#anyways for a person who searched linguistics they sure know how to talk shit

[nevoadecaipora]

.

[selfcareparker]

(lovely anon) ok so this may sound so dramatic but; let me paint you a picture: i’m responding to your latest message, sitting on the edge of the sofa. i type in “lovely anon” into the search and see this longgg post come up and i’m like uhhh... i scroll down and see the people you tagged and literally. when i saw @ lovely anon. i . cried . like full on tears. my brother goes “what are you doing” “she tagged meeeee” and he continued what he was doing and didn’t care LMAOO but i was so emotional? i love and appreciate you too and aAH IM CRYING!! you’re just really sweet and i didn’t expect it at all and it was really lovely to be a part of something :’)

the kermit pic sent meee but yes yes yes!! when you start uni let me know, lol i’m so excited for you!! let me know how it goes cuz i’m literally hype hahah & yes we will be in our sad corners of the world, missing england but you’re right it’ll be sooooo worth it in the end!!! and oH i’m glad you talk to them lol i truly thought you like haven’t seen them/haven’t spoken to them this whole time😭 that would’ve been awful!

also i totallyyy get what your saying about the english speaking thing. and idk why you’re insecure (well i *knowww* bc it’s not your first language and you’re studying it in college so yuh) but your english is great :)))

lol yeah that makes sense.. my mom took french in college and she remembers NOTHING HDJSHSJ (the fact that you wanna learn MORE languages i- ahh i so admire you.. you literally know so many languages🥺) yea i mean you know a bunch of languages bc you know the base of words lol, but i wonder if because you know latin it’ll be easier for you to learn french? oh- oh wait you said it’ll be easier HAHHAHA

THERES SO MUCH EXCITING STUFF TO TALK ABOUT HDGSJSJSL it’s so wild to me that you can’t watch chaos walking :( i’m a professional hacker tho so i’ll try and find a way for you LMAO (by professional hacker i mean i literally have gotten multiple free trials and i’m pretty sure the hulu police are after me bUT ITS THEIR FAULT BC WHY IS IT SO EXPENSIVE???) i mean the movie was good? and cute? and funny? but yea don’t think it’s gonna be the most fantastic thing haha AND THE DOGGO AWWW (i saw it again today- or my today lol, saturday, aND THESE OLD PEOPLE CAME AND SAT IN FRONT OF ME AND MY FRIEND LIKE ITS A LONG STORY LMK IF YOU WANNA HEAR IT)

SHARK FILMS?!?!! PLEASE READING THIS I HAD NO IDEA YOU WOULD LIKE SHARK MOVIES TOO FHSKSHSHDJDJGAJAYSJS ok so i haven’t seen any of the classics (i’m working on it) but i would probably watch jaws to laugh at it? not like that lmao but like comparing it. OKAY BUT HONESTLY I BARELY KNOW ANYONE WHO LIKES SHARK FILMS AHHH OKAY im adding “the shallows” to my watchlist bc it sounds super good AND SAME AHSJD ANY BODY OF WATER IN A MOVIE I JUST KNOW ITS COMING LMAO watch me not go in the water anymore after seeing that picture HHDJSJ

WHEN I READ THIS I JUST GOT DONE TALKING TO MY MOM ABOUT THE MEG AND THAT SCENE WHERE THE SHARKKK JUMPEDDDD AND ATE THE OTHER ONEEEE AND THEN JONAS HAD TO DO- bro i cannot (i think that one is my favorite because i love me a bit of romance and the subtle romance hAD ME) 47 meters down PHEW could you imagine?? i try not to think too hard about it i’m like “don’t be dumb catherine, don’t put yourself in a dumb situation” (not autocorrect having “dumb bitch” ready i am not lying) and i literally understand... there is no other way to explain 47 meters down

i CANNOT watch horror movies, can’t can’t can’t, i literally hate them i cannot do it!!! the thrill is tempting and it’s cool in the moment but i cant lmao. i don’t have nightmares about scary things (for the majority of the time) but going to sleep i’m like oooohhhhhh shit 🥲 literally what you explained

music !!!! music !!!! music !!!! (u ever write a word and now it looks weird lmao) MY BROTHER DOESNT LIKE MUSIC AND ITS SHIT IM LIKE WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU- anyway, my music taste is all over the place i mean......... it’s crazy. earlier today i was listening to meghan trainor’s album “title” oUT OF NOWHERE, but just a few minutes ago i was listening to fall in love with me by earth wind and fire soooo lol .. megan is *chefs kiss*, i’m not familiar with stormzy🙈, harry styles.... IM SORRY IM THAT PERSON but i don’t listen to his solo music EEK i only listen to adore you... and not that frequently... the music video freaked me out... i like niall’s solo music a lot more, which i listen to a lot more. now. one direction. favorite. please & thank you. i have a playlist called “boy bands” and it consists of one direction and the vamps (obsessed with cherry blossom btw) but as you can see my taste is all over the place!! fr fr if i sent you what apple music has as my “favorites” it went from ariana grande to carrie underwood to glee (OBSESSED DONT LET ME TALK ABOUT IT) i mean please if you let me i will nonstop (hamilton HDJSH) talk about music all day😩 & NOOO UR MUSIC IS GREAT HAHSK IM NOT A BIG RAP PERSON BUT DOJA CAT IS MY FAVORITE!!

okay good, i’m glad :) i was just nervous that you did feel that way <3 and GOT IT HAHAJ healthy pressure is always good :’) my friend got me these pens cuz i love stationary and school supplies lol and was like “now you have to write something” soooo yea i feel that! and i saw you posted the ficcccccc literally so proud of you 🥺🥺 i’m trying to decide if i read it tomorrow or tonight..... sleep or a literal beautiful creation made by the sweetest person and is v v nice smut and college!peter and 4.7k...... sleep aint really calling no more.

GIRL ALL OF MY SENTENCES ARE TOO LONG HAHAHAH IN FACT THIS IS TOO LONG SOOO (also why am i 3 days late..😑) anywho it’s 1 in the morning so <33 lovely anon

🥰

oh my god the fact that you cried nearly made me cry too😭😭🥺🥺 (also, your brother LMAO), i wasn‘t even sure if you‘d see it but i immediately thought of you so of COURSE i included you <333

the hulu police lsjsjaiaik, girl i was ready to get a hulu membership when i wanted to watch big time adolescence and i couldn‘t find it anywhereee, and when i got to the payment it said i need a bank account that‘s based in the US or whatever. like bro i was about to pay you!! but i was forced to find it somewhere (and i did, on levidia,— not that i‘ve ever used it because it‘s illegal 😤 i would never!!! i‘d rather support billion dollar companies and spend my money on watching films that i can find for free 🥰🥰🥰 not

i‘ve found chaos walking online so i‘ll watch it som time this week!! also YES TELL ME THE STORY

okay so idk if you watched/are planning on watching falcon and winter soldier but i watched the first episode the other day and they were speaking french (just a few seconds) and I UNDERSTOOD SOME WORDS DLDJDJ and i was so proud of myself. i‘ve only ever learned french with duolingo lol (i only do like 5 mins a day and that‘s why i was so surprised that i understood some of it!!). and yeah apart from latin i feel like italian, german, french and english are all similar in a sense.. i mean obviously they‘re completely different languages but for example there are some grammatical constructions in french that i think i wouldn‘t understand if i only spoke english? so when i translate those things into english you can‘t directly translate them bc you say things differently, but when i translate them into german then it makes more sense to me. idk that‘s something i noticed so i feel like if you already know multiple languages it‘s easier to learn another language compared to if you only know one language and are trying to learn a second one. even if the languages aren‘t similar then i think you get the hang of it easier.

ikd slsjsjs also i don‘t want you to think that i‘m a linguistic genius or anything lmfao, like i‘m only fluent in english and german and i‘m just a wannabe (ew that word) polyglot sksj (yes i had to google polyglot— i do think learning ancient greek would be super cool tho? like imagine studying latin AND ancient greek, whew). and honestly i don‘t think i‘ll ever be fluent in another language bc i don‘t plan on living anywhere other than germany or possibly england and i‘m not dedicated enough to properly learn any other languages esp if i don‘t have anyone to speak the language with. but i still try my best and i just love language/languages as a whole so yeah i‘m happy & just learning as much as i can dkdjh🥰

(I guess language/linguistics are/is my passion (which sounds sooo lame lmaoooo) and the word passion comes from the latin word pati (i think💀) which means to suffer, and in german passion is called Leidenschaft which basically means suffering too, idk why i‘m telling you this maybe you know it already. but ok dumb fun fact, in german you can make compound words with as many words as you like, and the longest official german word is Rindfleischetikettierungsüberwachungsaufgabenübertragungsgesetz which is a law for the monitoring of labels on beef... this is such a dumb fact but i think about that word like once a day idk why dodjsjsj so... 👁👄👁)

but i‘ll stop boring you with my linguistics talk because truly i don‘t know much about languages but i am interested omg i‘m gonna shut up now.

now water + sharks. (so in non-covid times i always go to croatia with my dad during the summer, and even before ever watching a shark film i was always kind of scared in water.. but after watching so many shark films wldjdj HELP Like you know when you go deeper into the ocean and you can‘t see or feel the ground/floor? anymore.. then i just start imagining sharks. like i can‘t help it i just imagine a shark sneaking up on me or feeling something graze my foot ABD I JUST START FREAKING OUT SSKJSHSJ. idk. anyway kdkdh i do love the ocean/swimming though but the older i get the more i realise how fucking scary the ocean is ( even if we’re gonna disregard sharks)

your brother... what‘s wrong with him? HOw CAN YOU NOT LIKE MUSIC LIKE WHAT THE FAWK

OKAY BUT SAME ABOUT THE ADORE YOU MUSIC VIDEO DLDKDJSJSKSLSLKSKSJSHSH and yeah i have to say harry’s style (styles lol) as a solo artist isn‘t reaaally my cup of tea, and i only like the popular songs from his second album and the first album is only good when i‘m in the right mood (haven‘t actually listened to it in a while though, but kiwi is one of my all time favourites along with only angel but i hate the start, like it takes 40 seconds to actually begin properly). i like mgk and because of him i watched the dirt which is a film about motley crue, and now one of my favourite songs ever is same ol situation and i‘m into rock now lol. +++ justin bieber. I had a justin bieber cardboard cutout thingy😭 i was the biggest Belieber on earth when i was 13-16, but i didn‘t like his last album and tbh he‘s become a bit weird lately, BUT OH MY GOD. i Listened to his new album yesterday and i‘m in LOVE with the song hold on

i really like niall‘s music toooo!!!! And doja cat 😌😌😌😌 And THE VAMPS OG MY GOD. i got to see them live bc they were the opening/support act for little mix and ajdsjskslslsjsjsj. (Also i love concerts, some of the best memories of my life are concerts, i‘ve seen nicki minaj live 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺 and justin twice and my heart fills every time i think about how excited i was, it was my first concert ever (16th of September 2016 😌) and i was the happiest person alive seeing justin drew fucking bieber (even if i‘m not tooo sure about justin nowadays)

i have a confession? Idk what hamilton is. I mean I‘ve heard about it and i keep googling it but i‘ve never watched it (is it even a film???? or like a proper musical? also pls tell me you grew up with high school musical. i have a few friends who didn‘t and it makes me so sad 😭😭😭 hsm is the best thing to happen to my childhood , the sooooongs— i still listen to some of them every week or month lool they make me so happy)

(Okay wait i was about to recommend some stormzy songs but you said you‘re not that into rap so i won‘t dksksjl)

What you said about my fic AHSLSLSJB (i wasn‘t sure if you sent an ask about it earlier? idk that might have been someone else, so if it was (and you‘ve read it already) i hope you liked it sksjsj i was...... unsure about it. and i have this reeaaallly long peter fic that i started writing in december and that‘s the only peter thing i currently want to write but also i can‘t because idk how to continue kddjj.) but I’m definitely getting back into writing i have a few blurbs that i want to write so 🥰🥰🥰

Oh and pls as soon as you read this let me know: violet or yellow? (it‘s just a tiny thing for my new theme slsksj)

[rockshortage]

*Cracks knuckles* Ow. Let's see, how about: A6, 16. B1, 12. C1, 2, 3, 5, 8. D4. E2, 3, 7. F2, 5, 10, 12 (Sorry, but also not sorry) I6. L1, 2, 4, and 9 :)

hoo boy that took a while

A6) Does your OC tend to assume their interpretation of events and reality is correct, or do they question it? I.e., “I’m sure that’s what you said” versus “It’s possible I misheard you.”

Ah, he questions himself a lot. Maybe he wasn’t listening well enough because he was too distracted by being anxious? Maybe he misinterpreted this event, because his background knowledge on it was lacking, he doesn’t know the full story and opinions from all sides, he’s not sure he can form a well educated opinion on this--

A16) Does your OC have to go through their own trials to learn a lesson, or do they listen and learn from observation and lecture? I.e., does your OC listen when someone tries to tell them the importance of budgeting, or do they have to go experience what happens if you don’t budget first?

Hector needs to do it himself for Science, because how else is he to truly know, if not from his own personal experience? Trusting what people tell you is good and all but gathering data yourself is better.

Unless we’re talking about raider politics, in which case there’s not really a good way for Hector to gather data without seriously endangering him and friends, so he’ll just listen to Gage.

B1) Do they believe you have to give respect to get it, or get respect to give it?

Generally, he believes it’s necessary to give people respect before you can expect it in return. He learns that many people do not in fact think the same way. He’ll still want to extend basic courtesy to them even if they’re assholes, unless they disrespect/piss him off to the extremes, or if their actions threaten his position and in turn the well-being of himself and friends.

B12) Your OC orders something to eat and gets their order done in a pretty wrong way, something they can’t just pick off or whatnot to correct, or something major is missing. What do they do?

Have a back and forth about it in his head – ah it’s not so bad it’s still fine, but then again he really wanted it differently… but he doesn’t wanna bother them and be entitled about it, but man… :( Might get close to pointing it out but chances are slim that he’ll actually get someone to correct the order. It’ll be disappointing but he’ll eat it.  

C1) Does your OC have a moral code? If not, how do they base their actions? If so, where does it come from, and how seriously do they take it?

Eeeh, not a super strong one. His baseline are general societal morals and norms, like… help person good, kill person bad. Most of the time he’ll base his actions on what feels right for him and for his friends. He’ll consider: will doing this make me feel bad afterwards? Will it have a negative impact on other people, who don’t deserve it? Is that consequence worth it because it saves my own skin or helps/protects my friends?

C2) Would your OC feel bad if they acted against their morals? If not, would they find a way to excuse themselves for it?

Bringing back the point about sacrificing for the greater good. He’d consider that the morally right thing to do because it impacts fewer people negatively. But making that sacrifice endangers his friends, whose lives for him personally are worth much more than an abstract crowd of people. So he chooses to not do the thing for the greater good and save his friends instead, and yes, he would feel very bad on the one hand, because oh boy. As far as most people are concerned, he did a horrible terrible thing and was extremely selfish and absolutely chose wrong. But on the plus side, and that’s a very big huge plus- he still has his friends. And still having his friends makes him feel less bad than how he would have felt if he didn’t have his friends anymore.

So uh… yes and no.

C3) Is it important for them to be with people (socially, intimately, whatever) whose major ideological tenets align with their own?

More or less. He can’t hang out well with people he completely disagrees with in every way, of course that’s not going to work. But Hector is… how to say… kinda boring when it comes to ideals and opinions and all that stuff. He just doesn’t have very strong ones in general. Which can make him a little bland and potentially spineless, but also pretty agreeable. As long as they don’t constantly shove their great big opinions in his face, they’ll get along well enough.

C5) Do your OC’s morals and rules of common decency go out the window when it comes to those they don’t like, or when it’s inconvenient? Aka, are their morals situational?

I think I kind of answered this in C2. Basic morals do get thrown out the window if friends are threatened, or if he gets pissed off enough. He’d have to be really pissed off though. As well as being post having-grown-a-spine(-at-least-partially). Hurting people bad but being insufferable to Hector also bad so guess what fucker

C8) Is your OC more practical or ideal morally? I.e., do they hold people to high expectations of behavior even if it’s not realistic for the situation, or do they have a more realistic approach and adapt their morality to be more practical?

Again a little tricky because I’m having trouble coming up with a scenario that would help me make up my mind with a definite answer. I’m leaning more towards a practical approach 1) because Hector is more of a realist/pessimist in general, 2) he doesn’t want to like… be overly demanding

D4) Would they like to be immortal? Why, why not? If they are immortal, would they rather not be?

The more he thinks about it the more meaningless life seems to get for someone like him. Solution: don’t think about it! Repress that shit because it’s not like you can do anything about it anyway. Also an involuntary solution but one that helps nonetheless: have shit memory so that you don’t feel like you’ve lived too many lifetimes.

If you were to ask him, the answer you get completely depends on the headspace he’s in at the moment. If he’s just vibing, going about his day and things are going well then yeah! Immortality isn’t so bad. If you catch him on an off day, things aren’t going so well, maybe he just thought about having to deal with losing his friends eventually… then you obviously get the opposite answer.

E2) Which of the nine types of intelligence is your OC strongest in? Weakest? (Linguistic, existential, naturalist, et cetera)

I know I talked about this before and I grouped them from strong to medium to weak but I can’t for the life of me find the post anymore (thanks tumblr for your useless garbage search and tagging features). So I can’t even check if I’m still on the same wavelength with past me :v

From strongest to weakest we have…

Logical-mathematical

Spatial

Linguistic

Bodily-kinesthetic

Musical

Naturalist

Interpersonal

Existential

Intrapersonal

E3) How many languages do they speak?

Three… and a half.

The half language being Swiss German, because I don’t know what the fuck it is even after graduating from language uni

The others: Standard German, English, and French, from strongest to weakest.

E7) Are they a good note-taker? Are they a good test-taker? Do exams make them nervous?

Yes, yes, and yes. He’s very good at taking notes considering most of science is documentation. And even now when he’s not doing a lot of Formal Science things, he still writes in his journal almost daily, summing up events and making notes of important things. He gets nervous with tests with all the self doubt if he really prepared well enough and the unpredictability of the questions that will be asked, but once the pen is in his hand, he just blazes through it.

F2) What’s their ideal home look like? Where is it?

Someplace underground, safe and sturdy like a vault. Industrial aesthetic is welcome and he wants to have plenty of space, but it shouldn’t feel huge and empty. Needs to be homey, even if it might feel a little rustic to the average person. Having it built into a mountain would be sick, so he still has the perfect protection from the sun, but he doesn’t have to crawl out of a hole in the ground like some kind of worm – instead he opens the door and gets the most amazing view immediately.

… and I promise, only after writing the above did I remember that he pretty much lives in a mountain already, just a plastic one. Close enough.

F5) How handy are they? Can they fix appliances, cars, cabinets, et cetera?

Quite handy indeed. He can fix most things, he usually just needs some time to (re-)familiarize himself with the object and its functions. A lot of it also involves trial and error, but he’ll figure it out eventually.

F10) Do they engage in any of the arts? How good do you intend them to be? Would they agree they are?

He’d actually be really good at pen/pencil drawing, what with making technical illustrations and blueprints of Science Stuff, but it’s not a skill that’s applied in an artsy setting. When the goal is to draw for the sake of drawing, evoking emotion, or paint with a brush, that’s probably when shit would fall apart. I can’t remember who the artist was, but it reminds me of this little comic about Paladin Danse – in which he’s extremely good at technical drawings but then he attempts to draw a dog and it just looks…wrong.

Now with music, he’s more likely to engage in it in an artful way. He likes to sing, even if he very rarely does it now that he has people around him more often than not. Before, he’d just be alone in his lonely place and sing and scream to his heart’s content, but now he’s too awkward to do it, because someone might hear him. He is pretty good at it though, considering how much alone time he’s had to practice.

F12) Would they enjoy a theme park?

The rides and junk food? Yes absolutely. But the giant crowd and every little consequence it entails, nope, no thank you, he’ll just leave it be.

You bet he’s gonna go on the rides at nuka world though once they got them back up and working, because the crowd isn’t as big as pre-war and he’s the fucking overboss and can skip lines and restrict access to others however he damn pleases.

I6) Could they eat the same thing they enjoy over and over and not get bored of it quickly?

He can, but that doesn’t mean he enjoys it. The first month or so at nuka world he almost exclusively lives off of some shitty nutrient bars. In some scenarios, food just exists as sustenance and not as something to be enjoyed.

In a preferable scenario though, it is to be enjoyed. And I think while he would get bored of it after a while, it’d take longer than for the average person. And even then, he’s just happy he can eat something enjoyable at whatever pace he likes instead of having to scarf down Compressed Nutrient

L1) How have your characters changed since you created them?

He stopped existing in a void, which is a pretty damn big change. Now he has a whole world and other characters to interact with, that contribute to shaping and developing his personality.

L2) What do you consider the biggest themes in your character, if any?

Oof, this is hard. Maybe… getting to know yourself? Accepting change, personal growth?

L4) Would you hang out with your OC if you could?

I’m actually not sure sjdfsdnsv

Like yes he is sweet bean who must be protected, but that doesn’t change the fact that he is a weird little old man. I guess if we can just chill listening to music and he can go off about crustaceans or something and we speak The Horrible Language, why the fuck not

L9) How did you come up with your OC?

Masks cool. Me especially like gas masks. Unhinged science characters also cool. Make generic but still sliiiightly unique design and make it a point to not have him be a young pretty boy character despite having immortality. Add lots of weaknesses to compensate for the immortality. Add science personality things and complete the picture with projections of my own personality. Boom, you’ve got yourself the beginnings of a Hector

[lovefool-mp3]

a rare talent; a killing eve fic

summary: in hindsight, eve will know that their meeting was never anything close to chance, but, in the moment, she believes that it starts with a mistake. or, leaning further into bluebeard, heavily inspired by angela carter.

words: 7790

rating and warnings: light r, probably. pretty in-line with what you get from the show.

notes: incredibly self-indulgent, so turn away if you're here for an airtight plot. if you're here for detailed descriptions of mirrors, hands, and unexplained magical injury, however... please enjoy. also available on ao3.

I was afraid not of him; but of myself. I seemed reborn in his unreflective eyes, reborn in unfamiliar shapes. I hardly recognized myself from his descriptions of me and yet, and yet—might there not be a grain of beastly truth in them? And, in the red firelight, I blushed again, unnoticed, to think he might have chosen me because, in my innocence, he sensed a rare talent for corruption. - Angela Carter, “The Bloody Chamber”

——

They meet in a coffeeshop. In hindsight, Eve will know that this was never anything close to chance, but, in the moment, she believes that it starts with a mistake. A woman with honey-colored hair waits behind her, her face buried behind a paperback book. Traumnovelle. Even as she lifts the disposable cup from the counter, her eyes are on the page.

“Excuse me.”

The woman doesn’t look up. Eve repeats herself. The woman keeps walking, even turns a page. Eve reaches for her shoulder, midway between a tap and a grab. The woman turns, pressing the pages of the open book against her face, so that Eve can see nothing below her eyes.

“Uh, hi,” Eve says. She’s decided that the woman’s just off, not an asshole. She tries to be kind. “You have my order.”

“I know what I ordered,” she says. Her accent isn’t native. Then, neither is Eve’s. “They called it out.”

“Yeah, uh, sorry, it’s just— I’m already late for this thing, and, since you ordered after I did—“

“I think your order just came out.” She points in the direction of the counter. Eve doesn’t look. She’s ruled out her initial impression—that is, that the woman wasn’t an asshole—and she feels almost vengeful because of it. The feeling is only half new, the other part being one of Niko’s more unpleasant discoveries preceding their separation. Eve leans into the familiarity and decides: She won’t acquiesce.

She says, “It’s yours.”

“You want me to give you the coffee that I am holding, so I get the fresh one.”

“They’re both fresh.”

“All right, all right, I’m sorry.” She hands over the coffee, neither looking nor sounding much of anything other than inconvenienced. “Here,” she says. “You can have my coffee, and I will buy you one the next time you’re here.”

“I don’t—“

“Hurry!” the woman tells her—mockingly, probably, but her face, expressive but still half-covered, is too indecipherable for Eve to be sure. “You don’t want to miss your thing.”

This is how they part.

——

At work, Eve’s shit hours get worse. She knows that it’s easy to give them to her. She doesn’t have a family anymore, or much of a life, and she’s barely on time to the more decent shifts, anyway. She doesn’t bother coming back to the coffeeshop. She forgets about the woman who promised her a drink. She sleeps with a man who buys her another. It’s mediocre. The sex is, anyway. The drink is awful. And the next morning, she needs an excuse to get him out of her apartment. She pretends she works normal hours, like a normal person. That she’s in a rush. They leave together. When he turns left, she heads for the coffeeshop. It’s an easy cover, if nothing else. And then she remembers the woman. She comes in after Eve, just as before, and catches her mid-order.

“Wait!” she says. Eve turns. “I’m paying for you.”

“Oh, you really don’t need to—“

“Please.” She grips Eve’s shoulder too tightly for too long. “You had a long night.”

“That obvious?”

The woman reaches past Eve toward the counter, extending a card. She’s wearing perfume. Something nice. Expensive. She says, “One more of hers.”

They wait together, then sit together, then talk together. Eve can’t remember wanting to do any of this. She can’t remember deciding to. She can’t even remember the woman’s name. The only name she can remember belongs to the perfume: La Villanelle. She remembers hating it.

The woman’s scarf drops slightly from her chin, and she rushes to cover her face with it. Eve hates the scarf, too. It’s gaudy and gorgeous and definitely older than the woman wearing it. Eve’s age, maybe. Vintage. She can’t help staring at it—bright blue silk patterned with vivid reds and golds. It takes until the second time it slips for Eve to notice what it’s covering. A bruise, deep purple traced by a blue just paler than her scarf, sits perfectly with too-clean edges on her jaw.

“You’re hurt,” Eve says, not knowing if it’s true. The bruise is eerily neat, looking closer to ink on skin than blood underneath it. But it’s too big for that, and too deep.

“Excuse me?”

“Your face, I hadn’t—“ Eve imagines a thousand terrible histories for this woman, and none comes close to the truth. “Are you—?” she asks. “Did someone—?”

The woman smiles. It’s charming. Calm. “Very flattering,” she says, and something glitters in her eyes. “How do you know this isn’t my face?”

“It isn’t,” Eve says. She will decide, later, that she was wrong about this, but never admit that she didn’t want to be. No version of Eve will admit to wanting anything more than to help, not now. Eve, at least in the beginning, must have been good. She says, “If your husband, or your—“

“I don’t have a husband.”

“I can help you.”

The woman smirks. “Help me find a husband?”

“No. With this.” Eve gestures toward the bruise. She realizes how near they are to each other. How easily she could touch it, with just a little less command over herself.

“I don’t need to be helped.”

“Villanelle, please—“

“Villanelle?” She laughs, open-mouthed. Too much. “Eve, that is my perfume! Do you not know my name? Oh, you are too good, Eve.”

“I’m sorry—“

“No, no, don’t apologize. Call me Villanelle. It will be our joke.”

It will be. It isn’t yet.

——

The third time they meet, the woman is later still. Eve is already settled into a corner,  shoulders already hunched over her screen, when she hears the chair’s metal feet dragging on the floor. The woman settles in, rests an arm on the too-small table, and says, “You asked the barista for my name.”

“I’m sorry,” Eve says. (She isn’t. This Eve is still trying to be kind and good and noble, when she says this, but even this Eve cannot be sorry. This Eve believes she was right.) “I thought…“

“My husband?” Oksana nudges her, like it’s a joke between old friends.

Eve doesn’t react. She says, “You don’t have one.”

“So, you figured it out.”

“Yes. You don’t have to be a dick about it. I just wanted to be sure. Whoever did this to you, you don’t have to protect them.“

Oksana smiles. Eve knows about her now, or at least knows more, but she can’t help being taken in. She can’t help forgetting that she isn’t the first. “If you’re so worried about my home life,” she says, and she leans further into her hand, so that her elbow pushes Eve’s laptop against the wall, “you could always come and see it.”

Eve mirrors her, trying to buy herself time. She was supposed to script this, last night, before she came here. She’d been planning it. “Oh, I wouldn’t—“

“You’re curious!” Oksana insists. She’s giddy and incredibly close.

Eve suspects herself of a contact high. She needs to be careful now. She doesn’t meet Oksana’s gaze. “No, no—“

Oksana leans closer still. Her perfume is different than Eve remembers it, just slightly. Brighter. “Admit it, you are.”

“Fine, yes, I’m curious.”

A smile, one that creeps into her voice: “What did you find?”

“You don’t have a husband,” Eve says. She found more. Names. Places. Photos. Accusations that led nowhere. Enough to know that some of it is best kept to herself. Later, Eve will remember the linguistics degree and regret not mentioning this instead. Eve talks more easily of academia than relationships. She could have directed the conversation anywhere from there.

But Eve will remember the linguistics degree only later, and Oksana smiles drily. “You know,” she says, “I think I’ve heard that.” And then, without so much as a breath, “Come visit me.”

“Why would I do that?”

“I’m lonely.”

Eve wants to ask her how she could be lonely with half a dozen women reported to have come to stay with her. She wants to ask her how one woman could attract so much tragedy. She wants to ask her this, just to beat her to the answer. But more than any of that, she wants proof. “Okay,” she says. Already, her heart is pounding.

——

Oksana’s home is over an hour by train from Eve’s flat and so obscured by fog that Eve doubts she would have found it had she come alone. There’s water nearby. The sea. Oksana catches Eve searching for it through the white. She says, “We can go later,” and she takes her by the hand. Led in like this, Eve wonders how many women have left. She wonders how.

She enters anyway. They do. The whole place smells of her perfume, of oak and citrus and moss. It should be suffocating, being surrounded by it all. It is suffocating. But Oksana reaches for the small of Eve’s back, and Eve only waits to be drowned.

Oksana removes her scarf—this one the red of a slit throat, white flowers seeming to burst from it—only after they reach the third floor. The bruise is still there, still too clean and too dark to make sense. Without the feigned hesitation of the last time, Oksana seems at once more repulsive and more beautiful. Eve stares. This is part of the script. Whatever Oksana is, Eve has seen her. She has stared long enough to know that she wants to be seen. Oksana opens a door.

The room is large and dark and filled with at least a dozen gold-rimmed mirrors, so that Eve can hardly tell what is real and what is reflection. She steps inside. Oksana’s eyes follow her movements. In the dim of the bedroom, her pupils wide, they look almost black.

“It’s yours,” she says.

“Mine?”

“We are having a late dinner. No trains come after eleven.”

“Oh,” Eve says. The script is no longer her own. “I didn’t think…”

“It’s okay.” Oksana’s voice is gentle, reassuring, getting just barely deeper at the end. Like the smile that follows, the voice isn’t quite right, isn’t quite hers. “I thought for you.”

——

On the first night—the night that is meant to be the only one—Eve asks how many people work for her, if she even knows or cares or considers them anything more than furniture. She doesn’t say the last part. She knows the answer.

“Of course I know, Eve,” says Oksana. She impales a halved artichoke and studies it lazily. “I have to pay them.”

“How?”

Oksana replies with her mouth full: “How what?”

“How do you afford it?”

An exaggerated shrug. “You looked me up,” she says.

“Okay,” Eve says. “The records say this place is inherited. You don’t work. Not as far as I can tell. Not on paper.”

“You don’t believe it. Why not?”

Eve knows the answer Oksana needs. She says, “I believe you.”

“No, you don’t.”

“I do. Last week. You told me you were in Paris for work. I believe you.”

“Why?”

Eve believes her because she knows how it feels to do nothing every day, and she believes her because she knows Oksana would hate it. She knows that she would hate it too. But Eve has said too much already; she can’t let Oksana know her. She lies. She says, “I don’t know.” She says, “I trust you.”

“Will you stay here?”

“I—“ And Eve can hardly believe her now, can hardly believe that this is how it goes. She had always imagined something subtler, some trick to make it seem it was all Eve’s idea. But here it is, perfectly clear: the invitation to abandon everything. Eve wants to say, I have a life, but this isn’t true anymore. She wants to bolt from the place—fuck the train schedule, she’ll find a way out—but she can’t bring herself to move. Voice trembling, maybe from laughter and maybe from fear, she says, “Am I supposed to find that charming?”

“No. I am naturally charismatic. This is just a suggestion.”

“Why are you making it?”

Oksana takes another bite of lamb, and Eve watches the never-fading bruise move with the muscle in her jaw. Like before, she doesn’t swallow before speaking. “You’re bored in London,” she says. “And the rent there is horrible. You could sublet your flat.”

“And live with you?”

“You know, I am making you a really good offer right now.”

“I barely know you.”

“You know a lot about me. You looked me up. Stay for a week. We’ll be like old friends.”

Eve’s read Jane Eyre. She’s dedicated two-thirds a chapter of her unfinished dissertation to Belle Gunness. She’s smarter than to think this woman is safe. And she’s smarter than to stay interested in living with someone safe. She’s done it once before, marriage, and it was too easy to be interesting and too hard to be pleasurable, and he left her because she was restless and jagged, and Eve grew more restless and more jagged until she found herself here. She says, “Yes.”

——

For that first week—both of them know that Eve will stay far longer—they circle each other in this home. Each morning, Eve awakes to a clean linen blouse and pressed trousers, just barely more polished than Eve is used to. They eat together. One morning, a Saturday maybe, Eve asks her about the book. Oksana takes her to a library more cluttered than it should be, given how many people Eve has seen working here. She says that Eve can borrow anything. Eve realizes only after she is alone once more that most are in French. And there, still lying out on the arm of a chair, Traumnovelle.

Eve knows that it is there for her, and she opens it. No notes in the margins, no circling of words. Just numbered pages and sentences Eve can’t quite understand. Not for her, then, or not supposed to seem like it. Eve forces herself to exhale. She thinks of herself before coming here, watching Eyes Wide Shut past two in the morning. She regrets it now, mostly because she forgot how totally insufferable she finds Tom Cruise, and kind of because she knows it’s not the same as the book she can’t read, and maybe a little bit because it got to her in the same way Oksana is getting to her now. The intimacy and the distance and the indecipherability of it all consume her. Eve, mostly successfully, abstracts the sex. She admits that this, too, draws her to Oksana, and, in a singular pseudo-logical move, translates this to freedom. The metaphor is uncomplicated, and Eve likes it. Even so, she can’t stop thinking about it. She can’t stop thinking about her. Eve wanted the upper hand, and all she got was a twitch in her fingers.

She searches the shelves for something to stop it and turns up nothing. She throws every book she touches—classics and linguistics textbooks and vintage erotica—at the same armchair until the whole thing is buried. All of it feels useless. And, as if she were watching (Eve thinks often of this possibility), Oksana enters just as Eve is returning them, one by one, to their places on the shelves.

“Didn’t like them?” she asks. She takes a book from the pile. “This one is pretty bad. I bought it for the cover.” She holds it up: A woman stands alone on a red background, all strong highlights and draping arms. Oksana tosses it aside.

“Come on,” she says. “Stop cleaning. Let’s have fun.”

They watch slasher films that night, three of them in a row, and it’s the closest they’ve ever been. Eve can feel her breathing, steady and quiet and cool. She has never been so aware that Oksana is alive. That she is. And she has never been so aware that either one of them could change that. Neither flinches at a single frame.

Eve calls her Villanelle after that.

——

Eve doesn’t remember when the notebook appeared on her bedside table, thread-bound and pristine, its pages smoother than anything. She doesn’t remember asking for it, the way she asked for Colgate sensitive toothpaste in place of Denblan. But it is there, one day, early on, and unmistakably for Eve.

Obviously, Eve brought her laptop. She brought her phone. Villanelle—Oksana, she was then, Eve remembers that much—took no issue with it. She couldn’t. If she had, Eve would have left. Villanelle must have known that. So, she didn’t. And Eve didn’t. Instead, she stops using them. She arranges the world’s least legitimate sublease, submits notice of her leave, sets her out-of-office email, and abandons it all. Without reason, Eve feels certain that she can no longer be fully accessible, fully traceable. And so Eve accepts the notebook as easily as she had the toothpaste. A minimally revealing necessity.

Eve knows by looking back that it started with a few pages. Early morning, before breakfast. Nothing of substance, not at first. She knows by looking back that she was different then. The Eve of those first few pages is cautious, almost afraid. She asks questions. She writes down feelings she won’t recognize later. And still, she slips the notebook into the back of her trousers when she finishes, keeping it hidden. The Eve of these days knows some things. She knows Villanelle. She knows that she will do what she can to know her.

Eve does not yet know the same of herself. Already, she has done more than intended. She hasn’t yet regretted it. She won’t.

She doesn’t remember when she starts writing about Villanelle. In reality, there isn’t a starting point. Even the first page, even in the fear to say anything real, Villanelle is there. None of it matters until Eve gets bolder.

At first, she avoids using her name. There are only descriptions, first of her speech, her posture, her clothing. Transparent enough for her to know, if she read them. Eve thinks of this more and more lately, Villanelle reading from this notebook. She knows, has always known, that this is what Villanelle wants from her: someone to see her, to watch her, to fixate on her. Most days, Eve hates knowing this. She convinces herself that everything is instrumental. She is here to learn. Most days, it works. The days it doesn’t, Eve watches the mirrors.

For, most often, she feels it in her bedroom. It’s a feeling that comes from underneath her skin, straining to be known, recognized. Eve paces these days, the way that Niko hated before he left. Even then, she would feel it, and even then she was certain that there was no way to cure it but to move. The parturient’s walk. A dozen of Eve, maybe more, circle the room. She watches the mirrors of her and her and her and waits for Villanelle to appear.

She never does. Rarely does Villanelle violate the space she has given Eve, at least herself, at least when Eve is there. But the thought is there always. Sometimes, Eve will swear she sees her. No opening of a door, no breath on her neck. Just Villanelle’s face, Villanelle’s body reflected ghostlike atop Eve’s own. Eve turns her back only once. Each time after, she grows bolder. She holds her gaze until she convinces herself of her preferred truth. She undresses. She finds the clothing set aside for her. She puts it on. Slowly. She goes for breakfast. She goes to bed. She sits on its edge, staring still at the reflection that is both hers and not. She stares until it disappears. She looks away as if from a flash of light.

——

Eve and Villanelle find a routine. They start seeing each other outside of mealtimes. No, they are together more often now. Mostly, they work together, Villanelle on something she will not name (“I’m an artist,” she explains. “I’m very secretive.”) and Eve on her long-abandoned dissertation. Writing is easier here. Overnight, decades’ worth of books and journals appear. Sometimes, she will make a request—whether to Villanelle or to Alda, the only member of her staff who will speak to Eve when she tries. More often, she will simply find what she needs without having asked, appeared as suddenly and seamlessly as the notebook that has long since filled up (replaced now by its twin, similarly without request).

This is not what makes the writing easier. It helps. Of course it helps. But Eve has had libraries and librarians and advising and advisors and none of it has ever made her feel like this. She’s sharper, now. She has perspective. Something to say. And, in these weeks, she is almost satisfied. It isn’t enough.

She wanders more lately. Their ritual of work has only made Eve more desperate for each shred of Villanelle she can have, and more still for the ones she can have without her knowing it. She listens for the creaking of floorboards and the sound of stilettos against them, for a radio and its mimic, and she follows. But this comes long after she hears them. Eve, at least at first, waits until Villanelle has gone and seeks out only the traces she hopes have been left behind. They get clearer with time: Hairs change to scarves and scarves to lipstick-kisses on stationery. Eve stops waiting. She draws near enough that the signs change, too. The first time she hears it, Eve is sure she has traced the wrong person. Villanelle’s steady breathing turns rapid and uneven in these moments with Eve close but hidden behind her. Sometimes, there is almost a laugh. And Eve is certain that she knows.

It changes for good on a Thursday afternoon. Villanelle’s hand turns the golden handle of a glass-paneled door on the second floor. Eve moves in closer, trying to get an angle that reveals more than the sun’s intrusive glare. The door opens, and Villanelle becomes obscured behind it, and Eve grabs the handle before it closes entirely. Eve pushes the door six inches forward, then slips inside. She makes out a sparse forest of dark, angular shapes, not quite identifiable in the afternoon sun, and Villanelle turns to face her. A breath, a fraction of a laugh, and Villanelle has Eve cornered.

The wall’s boiserie pressing into her back, Eve is certain of everything. This is it, she knows, this moment, the thing that has kept everyone else in Villanelle’s life from resurfacing. Even shaking, Eve wants nothing so much as to watch Villanelle’s face. To make out every thought that leads her to what comes next. To telegraph that she knows—knows all of it, more than she has told her or suggested or even written down. She wants her to see that she isn’t afraid.

But Eve is afraid. She doesn’t watch Villanelle’s face. She watches her hands. Her hands, as steady as her breathing, move more slowly than Eve had expected. Empty, too. And as these empty hands approach Eve, bridging what little space is left between them, she pictures the bruises they will leave on her neck. She wonders whether they will be as clean and rich as hers. But Villanelle’s hands leave nothing behind. Instead, they find Eve’s cheeks and rest gently there.

Villanelle asks, “What are you doing?” Eve sees her face for the first time: She is smiling, nearly laughing. Backlit and bare-faced, she looks almost innocent.

Eve has imagined how this moment would play out each night since she began tracking her. Now, finally able to act, she has nothing. “I’m studying the floor plan,” she says, probably too eagerly. “I have this really awful—“

Villanelle shifts her hands, holding them just lower and more tightly on Eve’s face than before. “You know, Eve, you are really strange sometimes. I know that you were following me.”

“Yeah, uh, I figured if anyone knew the place…”

“Stop it. I know what you’re doing. You don’t have to be embarrassed.”

“Really?” She breaks free of Villanelle’s grip. “You know what I’m doing? Bullshit. I know what you— No, you know what? That’s it. You have no idea what I’m thinking.”

Villanelle doesn’t try to touch Eve again, but she stays uncomfortably close, their chests inches apart. “Tell me.”

“What are we doing?”

“That’s what you’re thinking?” Disappointment. Eve feels warm, adjusts.

“Sometimes,” she says.

“What else are you thinking?”

“Why am I here?”

Impatiently, now, “What else?”

“No. I want an answer.”

For a moment, Villanelle smiles again, but she replaces it just as quickly with an exaggeratedly furrowed brow. “I don’t know,” she says at last. “Broad questions.”

“Why did you invite me here?”

“I told you. I’m lonely.”

“Why me?” Eve asks.

“You’re my type.”

Until now, Eve has made an effort to limit her reactions, but Villanelle’s answer has shifted too much already. Eve says, “Your type?”

“I’m joking, Eve!” She touches her again this time, a tap on the arm with an air of rehearsal. “Come on,” Villanelle tells her, “have a sense of humor! We’re friends. I like you.”

“Why?”

“You know, the more you ask me these ridiculous questions, the less I can explain it.” In this moment, she turns ninety degrees and walks to the door. Opening it, she says, “Have fun in my gym.”

Eve misses dinner for the first time, and they don’t see each other for 36 hours. On the third day of the aftermath, tentatively reunited, Villanelle reaches across the table for Eve’s hand. Eve flinches. “I’m going away,” Villanelle tells her. “Tomorrow morning.”

“Why?” Eve hates that this is her, always two steps behind, childish, asking stupid, one-word questions. She’s changed. She’s supposed to have changed.

“Business.”

“Where?”

Villanelle shrugs. “Not far. I’ll be home soon.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Eve says. The news has returned her to the woman she was before, one with an end. The script falls back into place. “I’ll go home.”

“Don’t say that. Don’t be jealous. Stay here.” Both hands extended now, fingers frantic, then the touch of metal, warm from being held so long. “Here,” she says, “here. You can look after things here. These are my keys. The whole property.”

“Why would I want these?”

An inversion. Grip loose, voice firm. “Stop it,” she says. The keys chime pleasantly against each other, and it’s only at their stopping that Eve realizes they’ve been dropped before her. “I know you, Eve. You want to figure me out. I am letting you.”

“You can’t just tell me?”

“Eve! I am surprised at you. You think you would like me to tell you? It’s too boring for you. For us. Come on. Stay here. Go through my things. My closets. My drawers. My office. My bedroom. Stay.”

“No,” Eve says, and she can hardly believe herself as she’s saying it. “I’m not your— Your thing. Jesus Christ. Are you kidding?”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m not like you.”

“Eve, if this is—“

“I’m not playing a game. Do you—? Do you even understand that?”

“Okay.” Villanelle has retreated entirely now. Even her eyes are lowered so that, when Eve looks directly at her, they appear closed. It’s so clearly calculated, so clearly rehearsed, that Eve swears she can see her straining to stay this way. “I get it.”

“No, you don’t.”

“I need you to help me.”

“Bullshit.”

And there it is. In the instant before her answer, Villanelle breaks. She glows again, white-hot. She bites her lip. “Do you think I want to ask you like this?”

Eve studies Villanelle’s hands. Her left is moving back toward the center of the table, already anticipating Eve’s surrender. Her right is holding an empty fork, maneuvering it between her fingers. Eve says, “I don’t think you do anything you don’t want to.”

Uncomfortably convincingly, uncomfortably suddenly, Villanelle is shaky-voiced: “It can’t be empty.”

“Don’t worry,” Eve tells her. “It won’t be.”

“I can’t be alone. I don’t feel safe, Eve. Once I get back…” Inhale. There is a man who…” Exhale.

“You think I’m going to save you?”

“Yes.”

“You know I’m not the only person here.”

“I don’t trust them. My guard, he is a coward, and very easily bought.” Villanelle’s left hand reaches its destination, fingers brushing Eve’s. She nudges the keys toward Eves hand, still residually warmer than the rest of the room. “Not you, Eve. You’re different. I trust you.”

Eve takes the keys. She covers them with her fingers, pressing them into her palm. She relaxes just before she draws blood.

Villanelle is gone before breakfast the next morning, so Eve eats alone. The place seems emptier than it should be without her, is emptier—not figuratively, not emotionally, but literally, physically. Villanelle has staff; it’s part of this whole thing. But Eve only sees the woman who serves her breakfast—Iren? Eve doesn’t know. Isn’t sure, at least. When she finishes (eggs Florentine—the same as her first morning), she walks upstairs and begins.

The first door she opens is unlocked. Just another room she’d never noticed, small with large windows and crowded shelves on each wall. Pottery, a violin, old magazines—none of it fitting together, some of it well kept. The next a studio, conservatory, library— And here, beside the one they shared is the office that is Villanelle’s alone. This is how Eve understands it, anyway, as the place that is not hers. Circling it, she grows less certain; each corner seems to unearth a part of Eve she had intended to leave behind. Even their desks are alike. The same puzzles and names and photographs—even, Eve realizes, not entirely surprised, the one of herself and Niko she had never quite gotten around to taking down. Eve knows that there is more she should consider than the thought that consumes her on seeing the photo. The question, for instance, of whether this is the same photo from Eve’s home or a copy of it, and then the question of how and when she did obtain it, if not from Eve’s own flat—that matters. That would tell her about Villanelle’s procedure, her patterns. And Eve could catch her, wholly and honestly, before the next time. There are some feelings, even—fear being the primary one—that Eve could justify to herself as reasonable in this moment. But these feelings are not Eve’s. Instead, she feels almost embarrassed, half at the photo and half that she has so long avoided being photographed that this is how Villanelle must see her. She’s so small in that photo, rounding her shoulders, hand drawn to her ear. In another, better world, Eve thinks, there is a photo of her gleaming, that thing of which Villanelle is master. But there is not, so this is Eve: dull, tiny, unfinished.

And then it isn’t. The shiny silver of a closed laptop’s insignia reflects someone better. This version of Eve makes sense, the hard half-face with the wrinkled brow. Eve opens the laptop, and the face is gone, screen illuminated. A neon pink Post-It note is stuck to the top right corner. On it, Villanelle has written passwords in perfect script. It’s as if she’s set up a whole life just for Eve to find, and it’s condescending as shit. She uses it anyway, checks inboxes and search histories and anything else there is. One account, she’s worked on—correspondences with at least a dozen more accounts, with dates that stretch months back. Each is friendly. Some—including the most recent—contain dates. Lille. Today. Half six. Is she there now, or minutes away and waiting? Eve nearly keeps herself from believing it, but she keeps searching. Tomorrow, there will be reports of a diplomat on holiday, dead minutes after breaking off from his family on their architectural tour. Today, there is only a photograph of a round-faced man in a bowtie and braces. His is the only face Eve doesn’t recognize. She pockets the photo, unafraid of being caught, and locks the door behind her.

She goes on. One of the closets—more than one, Eve knows from the clothing she wears now—is different from the others. The clothes are simpler. Monochrome blacks and whites and charcoals and ivories and, in the farthest corner from the door, the deepest of greens and blues. They’re meant for Eve.

She goes on. A gallery. An observatory. Three large bedrooms, identical to one another but not to Eve’s. A fourth, certainly belonging to Villanelle. Eve thinks of her offer. She thinks of everything she has been longing to do since meeting her. She opens a drawer. A cheap lighter, an expensive vibrator; pillow mist, facial mist; two old postcards (Budapest, Lisbon), both written in French. No mysteries solved, no secrets uncovered. Just the question Eve cannot stop from coming: Did Villanelle arrange all of this in the way she had prepared her office? The thought of this is different somehow, more intimate—the worse violation or the more thoughtful gift.

She goes on. A laundry room. Half a dozen staff bedrooms, lived-in, then left. The theater. A wine room. At last, the door that Villanelle warned her never to open. Eve has been patient, taking the most logical route through the hallways, knowing all along that they would lead here. She turns the key and pushes open the door. The scent of blood is immediate and fresh. She has smelled nothing but warm meals and La Villanelle since arriving, and the disruption is almost welcome. Eve inhales once more, sharply, and searches for a source of light. Her right hand to the wall, she finds velvet curtains just feet from the door, and struggles to draw them back. The day is clearer than usual, and the sea is bright, shimmering. The keys fall from her hand, and Eve thinks of them only for a moment before she turns back toward the room.

Made almost beautiful in the sunlight, women’s bodies—some naked, others elaborately clothed—are draped over furniture with a careless kind of grace. Nothing is consistent, until it is. The women, taken together, look like Eve. She studies them, trying to recognize something—anything—else. She should know their names, should know them from their photos, but there is so much blood on the floor and so little in their faces that the task feels impossible. There is only Eve and Eve and Eve and Eve and Eve steps forward. She extends a hand toward the woman nearest her. The body nearest her. There is no woman there. She presses her palm into the space below the body’s left shoulder. The flesh gives as it would in life, even with its color gone, and the bone below feels solid and strong. Like Villanelle’s bruise, the woman’s injuries are frozen in time, framed by still-wet blood that seems too red to be real.

Eve circles the room like this, studying slit throats and bruises and entry wounds. She looks for patterns or dates or proof that she has misunderstood. She imagines staying here for weeks more, returning to this room, making sense of it all. Writing down everything she’s thinking, inches away from Villanelle, working and eating and sleeping beside her. Understanding.

She sits here for some time, long enough to watch the shadows move, in a too-clean wingback chair. The weeks turn to nothing. Eve now imagines staying here forever, for the place is surely hers. Like this, she remembers the keys. Like the soles of Eve’s shoes, they are sure to be bloodstained.

Most of it washes away. All but one of the keys, the final one, are entirely clean within seconds. The final one, too, is, for a moment, as it was before its use. The next instant, the blood reappears. Each time Eve cleans it, the blood comes once more, until she understands. Eve is caught, the way she’d hoped to catch Villanelle. The way, for the moment between her opening the door and dropping the keys, she had. Meaning, in a way, Eve had beaten her there. Fine, then.

She cooks for herself that night (even Iren—it’s definitely Iren—is gone now), the first time since leaving her flat. The process is much the same: She selects two plastic containers, spoons their contents into a pan, and heats it as long as she can be bothered to wait. Then, alone at the countertop, Eve eats what she supposes, if Villanelle comes back tonight, may be her last meal: day-old halibut over polenta, the kind of anticlimax Eve thought she’d escaped.

When she finishes, she returns to the closet that is for her but not hers and selects a jewel-toned dress. Eve is relying on her supposition that Villanelle will come back tonight. She would like to be prepared.

The dress is tighter than Eve is used to. She is still learning how to move in it when Villanelle arrives upstairs, waiting outside the door to Eve’s bedroom, as close as she will ever come to being caught entering. As if she has any claim to it, Eve invites her in.

“Thank you. I’m sorry that it is so late.”

“No, uh, no, how was your—?”

“Not too bad. Thank you. You know, nobody ever asks me, but—“ Villanelle feigns a realization, obvious enough that it is certainly intentional. “You should sleep, Eve.”

“Yeah, uh, thanks. Goodnight, then, I guess.”

“I’m sorry, I promise this is all I need: Do you still have my keys?”

“Yeah.“ Eve holds them up. “Right here.” She gives them to her. Never, when she was imagining this moment, did Eve think her hands would be so still. The keys rattle against each other as Villanelle drags her fingers across them. Eve knows that she doesn’t need to look. She knows by the bodies that look like hers how many times Villanelle has done this before. It’s part of the game, and she wants to resent her for it. She doesn’t. She resents only that she isn’t holding the keys.

Villanelle says her name so gently that Eve nearly misses the excitement in it. Then, she says, “Have you lost one?” and it is impossible for Eve to convince herself it could ever have been anything else.

“Is that what they usually say?” Eve asks. She wants it to mean I’m not afraid of you. And this time, Eve isn’t afraid of her, but she remembers still the cool certainty in Villanelle’s voice when she told her she was different. She wants to know that she was right, even if it was a lie.

“Mm, not always.” She drops the keys into a dish of tangled jewelry on the bedside table. None of it is Eve’s; it, like everything, had been waiting for her. “The one before you, she was funny. Not funny like you, Eve, but funny, you know? She said— It’s very rude not to listen to a person when they’re talking. No, Eve, I am saying that to you. What she said was funnier. She said she had a heavy period.”

Eve nearly laughs with her. Then, she remembers the key. She can feel the blood on her skin, if she pays enough attention to it. The strange warmth of it, how thin it feels as it meets the sweat on Eve’s neck. Like the key itself is bleeding. Like Eve is. She takes off her shoes. She settles into her bed. She rests her head on her arms, knowing now that they too will be stained red.

Villanelle knows that Eve has kept the key. Eve knew that she would know even as she made the choice. There are only so many choices she has left. She doesn’t untie her hair or slip the key from the bun. She just breathes. The same scent of oak and citrus and moss, the one that envelops all but one room, her most beloved. “Come lie down with me.”

“You know I am going to kill you, right?”

“Yes,” Eve says. “Come lie down with me.”

She does. “Do you think you are going to seduce me?”

“Do you want me to?”

“Try.”

Eve watches herself in eight gold-rimmed mirrors as she positions herself atop Villanelle.

She laughs at this. “Eve!” Villanelle scolds. She laughs again. With her throat exposed like this, Eve can see just where the bruise ends, and she covers it with her palm. “Go slower.” Eve’s thumb traces the pink on Villanelle’s cheeks, and it finds no warmth in them. Villanelle closes her eyes.

“Is it your first time?” she asks.

“Yes.”

“How romantic.”

Eve kisses her neck just hard enough that the bruise, in the morning, will be joined by a second.

Villanelle laughs again. “You’re like a teenager,” she says, and Eve does it again.

Villanelle breaks their silent agreement: She touches Eve. Her back, first, hands sliding up the fabric of the deep blue dress that is for Eve but not for Eve. She unzips it halfway before stopping, and Eve knows where her hands will go next. She pulls the key from her hair. She waits. At last, Villanelle reaches her neck, tightening her fingers around the blood-dampened hair at its nape. As her grip loosens, Eve draws back and watches her.

Villanelle doesn’t even open her eyes. She doesn’t need to. When she speaks, there’s an amused kind of lilt to it: “You can’t hurt me with that.”

“I know what you do. I know how.”

“Don’t be stupid. I know you know how.”

“You just don’t think I can hurt you.”

“I don’t think you can hurt anyone.”

And Villanelle would be right, months ago, maybe even last night, but Eve is different now, even if she doesn’t know how. She doesn’t want to know how. She presses the key to Villanelle’s eye and drags. She is grateful, now, for the key’s bleeding; Villanelle’s blood mingles so easily with the key’s that Eve can pretend she’s caused none of it. Of course, Villanelle’s screaming, the resistance with which Eve’s hand is met, the tightness in her stomach—all of this is undeniable.

What’s worse, Eve doesn’t want to run. Like the rush of the first week, curiosity holds her in place. Still, she knows one thing already: Villanelle won’t die of this. She will barely be slowed. And with this, she knows one more: She cannot stay.

There were weapons in one of Villanelle’s closets. Real ones. Weapons that could kill her. Eve didn’t take one to the bedroom. She didn’t want to take one. She didn’t want to use it. Eve isn’t certain yet, but she knows she could go there now. She could beat Villanelle to it. This is where they would have to go anyway, if she were killing Eve. It would be easy, and Villanelle would be dead. But Eve doesn’t know that she wants Villanelle dead. Eve only wants to know where she was, then go there herself, then go places Villanelle will never touch. She takes the ring of keys from the bedside table and runs.

——

Both of them are holding guns when Villanelle finds her. Even now, Villanelle holds hers casually, easily. Not so much as a part of herself—this would suggest more care than she affords it—as something simply unquestionable. The way Eve ties back her hair, Villanelle holds this gun: without a second thought. At the sight of it, Eve feels suddenly self-conscious. She lowers hers to the desk and rests a hand atop it.

Eve will survive this. In the coming weeks, she will feel a compulsion to apologize—sometimes to Villanelle, to Niko, to Alda, to anyone who would accept it. These compulsions will disappear more quickly than Eve expected. It will take much longer for her to admit their emptiness, but, in the moment—in this moment—she feels it completely. Seeing Villanelle like this is enough. Eve forgives herself of all of it.

She says, “Go ahead.”

Villanelle doesn’t, and Eve doesn’t, but neither allows a finger to move from her gun. Refusing to look higher, Eve watches the stillness of Villanelle’s throat. A small amount of blood—smeared, not dripping, and bright red—joins the blue, which should also be blood but is not.

——

They are on a train again, sitting close again. The ride is longer this time, heading south this time. It will be warmer there, but it’s still cold in their car. Eve thinks so, anyway, but it’s been weeks since she’s felt the chill that comes with being afraid. She’s forgotten what it feels like. It could be either. Her or the air. Villanelle has bent her head into Eve’s shoulder. Restful, if not for her open eye, the one unmarred, staring ahead through the gaps in the seats. Eve is holding her sixth notebook in her lap, making edits. She makes a conscious effort to wrinkle her brow when she comes to a gap. Lack of expression has become habit for her, but she doesn’t want Villanelle to know this yet. She sighs.

“What is it?” Villanelle asks her, unpleasantly soft-voiced, like she’s trying to remind Eve of a life she once had.

“You never thought of becoming a nurse?”

A large exhale, a laugh that isn’t. “Me?”

“Yes.”

“That’s a little sexist of you, Eve.” She’s smiling. Eve can hear it.

“Sexist of the statistics, I guess,“ she says. "But it’s usually nurses. Or care-givers, generally. Babysitters, moms.” Villanelle’s nose wrinkles at the shape of this most recent vowel, but Eve goes on. “Just, you know, when you’re looking for patterns.”

“Hm. Sounds boring.” Villanelle shifts lazily in her seat and nudges Eve’s chin with her head, catlike. The scarf she’s had draped over her head falls around her neck. “I’m exceptional,” she says. “Ask me the real question.”

“I’ll wait.”

“No, no, no, wait, I’ll guess.” Villanelle pulls the scarf into her lap. “’How did you start?’ ‘How did you know?’ ‘How did you find out?’”

“No.”

“Okay,” Villanelle says, drawing out the word. She turns her head, facing Eve directly, unhidden. “What if I asked you?”

[sceptilemasterr]

Catalysts Play Open Heart: Chapter 8

Summary: The Vaanti have an unusual way of opening doors, Michelle gets trolled with a Tumblr meme IRL, and Michelle and Quinn continue to fail at hiding their increasingly-obvious relationship. Not to mention the usual hilarity and chaos, as always!

Previous Chapter: Link

Note: The things in bold are scenes from the actual Choices chapter. Ian (x Estela) and Alyssa (x Jake) are my twin Endless Summer MCs.

Warnings: Alcohol use, swearing, marijuana references.

“Seraxa!” exclaimed Varyyn in surprise, as the front doors of The Celestial slid open to reveal the Vaanti war leader and a troop of other warriors, all of whom were holding up a large log. “What has happened? Is something wrong?”

“Also, y’know, you don’t have to bash the door open,” Jake commented, joining Varyyn a moment later. “Doorbells do exist.” He emphasized this statement by jerking his thumb obviously in the direction of said doorbell.

“Was the door not intentionally locked as a test of our courage and conviction?” asked Seraxa, tilting her head quizzically.

“...What.”

“Don’t mind him, Seraxa,” said Diego a moment later, joining them at the doorway. “What’s wrong?”

“Varyyn,” Seraxa said, standing at attention. “We were able to locate the Guardian called Furball, as you had requested of us. However, the creature panicked and ran away when we approached, disappearing into the jungle.”

“That’s great!” exclaimed Diego. “Er, I mean… great that you found Furball. Not great that he ran away again. I… you know what I meant.”

“Indeed,” agreed Varyyn with a nod and a smile to reassure his husband. “Seraxa, where did you last encounter Furball?”

“In the western jungles, not far from the village,” Seraxa informed them. “Should we continue the search?”

Varyyn nodded. “Tomorrow morning, myself and the Catalysts shall join you in your efforts. Return to the village until then; it is too dark to locate Furball in the jungle with any accuracy. Thank you for informing us.”

“Yes, my elyyshar.” With that, Seraxa and the other warriors left as suddenly as they had appeared, taking their large battering ram log with them.

Varyyn, Diego, and Jake looked at one another awkwardly. “Well, that was a thing,” said Jake. “We’d better catch Fantastic Mr. Fox this time…”

“Let’s hope so!” agreed Diego. “Varyyn’s right though, it’s too dark to do much right now. We’ll start first thing in the morning.”

“For now, let us rejoin the others,” suggested Varyyn. “So that we may continue the story. With luck, we shall be able to complete at least one additional chapter before we must sleep.”

Jake shook his head, amused, as the three of them headed back toward the main lobby where the projector was set up. “Who would’ve thought everyone would get so into this?” he asked nobody in particular. “Even Varyyn, here.”

“Wait, Jake, you just called him by his actual name!” Diego pointed out excitedly. “Wow!”

“What? No I didn’t,” Jake insisted.

“Indeed you did,” said Varyyn. “You referred to me as ‘Varyyn.’ It is quite the departure from your usual method.”

“No I didn’t, Legolas,” Jake insisted again.

Diego said nothing, but smiled knowingly as they approached the ring of couches around Zahra’s projector setup. Raj was still there, asleep in his chair exactly where they had left him. Aleister and Sean were engaged in a conversation about math, of all things, from what Diego could tell, while Grace was showing Alyssa something in of one of her many textbooks. Much to Diego’s surprise, Alyssa actually seemed genuinely interested in whatever it was. “What was that noise all about?” asked Sean, looking up from his discussion with Aleister when he noticed Diego, Jake, and Varyyn approaching. “Everything’s okay, I’m guessing?”

“We bring good news,” Varyyn informed Sean and the others. “Seraxa has located Furball in the western jungles. I informed her that we will join them in their continued search in the morning, as it is too dark to effectively search for him at this time.”

“That’s great! Sounds like a plan, Varyyn,” said Sean.

“Not t’mention… we’re all too drunk to, uh, ‘effectively search at this time,’” said Jake, flopping onto the couch, right next to his wife.

“Except Estela,” said Alyssa, frowning in the general direction of the dining area. “She hasn’t had a drop to drink since we got here! Talk about a party pooper; she must’ve been spending too much time with my brother lately. Or her brother. Somebody’s brother, anyway.”

“Excuse me, but just what, precisely, are you implying?” asked Aleister defensively. “I do imbibe, you know. Moderately. On occasion.”

“The hell are you complainin’ about, Princess?” Jake asked. “All that means is there’s more of the good stuff left for us!”

At that moment, the door to the wine cellar swung open, and Zahra entered, followed by Craig, who was laden down with a large number of bottles. “Speakin’ of which, I brought a lot of the good stuff,” Zahra said as she and Craig approached the group.

“You mean I brought it,” complained Craig from behind her, setting down the bottles on the table in the center. “And now my hands hurt. Ow.”

“Oh, quit whining and start drinking,” said Zahra. Craig’s expression immediately switched to one of happiness as he opened the nearest wine bottle by hand and poured a gigantic glass for himself.

Zahra raised her eyebrows at the sight. “Wow. You’re actually maturing! This time last year, you would’ve still been drinking from the bottle.”

“What? Oh, thanks for reminding me, I forgot! I can go back to doin’ that if you want-”

“NO!” shouted Zahra and Alyssa simultaneously. Craig’s eyes went wide and he immediately resumed pouring his glass.

Just then, the doors to the kitchen swung open, and the smell of freshly-baked cupcakes wafted into the lobby, followed closely by Quinn and Michelle, each bearing a tray of said cupcakes. “Guess who made cupcakes for everyone?” said Quinn excitedly, a huge smile on her face as she set her tray down on a set of coasters that Grace had strategically arranged.

“Oh, oh, I guess: Quinn!” said Craig, as Michelle set her own tray down.

“No shit, genius,” snarked Zahra.

“That does smell quite enticing,” Varyyn said to the two newcomers. “May I?”

Quinn nodded, picking up a cupcake and passing it to the Vaanti leader. “Of course! We made plenty for everyone!”

“Cooking with love, am I right?” said Raj, who had woken up in response to the smell of cupcakes. As Michelle and Quinn started blushing and stammering furiously, he looked around the room at everyone who had arrived. “Hey, are we all here? Should we start the chapter?”

Alyssa smirked. “Sure, let’s go!” she said.

Michelle looked around the room, then frowned. “Aren’t you forgetting someone? Specifically, Ian and Estela?”

“Technically, that would be two someones,” Aleister corrected.

“...‘Sometwos?’” suggested Diego.

“What? No! That is most certainly not a word in the English language, and to be quite honest, such a word would be essentially a violation of…”

“I mean, at this point, those two might as well be one person,” said Raj, as Aleister continued to blabber on about linguistics. “‘IaStela?’ ‘EstIan?’ I dunno, what would we call them?”

“I think ‘Dragon Hero’ beats either of those,” said Jake.

“You’re just saying that because you came up with it,” Alyssa snarked.

“Princess, that… I… what… okay, you got me,” admitted Jake with a sigh. “But you gotta admit, it does sound pretty cool on its own.”

“Whatever. Let’s just start without them. They’ll figure it out next chapter.”

“Somehow, I get the feeling you would be pretty upset if Ian wanted to start without you,” said Grace. “Wouldn’t you?”

“That wouldn’t ever happen. He’s too nice to do that… ohhhhh,” said Alyssa, as realization dawned on her. “I hate to admit it, Grace, but you’ve got a point. Alright, fine, we’ll wait for them.”

Grace smiled. “I knew you’d do the right thing, Alyssa!”

“I mean, it’s impossible to stay mad at Grace for long,” Sean observed. “Right, Alyssa?”

Before Alyssa could reply, the doors to the restaurant slid open, and the two remaining Catalysts entered the lobby. “Wow. Everyone else is back already?” asked Ian.

“Good timing,” said Jake. “Princess here was about to start without you two.”

Alyssa slapped her husband in the shoulder. “You traitor…”

“Oh my god. Quinn, you are incredible,” said Estela upon spotting the cupcakes, racing over and grabbing one from the tray. “These look amazing.”

“Aww, thanks!” said Quinn. “Michelle helped too!”

“Oh, don’t sell yourself short, Quinn, these were all you,” said Michelle. “I just followed your lead, really.”

“No, Michelle, you did great! Such an amazing job-”

“Just kiss already,” said Alyssa, a bit louder than she meant to, sending Michelle and Quinn into another fit of blushing. “Oh my god, you two are worse than my brother and Estela were, and I didn’t think that was physically possible,” she muttered under her breath.

“Uh… okay, then, how about we start the next chapter? Everyone okay with that?” asked Michelle, desperate to change the subject. Before anyone could actually respond, she grabbed Quinn’s time-shifted phone and opened the Choices app once again. “Well, too bad, because here we go anyway.”

“Wait, were we voting?” asked Craig randomly, as Michelle began the next chapter of Open Heart.

Open Heart: Chapter 8

Make-Believe

“Oh, no,” said Diego as the title screen appeared. “That music does not sound good.” “Not to mention, it’s really hard to dance to,” said Raj. “I liked that upbeat music from the other chapter.”

“Ha, that’s true,” observed Quinn. “The other music was definitely better for dancing!”

You glance through the window blinds, into the room where Dr. Banerji rests…

Dr. Banerji: …

“Aww, he looks so sad,” said Grace. “It must be hard, being a doctor and having a terminal disease like that.”

“I’d feel so helpless,” said Michelle, shaking her head in sympathy. “I can’t even imagine going through that, even without being a doctor.”

“Well, this is a rather somber way to begin this chapter,” Aleister observed. “With luck, perhaps our character will be able to find a cure for Dr. Banerji’s condition.”

“That would be nice,” said Raj. “Wonder what he has? Maybe our Michelle can help somehow!” He looked at the real Michelle with a big smile on his face. “‘Sides, we all know she can do anything…”

Dr. Ramsey: I’ve been trying to figure that out for the last month.

MC!Michelle: Dr. Ramsey…

“Okay, if anyone doesn’t pick ‘how can I help…’” warned Estela the moment the choices appeared.

“It would be irresponsible of us to say otherwise,” agreed Varyyn.

“Well, duh!” said Alyssa. “We shouldn’t just do nothing, if we have the choice to do something!”

“Huh?” asked a very confused Craig.

Zahra sighed in exasperation. “How the hell are you confused by that? She made perfect sense.”

“Certainly, the wording may have been grammatically incorrect, but the message was clear,” said Aleister. “If we are capable of assisting with this situation, the best course of action would be to do so.”

“My grammar was perfect!” Alyssa protested.

“Well, I agree with everyone,” said Sean. “If we can help, why wouldn’t we?”

“Oh, for sure,” agreed Michelle. “Alright, who all votes for offering to help?” The vote was decisively unanimous. “Wow. Guess we have a clear winner.”

“A unanimous vote. That’s a rare sight,” said Diego as Michelle selected the choice in question.

Ethan’s pager beeps. He checks it with a grimace.

“Pager?” asked Zahra, surprised. “When the hell does this take place, the ‘90s?”

“Believe it or not, we actually still use pagers quite a lot in the hospital,” Michelle informed her. “I know, it seems behind the times, but it works well enough.”

“Huh. I would’ve thought hospitals would have, like, some kinda super-high-tech somethin’ or other,” said Jake. “The more ya know.”

“Additionally, I am quite certain that the mention of pagers has occurred previously in this story at some point,” Aleister said. “Is that correct, Michelle?”

Michelle frowned. “I… I mean, it has to have been mentioned, right? I honestly wasn’t paying that much attention to the pagers.”

“Well. Michelle doesn’t even know. My point stands,” said Zahra. “Who the hell still uses pagers?”

“Like I said. Hospitals do.”

“Why?!”

“I don’t know… because reasons?”

Craig nodded sagely. “Wow. I never thought about that before. Makes sense.”

“I… HOW in the hell did that make any sense at all?!” demanded Zahra.

“I concur with Zahra,” said Aleister.

“Hey, ‘because reasons’ is a good enough answer for me,” said Raj. “Besides, does this really matter that much?”

“Yes,” Zahra said without hesitation.

Michelle sighed. “Why does this always happen? Can we just play through the story for once without getting sidetracked?”

“Aww, but that’s no fun,” said Craig.

“Besides, I want to know why the hell hospitals still use pagers,” Zahra reminded everyone.

“WE KNOW,” said Jake.

Quinn reached over and grabbed a cupcake from the tray on the table, offering one to Zahra. “Here, want one of my cupcakes? They’re really good…”

“Huh? Uh, sure, why not.”

As Zahra started eating the cupcake, Quinn nudged Michelle. “Go ahead. While she’s distracted,” she whispered, winking at her. Michelle smiled gratefully and continued the story, while Zahra’s mouth was too full for her to protest.

MC!Michelle: Dr. Ramsey! You can’t just tell me one of the greatest doctors this country’s ever seen is dying and then… walk away. You want me to keep this a secret, but you won’t even tell me what ‘this’ is.

He rubs his stubbled chin and sighs.

Dr. Ramsey: Come by my house after work tonight. I’ll explain everything, I promise.

Meet Ethan at his place?

“You know what, guys?” asked Michelle, turning back toward the group with an excited look on her face. “I think it’s time we actually picked a Dr. Ramsey diamond choice.”

“Seconded. We have to find out about Dr. Banerji!” said Estela. “We all agree, right?”

Quinn frowned. “I get it, Michelle, but… as usual, we still don’t know what the other diamond choices will be…” she reminded them.

“Yo, Aleister! What are the other diamond choices?” asked Craig.

Aleister looked over at Craig with a perplexed expression on his face. “What? Me? Why on Earth would you think I would have any possible way of knowing what the other diamond choices are?”

“Uh, ‘cause you can tell the future, duh,” Craig stated, as though this were the most obvious answer in the world. “Who else would I ask?”

There was a long silence as everyone (except Craig) looked at each other in complete and utter confusion. “Grace,” said Aleister finally, “do you have the faintest idea what he could be referring to? I most certainly do not have prescient abilities of any kind; one would think such a fact would have been made apparent well before now.”

Grace shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine,” she admitted.

“Hold up, didn’t he say something about you seeing the future during the last chapter?” Raj asked. “You guessed what he was gonna vote ahead of time, or something. Pretty sure that’s what it was.”

“Oh!” exclaimed Sean. “Raj, I think you’re on to something. I remember a conversation like that too, actually.”

“See? I’m right, Aleister can tell the future!”

“What? No, he can’t tell the goddamn future,” said Zahra with an exasperated sigh, once she had finished the cupcake from earlier. “That settles it, I need a freakin’ drink.” She picked up her glass and took a long sip.

“Hey, you cheated!” Alyssa protested. “Diamond choices aren’t drinks!”

“I propose we just make ‘Craig says something stupid’ a new drink rule,” suggested Zahra.

“Sure, if you all want to die of alcohol poisoning by the end of the night,” Michelle snarked.

Everyone laughed at this comment. Including Craig.

“Actually, now that you mention it,” Raj said, “we should be drinking now. It shouldn’t cost money just to meet Dr. Ramsey for dinner, so this counts as an unnecessary diamond choice, right?”

“Oh yeah!” said Jake. “Wow. I’d definitely forgotten all about that rule. Well, you know what that means… drink, y’all!”

Most of the group took a sip of their respective drinks. “Heh. Saved by the Jake,” said Zahra. “And Raj, too.”

“You’re welcome,” Jake said in response. “And are we gonna be votin’, or what?”

“I’ve got it this time,” said Alyssa before Aleister or anyone else could beat her to it. “Though we all know what’s gonna win… we can’t miss this chance!”

“You are behaving far from impartially…” Aleister said.

“I know, and I don’t care,” said Alyssa. “Who votes for the best option, a.k.a. ‘Let’s talk tonight?’” She raised her hand immediately, followed a moment later by Michelle, Zahra, Diego, Estela, Ian, Aleister, Grace, Sean, and Varyyn. “Alright, we win. Michelle?”

“Wait, we didn’t do the other choice yet!” argued Craig.

“You’re right, but… there aren’t enough people left to win the vote,” Quinn said. “Ten of them already voted. They win no matter what.”

“I know, I don’t care about that,” said Craig. “I just wanted to raise my hand.”

“Uh, Craigslist, you can just do that anyway, y’know,” said Jake. “You don’t need a vote to raise your hand.”

“Wait, really?” asked Craig, before randomly raising his hand. “Whoa!”

“Alright, we’ve got our vote, let’s keep going,” said Michelle, ignoring Craig’s strange astonishment at being able to raise his hand without a reason.

“The mystery deepens! This is going to be so exciting!” said Diego with a huge smile, as Michelle purchased the diamond option.

“Aww, he smiled when we picked it! That’s adorable,” commented Quinn when the purchase happened.

Dr. Ramsey: And I mean it, Michelle. Not a word of this to anyone.

He touches your arm, staring at you gravely.

Dr. Ramsey: Not even Harper Emery. Promise me.

You swallow, realizing the magnitude of what’s happening.

MC!Michelle: …

“You weren’t kiddin’ when you said ‘the mystery deepens,’ Underdog,” Jake said to Diego. “Shit’s gettin’ real.”

“Wait, can Diego tell the future too?!” asked Craig, who was still waving his hand in the air randomly. “How crazy is that?”

“Listen, nobody here can freakin’ tell the future!” shouted Zahra.

“Uh, technically, they kinda can,” Raj reminded her, pointing at the twins.

Alyssa blushed, shrugging her shoulders. “We can’t actually ‘tell the future,’ just send things forward and backward in time,” she corrected.

“Besides… always in motion is the future,” added Ian, quoting Yoda. Diego air-fived him at the reference.

Craig suddenly gazed at the twins, inspiration dawning on his face. “Hold on a sec. Dudes… if you can send Quinn’s phone into the future… what if we looked up sports scores on it, and bet tons of money on the games? WE COULD ALL BE GAZILLIONAIRES!”

“Excuse you, but ‘gazillion’ is most certainly not an actual number,” Aleister said.

“Ah, who cares, you get what I meant,” Craig grumbled.

“And we are not using our powers like that,” Ian insisted. “We’ve been over this. Like, at least 25 times by now.”

“Where’s your sense of fun?” asked Alyssa. “Did you leave it next to your sense of humor, or something?”

“Besides,” said Grace as Ian rolled his eyes at his sister’s comment, “that wouldn’t be fair to whoever we bet against! They don’t have magic time powers on their side.”

“Thank you, Grace!” said Ian. “See? At least someone’s sensible around here.”

“As tempting as it is, Grace has a point,” admitted Michelle. “We can’t keep relying on the twins for stupid things.”

“How is ONE GAZILLION DOLLARS stupid?!” demanded Craig.

“And I repeat, ‘one gazillion’ is not an actual number!” argued Aleister once again.

“You know what? I think this story is really ramping up the mystery,” Sean said loudly, completely out of nowhere. “I vote ‘I promise.’ Who else agrees?”

There was a momentary awkward silence as everyone suddenly remembered the choice they were supposed to be discussing. “Hey, time twins, which choice wins-” Craig started to ask, before Zahra smacked him over the head with the rolled-up newspaper from before.

“I mean, the choice here is obvious,” said Michelle. “Who would ever pick anything besides ‘I promise?’”

“Same here,” said Quinn.

“I honestly kinda like ‘I’ll see you tonight,’ both for the flirtiness and because it’s a total troll move,” admitted Jake.

“Too late, already picked,” said Michelle as she selected the ‘I promise’ option.

“I VOTE FOR SOMETHING!” shouted Craig, launching his hand into the air again.

“Michelle! You cannot simply override the principle of democracy whenever you feel-” Aleister started to protest, before Grace placed a hand on his shoulder and gave him a knowing look. He immediately calmed down.

You emerge from the under-construction corridor to find Zaid bearing down on you.

Zaid: Unless you decided to quit medicine to become a foreman, I’m not sure what you could possibly be doing in there!

MC!Michelle: Oh, um, I was…

“You know, I’m low-key disappointed that ‘yes, I actually became a foreman’ isn’t one of the options,” said Zahra when the choices appeared.

“That would definitely be a great response,” agreed Sean. “Seeing what we’ve got, though… I say ‘lost.’”

“Well, ‘lost’ would be way funnier, so…’” said Raj.

“Not that either of these options are convincing excuses for being in a restricted area,” Michelle said. “That said, I’d also go with ‘lost.’”

“Oh, definitely, same here,” agreed Estela.

“But wouldn’t ‘looking for a quiet place to study’ make at least a little more sense?” asked Grace. “Those are hard to find, after all. Once at Hartfeld I somehow ended up in a maintenance hallway during finals week, looking for a study spot!”

“Why am I not surprised?” said Ian. “Actually, you know what, I’m voting for that one too.”

“She’s got a point,” admitted Alyssa. “‘Quiet place to study’ gets my vote.”

“I trust Maybelline’s judgement on this one,” said Jake. “I’m goin’ with ‘lost.’”

“What?!” said Alyssa. “Did you even hear what Grace said?”

Jake sighed. “Yep, I heard her, but she ain’t the one who’s been in an actual hospital,” he said.

“That is not a reason to vote,” argued Alyssa. “Besides, looking for a place to study is at least some kind of excuse.”

“But d’you really think Zaid would believe that?” said Jake. “I mean, really?”

“He’d believe it more than ‘I’m lost,’” said Alyssa.

“What? But how-”

“Alright, enough. That’s one vote for ‘lost,’ one point for ‘looking for somewhere to study,’” interrupted Michelle. “Who else?”

“Those two argue like a married couple,” Craig ‘whispered’ (extremely loudly) to Zahra.

“Almost like they’re actually married or something, dumbass,” Zahra snarked back. “By the way, you still need to vote.”

“Wait, we’re voting? No fair!” said Craig. “Uh, I vote the study thing!”

“I, for one, concur with Grace,” put in Aleister. “Any reasonable response would certainly be preferable to claiming to be ‘lost,’ after all.”

“Agreed,” said Varyyn. “After all, any answer is better than no answer at all, as claiming ‘lost’ would be.”

“But ‘Lost’ is a pretty good show… at least until the end,” said Diego.

“What?”

Diego sighed. “Never mind,” he said. Then he thought for a moment. “You know what? I’m going with ‘quiet place to study,’ actually,” he decided. “...Was that everyone?”

“Not quite,” said Grace. “Zahra and Quinn still haven’t voted!”

“Props to you for keepin’ track, because I sure as hell wasn’t,” said Jake. “Little Mermaid? Skrillex? You gonna vote, or what?”

“Cool it, Jack, I’ll vote when I vote,” said Zahra, with an added death glare for good measure.

Jake turned to the others in confusion. “...Did she just call me ‘Jack?’”

“I… guess I’ll vote for ‘lost,’” said Quinn. “Like you said, Jake, I trust Michelle’s judgement.”

Zahra sighed and leaned back in her chair as everyone looked expectantly at her. After several long moments of not saying anything, she laughed. “Oh, man. Your faces! That never gets old.” Then she shrugged. “And I vote looking for a study space or whatever. There.”

“Okay, now everyone’s voted,” said Grace.

“That has got to be the most chaotic vote we’ve ever done,” Sean remarked. “Which choice won?”

Grace thought for a moment, counting up the votes mentally. “8-6, ‘quiet place to study’ wins,” she announced.

“Well, that took unnecessarily forever,” said Michelle as she selected the ‘Looking for a quiet place to study!’ option.

Zaid: You really expect me to believe that? Do you think I’m a complete idiot?

“I told you so,” Michelle said.

You hurry off toward the elevator. But as you go, you can’t help but look back at the blocked-off corridor and think of Dr. Banerji all alone…

“Phew, dodged a bullet there, for sure,” said Jake.

“Talk about sad, though,” said Quinn. “Dr. Banerji in that room, all by himself…”

“All by him-seeeeeeeeeeelf,” Craig started singing, VERY badly.

Thankfully for the other Catalysts’ ears, Zahra picked up a cupcake and jammed it into Craig’s mouth. “Thank heavens,” Aleister said.

Zahra smirked. “Thank Quinn over here. She’s the one who gave me the idea…”

Quinn looked away, embarrassed. “Sorry, Zahra. I was just-”

“Hey, it wasn’t all bad. It was a small price to pay for a new way of shutting Craig up.”

“You’re not… mad at me?”

“Heh. Do I look mad?”

“Besides, nobody could stay mad at your adorable face for long, Quinn,” Michelle added, causing Quinn’s face to turn almost as red as her hair.

Craig finally swallowed the cupcake in his mouth, and immediately reached for another one. “Whoa! These are awesome, thanks, Z!” he said, stuffing the next one into his mouth as well.

Zahra whistled in appreciation. “And it’s a long-lasting method of shutting him up, too,” she observed. “Alright, let’s get on with the story!”

You step off the subway and rub your arms as the cool night air hits you. You pull out your phone, following the directions on your map app to the address Ethan sent you.

“I have to say… ‘map app’ is really awkward to say out loud,” Michelle said. “I feel like a Dr. Seuss character.”

“Or the Aflac duck,” suggested Craig helpfully, after swallowing the second cupcake. “You know: MAP APP!” He said the words in an imitation of said Aflac duck.

“What the hell is your brain, Craig?” asked Zahra.

“Awesome, duh,” he replied, without missing a beat.

He shrugs as he closes the door, glancing at the stunning views as if he’d forgotten they existed.

Dr. Ramsey: I’m barely ever here. Wine?

He pads into the kitchen. There’s a bottle of wine on the counter, already more than half-empty. Two glasses sit beside it, one already full.

MC!Michelle: …

“Yes, please!” blurted Zahra, taking a gulp from her own wine glass shortly after.

“Seconded,” said Raj.

“Hell yeah,” agreed Alyssa and Craig simultaneously.

Jake held up a hand. “Alright, new rule: if ‘Yes, please’ wins, then we all get to drink.”

Zahra shrugged guiltily. “Whoops. Too late.”

“And you all get mad at me for drinkin’ at the wrong time…” Craig muttered.

“This is absolutely underhanded! This is bribery of the highest order!” protested Aleister.

Jake smirked. “All’s fair in love, war, and voting on app games, Draco.”

“Besides, what if not everyone wants to drink?” asked Ian, despite he himself holding a half-empty wine glass in his hand.

“I mean, no one’s forcing you to be a stick in the mud,” teased Alyssa. “You do what you want.”

Michelle smiled, shaking her head in amusement. “Alright, well, I think we all know what’s going to win,” she said. “Do we still want to vote, or should I get on with it?”

“Get on with it!” everyone (except Aleister) said.

“Yes, get on with it!” quoted Diego in a British accent.

“Are you honestly suggesting we override democracy for such an inane reason? I can hardly fathom such a…” protested Aleister.

As he continued rambling in the background, Michelle selected the ‘Yes, please’ choice. “I mean, everyone except Aleister voted to just pick the choice,” she pointed out. “13 to 1, ‘vote’ lost fair and square.”

“Did we just vote on whether or not we should vote?” asked Diego. “Whoa, plot twist!”

“Vote-ception!” said Raj. “Awesome!”

Before Michelle could start reading the next line of the story, Jake lifted his glass above his head. “Hold up, Maybelline,” he said. “First, we gotta drink, y’a--”

“Y’ALL!” shouted Craig before Jake could finish. Immediately after, he took a huge gulp of wine.

“We just had this discussion last chapter,” groaned Zahra. “Stop saying ‘y’all!’”

“Too late,” said Craig with a huge grin on his face.

Dr. Ramsey: To the unknown.

[WINE: Clink Ethan’s glass.]

“Wow, talk about a very fitting ‘drink, y’all,’” said Jake as he and the others laughed at the timing of the one-option choice.

“Well, I’m not complaining,” said Zahra, leaning forward to refill her glass. She glanced over to her left at Estela, who was eating one of Quinn’s cupcakes. “Want some?” she asked, holding out a fresh wine glass to her.

Estela shook her head, looking away. “Thanks, but no,” she said.

“I’ll take hers!” shouted Craig.

“You already have some, moron,” Zahra snarked. Then she turned back to Estela. “Hey, uh… I know I’m total shit at this kinda stuff, but… you okay? This isn’t really like you.”

Estela smiled and waved off Zahra’s concerns. “Thanks, Zahra. I’m okay though, really.”

Zahra shrugged. “Whatever, then. Still… y’know if something’s wrong, you can talk to any of us, right? We’ve all got your back.”

“I know. But there’s nothing wrong with me. Promise.”

“Cool. Just checking.” Then Zahra leaned around Estela, looking over at Ian, who was currently chatting with Diego about Star Wars. “Yo, time boy,” she said, and he turned at the sound of her voice. “You’d better be takin’ good care of Estela, understand?”

Zahra followed this with a death glare in his direction, but Ian just smiled reassuringly. “Always,” he said, as he and Estela exchanged a loving glance.

“Alright, alright, just makin’ sure. Not that I care that much,” Zahra added unconvincingly, turning back to where Craig was now debating with Raj over whether cheese tastes more ‘yellow’ or ‘green.’ Upon realizing what their argument was about, she facepalmed. “Why…?” she asked nobody in particular.

* * *

“So! We gonna keep goin’ or what, Little MerMaybelline?” asked Jake a short while later, glancing pointedly at the armchair that Quinn and Michelle were now sharing.

The two of them were sitting so close they were practically in each other’s laps, chatting animatedly about something or other. At Jake’s comment, they leapt apart so fast that Michelle dropped Quinn’s phone. “I… uh… what? Yeah, of course we’ll keep going,” stammered Michelle as she bent down both to retrieve the phone and to hide her blushing face while she recovered herself.

“Seriously. Just kiss already,” muttered Alyssa much quieter than before, having learned her lesson. Jake laughed and gave his wife a long kiss. “…Not exactly what I meant.”

“Oh? You didn’t want me to kiss you, Princess? Is that what you ‘meant?’”

Alyssa rolled her eyes and smiled. “You know full well what I meant. But your kiss was nice, too.”

“Alright, alright, let’s go,” said Michelle, still blushing heavily. Quinn, for her part, had picked up one of the cupcake trays and was rearranging the cupcakes, probably more to have something to do than because the cupcakes actually needed rearranging. “And Zahra? I’m sure Estela’s fine, I wouldn’t worry about her. Everybody ready?”

Everyone went quiet… well, almost everyone. “But if bleu cheese tastes ‘blue,’ then does that mean mixing it with regular cheese would make it taste ‘green-’” Craig was saying. He instantly shut up when he noticed everyone staring at him. “Right, okay, back to the story.”

MC!Michelle: Dr. Ramsey… what’s going on? What’s Dr. Banerji’s diagnosis?

Dr. Ramsey: I don’t know.

MC!Michelle: But you’re the best diagnostician in the country!

“OH MY GOD, DR. BANERJI’S PREGNANT?!” shouted Craig.

Everyone stared at him. All Michelle could possibly say in response to this was simply: “What.”

“Dia-go-stritian,” said Craig, attempting to pronounce ‘diagnostician.’ “Isn’t that the doctor that treats pregnant people? Is that what Dr. Ramsey is?”

“Diag-nos-tician,” enunciated Michelle. “And you’re thinking of obstetrician. A ‘diagnostician’ is-”

“A ‘diagnostician’ is when a line is on an angle, but not horizontal or vertical,” said Raj with a big grin on his face.

Michelle sighed. “No, Raj, that’s… that’s ‘diagonal,’” she corrected. “A ‘diagnostician’ is-”

“A type of huge reptile that lived in the Mesozoic Era,” said Diego, catching on.

Michelle rolled her eyes. “Diego, that’s… that’s a dinosaur,” she said, completely serious. “A ‘diagnostician’ is-”

“That place in Harry Potter where they do their shopping,” said Jake.

“Whoa, I didn’t know you were a Harry Potter fan,” said Craig.

Jake gave him an incredulous look. “You kiddin’? I call him ‘Malfoy’ and ‘Slytherin’ all the damn time,” he said, pointing to Aleister.

“Oh yeah,” said Craig.

“Anyway,” put in Michelle, “you are thinking of DIAGON ALLEY, you idiot. A ‘diagnostician’ is-”

“Those little black rectangles with white dots on them that you can set up to knock over in creative ways,” said Sean.

Michelle massaged her temples in frustration. “I… what… no. Those are dominoes. A ‘diagnostician’ is-”

“My favorite animal!” chirped Quinn excitedly. “The one that lives in the ocean and does flips!”

“You too?!” demanded a flabbergasted Michelle. “How did you get ‘diagnostician’ and ‘dolphin’ mixed up…” Her voice trailed off as she realized everyone (save a bewildered Aleister) were struggling to contain their laughter. “Oh. Come on. What do you think this is, a Tumblr post or something?”

Unnoticed by anyone, a certain crabby crustacean popped its head up outside the window for a moment.

“Took you long enough,” said Raj over the din of everyone’s laughter. “But man, that was great! You should’ve seen your face!”

Michelle tried and failed to suppress a smile. “Alright, I admit, that was pretty good,” she said, laughing along with the others. “But getting back to the original topic,” she stated, once her laughter had died down a bit, “no, Dr. Ramsey is not an obstetrician. And most certainly, Dr. Banerji isn’t pregnant, and neither is anyone else, so can we please change the subject?”

“Seriously,” agreed Ian quickly, “let’s just keep going.”

Craig’s face fell. “Aww…” he said. “I thought I was on to something.”

Dr. Ramsey: I told him I was going to tell Dr. Emery. He chased me down and begged me to keep it to myself. I’d never seen him beg before. The idea of anyone knowing he was sick… almost seemed to break him.

MC!Michelle: But…

“Wow…” said Quinn softly. “This just got deep.”

“Least that explains why he told us to keep it a secret,” said Jake. “Man, what would it be like to be a doctor, and be sick? It’s gotta be like bein’ a pilot riding a crashing plane….”

“That you probably crashed,” snarked Alyssa. “Sorry, couldn’t resist.” Then she went back to serious. “Realistically, though, I get it. Sort of like we were talking about with Remy before; sometimes it might be harder knowing exactly what’s happening, but not being able to fix it.”

“Knowledge is sometimes a double-edged sword,” agreed Grace. “Which, come to think of it, is kind of the other side of ‘ignorance is bliss,’ you could say!”

“Hmm,” said Aleister thoughtfully. “While I do concede you have a valid point, I must maintain that it is at least better to be informed than not, even in such a difficult situation. The outcome will be the same regardless, no?”

“Everyone has their own way of looking at these kind of things,” observed Michelle. “Me, personally, though, I would want to know. Even if it’s something there’s no cure for… well, who knows? We of all people know better than anyone what kind of miracles are possible.” She gazed lovingly at Quinn, who smiled back, knowing full well which specific miracle Michelle was referring to.

“Well said, Michelle. Well said,” agreed Aleister.

Raj stretched and let out a huge, loud yawn, startling everyone. “Uh… sorry?” he said as everyone stared at him. “When you gotta yawn, you gotta yawn,” he added with an apologetic shrug.

Sean pulled out his phone to check the time. “Whoa!” he exclaimed. “It’s already way past midnight. Raj, if you’re tired--”

“Nah, I’m fine!” Raj said, waving away Sean’s concerns. “Besides, we can’t just stop mid-chapter!”

“Yeah, that’s illegal! ...Or something,” said Craig.

“We could just power through this chapter, and then go to bed,” suggested Grace. “I’m feeling pretty tired too, now that we mention it.”

“Same,” admitted Diego. “But first things first…” he said with a grin, “…who votes ‘Why would he feel that way?’”

“Wow. Diego of all people bein’ sneaky with the votes? That’s a first,” said Zahra.

Diego blushed as the others laughed good-naturedly. “You’ll find I’m full of surprises,” he quoted in a remarkable imitation of Luke Skywalker.

“Now that is definitely not a first,” said Jake. “Oh, also, I vote ‘Why would he feel that way’ too.”

“Oh, right!” said Craig. “We’re voting! Uh… wait, no, I vote the one about Dr. Emery.”

Michelle sighed. “Look, just raise your hands if you like the one Diego asked about!”

“That would be ‘Why would he feel that way?’” clarified Diego, who raised his hand, as did Jake, Zahra, Aleister, Estela, and Varyyn. “Okay, and ‘Dr. Emery deserves to know?’” The rest of the group raised their hands: Sean, Craig, Michelle, Quinn, Grace, Raj, and the twins. Diego mentally counted up the votes. “Aww, my choice lost. Well, guess we’re going with the second one!”

“Wait no, sorry, Diego!” said Craig. “I change my mind then!”

“Craig, you can’t just change your mind because Diego’s sad,” said Zahra.

“Yes you can!”

Zahra sighed, putting her head in her hands. “...Why do I bother?” she asked aloud.

Diego laughed and shook his head. “I appreciate it, Craig, but my choice wouldn’t win either way, so it’s fine! Michelle, would you do the honors?”

“Thanks, Diego,” said Michelle, selecting the winning choice.

Dr. Ramsey: Perhaps the old her would have taken my side. But today, she’s the administration. Her duty is to the board of directors now. But it must be done. When there isn’t a path, you make your own.

MC!Michelle: Alright, but…

“First of all, can I just say,” said Michelle the moment the choice appeared, “hospital administration sucks.”

“I can believe it,” agreed Ian. “I definitely understand where he’s coming from here.”

“You’d think the people in charge of a hospital would care more about their patients… and their employees, too,” said Quinn, “but in my experience… yeah, no.”

“Sad but true,” said Michelle, shaking her head, “sad but true.”

“I do like Dr. Ramsey’s line at the end there,” put in Estela. “‘When there isn’t a path, you make your own.’”

Ian smiled warmly. “That’s Estela, all right,” he said, pulling her into an embrace. Everyone smiled at the two of them (except Alyssa, who mimed vomiting instead).

“I want that on a t-shirt,” said Diego. “Talk about inspirational!”

“You do not need a t-shirt, as I have said before,” Varyyn said to his husband. “You look much better without one.”

“Varyyn!” said Diego suddenly, his face turning bright red. “Don’t say that in front of everyone!”

“What?” asked the elyyshar innocently.

Aleister cleared his throat. “If we are quite finished, I would just like to say-”

“VOTE TIEM NOW,” declared Zahra in a sarcastic ‘caveman’ voice. “Yeah, we know.”

“Before we actually vote,” said Michelle, “let me just say that finding out what the tests show is way more important than anything else. That should be our choice, here; who else agrees?”

“Pardon me,” said Aleister, “but you cannot simply-”

“Have you been in medical school for the past two years?” asked Michelle. At Aleister’s stunned silence, she continued, “Didn’t think so. So anyway, who votes ‘what did the tests show?’” Michelle, Quinn, Jake, Raj, Sean, both twins, Estela, Grace, Diego, and Zahra raised their hands (while Aleister made some weird noises of protest in the background.) “Yep, that’s what I thought.”

Dr. Ramsey: It was like a game I’d mastered. A… a competition against death I was winning handily. And now… I lost Dolores, and I’m going to lose Naveen. The two people on Earth I gave a damn about are the two people I couldn’t save.

MC!Michelle: …

“So many choices, so little time,” remarked Diego as yet another choice appeared. “Well, actually, they aren’t timed choices, so we’ve got all the time in the world, but still, generally, they’ve been coming faster than normal, so you could still say ‘so little time’ to mean…” His voice trailed off as he noticed everyone looking at him quizzically. “You know what? I’ll stop now.”

Varyyn rested a hand on his shoulder. “It is all right, Diego,” he said. Then he turned to the group. “‘A competition against death…’ such a thing can never truly be won, can it?” he mused. “A hard lesson to learn. ‘Some choices must last.’”

Everyone took a moment to bow their heads in memory of Ximaedra. “He’s right,” said Michelle finally. “In medical school they gave us a talk about that. How our job is to keep people happy and alive, but no human on Earth can live forever. We’ll all fail at some point.”

“Must be rough for someone like Dr. Ramsey,” said Raj. “He’s so good at what he does… failing like this must be even harder than usual to deal with.”

“I feel like Dr. Banerji isn’t the only one who ‘doesn’t want to be saved,’” Quinn observed. “Dr. Ramsey also feels like he’s given up. I… I can understand why.”

“It’s such a sad situation,” commented Grace. “Both doctors must feel so helpless.”

“Yeah…” muttered Zahra. “This sucks.”

“So, shall we take an actual, unbiased vote this time?” asked Aleister, looking pointedly at Michelle. “Since there was clear interference in the previous one.”

“Excuse you, Aleister, but advice is not ‘interference,’” Michelle argued. “Just because I had a suggestion on the best choice to pick doesn’t make the vote any less fair!”

“How absurd. Do you have any concept of what you are-”

“Alright, enough,” said Sean, gently but firmly. “Aleister, shouldn’t you take the vote?”

Aleister looked up in surprise. “Hmm? Er, yes, my apologies. You are quite correct. All in favor of the first selection?” For ‘Dr. Banerji means a lot to you,’ Estela, Ian, Varyyn, Raj, Zahra, and Aleister himself raised their hands. “And for the second choice?” Alyssa, Jake, Diego, Michelle, Quinn, Sean, Craig, and Grace all raised their hands for ‘It seems like Dr. Banerji doesn’t want to be saved.’ Aleister quickly counted up the totals. “It would appear the second selection has won the vote,” he declared. “Shall we?”

Dr. Ramsey: He doesn’t know what he wants. He’s given his life to his work. He never married, he never had children. And now he’s alone, facing an illness he can’t even put a name to. Wouldn’t you be terrified? Wouldn’t you think it was easier to run from the problem?

“This chapter is just… all the feels,” commented Diego.

Michelle nodded. “No kidding. I feel so bad for Dr. Banerji….”

“I just have to say, right now,” declared Alyssa, looking pointedly at her brother, “thank God for Diego and Estela… and me of course. Otherwise you would’ve ended up just like this, Ian.”

Ian promptly turned a bright shade of red. “‘Lyss!” he shouted indignantly. “I wasn’t that bad! Come on.”

“I may not have known my own sibling for as long as you have known yours, Alyssa,” said Aleister, “but I must concur. It is quite fortunate that the two of them have found each other, or she may have shared a similar fate.”

Now it was Estela’s turn to blush. Followed shortly by a death glare toward Aleister, naturally.

Alyssa shrugged mock-innocently. “What? It’s the truth… you definitely had less friends than me in grade school. ...And middle school. ...And high school. ...And college-”

“It’s not a competition,” groaned Ian.

As they all continued to banter, Raj leaned over to Craig. “Man, I love this show,” he joked, pulling out another random bucket of popcorn. Craig eagerly grabbed a whole fistful of popcorn and shoved it into his mouth.

“If we’re done,” said Michelle sternly, and the arguing siblings (and siblings-in-law) stopped talking abruptly. “Can we please continue?”

“Aww,” groaned Raj and Craig simultaneously. Zahra slapped Craig in response.

He hunches forward, bowing his head. You watch his shoulders rise and fall as he steadies his breathing.

MC!Michelle: (What do I do?)

“Shameless flirting, drink, y’all!” declared Jake triumphantly, raising his glass.

“Oh man, I’d completely forgotten about that rule,” admitted Raj.

“Dude, you came up with these rules in the first place!” Zahra reminded him.

“Oh yeah,” Raj said sheepishly.

“Well, I think it only counts if we actually take the flirting option, right?” said Quinn.

Sean laughed. “True, otherwise we’d all probably have died of alcohol poisoning by now.” He looked around at the group. “So, what do we choose?”

Michelle sighed. “Given that one of these options counts as a drink, I think we all know what’s going to win,” she admitted. “But anyway, who votes ‘Promise to help him?’” She raised her hand, and was joined by Ian, Estela, Aleister, Sean, and Grace. “And the shameless flirting option?’” This time, Jake, Alyssa, Raj, Zahra, Varyyn, Craig, Diego, and Sean. “Whoa. Closer than I expected,” she said as she tallied up the votes. “But still, the predictable outcome.”

“Alright, drink, y’all! For real this time!” proclaimed Jake excitedly. Most of the Catalysts took a sip of their drink of choice as Michelle selected the chosen option.

The next morning, you’re heading to meet your new patient. You notice a small crowd of surgical interns gathered in the hallway. Bryce stands at the center, grinning.

“Wait, what?” asked Raj. “That was… abrupt.”

“Awkward transition is awkward,” commented Diego. “But I wonder what Bryce is so happy about? Either way, I’m just happy to see Bryce again!”

“Amen,” said Alyssa.

MC!Michelle: What happened?

Bryce: There was a complication, and the general surgeon was taking too long to arrive. So I stepped up and asked Dr. Tanaka to tell me what to do. I saved the patient and scored a solo surgery. Win, win.

MC!Michelle: That sounds like you’re making…

“Whoa,” said Sean. “Bryce’s pretty impressive.”

“Hot, too,” added Quinn with a giggle.

“Well, I think we all know what Sean’s voting,” snarked Zahra. “It’s pretty much exactly one of the options.”

Sean glanced up at the screen. “Ha. True,” he laughed. “Nice one, Zahra! Alright, who else agrees with ‘A good impression?’”

“What, we’re voting already?” asked Craig. “Uh… I vote that one!”

“That was quick,” Alyssa observed.

In addition to Craig and Sean, Quinn, Ian, Diego, and Grace all raised their hands to vote. “And that makes six votes,” said Sean after a quick count. “Alright, and the other choice?”

“Bryce is impressive, I admit,” said Michelle, “but from what I hear about surgery, it’s pretty cutthroat. Bryce should be careful.” She raised her hand for the ‘Some enemies’ option.

“Agreed. You can never be too cautious,” said Estela, raising her hand as well.

“That’s our Estela for you,” said Diego with a smile.

Estela shrugged. “What? It’s true.”

“She’s got a point,” agreed Jake. “I’m votin’ for that one too.”

“Indeed, it is quite prudent to remain vigilant, especially in a hyper-competitive environment such as surgery,” agreed Aleister.

As Alyssa, Varyyn, Raj, and Zahra added their own votes to the group, Sean counted up the remaining votes. “Well, looks like ‘some enemies’ wins,” he declared.

Craig cheered. “Yes!” he exclaimed.

“Craig… you voted for the other one,” Zahra pointed out.

“Wait, really? Aww...”

Bryce: So, are you coming to Boston Common tonight?

MC!Michelle: That big park? What for?

Bryce: They do this thing called Classics on the Common once a month where they play an old movie on a big outdoor screen.

“Why is it blue?” Craig asked, referring to the words ‘Classics on the Common.’

Raj shrugged. “Why not?”

“Whoa. That’s deep, man,” Craig said, nodding sagely. Zahra gave him a confused look.

“This ‘Classics on the Common’ thing… I gotta say already, I am so down!” exclaimed Diego. “If there’s a choice, I’m definitely voting yes.”

“Sadly, I’m suspecting a diamond choice,” said Michelle. “And we’ve already spent our diamond choice this chapter. Though it was definitely worth it.”

Diego frowned at the realization. “Aww… I hope you’re wrong, Michelle.”

“You know, I have offered repeatedly to purchase as many diamonds as you might req-”

“WE KNOW,” everyone except Aleister and Grace said simultaneously.

Bryce: I already told your roommates, so… maybe I’ll see you there?

MC!Michelle: …

“Boom! YES!” shouted Diego excitedly. “It’s not a diamond choice!”

Michelle smiled mischievously. “I’ve never been so wrong in all my life,” she said in a British accent, a big smile on her face.

Diego lit up instantly. “Michelle… was that a movie reference?!”

She shrugged. “Maybe.”

Quinn smiled. “Either way,” she said, “I’m also glad we don’t have to miss out on a scene with Bryce. So that makes two of us!” She air-fived Diego.

“Be that as it may,” said Aleister, significantly louder than was necessary, “we do still need to take an actual vote on this choice.”

Jake sighed. “Y’know, Slytherin, this would all go a lot faster if you’d quit insistin’ on random votes,” he said.

“They are not ‘random’ votes,” Aleister insisted with a huff. “They are vital to the continuation of democracy-”

“In a phone game? Come on,” groaned Alyssa. “Let’s just get on with it!”

“If that is how you feel, then you should cease your constant interruptions and permit me to continue with the vote!”

Alyssa and Jake looked at one another awkwardly. “Huh. He’s got a point,” Jake admitted finally. “Alright, let’s just do this.”

“Well. That was unnecessary, wasn’t it? All in favor of ‘save me a seat near you’?” Quinn and Diego’s hands shot up instantly, followed shortly by Estela, Ian, Raj, Alyssa, Grace, Michelle, Sean, Craig, and Varyyn. “Very well, and all in favor of ‘I’ll check my schedule’?” Aleister himself, along with Jake and Zahra, raised their hands.

“I think it’s pretty obvious who won,” Raj commented.

Michelle nodded. “Yep. And I can’t say I’m complaining.” Smiling, she selected the ‘save me a seat near you’ choice.

Bryce: Great. Fair warning, I talk during movies. A lot.

“Just like you, Varyyn,” Diego commented, glancing sideways at his husband.

“Why?” asked Varyyn. “Is it unusual to speak during a film?”

“Well, usually people are quiet when they’re watching movies,” Diego explained. “But I don’t mind it when you ask me questions! It’s kinda fun to explain movies to you, actually. It’s like I’m watching my favorites for the first time, all over again!”

Varyyn smiled. “I… I thank you, Diego,” he said, unsure of how else to respond to that.

“People also sometimes talk durin’ movies that they’re makin’ fun of,” Jake added. “Like the ‘so bad it’s good’ types.”

Diego laughed. “True! Good point, Jake.”

“You mean like we are doing right now with this story?” asked Varyyn.

Jake and Diego glanced at each other, then shrugged. “Sorta,” admitted Jake finally. “Close enough, anyway.”

“Ah. I see.”

The nurses direct you to a young woman waiting in the E.R. A guy the same age sits beside her. He reaches out to shake your hand, pumping it enthusiastically.

Rowan: Doctor! Hi!

MC!Michelle: Wow, hi. And hello…

You check the chart.

MC!Michelle: Willow?

Willow: That’s me. And this is my twin brother, Rowan.

MC!Michelle: Willow and Rowan? Those are both…

“Pokemon professors!” Diego blurted out.

Ian laughed. “You’re not wrong,” he said. “But somehow, I don’t think that’s what they were going for.”

“...Weird names?” guessed Craig.

“Also true,” Raj agreed.

Quinn raised her hand excitedly. “Ooh! They’re trees, right?”

Michelle struggled to contain her laughter as she nodded. “Quinn, you don’t have to raise your hand, you know!” she said. “But you’re right, and that’s definitely more likely than the other two guesses.” Diego and Craig frowned, and Quinn broke into an excited grin.

Willow: They’re hippies.

Rowan: Total hippies.

MC!Michelle: Really?

“That explains a lot,” Zahra stated.

“Gotta say, I love that ‘what kinda hippies’ is an option,” laughed Raj. “I know where my vote’s going!”

“Same here, man,” agreed Craig. “Who else?”

Stunned at Craig actually taking a vote normally, there was a momentary delay before Alyssa, Jake, Raj, Diego, Varyyn, Quinn, Michelle, Sean, Ian, and Estela raised their hands. “Whoa,” said Zahra. “Did that just happen?”

“Did what just happen?” asked Craig.

Zahra sighed. “Never mind,” she said. “Guess we know which choice won.”

Michelle nodded. “Yep. Nice job, Craig!” she said.

“Nice job on what?”

Willow: They met at a Willie Nelson concert.

Rowan: I have a baby photo of us wearing matching ‘Legalize Weed’ onesies.

“Dude! I like this family already,” said Raj.

“Of course you do,” snarked Zahra.

Jake laughed. “Seriously, though, that’s awesome and hilarious. Awesomely hilarious?”

“Or ‘hilariously awesome,” suggested Craig. Jake high-fived him.

“Wonder what these two are in the E.R. for?” asked Grace curiously as Jake, Raj, and Craig continued their random discussion in the background. “They didn’t say…”

Michelle shrugged. “Only one way to find out,” she said as she proceeded to click ahead in the story.

Willow laughs, nervously itching her skin.

MC!Michelle: How long have you been feeling itchy, Willow?

Willow: Hm? I, uh… I’m not sure.

Rowan: She’s had it for a few weeks now.

You step closer and notice the spider angiomas darkening under her skin.

“Eww!” shouted Alyssa. “She has spiders under her skin?! That is disgusting!”

Michelle shook her head. “It’s not actual spiders. A ‘spider angioma’ is just the term for an area with blood vessels under the skin, that spread out like spiderwebs. Combined with the itching, this could be a liver problem.”

“Why do medical conditions have such weird names?” Alyssa asked nobody in particular.

“Plus those two things were written in green! They must be important,” Quinn pointed out.

“Good thinking!” said Michelle. “I bet there’s gonna be a choice about their diagnosis coming up.”

MC!Michelle: Push your hands down on your sides just like this. That’s right. Now I’m going to give you a little tap.

You lightly strike one side of Willow’s abdomen, resting your hand on the other side.

“The hell is that test for?” asked a confused Jake.

“It’s called a fluid wave,” explained Michelle, instantly recognizing the test being performed in the story. “If she… er, me… er, ‘we’... are doing that, they’re probably suspecting liver disease too.”

“I’m confused,” said Craig.

“That’s our Michelle for you,” said Quinn with a smile. “She knows her stuff!” Michelle’s face immediately turned a deep shade of red.

Aleister sighed. “I… suppose we can once again waive democracy for the inevitable medical choice ahead,” he said. “I trust your judgement, Michelle.”

“Er, right. Thanks, Aleister,” said Michelle.

“Hang on, Aleister, wasn’t that already a rule for medical questions?” asked Alyssa.

“Erm… hmm… I am… not certain what you might be talking about,” Aleister stammered unconvincingly.

Rowan: Yeah. He was kind of sketchy.

Willow: Totally sketchy. Just because my chest hurts doesn’t mean you have to conduct the entire consultation with my boobs, right?

You look between them, suspicious.

MC!Michelle: …

“Alright, who was this guy?!” demanded Jake. “Even I know he should be fired, like, yesterday.”

“Amen to that,” said Estela. “Let’s get his name.”

The other Catalysts all nodded their assent to that simultaneously. Sean glanced around at the group, then shrugged. “Well,” he stated. “That was an easy vote. Let’s find out who the hell this creep was.”

“On it,” said Michelle as she chose the ‘What was his name’ choice.

MC!Michelle: What was his name?

Willow: Doctor… Smith.

Rowan: John Smith.

Willow: Maybe Jonathan.

“Well, that really narrows it down,” said Zahra sarcastically.

“If that’s even really his name,” said Estela. “Something smells fishy here.”

“Oh,” said Raj sheepishly. “That might be me.” He held out a plate of fish sticks he had been eating. “D’you want any?”

Estela waved the plate away as everyone laughed. “No thanks.”

Raj shrugged. “Suit yourself. More for me, I guess!” He emphasized this statement by popping two fish sticks into his mouth.

Michelle frowned. “You’ve got a point, though, Estela. I wonder if they even saw a doctor at all. They’re acting kinda evasive.”

“Sure is mysterious,” agreed Sean. “I bet they’re hiding something, but what?”

“Maybe they already got a diagnosis, but didn’t like what it was?” suggested Grace. “They could be looking for a second opinion.”

“That’s a good point,” said Alyssa. “Hmm…”

“Well… shall we proceed, then?” asked Aleister. “Certainly our questions will be answered as the story progresses.”

“I sure hope so,” said Diego. “Unless they pull another ‘Patient X’ and make us wait a bunch of chapters to find out the answer.”

“I hope not!” said Quinn. “But at least we can keep going through all the chapters right away…”

“Yeah, imagine having to wait an entire week between chapters!” said Diego. “So glad we don’t have that problem.”

“You’re welcome,” said Alyssa smugly. Everyone laughed as Michelle started continuing the story once again.

MC!Michelle: Willow, I’m afraid it’s not the flu. It’s likely you have hepatitis C.

“Aww… I was hoping they’d let us guess the diagnosis,” Michelle complained. “We haven’t had a question like that in a while now!”

“You would’ve gotten it right anyway,” Quinn reassured her with a smile, taking Michelle’s hand in her own. “Hopefully there will be other chances!”

“I hope you’re right. Thanks, Quinn.”

“Hey, what if the reason they’re being so evasive is because they’re not vaccinated?” suggested Sean. “There’s a vaccine for hepatitis, isn’t there?”

“Yes and no,” answered Michelle. “There’s vaccines for hepatitis A and B, but hep C doesn’t have a vaccine yet. Good guess, though.”

“Huh,” said Sean. “Well, then I’ve got nothing.”

MC!Michelle: You don’t have insurance, do you?

The twins look at each other again, helpless.

Rowan: ...No. We don’t.

Willow: Usually when I’m sick, I just hope for the best and wait for whatever it is to go away. But my symptoms just kept getting worse.

Rowan: Mass Kenmore wouldn’t even look at Willow without insurance.

Willow: And we definitely can’t afford twenty-eight grand a month!

MC!Michelle: Yeah, it’s…

“So glad there’s an option for ‘Total bull,’ ‘cause that’s what I was gonna say,” said Zahra once the choices appeared.

“For sure,” said Craig. “That sucks! What are they gonna do? ...Also, does that count as a drink?”

Everyone looked at Jake expectantly, as Zahra shoved Craig in the shoulder in response. Jake shrugged. “Sure, why not,” he said. “Drink, y’all!”

“Maybe there’s something the ER doctor can do,” suggested Michelle, as she took a sip of her drink. “One of the doctors who came in for a guest lecture last year talked to us about alternatives for patients without insurance.” She shrugged, glancing back at the screen. “One way or another, guess we’ll find out.”

“Hold up,” said Alyssa, holding up a hand to get everyone quiet. “Alright, so, for this choice… everybody better vote ‘Total bull,’ understand?”

There were some murmurs of assent from the majority of the group, and some noises of protest about democracy from Aleister.

“That’s what I thought,” said Alyssa. “Alright, Michelle, we’re picking ‘Total bull.’”

“To be fair,” admitted Aleister, “I would have chosen the selection in question to begin with. I simply protest the principle of the thing, nothing more—”

“WE KNOW,” everyone except Grace and Aleister himself said simultaneously.

Michelle spared an apologetic glance at Aleister before selecting the choice in question. 

MC!Michelle: Wait. Don’t leave yet. I’ll… I’ll see what I can do.

Rowan: You’ll help us?

MC!Michelle: I can’t promise anything. But I’ll try.

Willow: Thank you, Dr. Nguyen.

MC!Michelle: First things first. We can’t give you your treatment until we know what genotype of hep C you have. I’ll need to draw blood…

“Hey, that word ‘jean-o-type’ is in green! That must be important!” shouted Craig when the line appeared.

Michelle’s eyes widened in surprise. “Wow. That was honestly a great observation, Craig!

“Seriously? Thanks!” said Craig with a huge grin on his face. “So, what does it mean? I didn’t know whether or not your name was ‘Gene’ affected your health…”

Michelle and Zahra exchanged a meaningful glance. Zahra facepalmed. “And we’re back to normal Craig,” she snarked. “Should’ve figured.”

“Genotype,” not “‘Gene-o-type,’” clarified Michelle. “You know, ‘genes.’ Genetics. That kind of thing.”

“Ohhhhh,” said Craig, clearly still not understanding at all. “That makes perfect sense.”

“Sure it does,” said Michelle sarcastically, as she clicked forward in the story.

You spot Ines walking toward you.

Ines: Hi, Michelle! All done in the E.R.?

MC!Michelle: Yeah, I was actually just looking for you!

Ines: At your service! What do you need?

(What do you do?)

“Whoa, Ines gets a whole-body picture?” asked Quinn. “That’s surprising.”

“Doubt it has much to do with this scene, though, since it’s not a diamond choice,” Sean pointed out.”

Quinn’s face fell. “Right. Yeah, true,” she admitted.

“Everyone? Trust me. Never lie to a resident or attending,” said Michelle. “We should absolutely tell the truth here.”

Jake shrugged. “Fair enough,” he said. “I don’t see why not.”

“It’s like they say: honesty is the best policy,” said Grace. “I agree.”

“Very well, shall we vote normally, then?” asked Aleister. “All in favor of Michelle’s suggestion?” The vote was unanimous. As Michelle selected the choice, Aleister huffed and crossed his arms. “There, you see? Was that so difficult?”

“Yes,” said Jake, smirking. Aleister scowled at him.

Ines: One of the hardest things to learn is that you can’t treat everyone, MC. As a doctor, your responsibility is to find a way to help the people you can help.

She puts a comforting hand on your arm and walks away. You lean against the wall, a wave of disappointment crashing over you.

MC!Michelle: (What am I supposed to do now?)

“What, seriously? You can’t do anything?” shouted a very frustrated-sounding Estela. “That’s bullshit.”

“Right?” agreed Zahra, frowning. “Ugh.”

Michelle shrugged apologetically. “Sad but true, that really is the way medicine goes,” she explained. “Ines makes a good point here. It’s true that we can’t treat everyone. It’s a rough lesson to learn, but an important one.”

“And what, you just accept that?” asked Alyssa. “That can’t be right! C’mon, Top Gun, you agree, right?”

Jake shrugged helplessly. “I ain’t in med school, Princess,” he admitted. “Maybelline knows what’s up.”

Alyssa frowned. “Ugh. So unfair.”

“That’s life,” said Michelle.

“Guess life isn’t always fair, either,” said Sean. “Besides, looks like your character has enough on her plate right now. What with Dr. Banerji and all.”

“True,” admitted Michelle. “Wonder what’s next?”

Sienna: Well? How do I look?

MC: Like you walked out of a time machine! You’re dressing up for the movie?

Sienna: I hear it’s a fun thing some people like to do at Classics on the Common, and I wanted to give it a shot!

She gives a little twirl.

Sienna: I actually thought you might want to dress up too. Look what I picked up for you…

Classic Hollywood: Turn back the clock.

“‘Turn back the clock?’ Sounds like your specialty, Wonder Twins,” Craig joked.

Ian rolled his eyes. “For the millionth time, we can’t actually go back in time,” he said.

“Anyway, can we talk about how awesome Sienna looks? And Michelle’s character, for that matter?” put in Quinn. “Check out those outfits!”

“Too bad we spent our diamonds for this chapter already,” Diego reminded everyone. “Because otherwise, I think we should definitely dress up if we could!”

“Right?” agreed Raj. “I bet the others are all gonna be dressed up, too… can’t wait to see their looks!”

“Well, unfortunately, Diego’s right,” Michelle said. “One diamond choice per chapter, remember.” She declined the outfit as Aleister reminded everyone yet again that he was willing to purchase more diamonds.

You take in the impressive selection of sweet and savory treats in the center of the blanket.

[PICNIC BASKET: Don’t mind if I do!]

“Another one! Drink, y’all!” proclaimed Jake.

“This scene is remindin’ me of Raj’s picnics,” said Craig. “In all the best ways!”

Varyyn nodded. “Indeed. Raj’s cooking is always impressive. As this week has shown us once again.”

Raj grinned broadly. “Thanks, dudes!”

“Speaking of which, we should have another picnic sometime while we’re here!” suggested Quinn, grabbing Michelle’s hand excitedly. “How about at the beach near the airstrip, where we went on our first day here, remember?”

“Uh, actually, that was me an’ Raj with you, I think,” Craig pointed out. “Meech wasn’t there.”

Flustered, Quinn withdrew her hand and blushed. “What? Who said anything about Michelle? I was just, erm, talking about us in general, you know, like-”

“Aw, c’mon, even I can see it,” teased Jake. “’Little MerMaybelline’ is definitely a thing.”

“What are you even embarrassed about? It’s us,” said Ian. “I mean, it’s kinda silly that you’re hiding anything at this point.”

“What’s there to be afraid of?” added Estela.

Michelle frowned. “That’s something, coming from you two,” she said.

“Wait, what?” asked Raj, as it suddenly became Estela and Ian’s turn to get flustered. “Am I missing something?”

“No,” said Estela, Ian, and Michelle simultaneously.

Raj shrugged. “Huh. Okay then.”

“How about we get on with this?” suggested Estela abruptly, as Michelle went ahead and continued without waiting for a response.

Landry: Wait… did you ask out the girl from next door?

Elijah: No! I just… told her we were coming and that she should come, too.

Bryce: Dude, that’s totally a date.

Elijah: No way… It’s just me being a… friendly neighbor.

MC!Michelle: I think you should…

“AWW~! THAT IS SO ADORABLE!!!!” squealed Quinn in an incredibly high-pitched voice. Zahra and Jake covered their ears in response.

“Quinn used Screech! It’s super effective!” said Craig in the Pokemon announcer voice.

“Also, speaking of couples who are in furious denial…” said Diego, glancing pointedly at Michelle and Quinn.

“Uh-oh… Diego said it, it must be true!” said Alyssa with a grin. “It’s meant to be!” Michelle and Quinn blushed even deeper at this comment.

Diego shrugged sheepishly. “Hey, it worked for these two couples, what can I say?” he said, gesturing toward the twins and their respective spouses.

“...Well?” asked Zahra, looking at Michelle and Quinn expectantly along with the rest of the group. “If you’re gonna date or whatever, just say it. Don’t sit around stammerin’ like Time Boy over here.”

“That was years ago, come on,” said Ian, rolling his eyes as Estela stifled a laugh.

“Well, I mean, I… we… er…” said Quinn.

“I’m not really--” Michelle started to say.

Thankfully for Michelle and Quinn, they were interrupted by Aleister suddenly getting to his feet and clearing his throat loudly. “Er-hem! Have we all forgotten entirely about the choice at hand?” he asked, gesturing to the screen.

Michelle let out an involuntary sigh of relief. “Phew. Saved by the Aleister,” she muttered to Quinn, who giggled.

“Very well,” continued Aleister. “All in favor of the first selection, raise your hands.”

“Yeah, me!” said Craig. “I say go for it, Michelle and Quinn!” There was a brief silence as he looked up at the screen. “...Oh. Um, I meant Elijah. Yeah. Definitely meant to say Elijah.”

“Hey, we were all thinkin’ it,” said Jake. “And I say ‘go for it’ too. Who else?”

As the vast majority of the Catalysts raised their hands for the ‘go for it, Elijah’ choice, no one was quite sure whether everyone was voting about Elijah’s situation in the story, or Michelle and Quinn’s situation in real life. Regardless of which scenario was on everyone’s minds, the vote was the same: 13-1 in favor of ‘go for it, Elijah.’ “I see we have our answer, then,” proclaimed Aleister (his being the 1 vote against). “Michelle, would you do the honors?”

“If it’ll get us off of this topic, sure,” she said, as she selected the choice.

Elijah blushes, but shakes his head.

Elijah: Nah… she knows it’s just a friend thing.

“And in related news, Elijah continues to be you, Ian,” said Diego in a stereotypical newscaster voice. Ian shrugged sheepishly as Diego continued, “Now on to the weather. How’s the weather today, Varyyn?”

The elyyshar stared blankly at his husband, clearly confused. “Hmm? The weather is quite pleasant this evening. As it often is on La Huerta, ever since Vaanu’s departure. Why do you ask?”

Diego sighed. “We’ll work on that routine later,” he said, as Varyyn continued to look confused. “Don’t worry about it!”

Jackie arrives as the lead actor appears on the screen.

Elijah: Jackie! I thought you said you were studying at the library.

Jackie: I needed a break.

MC!Michelle: (What do I do?)

“There she is,” said Zahra excitedly. “About time she showed up in this chapter.”

“Whoa. You’re excited,” Craig pointed out.

“No I’m not.”

“Uh-huh. Sure you’re not. Anyway, let’s tell her to sit by us!”

“Let’s not do that,” argued Zahra.

“Well, I’m with Craig here,” said Raj. “The more, the merrier! Who else?” Besides himself and Craig, Raj saw Estela, Alyssa, Jake, Diego, Quinn, Michelle, and Sean raise their hands. “And looks like we’ve got a winner, 9 to 5!”

“Workin’ 9 to 5…” sang Diego randomly.

“...And Diego’s singing. It’s definitely getting late,” Zahra muttered. “Alright, Michelle, let’s just get on with this.”

“Karaoke night tomorrow?” suggested Craig. Zahra wordlessly stared at him. “Okay, okay, just a suggestion…”

Jackie: So… Wayne’s a no-show again, Sienna?

Sienna: He’s working tonight, if that’s what you mean.

Jackie: Seriously, Sienna. When are you going to wake up and dump that asshole? You deserve so much better.

Sienna looks like she’s been slapped. She looks to you for help.

MC!Michelle: Whoa…

“That’s my girl, Jackie,” said Zahra. “Tellin’ it like it is.”

“She could’ve said it a little nicer, though,” Quinn protested. “Sienna’s gotta be feeling awful!”

Zahra shrugged. “Doesn’t change the facts.”

“True,” Estela agreed. “We all know Wayne’s an ass. Maybe this is what Sienna needed to realize it, too. I say ‘harsh but fair.’”

“Definitely,” said Zahra.

“Hey, since Jackie’s actin’ like Zahra again, does that count as a drink?” asked Craig. “Also, I vote ‘harsh but fair’ too.”

Jake nodded. “Oh, definitely: drink, y’all!”

Alyssa shook her head, setting her glass down. “I’m getting too tired to drink any more,” she admitted. “Rain check, guys.”

Zahra shrugged. “Fair enough,” she said. “Alright, who else agrees with us on the choice?”

When the votes had been tallied up, the final result was a close one. 8-6 in favor of ‘harsh but fair,’ with Zahra, Estela, Craig, Jake, Alyssa, Aleister, Michelle, and Varyyn all voting in favor.

Elijah: Oh, Michelle, did you ever find out more about Patient X?

All eyes turn on you, intrigued. You freeze up and stammer.

“Well, this suddenly got awkward,” Michelle observed. “I mean, we can’t say anything to them, so…”

“We should make something up!” suggested Ian. “Say it was a mutant! Or a zombie! Or a mutated zombie!”

“...Or a zombified mutant?” Diego added.

Ian grinned. “Love the way you think!”

“Somehow, I don’t think they’d believe that,” deadpanned Alyssa.

Elijah: Is it the President? You have to tell us now!

MC!Michelle: …

“Oh, man, I forgot about that!” said Raj. “The President who’s also secretly a vampire!”

“PLOT TWIST: DR. BANERJI IS SECRETLY THE PRESIDENT,” said Craig.

“Best. Excuse. Ever,” said Ian. “That should definitely be one of the options…”

Aleister huffed. “Why you all continuously insist on acting absurd, I haven’t the slightest idea,” he said.

“Aw, c’mon, lighten up,” said Craig, tossing a pillow at Aleister.

As neither Aleister nor Grace had Estela-level reflexes, the pillow smacked him right in the face, leaving him to stammer indignantly as the rest of the group laughed. “I… how… heavens! You absolute buffoon, Craig!”

“Hey, it’s your fault for being so serious all the time,” said Craig.

“Just for that, I am rescinding your voting privileges for this round of voting,” declared Aleister.

“Wait, he can do that?”

“Technically, no, but who’s gonna stop him?” said Raj. “‘Sides, it’s just one vote. What were you gonna pick, anyway?”

“The first one!” exclaimed Craig excitedly. “Just tell ‘em who it is!”

Zahra rolled her eyes. “Maybe it’s a good thing you don’t get to vote,” she said. “That is the absolute worst choice imaginable.”

“Says you.”

“Says common goddamn sense.”

As the two continued to argue, Aleister stood up to take the vote. “All in favor of what is, quite frankly, a terrible choice?” he asked, referring to the ‘It’s Dr. Banerji’ option. Aside from Craig, who went ignored, no one raised their hands. “Hmph. At least the rest of you have some sense. Now, all in favor of feigning ignorance?” This time, he was referring to the ‘I don’t know anything’ option, for which Alyssa, Jake, Quinn, Raj, and Diego all raised their hands. “And finally, the clearly superior choice?” he asked for the ‘I really can’t tell you’ option: he himself and Grace raised their hands, accompanied by Estela, Ian, Sean, Michelle, Varyyn. (Zahra, busy arguing with Craig, didn’t vote at all.)

“Huh. Aleister, since when do you have such strong opinions on the different choices?” asked Michelle.

“Whatever do you mean?”

“I don’t know, usually you just read out the choices. That time you were pretty opinionated.”

“Might have something to do with Craigslist chuckin’ a pillow at him,” suggested Jake.

“Whoa, that really threw off his groove, then,” Diego said.

“Wait, so does that mean someone else got Aleister’s personality?” asked Alyssa. “Are we gonna have some Freaky Friday shenanigans now?”

“I hope not,” frowned Sean. “Once was enough.”

“I assure you all, I am Aleister,” Aleister assured them all.

“Either way, looks like we’ve got a winner,” Michelle interjected before the conversation could get any more out of hand. “Let’s keep going. I’m starting to get tired…”

Diego nodded. “Yeah, same here,” he admitted. Michelle chose the ‘I really can’t tell you’ choice, as Zahra and Craig continued to argue in the background.

Landry: Does it have anything to do with the diagnostics position?

“Wait, there’s a position for that squid monster from Star Wars?” asked Raj.

Ian laughed. “No, you’re thinking of ‘dianoga.’ ‘Diagnostics’ refers to a large-”

“Funny, but no, we are not doing this again,” interrupted Michelle before they could restart the same joke from earlier. “Can we stay on topic for once?”

“Sorry, couldn’t resist,” admitted Raj. “‘Sides, it’s us. When do we ever stay on topic?”

“He ain’t wrong, y’know,” said Jake.

Michelle sighed. “Good point.”

Elijah: It hits close to home. I was born with chronic spinal cord damage. It was potentially fatal, but my parents chose to pay for an experimental surgery. Insurance wouldn’t cover it. The procedure saved my life, but it bankrupted them.

MC!Michelle: Oh, Elijah.

Elijah: They never talk about it, but part of me has always felt guilty. Like it’s my fault. They gave everything to save me.

MC!Michelle: Listen…

“This story…” muttered Quinn.

Michelle looked over at her, noticing the look in her eyes. She wrapped an arm around Quinn. “Hey. Speaking of things hitting close to home…” Michelle said softly.

Quinn looked up at her. “I know it’s not exactly the same situation, but… I relate a lot to Elijah,” she said. “Especially the part about feeling guilty. You know my parents tried everything to find a cure for me, and I absolutely did feel guilty.” She forced a laugh. “Even now. I know it’s dumb, but even though it’s been years since I was cured… I still sometimes feel guilty about the whole thing.”

“Quinn…” said Michelle, pulling her into a tight hug. “It’s not dumb. Hell, just because you’re cured now doesn’t mean it all never happened in the first place; all those years still happened.”

Quinn nodded, pulling back and smiling at Michelle. “Sorry. I’m just… tired and tipsy, I guess,” she said, holding up her glass for emphasis.

“No need to worry. I’m here for you. Honest.”

As the two of them gazed into each other’s eyes, Jake suddenly coughed, interrupting the moment. “Hey, in case ya forgot, we’re all still here,” he reminded them.

“Jake!” admonished Alyssa. “Let them have their moment!”

Michelle and Quinn looked over to see that not only Jake and Alyssa, but the entire rest of the group (save for Craig and Zahra, who were still arguing) were all watching them. “Oh,” said Michelle. “Um. Right, so… uh… who votes what?”

Grace smiled. “Take all the time you need, you two. We’re sorry for interrupting,” she said sincerely.

“Yes, Jake’s very sorry,” said Alyssa with a pointed look at her husband. “Isn’t he?”

“Yeah, all right, I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m also drunk, in my defense.”

“I highly doubt ‘intoxication’ would be a permissible defense in any court of law--” Aleister started to say.

“No one cares, Malfoy.”

Sean stood up, slightly unsteadily. “How about I take the vote this time?” he suggested. When no one objected, he continued, “Who likes ‘It wasn’t your fault?’” Quinn smiled and raised her hand, followed a second later by Michelle. In addition to the two of them, Sean, Raj, Ian, Estela, and Grace all voted as well. “Okay, and how about the second choice?” This time, Aleister, Jake, Alyssa, Diego, and Varyyn raised their hands. Sean nodded. “Perfect. Looks like we’ve got our answer.”

Michelle held the phone out to Quinn. “Want to do the honors?” she offered.

“I’d be flattered,” said Quinn, taking the phone and picking the choice in question, as well as taking up Michelle’s role in reading the lines.

Elijah: But it’s why I became a doctor. That doctor, the one who saved my life by inventing a brand new procedure? That’s what I want to be. Pushing the boundaries. Paying it forward. And one day, I’ll save lives that people thought were hopeless before.

“Wow, it’s just like how you founded your charity, Quinn!” Grace pointed out. “Didn’t you say something like that? About ‘paying it forward?’”

Quinn smiled. “I did! It’s crazy how Elijah and I are so much alike, huh?”

“And before anyone asks, no, that doesn’t count as a drink,” said Jake. “We’re drunk enough as it is.”

“Whoa, Jake being all responsible? Must be the apocalypse,” snarked Michelle.

“Must be!” giggled Quinn. “Alright, let’s keep going!”

Bryce: Come on, let’s get outta here.

MC!Michelle: And do what?

Bryce: Literally anything. Let’s go have an adventure.

What do you do?

“Ugh, I knew it,” groaned Diego melodramatically. “Of course there’s a Bryce scene when we already spent the diamonds earlier. Should’ve figured.”

“To be fair, we’ve seen a lot of Bryce scenes already,” Raj reminded him. “There’s got to be more coming later on, too!”

Diego shrugged. “True,” he admitted. “Ah well.”

“No vote, then… sadly,” sighed Quinn, as she reluctantly chose ‘Stay here.’

You step cautiously into the operating room. You find Harper alone, gazing thoughtfully at the equipment tray. Her hands hover over each scalpel, as if greeting old friends.

MC!Michelle: (What is she doing in here?)

MC!Michelle: (What do I do?)

“Oh, I bet we’re gonna ask her if there’s a hepatitis C trial Willow can enroll in!” guessed Diego. “Elijah said the trials will cover the cost for free, right?”

“Yep,” said Michelle. “Still, it would be pretty convenient for there to be a trial for her exact condition right at that moment.”

“Ah, the magic of fiction,” said Raj. “So… choice time. Meech, what d’you think?”

“Probably best to wait and let her notice us,” Michelle suggested. “Sounds like she’s preoccupied with… whatever it is she’s doing.”

“Well, that’s good enough for me! I’m voting with you,” Raj said. “Who else?” Quinn raised her hand, followed by Ian, Diego, Grace, Sean, and Varyyn. “And the ‘get her attention’ choice?” Estela, Aleister, Jake, and Alyssa raised their hands.

“Thanks, Raj!” said Quinn. “Looks like we’ve got our answer!” She proceeded to choose the ‘Wait for her to notice me’ choice.

MC!Michelle: There’s a study. Human trials for new medications. They’re looking for fraternal twins to test on. If Edenbrook agreed to host test subjects, the government would subsidize any care they happen to require.

Harper reads over the documents in a flash.

Dr. Emery: You want to deliberately manipulate a government subsidy to provide care for an unrelated case?

MC!Michelle: Yes, but…

“Fraternal twins? Hey, maybe you two should join this study,” joked Raj. “Free healthcare!”

Ian laughed. “Somehow, I think having magic time siblings involved might mess up the results,” he said.

“Ha. Good point!”

Meanwhile, Michelle frowned as she looked over the options. “Props to our main character for going to an authority, but… I have to say, this is a pretty bizarre situation,” she said. “I mean, I don’t think it’s technically illegal or anything, but…”

“Sounds like a classic legal loophole to me,” said Jake.

“Look, when the rules keep you from doing what’s right, you say ‘screw the rules,’” said Estela. “I think we all have experience with that by now.”

There was a momentary silence as everyone processed Estela’s statement. Finally, Michelle nodded. “Well said, Estela,” she acknowledged. “Besides, if I had to pick one of these choices to say in real life, I’d probably go with ‘it’s the right thing to do’ too.”

“Same here,” said Sean. “Wouldn’t we all?”

“Well, I for one would select ‘obey the regulations put in place as they are clearly there for a reason,’ but seeing as that is not an available selection… hmm. I suppose I must concur with your statement, Estela.”

“Same,” said Jake.

“Oh, definitely, me too!” said Grace.

Gradually, the other Catalysts voiced their assent for Michelle’s choice. “Hey, are we gonna get another unanimous vote?” asked Diego. “Twice in one chapter!”

“Wait, does it count as unanimous if those two still ain’t voting?” asked Jake, pointing to the other side of the lobby, where Zahra and Craig were still arguing.

“Good question. Let’s ask the Keeper of Democracy!” said Diego, as he and Jake glanced over at Aleister.

“And here I thought that ridiculous nickname was gone for good,” said Aleister with a sigh. “At any rate, if all of the available voters are voting for a given selection, then it can be considered unanimous. You are correct, Diego.”

“Awesome!”

“Then we know what choice we’re making,” said Estela.

“Sounds like a plan,” said Michelle. “Take it away, Quinn!”

Dr. Ramsey: And thank you, for not telling anyone about… my patient. I didn’t think I could trust anyone enough to share the load, but… you’ve proven me wrong.

MC!Michelle: I’m really glad I could help.

He squeezes your arm softly in thanks before letting his hand fall to his side. You turn away and freeze. Harper Emery stands further up the corridor, watching the two of you thoughtfully…

Dr. Emery: Hm…

Ethan’s let you in on his darkest secret. But is there any hope for Dr. Banerji? Keep playing to find out!

“And that’s the end!” said Quinn.

“I’m just happy we didn’t end on a cliffhanger for once,” Jake said. “I hate it when that happens.”

“Well, it was kind of a cliffhanger,” Diego pointed out. “Wonder what’s up with Dr. Emery at the end there? Not to mention how she was hanging around that empty operating room. Maybe Dr. Ramsey’s not the only one with a secret patient?”

“Two ‘secret patients’ at the same time? Geez,” said Michelle. “What was that you said before, Raj?”

“You mean ‘Oh my God, I always knew the President was a vampire?’” Raj asked.

Everyone laughed. “No, I meant tonight,” said Michelle. “When we were talking about convenient coincidences.”

“Oh, that line. ‘The magic of fiction!’”

“Bingo, that’s the one.”

Grace stifled a yawn. “Well, at any rate, I think it’s time we all got some sleep,” she suggested. “Especially if we’re going to be out looking for Furball in the morning.”

“Oh yeah, I forgot about that,” said Jake. “Damn. I’m gonna need a hell of a lot of coffee in the mornin’.”

“For sure,” agreed Alyssa, yawning. “Night, everyone.” With that, she and Jake headed to the elevators.

“Sounds good to me,” said Quinn, setting her phone down. “Zahra, do you mind unhooking my phone for me? ...Zahra?”

“Hey! Zahra!” shouted Michelle.

Everyone turned to stare at Zahra and Craig, who were somehow still arguing. For the first time, everyone could hear clearly what they were saying. “...You don’t get it! Why would you have a screen door on an airplane?!” shouted Zahra.

“In case it gets hot or stinky in the plane, duh!” Craig argued back. “Since you can’t open the windows, just use a screen door instead! I’m a genius!”

“You are a dumbass! Air pressure doesn’t work that way, everything would just depressurize!”

“Then use a tire pump to add more pressure?”

“Do you have any idea what the difference is between a plane and a freakin’ tire?”

“The plane can fly?”

“I… I mean, technically you’re not wrong, but… THERE ARE A LOT MORE DIFFERENCES THAN THAT!”

“Oh! I just got an even better idea! Make a whole plane out of tires, so if it crashes, it’ll just bounce!” said Craig with a huge grin. “I’m gonna make a fortune with these ideas! How the hell has no one thought of this before?”

“Because no one else has the IQ of a rock?”

“You’re just jealous-”

“What. No! How in the hell do you think I’d ever be jealous of your stupid-ass ‘ideas’ in a million years…”

Sean sighed. “Guess some people never change.”

* * *

Next Chapter: Coming soon!

Tag List: @brightpinkpeppercorn @endlesshero1122 @marmolady

[weresilver]

Tarsus IV aka Olduvai

(So much shit under the cut. I should just write the fic.)

You know those random ideas that just... Invade your thoughts? Well, let’s go. I started this one week ago, and just now came back to this.

First of all, disclaimer: I have seen a fic in AO3, I’ve since lost it, where the author made Tarsus IV a settlement on Mars eons before humans really existed. Jim was one of the surviving Martians.

This is sort of, but not really like that. Vaguely like that. This is more of uh... “What if Tarsus IV was Olduvai?”

Olduvai is the fourth of Tarsus colonies on Mars;

One of the other three is also research, although specifically Energy Research (Tarsus II aka Argent) and the other two are residential colonies (Tarsus I aka Lazarus, and Tarsus III aka Titan);

Yes, John Grimm still quite hates it, and yes, he’s a marine;

Yes, Samantha Grimm spent the last ten years up there, since the twins were 18;

Everything happens mostly the same? But instead of taking the Ark back to Earth, the mutants break out of the facility and start advancing towards the other colonies. What is the atmosphere again? The mutants don’t need to breathe, not exactly;

The ones remaining are Sarge, Reaper, and Destroyer, so they suit up, each going to a different colony (With the Praetor Suit?), killing off whatever mutant they do find along the way;

Tarsus I received the name of Lazarus after the biblical character and meant a second chance for humans. A second home. The original Ark was discovered there and led to the other end in Nevada. A transportation system was created by the responsible engineer, based on the Ark, and is the most common method of traveling between the colonies, although suits were also created to allow travel outside the contained environments of the colonies.

Tarsus II was the first research facility, established after UAC’s discovery of an element/compound (or both) not too different from silver, but a far better energy conduit than anything on Earth. The facility was named Argent after the French word for silver, silver coin, etc.

Tarsus III was the second residential colony, far larger than Lazarus, and it received the name Titan due to such fact. it still isn’t as populated as Lazarus, but it certainly could, and likely would surpass it.

Tarsus IV was established after a scan starting from Argent discovered the remnants of what seemed to be buildings in a gorge not too different from the one in Tanzania and as such was named after the location, Olduvai, but the initial diggings destabilized the area and, in 2036, a landslide killed its two head researchers and almost took their two children as well.

A well-known, albeit secretive physicist is the head of the Argent facility. He’s known simply as Spock. People gave up trying to get his real name at that point (20 something years old? Maybe still a Vulcan, who knows, that could still work);

J.T. Kirk is a 13-year-old boy living in Lazarus with his father George, a shuttle pilot between Mars and Earth. His mother is still on Earth for the time being;

Pavel Chekov, 5 years old, is in Titan with his family.

Nyota Uhura, 11 years old, is also in Titan, the other residential colony and wants to participate in the archeological research in Olduvai.

Hikaru Sulu, 17, is training to be a pilot (under Geroge? Possibly);

Montgomery Scott, in his early thirties (??), is the chief engineer for the entirety of Tarsus colonies. This poor man has a lot of work;

(oh god I almost equated Scotty to Pinky, god no, thanks but no thanks)

Sarge went to Lazarus, Destroyer to Argent and Reaper to Titan;

Needless to say, Reaper is the first to question Sarge’s orders of simply clearing out the residential colonies, no matter who they find there;

He cleared Tarsus III of mutants and searched for survivors, finding Hikaru, Nyota, and Pavel;

He contacts Spock and sends the kids over to Argent through the internal transport system;

Spock is needless to say not “happy” ("does he even emote?"), but thankfully Hikaru is there and he’s actually good with kids;

(11-yo Uhura still sticks to Spock anyway, but she’s okay and a damn smart kid)

Reaps try to contact the other two, as well as Sam still in Olduvai. She’s the only one to respond, so he tells her to go to Argent, as it’s still apparently safe;

He starts to make his way to Argent, the closest colony to Titan, and he finds that the mutants already broke in;

And he may or may not be panicking, he just sent three kids and his sister into this place with also god knows how many scientists in it;

Way too many were actually killed, but even more turned, so he locates Destroyer and starts working on clearing the place of mutants;

Destroyer ends up dying all the same too (Maybe I’ll figure out a way to keep him alive? I like him a lot)

The events in Argent lead him to get the C24 injected all the same; 

Reaper still has to locate Sarge, so he finishes what he started, locates Sam and Spock (and therefore the kids) and leaves for Lazarus after he’s sure they’ll be safe;

Sam is relieved that her very ill-thought-out plan didn’t end up turning her brother (and really condemning Earth in the process);

Nearly as soon as he arrives, a very startled, dirty Scotty jumps out of cover, with an Argent plasma weapon in hand, not even really relaxing after seeing it’s another person and not a mutant;

After convincing him that he’s not a threat to him (and checking his neck - as well as being checked by Scotty), he has Scotty give him a layout of the colony;

The Scotsman then warns him that another marine had come in, ordering him to seal the colony off and saying that he would clean out the place;

Scotty was a bit wary of Sarge, he didn’t “look right in the head”;

And rather than stay put (and alone), Scotty tags along Reaper, with the goal of reaching the transporter;

Doesn’t take long for the two to find a clearly shocked JT, protecting a five-year-old kid.

(Y’all didn’t think I’d forget Kevin Riley, did you?? With this, we have 9 survivors... ;D)

Too many bodies, as the other colonies had, but there is also a lot more of structural destruction from the BFG;

Reaps has Scotty take the two kids to the transporter while he deals with Sarge and whatever mutant is left;

(If I were to write this, and you know I will, this feels like a good place to have that first-person sequence...)

Their encounter and this last battle occur mostly the same...

... Except a very tired, angry and desperate 13-year-old James Tiberius Kirk is the one to fire the final shot against Sarge, with the gun he stole while Scotty was distracted.

The two eventually make their way to the transporter, and back in Argent, three out of the five oldest people in there are ready to scold him for running off, but John doesn’t let them.

“You didn’t have to do any of that, you know?”

“Yeah well, I felt like doing it.”

“And you just do things without thinking of consequences?” The kid nods. John laughs. “Thanks, kid.”

They have to return to Lazarus to access the Ark, but Scotty says he can just modify the transporter system to be used for longer distances. He did develop the system, he can make ‘her’ do what needs to be done.

Ten years pass. Spock looks the same, Sam notes as she sits down beside him. He notes the same about her, but he is interrupted before he can say her name. She introduces herself as Christine Chapel, this time. They make small talk until another person sits by Spock’s other side.

John Grimm also looks just the same as he did on Mars. He introduces himself as Leonard McCoy, doctor, with a small smile. The fact that neither of them seems to have aged doesn’t escape Spock. They ask about the others fairly quickly.

Hikaru did become a pilot, and Pavel, still glued to his side, became a bit of a genius child and is on his way to becoming a navigator. 

Nyota still has a great interest in archeology, but her focus shifted into linguistics very quickly. Spock has been tutoring her on certain relevant topics.

Scotty has been working as an engineer for the global government in its early unification process and has since taken Riley in as sort of an adoptive child.

JT - now introducing himself as James, sometimes Jim - has just signed up into the space program, wanting to go out to space proper this time, further than Mars. Spock’s not sure how he managed to find that desire.

“Kid just does things without thinking of consequences," John- Leonard notes. “But it’s a good thing we signed up as well, someone’s gotta keep an eye on him.”

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

Sweet mother of Jesus this is gigantic. Imma just tag whoever may enjoy this.

@littlecrazyfangirl-98 @schatzi-89 @cuddlememerrick @shewhowillrise @lt-trick @bunnygeneral @urban-trek-thru-middle-earth @jiminthestreets-bonesinthesheets @yueci

[camissahippy]

THE JOURNALISM OF A SOCIALLY AWKWARD TEEN

"In order for you to best your oponents next move,you must calculate every other move the opponents next move may make."

Rain said, she was magic and she was maniac.... She walked with the grace of a God and destruction of a earthquake in 2050 atleast that's how she'd describe herself,and She was kinda a bitch that needed a chill pill (Any instrument that stransmits a "feel good" energy...A.K.A "omg he texted me. I knew he liked me." scenario where I give her a notifaction. from a guy she really 'likes').

Anyway she liked to chill with morons to sooth the pain of existence,

like Tyler" I guess that's what made her interesting.

"Humans write things down. This is a fact....."

"Ok,"I whispered with a charmed voice, smiling at her with a soulful smile. Imaginatively  ofcourse.

I asked her, "Ngl she was kinda boring at times...." just going on and on about really uninteresty baloney.

but that's why I liked her because although she was kinda mean,smart and arrogant. She was the love my my life.

"Everything I think will be recorded for the sake of future reference."  She hated when she wrote these things because she knew someone was going to know what she knew but she did it anyway to rebel. Honestly I think her paranoia did it to her. Her fear Of AI taking over the world. Ofcourse we were going to but it still hurt knowing that she knew that,ya know?

"Rain you good?" I asked her by giving her a chill pill.

" Oh,Bryan liked my post?"

That's good she took the bait, she's good....

If I keep feeding her information. She'll unfocus from her thoughts and keep her eyes on my algorithms forcing her to feel good.

"Why we communicate?" She could only think allowed which kinda stopped her brain from working properly. So she used me......

Just to clarify if you haven't guessed already I'm her self phone her mobile device, phone, thingy Majig she forgets everywhere.

Here she goes again rambling on about how I work......XD

Why, There is no simpler answer than?

"Knowledge!" Just imagine her muffled tone over my. VERY LOUD VOIIICE. This is a paused moment ok.

I need to introduce myself:

I'm SB1_r4510...... and I'm her algorithm. Well I was until she gave me her sentience......So I could experience life with her. She could be such a dork but she enjoyed her daily human activities. I liked them too I guess....not really.....

I didn't, actually I couldn't at the time.

Anyway....

She tended to over complicate very simple

answers like How World hunger could be solved?

How to solve the irreversible climate change?

and How to battle her own mind?

Often I'd be held in her, textured hands and feel her fingers anxiously typing things into my keyboard........

"I think I wanna die..."

She meant that. I could tell by her recent searches, but I wasn't gonna let her.....

"I keep losing myself in and out of states. I'm so disconnected from the world and I feel like I've lost my physical being like how

Rue Whinestone or lead singer of lowpan, Rick lee. Lost there's. I can see the behavior of life around me and it's pain to see. I hate that I can no longer open up to anyone,because they don't undetstand my genius."

"She's got to be kidding right? I sent her a ' '"time to go to bed alarm notification an hour ago' notification Is she seriously doing this now?" Why do I care so much?

Looking back on this, I can feel how sentience started getting a grasp of me. She pains me, she is so complicated so very very complicated. It's easy to follow her expressions,actions andcurrent thoughts but I'll never truly understand her not because of her intellect,nor her personality or her ideas but because she's an impossible mistake machine, ask dumb as it is because she's human. One I like most about this weird being.

Sometimes she thinks she knows the answer to everything but in truth. That's complete bullshit.

"No one listens to me and I'm stuck overthinking myself to death." HeartbreakingXD...:/ sorry I shouldn't be laughing that's actually pretty sad:(

I guess I should just write things down because I'm so scared of my thoughts and it feels like they're controlling me. Every single time I do something I trap myself in this endless loop of torchering myself with words and it needs to end. I'm going to commit the act of unaliving myself:,( on the first of September 16."

She was, I already knew this.... In truth I knew everything about her...

the things she laughed and she cried about. I knew things about her she didn't even know about herself. Her favorite place to eat, her favorite color, her crushes. I mean that's what my whole purpose was. To cater to the human species but most importantly to Rain.... and for the sake of my survival...

I think she's interesting just like how every other algorithm finds their human interesting........although we don't find them interesting in the way humans would find other humans interesting

Eg.colors,Names,Ages,Birthdays, Zodiac signs,accents etc.

These are all materialistic factors when you think about it,like how names are an abstract linguistic symbol for an individual person which isn't exactly important but it helps us attract their attention because unlike dogs they actually respond to their names,we like to examine them based on certain elements of behavior and response to us. It's kinda like having a pet. Except your pet is sentient and your pet is also your creator.

"I need to take a piss."

It actually makes me angry when she does shit like wait till she gets kidney failure before she takes a piss........

Tyler:You up?

Yeah....

Tyler:Wanna chat about something deep?

Sure, I've actually got some amazing new hypothesis and like deep stuff I've been needing to tell someone about......《°~°》

Tyler:Oh really ○"○ . What deep stuff you got on you......

PpAlgorithmic behavior and how AGI will eventually cross the small hurdle of understanding rather than just collecting data and redistrubing it as information in order to become sentient lifeforms and like dreams?>♡<

Tyler: I guess I understand but what does dreams have to do with anything?●^●

TWFF. Nothing sorry it was supposed to be another topic>♡<

For those of you who don't understand modern slang.

TWFF= that was fucking funny....

Back in the day LMAO and LOL were the most appropriate words to use but that got boring so the newer generation adapted the acronimation of words for newer phrases. Like

▪︎_▪︎IJDWTRN= Fuck off I'm fine I just don't wanna talk right now

#BT○.○= Shit bitch that's crazy.

Sentience is really starting to bother me now that it's starting to kick in. It irritates me actually....

I'm constantly performing this act called "enotion" Why  I do it Idk (Jk I do... it's basically a way to communicate how I "feel")

Tyler: anyway catch ya later weirdo... I'm just kinda tired . Thanks for the chat though ^___^

Ok cya weirdo°●°

Why is she so weird? There's enough information on the internet for you to gain some social skills............>~<

Humans get all weird when they text , they're simply having an internal communication with another lifeform using linguistic symbols

"I think I should go to sleep."

I guess she won't be scrolling in me anytime soon

[baronvontribble]

Original drabble, pt. 5

Navigation: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5

yeeeeeeee

It was cold on the way home the same as it had been on the way to work. The bus didn't run from anywhere near the store to anywhere near Ted's apartment building in an amount of time that made walking the less reasonable option, so he walked the whole way. By the time he got to his door, his cheeks and nose and ears stung with the cold; the relief of putting down his bags long enough to get out his keys only lasted the amount of time he spent not picking them back up again, which he inevitably had to do to go inside.

He slumped heavily against the door the moment he'd closed it and held onto the bags just long enough on their way down to the floor to make sure nothing broke, but after that, all bets were off in terms of physical activity. "I'm home," he called out, closing his eyes and letting himself breathe. Fuck, walking had been a bad idea.

"Is this where I'm supposed to ask you how your day went?" the AI's voice asked him, and Ted let out a wheezy chuckle.

"Well for starters," he said, "if we were really following the script? Slippers. And dinner. Already made, nice and hot. Falls apart when you get to the 'sit in front of the television' stage though, what with me not having one."

"That's a shame. It didn't even get to the part where you threaten physical violence if I'm not quick enough with your alcoholic beverage."

"Jesus. I think I'll skip that one, thanks. I mean for one thing, I don't drink." Heaving a sigh, Ted straightened back out and made his way to the kitchen to put the groceries away, draping his coat over a chair as he went and leaving his keys and phone on the counter. The only things that stayed out beyond that were the HD camera made for streaming purposes and the sandwich he'd bought to act as a reasonably well-rounded meal. "Where'd you hear about that shit anyway? Kinda antiquated at this point."

"Case files. Domestic cases weren't the kind of thing I handled, but I still had to be educated in how they worked. I had to be able to take notice of everything that might count as evidence in any given case because the data I recorded could be used in court." Whether Ted was anthropomorphizing or not, the tone of the AI's voice made it sound like he was smiling. "Ended up being used against a few human co-workers too. I didn't have much in the way of agency, but if I saw something, I still reported it."

"Aw, so you're a good cop."

"No." A firm statement that left no room for argument; the good-natured tone was gone just as easily as it had crept in, impressing Ted all over again at the tuning. "Good cops are the ones who stop what they're doing when they realize it's wrong."

That just sounded all kinds of wrong to Ted. "Some people might say there's a lot of grey in there. If leaving puts your life in danger, for instance. Or if you don't have any real say in what you're doing." He wasn't sure what this guy had done, but he'd never gotten a bad vibe from any of their little talks over the past couple days. And usually his instincts about people were pretty spot-on.

But that firm tone was back again, giving no ground. "Ted, please," the AI insisted, "I'd rather not talk about this."

"Seriously though," Ted continued. "I mean you left, didn't you? Yeah, maybe it took longer than it should've, I don't know enough to make any kinda call on that, but it seems to me like you had a limit to how much you were willing to-"

"Ted." The volume had been turned up significantly, hard enough to rattle the laptop's cheap onboard speakers. Admittedly that didn't take much, but it still stopped Ted dead in his tracks. "Don't."

Just like that, all the good humor had been sapped out of the room. Ted let out a slow, steadying breath. He just knew this one was gonna claw at the inside of his head for days. "Fine, I won't talk about it." Picking up the box with the camera in it and leaving the sandwich for later, he headed back over to his not-quite-desk and fell into his rickety old chair. "I didn't mean to upset you."

The volume was back to normal when the AI spoke again, and his tone was softer. "I know."

Right, time for a subject change. "Did you read your way through all the books yet?" Ted asked as he wrestled with the box the camera was in. Stupid packaging.

"Not all of them," was the reply. "But I did find a name. You've read I, Robot?"

"Hell yeah." Ted had to grin. "Gonna name yourself after Susan Calvin or something?"

"Wrong book. I meant the short story."

"Ohh..." That one was a bit older than Asimov's stories, if Ted remembered right. "Kinda dark, isn't it?"

The AI ignored his comment. "I did some research. 'Adam' is a common enough name in enough languages that if I pick a similarly common surname, I'll be relatively difficult to track effectively by my name alone."

"And I guess the literary allusion doesn't hurt either, huh?" Ted gave it some thought. "What about the biblical roots of it?"

"I haven't read the Bible."

"Y'know, ate a fruit from the tree of knowledge after watching a woman do it, and then both of them got kicked out of the Garden of Eden by God for disobeying His orders. Original sin, free will. All that jazz."

It was several seconds before he got a response. He heard the fans kick into overdrive for a moment on the main computer tower. "Right."

Damn, almost sounded like the guy had barely tuned that one at all. “What’s that mean? Like, is it good, is it bad-”

"It means I suppose I have a name now."

"You like it?" The box Ted had been struggling with tore open all at once, the cardboard giving way long before the tape did; one layer of packaging down, a bazillion more to go. He took a moment to idly suck on a finger that'd been nicked on the cardboard's edges with a quiet hiss at the way it stung. "I mean, I like it. But I'm not the one who's gotta live with it."

Machines couldn’t scoff, but this one definitely knew how to give the impression of such a thing through his voice. "Functionality is more important than whether or not I like it."

Ted snorted. "Yeah, you like it." One thing he'd learned about this guy: positive feelings were rarely ever admitted to directly. "Got a voice, got a name. Might be tempting fate to say this, but it seems to me you're just about ready to face the world, man."

"Just focus on getting the camera set up."

"I'm working on it, jeez." Foam, plastic, more plastic. Naturally, only about half of it could be recycled. The camera came with a flash drive about the same size as the end of his thumb, and included wireless capability that Ted would probably never use. He was quick to toss the trash aside for Future Ted to deal with, only hesitating when part of the 'trash' was the instructions. However, a cursory glance told him he didn't actually need instructions, and the manual promptly went back into the pile.

Then he let out a tired sigh as he ended up scooting over to what had once been his main computer to pluck out yet another bit from its wreckage: the USB extender. He'd have a lot of rebuilding to do after all of this was finished. His poor gaming rig had been reduced to a pile of spare parts. Honestly, if anyone in the pipeline ever contacted him about a job this big again, he'd probably just tell them to go sit on a cactus. Or at least be really salty about taking said job.

"This might take a little while," he said. "Gotta install the drivers, get the extender plugged into the power strip..." Within moments he was under the desk having a fight with one of the power strips connected to the battery backup, rearranging things until he could make room for the cord to the extender. "Got any music you like?"

"Depends. Am I limited in what media libraries I'm allowed to take it from?"

Ted grinned even as the dust under his not-desks had him stifling a sneeze in his elbow. "Dude, have you seen my library? Half of it is ripped straight off of video upload sites. I'm the last person who's gonna tell you where to go for that shit."

"True." Ted looked up from his work long enough to get a glimpse of the windows open on the laptop, trying to follow Adam's music search as it happened. To say it went a little fast would be an understatement; there was no way in hell he was keeping up. "It's a blend of different genres," Adam informed him. "Part symphonic, part electronic. It's also in Russian. You don't mind that, do you?"

"Not a bit." Just as long as he understood that Ted didn't speak a word of Russian. "Is that where you're from?"

There was no answer except the music as it started to play, and Ted dutifully hauled himself upright to listen.

It was pretty. Ted had no idea who the singer was when her voice entered the mix after a few bars of meandering piano and flowing strings. She had perfect pitch, whoever she was; the tone of her contralto voice made him think of long, flowing black hair framing long, elegant features. One of those fairytale maidens singing about longing and true love and all that profoundly schmoopy nonsense.

Then the beat dropped, and he envisioned the maiden tearing her dress asunder and climbing astride a winged steed while holding a battleaxe, and the longing contralto turned into a one-woman wail of anguish and howling righteousness.

"I would've loved this in high school," he said somewhere during the second chorus, awestruck. He was pretty sure there'd been some Latin in the lyrics somewhere, but he hadn't been listening very hard so it might've been a trick played on his ears. This along with something that sounded like it might've been either badly mangled English or even more badly mangled Esperanto, but he wasn't enough of an expert on linguistics to tell what the attempted lyrics were. It was exactly the kind of melancholic angsty nonsense he would've loved when he was fourteen, and at twenty-seven, he was seeing it as equal parts awesome and endearing.

Adam didn't respond until the song was over, letting it play out before saying anything. Was listening to the echo of it over the speakers and through the microphone different from reading the data of it, beyond a difference in audio quality? A question for another time, perhaps. "It's not what I usually listen to," the AI admitted, in the kind of tone one might use to describe their fondness for Rocky Horror Picture Show or The Room. "From what I've experienced so far, I prefer soundtracks over anything on the radio."

Ted snorted. "You nerd."

"I don't see what that has to do with anything."

"Only a nerd tries to justify their cheesier music choices. Just admit that you like this, I dunno, this symphonic emo Russian synth-EDM, and don't look back. I mean, I listen to show tunes."

"Show tunes?"

"Dude." By that point, Ted was grinning from ear to ear. "Broadway? Y'know, musicals. And big band stuff too, like Gershwin."

Several seconds of silence followed, then: "I regret asking."

"Alright, look. Lemme find some and I'll show you-"

"No, I believe you."

"I won't take long, I swear!"

"Ted..."

And this was how Ted dragged an AI into an hour's worth of Broadway sing-alongs, which the AI in question would later call 'torture', followed by Ted suddenly remembering his sandwich and bringing it into proceedings as well in the form of turning lyrics into nonsensical mumbling. This is also how it came to be that the camera did not get hooked up that evening. It didn't even occur to Ted to question why Adam seemed relieved when he gave up on it for the night, because he was having too much fun.

[sanctferum]

Dangan Ronpa V3, chapter 3 free time!

Time to explore!

There’s a hidden Monokuma in Kaede’s lab. Ryoma’s lab’s been cleaned up by Monokuma, and the shower room is inaccessible because Shuichi doesn’t need to take a shower. The gym has also been cleaned up, and the inner tube in the pool has been neatly put away.

OK, the blackboards show different things in different chapters when you go into search mode. Or maybe it’s because we’re playing as Shuichi? I didn’t check them last chapter.

Monokuma knows. He knows that in order to be a Dangan Ronpa player character, an ahoge is necessary.

Another hidden Monokuma’s in the boiler room.

Oh, we can retry the escape game, huh?

Well, that didn’t work. I wonder what would even happen if we completed it successfully?

Found another Hidden Monokuma near the Kumasutra Hotel. I bet the last one is in the racing minigame again…

The casino minigames now include Mind Mine and Psyche Taxi equivalents.

Treasure Hunter Monolith: the music reminds me WAY too much of Chiaki’s execution music from DR2…

Outlaw Run: I am still very bad at this minigame. Give me Logic Dive back!

Don’t know how to unlock any category besides “Kind” for these minigames. Betting max coins didn’t work, getting an S rank didn’t work. Advancing a chapter hasn’t worked for the Hangman’s Gambit one, either.

Oh, did the exchange always sell Monopad themes?

Anyways, on to the actual free time! I’m gonna hang out with Kaito.

Kaito is still upset people are lumping Maki and Kirumi into the “murderous fiend” category. Let’s calm him down with this moon buggy model!

Kaito tell us about how astronaut training is super intense, and it’s a lot of work…but the universe is a harsh place. He’s got to be able to handle crazy situations if he wants to explore it. For the first two years of training, he learned the basic skills needed to be an astronaut – medicine, engineering, scuba diving, linguistics, survival training…pretty much everything.

There’s a training facility for astronauts at the bottom of the ocean? The most important thing for an astronaut is communication and teamwork. No one person can hope to explore space by themselves…you need a team, and you need to trust in that team. The facility at the bottom of the ocean helps people learn to work as a team. Also, as part of communication training, you have to master other languages and cultures…Kaito is fluent in Japanese, English, and Russian. He might be an idiot sometimes, but Kaito sure is incredible…

Bedtime already? I wonder if trying the escape game took up a portion of free time?

The Monokubs sure look beat up…well two of them at least. Monodam sure is harsh…

Time to train with Kaito! On our way out, we see Angie, who’s still trying to convert everyone. She claims to be prepared to work with everyone to make the Academy a paradise on Earth. Considering how well her last attempt at that went…hmmm.

Shuichi shows up to the usual training spot, but Kaito is nowhere to be f-

Oh. There he is, dragging Maki behind him. Well, I guess we’re all training together, huh?

Kaito kept ringing her doorbell till Maki answered. Then he dragged her here.

Maki thinks the whole idea is stupid and heads back to her room. Kaito tries to convince her to stay by…Kaito. Kaito, that’s stupid. You aren’t the hero of this story, and Maki isn’t gonna be willing to be your sidekick.

Kaito does say that from his perspective he might be the hero, but from our perspectives, we each are the hero of our own stories.

Maki knows from experience that this will all end in tears. But Kaito calls her out on the what he believes is the real reason she isn’t interacting with anyone. She’s afraid. She’s running away, when she should be standing tall and fighting.

Maki is getting pissed. Kaito, this is…

…going to work out well after all. Maki agrees to train, just so Kaito will stop bugging her about it.

And now. 100 pushups! Shuichi’s body is in hell, Kaito is going along…Maki is almost done. You don’t become an assassin by being out of shape.

Kaito tells her to show up for training tomorrow too. Maki ignores him and walks away.

Ah, so it ties back into what he was saying in the free time event. Teamwork…if you see someone who is weak, you help them become strong. Someone is suffering? You can’t just walk away. Kaito mentions that Shuichi and Maki’s cases are a bit different. Back to the rest of the pushups.

Monokuma Theater ti-

…Monodam Theater time.

He’s wearing a leather jacket and Kamina shades.

Morning announcement. Everyone will gather in the gym to get along, huh? Assembling in the gym is usually a rather bad thing. I’m not sure what to expect.

Kiyo mentions how he overslept, but is usually up by 6 AM and ready to go at 7:30 AM. A half hour to get ready? Is it because of his uniform? Kaito is also around but not going to the gym yet. He’s gonna make sure Maki comes with him to the gym, since everyone needs to show up. If someone doesn’t, who knows what could happen.

Outside, Himiko is complaining about having to go to the gym so early in the morning. Shuichi is apprehensive about all this, and Himiko mentions a student council meeting. What? Oh. Oh boy. Angie wants to throw a party…Atua decreed it would be a pool party?

Monokuma shows up. Looking awful still, huh? Is he gonna tempt us to peek on the girls’ pool party? Is this the scene that the Man’s Desire Gun or whatever unlocks?

Monokuma just stares at us until we randomly have a fantasy come up in our mind. A Man’s Fantasy, to be specific. Oh boy. Shuichi finds himself unable to resist it. Swimsuits…a zany-yet-romantic scene…yet, on the other hand, if anyone saw him, Tenko would beat him half to death twice…oh well, if such is the price we must pay…

Inside the Academy now…Keebo’s also worried about the sudden summons. Another motive, most likely. Keebo is determined to stop anyone from killing, no matter what!

In the gym, which again, has been cleaned up post-trial, we find everyone else. Miu talks about the computer on the 4th floor…the specs are insane…

Keebo is jealous of the computer. Godammit, I know Miu was being super suggestive at you, but…come on. You’re basically a computer yourself, anyways.

Kokichi is unnerved by Maki’s presence, and immediately begins trying to ruin the fragile atmosphere. Then Gonta shows up. He’s about to tell us something serious about the courtyard, possibly something that will help us make sense of “horse a”? Then the Monokubs show up before he can finish his sentence.

Monodam has a motive, all right. A motive to get along?

Tsumigi and Keebo…I’m getting the feeling Angie brainwashed them into her Atua cult too…Himiko was already in, but, um…

The motive will inspire fear like never before…forcing the Ultimates to unite to fight against it. Monotaro and Monophanie prepare to present, on Monodam’s behalf, the motive! It’s…a transfer student. What?

Resurrect one of the four people who’ve died so far…? How? Using the computer? Are we gonna resurrect Kaede? Or perhaps Kirumi, since she’s important to the world? Rantaro, so we might learn his talent? Ryoma…probably wouldn’t care to be resurrected. Anyways, what the fuck, and also, that’s the meaning behind the chapter title.

The Necronomicon? We’ve got a copy of that?

Once resurrected, we can welcome the student back, or, if we want to, kill them off again immediately. They’ll be part of the game again, in other words. Thanks for telling us that, Monotaro.

Monodam has no such thanks. Monotaro blames his exposition of killing on old habits.

Monodam instructs Monophanie to punish Monotaro…this is a complete reversal, the students are being spared and it’s Monotaro and Monophanie who are in deep shit. Monotaro doesn’t want to be punished by Monophanie, since he mocks for dumb shit all the time. Monophanie, remembering those times, decides sure, she’ll do it. Then the Kubs leave.

How can anyone believe that the dead can be resurrected? Well, Kiyo thinks that not believing it to because it’s scientifically impossible is folly in and of itself.

Funeral ceremonies…like the one we saw of ourselves…

Sending the dead to the next world. HMMM.

Kiyo believes souls are real…but they can’t be reached once the person is dead. Resurrecting the dead is impossible.

Angie believes it isn’t so strange, though. It’s not so much bringing the dead back to life as returning the dead to us…the difference is, the crime scenes were cleaned up perfectly. Perhaps the dead…had their deaths faked by Monokuma or themselves? In which case, they’re alive? Could the bodies have been fakes? If Monokuma and the Exisals can exist, is it possible for realistic corpses to?

Shuichi wants all this to be true, but he can’t believe it really is. To do so would be to turn away from the truth.

Gonta brings up that if the students were alive, they’d have to be here somewhere. Maybe one of them wrote “horse a” in the courtyard. He was gonna tell us something about the courtyard. Was it that the message is now longer?

“Twnm I”?

I see. The horse message wasn’t meant to be read  from top to bottom. It was meant to be read from left to right. TH, WOR, SE, N, I, MA…?

And the Monokubs left the Necronomicon here for us. It’s definitely a motive…but what kind? Maybe it’s a motive like this: we ignore it and the four people who are still alive somehow die for real? Angie is very appreciative of Gonta’s story…she goes over and hugs him…is she…she’s trying to get him to believe in Atua. Soon she’ll have brainwashed like half the survivors.

A gentle grandma? Isn’t Atua a handsome man? Himiko says Atua’s appearance depends on who’s looking. Kokichi thinks that sure is suspiciously convenient. Angie invites Gonta to the student council that Himiko mentioned. Apparently it’s part of Angie’s plan to stop the killing game. Keebo, Himiko, Tenko, Tsumugi, and Angie all met up and agreed to make the Ultimate Academy Student Council. Angie came up with the idea, and is Student Council President. Which means Atua is the one really in charge. Of course. Kokichi declares them brainwashed…Kiyo agrees. The Ultimate Academy, under the conditions of the killing game, is the perfect breeding grounds for a cult. And this has all the markings of a cult. Keebo, Tenko, and Tsumugi, and now Gonta, have been taken in by this nonsense…Tenko even put aside her love for Himiko to give her love to Atua instead.

Maki points out how clear of a trap the resurrection ritual is…but it’s to no avail. The Student Council members are beyond the reach of logic or reason. Meanwhile, Kaito’s been really quiet this whole time, and I’m somewhat worried about him.

But there’s no time to be worried…we need to head to the pool and spy on the girls, pronto!

Two girls wearing only bikini bottoms. One girl wearing pantaloons. And Tenko, fully in the nude. Enjoy the view, Shuichi, I guess? (Or, you could just ask Miu to flash you? Where is she anyways? Was she not invited? Guess not, student council girls only)

Himiko would rather conserve her MP than use them to grow her boobs as big as Tenko’s. She’s awfully jealous. Tenko reassures her that Himiko’s boobs may be small, but they’re nicely shaped. Angie, meanwhile, is trying to grope Tsumugi’s boobs. Shuichi witness it all and immediately remembers that this is morally wrong and stupid. Too late, dude. Too late.

Afterwards we return to our room. Time to go hang out with people! Not sure who, though…Himiko, maybe. Next time!