why do you say that?“ Virgil’s voice is careful, although Logan can’t imagine why. The statistical probability of ghosts is so low there’s no point wasting the thought. The idea that the spirit of something could be tethered to a physical artifact, the implication that living things even have souls, is too metaphysical to fully be determined through any degrees of natural science. Logan tells Virgil this, and Virgil’s mouth presses into a line. At first, Logan thinks he’s going to argue, but he doesn’t. He just shrugs and puts his earbud back in.    "Okay. I was just wondering.”    Something in his voice is tearing at Logan’s very existence but he says nothing and turns back to his computer. The heat of the laptop is less tangible, the air much thinner.    "Do you believe in ghosts, Virgil?“    Virgil lets out a breath that sounds like it’s been building for a hundred years. "I wish I didn’t.”

6 Logan steps out of the elevator. He’s increasingly tired these days and he can’t figure out why. He doesn’t think he’s working more than usual, but sometimes the stress gets to him. The increasingly frequent power outages aren’t helping on that front.    Roman knocks on his door a while later, shuffling awkwardly. He doesn’t talk to Roman much; he gets the feeling Roman doesn’t like him. Every time they’re in the same room Roman’s jaw sets in distaste. Logan almost peers around him to see if Patton is behind Roman egging him on, but he manages to refrain.    "Yes?“ he asks, not opening the door wider to let him inside.    Roman holds out a book. The Kraus Project. "Virgil said you’d mentioned this book before, but that you never finished it. A pity, it seems like something someone of your…sort would enjoy.”    "My sort?“ Logan takes the book and flips through it. The book is familiar, tugging at something in the corner of his mind, but it isn’t pressing enough for him to mind it.    "You know…” Roman waves his hand dismissively. “English teacher types.”    Logan resists the urge to immediately tell Roman to leave. “I’ll have you know I teach European history, not English of any kind.”    "Don’t you work in a bookstore?“    "Yes, that is correct, although there is little correlation between my chosen profession and my part-time job.”    "I- okay.“ Roman takes a steadying breath as if to stop himself from continuing. He looks almost pained. "Do you like working there?”    "Yes. I do. I appreciate the effort of my coworkers and the compendium of knowledge that surrounds me. Why?“    "No reason. I was just…wondering.” Roman seems to bite back more words, and he turns to leave. “Finish that book, alright?”    "Alright,“ Logan says by way of goodbye and closes the door. He puts the book on his counter and ignores the shiver that climbs up his spine. He’ll try to start on it tonight. If only he could remember where he’d stopped.

5 Logan is sitting at his desk, typing an essay. It’s habit to have the television on in the background while he works if only so he can glance at it every once in a while to feign interest in current events. Even better, when the sun sets, the TV provides enough illumination so as to eliminate the need to turn on a lamp. Logan is only absently paying attention to it, but the morning discussions on news and politics shift to daily reports, one of them being the baseball game the previous day. Logan looks up at the TV just as they show a clip of the game’s winning home run. The crack of the bat hitting the baseball echoes in his ears like a gunshot. Logan’s vision goes white. He shoots out of his desk and turns the TV off, the image of the bat swinging wildly still looping before his eyes.    He hates baseball.    It takes him until he’d calmed down to realize that the power has gone out. Wearily, he walked back to his desk to grab his phone and uses the flashlight to rummage around for candles.    There’s a knock at his door. He keeps his flashlight on when he goes to open the door and finds Virgil standing there, covering Logan’s phone with his hand and hissing angrily at him.    ”-Trying to blind me?“ Virgil winces and blinks hard, trying to extinguish the lights in his eyes. Logan fumbles to turn the light off.    "Apologies, Virgil. Do you need something?”    Virgil sticks his hands in his pockets and angles around Logan to see into his apartment. “I was gonna check if you were okay, but based on your miniature Yankee Candle over there I’d say you’re fine.”    "I am. Are you three alright?“ Logan is surprised to find that he cares. It’s been so long since he’s had neighbors, so long since he’s had friends.    "Oh, yeah. We’re doing just great. I personally love the dark,” Virgil says and smiles. In the candlelight, Virgil’s face changes slightly, morphing and twisting just out of Logan’s focus. It feels a bit like water filling Logan’s lungs.    With a jolt, Logan realizes Virgil is still speaking.    "-and invite you to wait at our place until the power comes back on.“ Virgil rolls his eyes. "I told him you’ve lived here a long time and you’re used to it, but if you don’t want to upset him I’ll make up some excuse.”    Logan weighs his options. He could stay here in his own apartment and wait until the power comes on, which wouldn’t take more than an hour. Or he could go across to hall to Virgil’s apartment, which is somehow more lived-in than any room he’s ever been in, despite the fact they’ve only lived here for a few weeks. His laptop still had charge; he has essays to write, papers to grade. Yet Patton’s words twist in his chest, pulling him to the door across the hall: It gets lonely around here. But Logan isn’t lonely. He’s…he’s…    "No, it’s alright. I’ll come over. It’s more efficient for us to share light sources anyway. I’d rather not waste candles.“    Virgil’s eyebrow raises, and his lips quirk in a small smile. "Alright. Come on then. Patton was trying to bake something when I left and if I’m not there we won’t have an apartment by the time he’s done.”    Logan follows him, closing his apartment behind him. He starts to walk away without locking it, but a burst of fear shoots through him and he yanks the key from his pocket. Rationally, he knows no one would get in. No one ever comes to this floor except the four of them. He can’t be too careful, though. There are some risks he just isn’t willing to take.

4 Logan steps out of the elevator. He’s never been so tired. His whole body aches as if he’s been running nonstop for days.   His own thoughts have started to twist on themselves, unraveling at the seams. It occurs to him to go to Virgil’s apartment, but he doesn’t want to bother any of them. The hallways groan sickeningly as if the building itself is sliding on its foundation. The sound of small animals and bugs line the halls. A door opens down the hall and Virgil’s voice calls, “Logan?”    "Go away,“ he hisses, but he has to walk toward Virgil to get into his own apartment. Halfway there, he stumbles, and Virgil catches him, lifting up his head to examine his face.    "You’re not well,” he declares, and slings Logan’s arm over his shoulder. They end up in Virgil’s apartment and Logan doesn’t even have the energy to complain. He collapses on the couch and cradles his head in his hands.    Voices whisper just out of earshot, and Logan can barely pay enough attention to make out snippets of what they’re saying. Roman’s voice is insistent, growing increasingly upset, and Patton’s tone is more serious than Logan has ever heard it. He catches his name somewhere in the hush of whispers and his heart leaps into his throat. He hopes they’re not fighting over him. He’d rather suffer alone than cause fights.    "Hey,“ Virgil says, his voice nearby. Logan opens his eyes and glances up to see Virgil offering him a glass of water. "Drink this.”    Logan accepts the water gratefully and takes small sips. Virgil sits down near him on the couch, but not close enough to suffocate him.    "I told Patton and Roman to be quieter,“ Virgil tells him. "It didn’t seem like the noise was helping.”    "I’m sorry,“ Logan feels the need to say. "I didn’t mean to incite conflict.”    "You didn’t incite anything. This was a long time coming.“    "Oh. If I may ask, what is the argument about?”    "Honesty,“ Virgil says, and that’s all he volunteers. Logan sips his water and doesn’t ask any more questions.    A few minutes later, Roman storms down the hallway and out the door of the apartment. Patton follows behind him, looking similarly irate, but he manages to collect himself when he sees Logan wan and exhausted on the couch.    "Hey, Logan. Virgil told us you were feeling a bit under the weather.”    "I’m feeling better now,“ Logan assures him, and he is. Now that he isn’t standing on his feet he feels more centered, and his thoughts are quieting. "It’s probably best I return to my own apartment now.”    “No.” Virgil and Patton speak at the same time, their voices similarly insistent. They make eye contact, and Patton clears his throat nervously.    "At least spend the night here to make sure you’re alright. You still look pale, and I’d feel terrible if we sent you back to your apartment alone when you were sick.“    "I don’t want to impose.”    "It’s not imposing if we’re offering, sport!“    Logan looks between Patton, whose encouraging smile is a thousand times brighter than the apartment’s cheap lighting, and Virgil, who’s nervously chewing his lip next to him on the couch, and tells himself that he’s doing this for them, not himself.    "Alright,” he says. “I’ll stay.”    Patton claps his hands together excitedly. “Terrific! I’ll get the spare blankets out of the closet!” And in an instant, he’s gone. Virgil rises from the couch and slips his phone into his pocket.    "I’d better go after Roman.“    "Will you be alright going alone?” Logan asks.    Virgil raises an eyebrow in challenge. “It’s broad daylight.”    "I’m aware of the time,“ Logan snaps, then takes a breath, steadies himself. "It’s just…things happen.”    Virgil’s expression softens a bit. “Trust me. Nothing’s gonna happen to me.”    Logan, for some reason, believes him.

3 Logan steps out of the elevator and wants to collapse on the floor of the hallway. He’s gotten worse over the past few days, much worse, but he hasn’t let the others notice. He doesn’t answer when they knock, he doesn’t stop at their apartment after work. Thinking of them seems to make the pain in his chest grow, and so he cuts them out. He’s eliminating variables, is all. He was alone once. He could do it again.    He drags himself to his apartment and fumbles with the key. It falls to the ground and Logan almost wants to give up and fall on his knees in the hallway. But he can’t do that. He can’t let his weakness overcome him like this. He summons the strength to pick up his key and make his way into his apartment, dumping his bag and books by the door as he stumbles in.    Logan doesn’t remember falling asleep, but when he comes back to himself he’s standing in his bedroom, and walls careening sickeningly around him. He presses the palms of his hands into his eyes and makes his way toward the kitchen, passing by the open bathroom door as he goes, then pauses, backpedals, finds his face in the mirror.    He’s pale. And not an ordinary pale. A sickly, unnatural pale, as if all the blood’s been sucked from his body. It reminds him of a skull, and that thought is so disturbing he actually stumbles back, averting his eyes from his own image. The sound of a baseball bat echoes in his head again, the hard crack! of a metal bat hitting not a ball but something more solid, something that hurts. Logan’s headache intensifies. His body feels less and less like his own.    Do you believe in ghosts? Virgil had asked him, and of course he said no because he didn’t. There was no evidence of ghosts, no proof, even considering it was asinine…    Bile rises in the back of Logan’s throat and he swallows it back down, continuing his trek to the kitchen. His eyes land on the book Roman handed him weeks again, The Kraus Project. Funny, he’d totally forgotten about it. Maybe that’s why he’d never finished it: the book is completely forgettable. He picks it up and thumbs through it, ignoring the shaking of his fingers, trying to find a starting point. A piece of paper slides out from one of the pages and lands on the ground. Maybe an old receipt, or a bookmark, Logan figures, and bends down to pick it up.    When he sees the words, his brain freezes, rewinds. It doesn’t make sense. On the paper, printed in full color, is a picture of him. Below it, in bold, is his name, and below that, a headline: ‘Third Victim in a String of Violent Break-Ins Found Dead Thursday’. Logan goes cold.    The article rattles off details in an orderly fashion, from the time the body was found to the suspected nature of the wounds. “Blunt force trauma to the head,” the article reads. “Found in the entryway of his apartment after he missed a day of classes”. Logan reads the article over and over, scans the picture, looks for anything that can prove this fake, make it seem like someone has tried to play a cruel trick on him. But he can’t find it. He sees the words but the information is cycled out of his head. He has to be misreading it. This has to be a mistake. The person in the photograph isn’t him, the article can’t be about him, none of it can be real because Logan is standing here reading this, he isn’t dead.

2 Logan barges into Virgil’s apartment without knocking. The piece of paper is clenched in his hands, which are shaking so hard he can hardly maintain his grip. No one seems surprised to see him. Virgil is staring at his knees, his face blank. Patton’s face is wracked with guilt as he looks at Logan standing there, breathless. Roman stands to the side, arms crossed, impatient. Logan turns to him now, and with more anger than he can remember feeling in his entire life, spits his accusation.    "Do you think this is a joke?“ Roman doesn’t react, which only makes Logan angrier. "Do you think this is funny?”    The apartment is dead silent. It’s stifling, oppressive. How had he ever lived so long in this quiet?    "I didn’t want to tell you,“ Virgil says, not meeting his eyes. "But Roman insisted wasn’t fair to you.”    "What’s not fair to me?“ Again, there is silence. Logan wants to rip his own hair out. "What are you all hiding from me?”    "Logan,“ Patton starts, voice soft and calm and all wrong. "You’ve been living here a long time, haven’t you?”    "I can hardly see how that’s relevant.“ His words are sharp and poisonous but Patton doesn’t bat an eye.    "How long have you been in this building?”    Logan bristles at the fact that he’s being ignored, but he’s far too tense for riddles and games. “Three years, maybe four. Why does it matter?”    "That newspaper is from about three years ago.“    "I’m aware. I can read.”    "Can you?“ Roman speaks up, and his voice is so emotionally heavy that Logan isn’t sure where to begin picking it apart. "What’s the date on that paper?”    Logan answers through gritted teeth. “November 20, 2014.”    "And what’s today’s date?“    "November 19, 20-” Logan stops, catches himself before he finishes the year. He does the math in his head. He’s lived in this building for three years, so it isn’t 2014 anymore. It can’t be. But that’s today’s date. That’s the date he’s been writing at the top of his papers for weeks, months.    Years.    "Sometimes, um, when a person goes through trauma, they can forget parts of their life.“ Patton is still talking far too slow. Virgil still isn’t looking at him, still picking at threads on his sweatshirt and Logan wishes he would please look up because Virgil is calm, objective. Virgil would stop Patton before he said anything too crazy, anything Logan couldn’t handle. But Virgil doesn’t look up.    "Yes, I’m familiar,” Logan says, even though it didn’t require a response. “Post-traumatic amnesia is particularly common with head wounds.” The phrase 'head wounds’ bounces around his head right next to the words 'blunt-force trauma’.    "And I’m sure it doesn’t escape your knowledge that death would be, generally, very traumatic.“    "I don’t know what you’re implying, but-”    "What’s the last thing you remember?“    Logan swallows and clenches his fists to stop them from shaking. "I don’t see why this information is relevant”    "Logan.“    "No! I don’t know what you’re trying to prove but I’m not the one being interrogated here!” Logan thrust the book in Roman’s direction, trying to turn his helplessness into anger before it completely overwhelmed him. “I know you’re the one who planted that false article and I’ll have you know that it’s as needless as it is sickening, and it’s beyond me what on Earth I did to you that made you feel the need to-”    "What did you do at work today?“    Logan’s brain short circuits. His mouth opens to say something, anything, but the words stick in his mouth and die before they reach his lips. Logan’s thoughts wind backward, unable to find answers to questions that should be simple. Still, Roman persists.    "You’re always grading papers, but for what assignment? Why don’t you ever finish grading those papers, Logan? How many people could possibly be in advanced European history?”    "Roman,“ Patton says quietly. "I think it’s best if you-”    "When was the last time you left this building, Logan? When was the last time you went further than the elevator?“ Roman’s face is red now, too, almost righteous in his stance as he stares Logan down, and Logan isn’t afraid of him but he shrinks from the onslaught of words. He squeezes his eyes shut but he can still see Roman’s eyes burning into him, his voice grating on his nerves like nails on a chalkboard. He’s willing himself to stay together, for his atoms to quiet and leave him whole because he needs to work through this, needs to prove to himself that his fears aren’t true, that this is all a mean-spirited trick because there’s no way that-    "Roman, stop,” Patton says, more forceful now. “This isn’t right.”    Roman turns to him, eyes still alight, and Patton winces slightly at the harshness of his gaze. “What isn’t right is leaving someone to suffer alone when I have the power to save them!”    "Not everyone needs saving, Roman. Sometimes it’s better to just leave things alone.“    "Oh, just like I should’ve left you alone when-”    "Both of you, stop.“ Virgil’s voice is quiet but it echoes through the apartment that seems both bigger and smaller than it did when Logan walked in. Objects flicker around them, like images on a television with bad reception. Logan stands frozen, hardly even daring to breathe. Virgil sighs and pushes his bangs out of his face, then looks over at Patton and Roman with disdain.    "This isn’t helping anything. You’re only going to freak him out more.”    Logan thinks about responding that he isn’t freaked out but Virgil fixes him with a hard stare and the words die in his mouth.    "Logan, you told me you don’t believe in ghosts?“    He knows he’s being walked into a trap but he swallows and nods.    "Would you believe me if I said I had proof?”    "It…it would have to be fairly convincing.“    Virgil gets off the couch and walks further into the apartment and returns with a box. He pulls off two more newspaper pages from under a stack, folded so precisely and delicately it appeared as though they hadn’t been touched in years, and sets them on the coffee table. Patton sucks in a breath and Logan opens his mouth to speak but Virgil, as if he could hear Roman’s mouth opening, shoots him a glare.    "You know there’s a right and a wrong way to do this,” Virgil says, admonishment clear in his tone. “Cruelty doesn’t suit you, Roman, nor you, Patton.”    Patton whimpers and steps back and Roman crosses his arms and turns away.    "Here,“ Virgil says.    Logan leans down to inspect the now unfolded pages, and again, it feels as though his brain is short-circuiting. Instead of his own face, it’s Virgil and Patton’s faces staring up at him from the wrinkled pages. Virgil’s name is printed in block letters under a picture of a smoking car wreck, the date on the picture over a decade past. Patton’s face is marred from the yellowed and cracked pages but Logan can still read the heavy sentiment of the obituary, how he was beloved by his family and classmates, how he’d returned glory to his soccer team, all of it written in the past tense, the date printed in the corner reads 1981 but the face in the picture looks the same as the one in front of him, as if he hasn’t aged, as if he is…    "Why would we keep fake articles of ourselves?” Virgil prompted, lacing his fingers in Logan’s shaking hands and squeezing hard. They were as cold as a corpse. “And you know these aren’t fakes.” Virgil’s face does that twisting thing again when it looks like him but also not at the same time. His skin seems paler, more sallow, the edges of his jacket are stained so so dark and getting darker by the second, the stain spreading as if from an unseen wound. The newspaper clipping in Logan’s hand feels heavy, so heavy, heavy enough to rip his arm from his socket. He’s holding a report of Virgil’s death, he’s holding his own obituary, but he could only be holding his own obituary if-    The statistical probability of ghosts is infinitesimally small. It’s useless to fear monsters that don’t exist, and ghosts don’t exist. Ghostsdon'texistghostsdon'texistghostsdon'texist-

2 Logan steps out of the elevator. Patton and Roman are in there with him. They are partially transparent, their faces blending into the steel doors. Logan looks down at his own hand. It’s also transparent, his skin sallow and pale. His fingers still tingle from Virgil’s handshake. It’s been a long time since he touched anyone.

2 Logan steps out of the elevator. The cobwebs in the corner of the halls are getting bigger. He opens the door to his apartment and dust billows out. The apartment is barren, dark, and dank. He wonders idly where all his stuff has gone, but it’s irrelevant. He has everything he needs.

2 Logan steps out of the elevator. He doesn’t have any work to do. He doesn’t have any time to waste. Time lost all meaning three years ago.

2 Logan steps out of the elevator. The elevator never went anywhere at all. It doesn’t come up this high anymore. Yet still, he returns to it, day after day, with the same blankness, the same meaningless drive.

2 Logan steps out of the elevator. It was a busy day at work. A customer came in demanding a book that wouldn’t be released until the following week, and the coffee shop was running behind, so all the office workers were testy. Logan had tried his best, but there was only so much he could so when no one wanted to listen to his suggestions. Exhausted, he walks towards his apartment, waving an absent hello to the man down the hall leaving for his night shift. He tries to be conscientious, even if the sentiment is empty. He may not be a good friend, but he’s an amicable neighbor. He sticks the key in the lock and finds that the door was already unlocked. Irrelevant, he told himself. I must’ve forgotten this morning. He opens the door.    Everything happens very fast, then.    There’s a man on the other side of the door, tall, hard-faced, remorseless. Logan enters and drops his books in shock. The man turns. Logan is frozen. He can’t reach for his phone. He can’t back out into the hallways.    "Hey kid,“ the man says, his voice like a car engine- rough and mechanical. "Maybe pretend you didn’t see a thing, huh?”    "I- what are you doing in my apartment?“ Logan says dumbly, thoughts whirring like a broken CD player.    And those are his last words. The man grabs him by the shirt and throws him into the wall. His head slams against the drywall and he slumps to the ground, stars popping in front of his eyes. The intruder lifts something long and metal-a baseball bat-high above his head. Before Logan can speak, think, dodge, it comes down. His head explodes in pain. He thinks he screams. His eyes never see the blood because they are already closed, he’s already falling sideways, Logan stands above his body, watching the blood color the walls, the floor, the pages of The Kraus Project, his ringing-phone…

1 He wakes in his apartment, in his bedroom, and he registers that this is the first time he’s truly woken up anywhere in the past three years. His head hurts, but compared to before, this subtle ache is nothing. Even before he opens his eyes he knows he is being watched. He sits up and sees Virgil sitting at his desk in the corner of the room, scrolling through some feed on his phone.    Virgil’s eyes flicker up at the movement, but his expression doesn’t change when he sees Logan is awake.    "How are you feeling?” Virgil asks as if he’s recovering from a cold and not the crushing memory of his own demise.    "I don’t know,“ Logan says, and he doesn’t. He honestly has no idea how he feels. He only knows he can’t think his way out of this one, not this time.    "You’re taking this surprisingly well. At least, apart from your whole freak out last night, but that was warranted.”    "What happened?“    "You destabilized.”    "I don’t-I don’t know what that means.“    Virgil sets his phone down on his knees and leans forward. "It takes a lot of energy to maintain a form like this, to affect objects in the real world. Up until now, your denial has kept you in a partially physical form, but when you realized the truth, you went into shock, and the reality you’d built around yourself dissolved. All the ghost activity, the lights, the noises? Every time something triggers, or almost triggers, the memory of your death, it conflicts with your conviction that you’re alive, and your energy can’t handle that.”    Logan wants so badly to say that that doesn’t make sense, but he doesn’t have the right to question the legitimacy of anything anymore. He feels smaller and weaker than he’s ever felt. Death is the only thing he can’t think his way out of.    "Are you also dead? All three of you?“    "Yeah. That’s why we were so surprised you could see us. I honestly thought you were alive for a while. You’re very corporeal.”    "I- I’m sorry, I don’t follow. How could I die and then not remember it? How can I have no memory of time passing but still talk to you three every day? I don’t-“ Frustration boils in him, but a wave of nausea pushes it back down.    "Easy,” Virgil says. “You’re not ready to manifest anything else right now. But to answer your question, you were caught in a loop.”    "A loop?“    Virgil tsk’s. "Roman is better at explaining this than I am,” he mumbles, then louder adds, “Okay. So if a ghost is a collection of a person’s energy, we can imagine that like a CD. It should play through with no interruptions. So, a ghost on loop is a scratched disk. It’ll reach one part right near the end where it’s scratched, and just keep repeating that part over and over as it tries to figure out how to process a scratched readout. Your death is the scratch. You went into shock and couldn’t process it, so you just repeated the previous day over and over, so you wouldn’t have to deal with it.” He stops suddenly and glances at Logan hesitantly. “Does that make sense?”    "Yes, actually, it does.“ Virgil sags with relief.    "Good. As for the talking to us part: ghosts can enter the loops of other ghosts, but only as much as they’re allowed. That’s why we never went into your apartment. Roman giving you the book, which was deleted from your memory, led to your rising instability which was probably his goal.”    "Is that why he never liked me?“ Logan asks, unsure of what he means by that. Virgil seems to understand because his face becomes impossibly even more serious. He chews his lip, as if debating how to start, or if he should start.    "Patton died in 1981 and looped for seven years. Roman was the one who pulled him out. It was…bad. Really bad. I don’t know the full story but..Patton didn’t take well to being dead. He almost corrupted completely when Roman pulled him out, and Roman blames that on the seven years Patton spent in his delusion. Roman still tries to pull everyone he can out of their loops, but Patton thought you were…happy enough. But when we realized it was you causing the power outages and the shaking in the walls, Roman was afraid you’d become corrupt, so we pulled you out by force.” Virgil is silent for a while before continuing quieter. “I’m sorry about that by the way. Feeling your soul leave your body isn’t great.”    Logan stares at the wall above Virgil’s head. A thousand emotions flutter through him at once and he doesn’t have the knowledge or energy to identify and deal with them all. He wants to lie back down and go to sleep, and never wake up, and be dead if he was going to be dead. Was that all this had been? Three altruistic ghosts making him their pet project? Would they move out once they decided he wasn’t going to go feral? Would he have to keep living in this apartment, in the apartment he’d died in, and keep being irrevocably and undeniably lonely? An ache in his chest starts up to match the one in his head, and he considers ignoring it, but he’s tired of being in pain.    "Was that all this was?“ he asks. "You pulled me out because of Roman’s hero complex?” As he says it, he braces himself for the answer, prepares to hold himself together until Virgil leaves. But Virgil’s eyes widen, and his eyebrows disappear into his hair.    "No! No, that’s not it at all. I would- we would- loop or not, we care about you. Even Patton would’ve given in eventually. Every day you appeared over again in the elevator…hurt. I wasn’t sure how much more of it I could take.“    It wasn’t much, but it was declaration he could believe.        "Alright,” Logan says, brushing his hair from his face.    "Alright?“ Virgil asks, voice an octave higher than normal.    "I don’t know what else to say. This is so far beyond me.” The crack! of the baseball bat plays again, like a video on repeat, and Logan finds he is milliseconds away from hysterics. “This is so far beyond me.”    "Well, look at the bright side,“ Virgil says, his voice even and low. "You’ve got as much time as you need to figure it out.”

0    Logan sat on Patton’s couch, surfing articles on his laptop while Patton and Virgil tried to bake something in the kitchen. The mechanics of both activities were lost on him, but he learned not to question how things work.    "I no longer even own this laptop. The intruder stole all my valuables,“ Logan insisted, staring at the laptop that miraculously had not vanished with the rest of his illusion. His apartment had reverted back to the dusty, dank, abandoned hole that it was, along with the rest of the hall, and the rest of the building, which, as it turned out, did have faulty wiring and a bad foundation and was scheduled for demolition within the next six months. What Logan couldn’t figure out is why his laptop wasn’t dying with his denial.    "I mean, it’s not your real laptop,” Roman pointed out. “It’s a psychic manifestation of your laptop.”    "Then how is it connected to the internet? How am I getting real news?“    "Psychic wifi?” Virgil suggested. Logan glared at him and he grinned.    "Don’t question it, Logan,“ Roman said exasperatedly. "I have no idea how you, a ghost, sitting on a ghost couch in a ghost room, is using a ghost laptop. I don’t want to know. I can’t have an existential crisis when I no longer exist, Logan.”    So Logan cut back on his questions, Roman worked on his temper, and Patton was very excited that things were finally settling into place.    "Roman hasn’t had to deal with a newbie since 2006,“ Patton said once, nearly vibrating with excitement. "I’d forgotten how entertaining it was. You should’ve seen him when we met Virgil.”    "Virgil was too nonchalant about being dead,“ Roman complained. "He didn’t care at all about the gravity of the situation.”    "What gravity?“ Virgil asked, muted old resentment burning in his eyes. "I’m already dead. What could possibly be more distressing than that?”    Not much, Logan was finding out. He didn’t appear daily in the elevator anymore, which raised quite a few more questions, all of which Virgil denied looking into.    "I know you’re like, a smart guy,“ Virgil told him. "But trust me. It’s better if you don’t think about it too much. Move forward.”    "Until when?“ Logan asked, not even bothering to hide his upset.    "Until there’s nowhere else to go.”    So they went, the four of them, slowly, carefully.    Logan never finished The Kraus Project. It wasn’t worth the read anyway. He was still overly-conscientious of locking doors, despite the fact that the building was condemned and they were ghosts who could neither die nor accumulate material possessions. The others never said anything about his locks and keys, and even though they could easily bypass them they all went through the effort of unlocking and re-locking every single one. He still couldn’t stand baseball, still couldn’t deal with the sound of metal slamming against a heavy object, but soon he wasn’t shaking apart, literally or metaphorically. Soon, dying seemed like the past, rather than the constantly-looming present.    Five months later, the building went down. Logan watched from the sidewalk as the wrecking ball laid the building to waste.    "Where to now?“ Virgil asked, pulling up a map of the US.    "How about Nevada? We’ve never been to Nevada,” Patton suggested    "You hate the heat,“ Roman reminded him, looking at the decimated apartment building with mild distaste.    "Well, what about New Mexico?”    Roman made a disapproving sound. “You’re getting even worse.”   Virgil, hiding his smile behind his notes, looked up at Logan. “What do you think? Where do you wanna go?”    Logan tried and failed to hide his shock. “Me?”    "Who else?“ Virgil said at the same time Patton said, "Of course! Did you think we’d leave you here? Don’t be ridiculous, Logan.”    Against his will, a warm swirl started forming in Logan’s chest. He cleared his throat and adjusted his glasses. “I see. Well then, if you’re looking to escape the heat, I’d suggest going to Montana.”    "Montana?“ Roman looked as if his heart was about to burst.    "Small population sparsely spread out, plenty of older and unused buildings- it’s the perfect hiding spot.”    "Also a lot of ghost bears,“ Patton piped in.    "There’s no such thing as ghost bears, Patton.” Logan admonished.    Virgil choked on his gum. “Are you actually kidding me right now?”    "No, I’m with Encyclopedia Brown,“ Roman said, voice wavering in misery. "I think I have the authority to say I’ll believe it when I see it.”

[secretlynestaarcheron]

Wrong Number Pt. 9 // Fanfic

Modern Au // Nessian (+Inner Circle)

I think I’ve figured you out 

Nesta peeled her eyes away from her computer where she had been searching Amarantha for the last couple of hours. Her eyes scanned the text before glancing up at the clock. 5 am. She had been working on this for the whole night. 

Figured me out? That’s a creepy text to send someone at 5 in the morning. 

She pulled back the blanket she must of grabbed sometime during the night and made her way to the bathroom. After brushing her teeth, taking a hot bath, and making herself a cup of coffee she walked back into the living room and grabbed her phone feeling refreshed. 

Well I didn’t expect you to be up at five in the morning. I was expecting you to read it when you woke up. 

Why are you up at 5 in the morning? 

I guess it’s 5:34 now. 

Are you ignoring me, sweetheart? 

How could I ignore you?

Ooooh your flirty in the morning.

I meant how could I ignore you when your like a thorn in my side that someone keeps shoving deeper. 

Oooooh your hostile in the morning.

I am hostile all the time. 

Meow! ;)

It’s way to early for this. 

It’s 6:30! The suns awake so I am awake. 

Did you just quote disney to me? 

I did, but I usually only do that when I am drunk. 

Nesta froze when she saw what he had just wrote. She had told Cassian that weeks ago when he had walked her home from the bar. It had to be a coincidence, right? Her thumbs hover over the keyboard pondering what to reply when she hears her door unlocking. 

She abandons her phone on the coach and instead grabs wooden statue she had on her coffee table that she got in a secret Santa exchange. She creeps her way towards the door and jumps out when it opens. 

“Amara? Oh my God! You gave me a heartattack,” Nesta says, dropping her arm that held the statue and catching her breath. “What are you doing in my house? How did you get a key to my house?” 

“I thought you would be at work,” Amara replies quickly. 

Nesta gestures for her to follow her into her living room. “I took the day off,” Nesta explains, before asking more sternly, “Why were you coming into my house?” 

“Feyre said I could borrow some tea from you and gave me the key she had,” Amara said but Nesta could see through the lie. Her sister would never hand her key to just anyone. 

“Why didn’t you just text me and I could have brought some over when I go over to Feyre’s tonight,” Nesta says, taking a seat on her couch as Amara sits down in the chair next to her. 

“I didn’t want bother you,” Amara says, smiling at Nesta sweetly. “If you could go grab it, I’ll get out of your hair.” 

Nesta frowned, she had really liked Amara but sneaking into someone’s house was a bit (a lot of bit) suspicious. She stood up and walked into her kitchen not wanting Amara to be in her house any longer then she had to be. When she returned with a box, Amara jumped away from the pile of papers Nesta had left on her coffee table, including the letter between her father and Amarantha. “Here you go.” 

“Thanks,” she says, but their was a new anger in her gaze. “I’ll see you tonight?” 

Nesta simply nodded as she watched Amara make her way to her car and drive away. 

Rhys groaned when he saw Amarantha’s number pop on his phone. “Hello?” he answered, he had stayed up all night gathering as much information on Cassian he could without giving her anything she could use against him.

“Have you finished the assignment I gave you yesterday?” she asks. 

“I did, I am about to drop it off at your office. Are you on your way to the office to inform me of the plan?” Rhys asks, shuffling the papers together and putting them in a folder. 

“Not yet, before you drop off everything you have on Cassian I need you to look someone else up for me,” she states. 

Rhys frowns and has to bite his lip so he doesn’t let out a groan. Even Tamlin didn’t work him this hard. “Who’s gotten on your bad side now?” he forces out. 

“Nesta Archeron,” she says, when he doesn’t reply she adds, “do you know her?” 

“No, of course now. What did she do to earn your anger?” he asks, wondering if Feyre had gotten herself into the same problems as her sister did. 

“Her father is the benefactor who is thinking about pulling out. I believe she’s figured it out or at lead she’s going too soon unless we take care of her. I was thinking about using Feyre as blackmail but I guess his eldest daughter will have to do.” 

It was jsut his luck that he would fall in love with a girl who was somehow caught up in Amarantha’s drama. 

“Nesta?” Cassian questions curiously wondering if his eyes were deceiving him or if she was actually standing at his desk. “Don’t tell me you got yourself arrested again.” 

“Ha ha ha very funny,” she snaps. “I actually came here with something serious.” 

He gestures for to sit down in Rhysand’s unused chair. “What can I do for you?” he asks, before quickly adding, “Just a disclaimer we aren’t allowed to dispose of unwanted fiances.” He refers back to beginning of their texting conversation where she talked about wanting to get rid of her cheater of a boyfriend. 

Her brows furrow and she gives him an odd look. “Feyre’s told me a little bit about your boyfriend,” he says quickly remembering that she didn’t know he was the number she had been texting. 

“Okay, whatever, I think my dad’s in trouble and your the only cop I know besides Rhys and who knows where he is,” she says. 

“So what your saying is I am the only one who can help you?” he asks with a mischievous smirk. “Interesting.” 

She chooses to ignore him and says instead, “My dad is in trouble. I saw this in his office,” she hands him the letter, “I tried looking up her name but all the comes up is police files that have been locked.” 

He reads over the letter quickly his joking manner gone. “Did you tell anyone else about this?” 

“No, but my sister’s neighbor randomly showed up at my house this morning and she was looking at the papers on my desk and she might of saw it,” she says. 

“Amara?” he asks, and Nesta nods. The weird feeling he had yesterday when he met her came back. 

“It was the weirdest thing, she said my sister gave her my house key and she let herself in. She seemed surprise that I was there,” she says. 

Cassian frowns, “I think you should call your sister and tell her to come in.” 

“Nesta slow down, why are you calling me in the middle of the day? Aren’t you suppose to be at work?” she says, putting down her paintbrush and walking over to her kitchen sink to wash her hands. 

“Just stop questioning everything and get down to the police station, I’ll explain when you get here,” Nesta says, an urgency in her voice Feyre had never heard before.  Usually Nesta was the calm and collected one. 

“Did you get arrested again?” Feyre asks, taking off her paint smock and pulling on her boots. “I probably don’t have enough money for your bail. I’ll have to call dad.” 

“Feyre, shut up. Just get here,” she says before hanging up. 

Feyre laughed as she shut her apartment door. “Everything okay?�� Amara asks, from her own doorway. 

“Yup, my sister just called me super panicked and told me to get down to the police station,” Feyre says, “I’ll have to postpone our girls night tonight. I don’t know how long this is going to take.” 

“Your sisters at the police station?” Amara asks. 

“Yeah, she probably got arrested again,” Feyre laughs, “but she seemed really urgent so I should get going. See you later.” 

Amara watched as Feyre walked down the hallway, before pulling out her cellphone and sending a quick text. We are going to act sooner than we thought. 

Writers block, who? Remember my inbox is always is open so you should hit me up and we can talk about books and random stuff. I also have no life so message me ;)