#escaped audios misery

[escapedaudios]

How much would it take you to kill off a listener?

I did it for free already in 2022.

And again in 2023 (though this is a softer death because Slashers can resurect as ghouls)

I will be killing a Listener again very soon.

[vimzu]

shoutout to three other people who fw this ship.

I have so many thoughts about them. You can read them under the cut below. If not, I hope you'll enjoy the art!

The reason I made this an AU is because I wanted to make my own specific spin on them.

A pairing between these two fascinates me. And not really in "I can fix him" way, but in a "kindness untangles the deep rooted knots of apathy and misery" way. Because that's what the Axolotl, at least in my interpretation, is: an incarnation of selfless, relentless gentleness, compassion and goodwill. An immovable object to Bills unstoppable force. He can't be manipulated by Bill, as he has no way to get an upper hand on him, no tricks up his sleeve, no control over him. His words don't hurt him as they would anyone else, nothing he can come up with can truly waver Axs resolve to be kind to everything in the multiverse, including him.

In this AU I lean heavily into the concept that Ax is THE God of this world. He was there before everything and he was the one to mold existence into reality. Naturally, he has a unique outlook on the world. His love is all-encompassing, but it's not personal, per se. It is a love a God would have for their creation: they know everything has it's place, they've put it there with meticulous care, and even though the concept of karma exists in this universe, it doesn't mean that the wicked, the vile, the reprehensible has no place in this world. On the contrary, actually. Without this balance, everything would lose its meaning. What is it like to experience joy for someone who doesn't know sorrow? What good would order do if there was no chaos?

But even though Ax's love is undeniably unconventional, saying that he is indifferent to Bill, or that he is nothing special to him in the grand scheme of things would be a lie. If you heard that one audio which goes "loving the doctor is like loving the stars", then think back to that. Bill occupies a niche that no one has ever occupied before in Axs mind. He is way more willing to show his love for Bill openly and unabashedly, he does things for him he has never done for anyone, period. And while it was something that gave Bill trouble at first, when he eventually realized this, he was more than okay with the way Ax expressed his adoration. Not because he's "settling" or anything of the sort, but because this type of love isn't something he consideres as something lesser or not enough for him. He feels happy and content in their relationship, even if to get there they've had to face many hardships.

But to circle back to the universal balance I was talking about before, one deed Ax absolutely finds unacceptable is when someone deliberately messes with it and skews it, making themselves and everyone around them wretchedly unhappy.

This is the primary reason why he sent Bill to therapy: he was a danger to everyone around him and himself not because he was "bad", necessarily, but because he purposefully went off the deep end and made everyone's lives a living hell. He chose to be evil in abundance, becoming his own tormentor in the process without even realizing it. He lied until he couldn't tell what was a lie anymore, until agony became his happiness.

Ax's secondary reason for his decision was Bills own request. He invoked his name, he wanted to escape death through rebirth, and Ax obliged. The problem is this: for reincarnation to be feasible, a person must have good karma. While Ax loves everyone equally regardless, this is a law that cannot be broken. There is nothing explicitly wrong with living your life as someone less than charitable. If it is done in moderation, if your actions help keep the universal balance, or if you or others don't disproportionately suffer because of it, it's fair game. As was already stated, it is even necessary for some people to be this way. This doesn't mean, however, that those who indulged in such acts are eligible for rebirth right away. Its easy to be cruel, so having rebirth be a kind of reward for doing good deeds sounds fair.

The problem with this whole conundrum lies a little beneath the surface. Bill, despite what he says, what he believes, is the least suitable person for this kind of treatment. Even if he genuinely wants to get better and be reborn deep down, the Theraprism approach is only actively making him worse, as it tries to make an entirely different person out of him. They try to break him down so they can help him in shaping himself back up as someone new and healed. And this type of deconstruction works for some, but it is actively detrimental to Bills mental state.

After an undisclosed amount of time Ax notices this and realizes that he has made a mistake, so he decides on a different approach. He shifts the focus away from carmic rehabilitation and onto identifying and working through the underlying reasons for why Bill is miserable. He does so by pulling Bill out of the Theraprism and into his domain, where they begin to coexist. What does the trick, in the end, is Axs unrelenting kindness, but I may expand on this aspect of their relationship better in a different post.

This is basically the jist of it. Thanks for coming to my Ted talk.

[ryrywrites]

Death Star - Ben Plunkett

all dividers cred: @cafekitsune

Pair: Ben Plunkett x fem!reader

Description: When Y/N and Ben entered senior year, they were optimistic. For Y/N, it was one last year to survive and then she was free. But for Ben, this was his last opportunity to make a name for himself. His goals were clear; get accepted into any college, ask his dream girl to prom, and become prom king. Y/N's goals weren't so simple, considering the only person she could see herself going to prom with is head over heels for LaToya Reynolds. Y/N is seemingly forgotten once Ben prom-poses to LaToya and can't seem to get a moment of his time anymore. When prom rolls around, Ben and Y/N are forced to confront the new space between them.

Warnings: fairly angsty, mostly fluffy, swearing, arguing and making up, overbearing mom <3

WC: 1.9k

A/N: Don't you love it when it takes you months to get the motivation to start writing again and then it doesn't live up to your standards? 😃😮‍💨

ben plunkett masterlist × main masterlist

"Breathe in...breathe out..." Y/N held her breath in sync with the audio. She was currently going for the record for the longest headache held in 24 hours. She had tried everything. Hydrating, taking a nap, taking a shower, and now, meditation. It was her mother who had sparked the throbbing pain pounding against her cranium. Of course, Y/N had brought this upon herself in a way. Telling her mother, who was prom queen back in her day, that she no longer wanted to attend the prom was her first mistake. Her second mistake was not sprinting out of the house the minute those words fell from her lips. Even if she had somehow escaped the conversation, she had no where to go. Her best friend, whom she had been avoiding most desperately, wasn't someone she could talk to anymore. Not since the prom-posal. Since Ben Plunkett, the man she had been pining after since they were 13, had asked LaToya Reynolds, the woman he'd been pining after since they were 14, to prom, she had become a ghost to him. Not a single text was returned until at least 3 days after it was sent, no more midnight phone calls, no more snack runs, no more bookstore, movies, waffles, and no more death star.

Something shifted the last time they spoke. It was a quick phone call, curt and nothing special. It was a Friday night, he was apologizing for ditching their plans. It was a tradition they had, the bookstore-movies-waffles thing they did every Friday night. Even before either of them could drive or knew anything about quality cinema. It was theirs and only theirs until it wasn't. His apology was absentminded and rushed, she could hear LaToya in the background telling him to hurry up. The call ended after about 2 minutes, cutting her protests short and gripping her in the stomach with a sharp pain she didn't recognize. After that night, Ben made no effort to return her calls or even talk to her in school. He sat with the Everests and waited on LaToya hand and foot. She wasn't sure what hurt more, the fact that she lost her best friend or that he didn't even seem upset about it. She was torn apart, throat becoming bone-dry every time she saw them together, her heart racing in her ears from both frustration and embarrassment.

Her mother had insisted that she reconsider her decision but Y/N stood firm. Even Mandy begged her to go with her and Graham but there was no swaying her. She was sick at the idea of attending prom or being anywhere near Ben or anyone else for that matter. So here she was, the night before prom, with no dress, no date, and no appetite. She chewed her lips and willed the headache away (or prayed to be put out of her misery). When she and Ben were younger, they would talk about how they were on the same wavelength. That somehow their thoughts were linked, telepathically or spiritually. They knew when one needed the other. Now, Y/N was sure that idea was nothing but a childish notion. She turned her head to the side to examine her bedroom, littered with memories and moments she wanted so badly to go back to. She stood up and felt lightheaded from a combination of crying and basically not moving all day. It was the last Friday she had before graduation next week and she was spending it reminiscing.

She walked over to her nightstand where there stood a gigantic Lego Death Star, unfinished. She and Ben had planned on finishing it before the school year ended. She picked it up carefully and took in every detail, it had taken them the last year to get as close as they were now. They had decided not to glue the pieces down in case they ever wanted to start over, she smiled down at their efforts and, just for a second, allowed herself to miss Ben. That's when she heard her doorbell ring, her mother was always very quick to invite her friends over and allow them to grace her daughter with their sage advice which often consisted of them telling Y/N how much she was breaking her mother's heart over a seemingly meaningless argument or difference in opinion. She heard the creak of the stairs, placing the death star back on her nightstand and moving to open the door. Ben beat her to it and slowly popped his head into the room. The silence was deafening.

Ben walked fully into the room and shut the door behind him. The lump in her throat was impossible to swallow, anything she had to say to him was gone now. So he cleared his throat and decided he would start. "I'm sorry." He chuckled nervously and rubbed the back of his neck. "I probably should've called. I just..." Y/N maintained eye contact, begging him to make this right. "This is weird right?" She nodded and patted the bed, urging him to sit next to her. He trudged over and sat down, sighing. "I know...I fucked up." There's a pause, a comfortable silence. "I don't why but...I broke it off with LaToya." She finally met his eyes. "You did what? Why? What happened?" He opened his mouth to speak but no words came out. "Is she okay?" He nodded, avoiding eye contact. "She took it surprisingly well. In her words she 'saw it coming' and that I 'needed to see you.' She's actually pretty great." Her face became red, she didn't know what to say or how to react. "But the whole time I was with her, something was so off." I held a bubble in my mouth. "She had hot breath? Bad kisser? Glass eye?" He finally laughed. "Not exactly. Everything about her was great." She swallowed the lump in her throat.

"So what was it?" He finally turned to her, fully facing her and smiling like a dork. "Guess." He said softly. It was then that Y/N realized just how close they were. "Did she...have bad taste in music?" The air was buzzing, something was pulling them towards each other. "No." His hands were clammy. He had known immediately what LaToya meant when she said that he needed to Y/N. Every date, every kiss, he was somewhere else. His heart wasn't in it, not because of LaToya, but because of Y/N. But how could he be so stupid? He finally had exactly what he wanted, the girl he'd been infatuated with for years, and he couldn't have been more unhappy. "Did she...chew with her mouth open?" Ben shook his head and smiled knowingly. "Not really." He replied, coming to the conclusion that she wasn't gonna get it. Little did he know, she had butterflies from the anticipation. She wanted desperately for him to tell her why he was here with her rather than with LaToya. LaToya knew why, she had known about a week into dating Ben. The reason they weren't together was because of her. LaToya wasn't mad, she wasn't upset, she was understanding, which only made Ben feel like a bigger dick for not giving her what she deserved.

"I give up. Tell me. What was it?" He wiped his hands on his pants and looked nervous. "She wasn't you." He said, voice shaky. Y/N stayed quiet, but a smile played on her lips. "What?" Her face was on fire, she wasn't sure how to speak anymore. Ben wasn't sure what to say next. They sat there in silence, a weight in the room, a pressure for someone to do something, say something. Ben wanted so badly for her to respond or react in some way, even if it was negative. Y/N felt nervousness fill her chest. "She didn't make me laugh, or make me nervous. There was no... spark. Do you ever-" He cut himself off by rubbing his eyes in frustration. He was struggling to express what he had felt, what words could he use? "I thought I knew what I wanted." Y/N was seeing stars. Ben was wringing his hands in concern. Never, in any conversation they'd ever had, had she been so quiet. "Do you?" She finally spoke, "Know what you want?" All they could do was look at each other. All it took was one look to his lips from Y/N and Ben crumbled.

His hand held her cheek, leaning in to place a sweet, short kiss on her lips. When their lips connected, Y/N remembered the first time she had held his hand. They had decided to go see a horror movie with a murderous clown and cheap jump scares. One jump scare in specific got her and, out of fear (and maybe something else), she had grabbed Ben's wrist to ground herself. She recalled how he laughed at her and grabbed her hand, locking fingers with hers. For him, it was probably nothing. But for her, it was the start of something so much more. Although the the interaction was short, Ben had always wondered about that night in the theater. Did she mean to grab him? His thoughts always raced when he thought about their little touches like that. When she laughed, she'd lean against him and grab his arm (he made sure to make her laugh every chance he got). When she was bored, she'd lean her head against his shoulder or wrap her arms around his neck. Until this moment, he always figured her touches were strictly platonic. He never thought about the possibility that there was more behind each look. Her lips tasted like cotton candy against his. When he felt her return the kiss, his lips curled into a smile.

Though the kiss was short, their palms were sweaty and heads were spinning. As Ben parted from the kiss, he was stuck in place and grinning like an idiot. Y/N couldn't look at him, he looked so goofy. She burst into laughter and laid her head on his chest, trying her best to suppress her fits of snorts. Ben fell back on the bed in bliss, there was no overthinking this part. He quickly got up and grabbed his backpack. Y/N looked at him, red from the laughs and head pounding from a mix of blush and shock. He unzipped his bag and pulled out a piece of paper and a red marker. He placed the paper on her desk and began to write. "What are you doing?" Ben always had random moments of genius, but he considered this to be his best idea yet. When he was done scribbling away on his paper, he held up on display for Y/N to read. There, in red ink, read the word 'Prom?' in bold letters with little red hearts all around it. She examined the paper and beamed, "Yes..." Ben fisted pumped the air and tackled her in a hug, slamming them both onto her bed. "Wait!" Y/N quickly sat up in the bed. "What?" The boy shot up next to her. "What am I gonna wear?" Just then, her mother barged in with a puffy pink and purple dress, perfect for the 80's theme, and a cheesy smile on her face. "Already covered!!"

[novi-nonsense]

I'm off work for the rest of the year, and my main goal of this holiday is to beat my brain into actually enjoying some escapism instead of constantly dwelling on the miseries of real life! (I feel like I always do plenty of that and let it ruin my day...)

It's so easy for me to fall into cynicism, so actually getting lost in fiction has become a really difficult task for me in the past few years, but I think it might help me to stay motivated and keep going, and you know, actually LIVE instead of just existing!

I've already watched the new Scott Pilgrim anime (it was cute and fun!), I'm re-watching Log Horizon right now (in hopes I can actually finish it this time), and I have Vinland Saga, Dune and a couple of horror movies lined up to go.

I've been playing Guild Wars 2 again, this time mostly without second monitor content so I can focus on the game fully (especially the audio design; it's so much more immersive than I remember!)

Hopefully I can break out of this mindset that I'm not allowed to enjoy fiction, I feel like it's also affecting my ability to create stuff! After all, it's hard to be inspired to create new characters and worlds if you never experience anything new, right? :3

[i3utterflyeffect]

The Pearl Problem

AVA & Rain World Fic

AtB: apparently pearls are not infinite! DJ: really? AtB: i mean, i'm running out. so surely not. DJ: beckons, you are probably the first iterator to discover this. congratulations on this accomplishment AtB: not my fault the problem is boring and art is fun lol AtB: it's alright though. i'm working on a solution. it probably won't be too hard DJ: you're totally gonna regret saying that AtB: shut up All That Beckons will regret this later on. - AO3 link (a second time)

"...I've never done an audio log before."

"...okay, uh. Log one."

"I am running out of pearls. I didn't know these were a limited resource! I wish the Ancients would have bothered to tell us that, but apparently they have to keep all the important things away from us. Thank you, Ancients. Very helpful. Included in that list is what pearls are made of, I guess. I've heard that there's tinted pearls with forbidden info on the whole taboo thing, not that I'm even interested in that... Um, so making artificial pearls isn't really an option! That is why I'm compressing this with audio; pearls can store a lot more audio than text."

"HOWEVER. I have heard from one of the groups that scavengers have been making artificial pearls from bones, and I think I have an idea. I have a genetic engineering station that's been collecting dust, and since a lot of groups have been distributing these 'messenger' blueprints, I can PROBABLY modify that to create a creature that'll just... give me bones. I'll have to modify it, probably, but I think I can do it. Can't be that hard to pick up, right? I probably have the knowledge on how to do that. They'd give us that, right?"

---

"Log two."

"They don't give us that knowledge. Ancients strike again."

"Anyway, I had to do several iterations-- hah. Iterations-- but, uh... I think I'm getting there. I have one that actually seems functional. Alive, at least? I had to stick super close to the blueprint, but I tried to add something to the genetic blueprint that will hopefully generate a spherical bone that will be easy to remove. Seems simple enough!"

"And Discordant Joy said I couldn't work one of these. Hah. Take that, DJ."

---

"Log three."

"Remember what I said last time?"

All That Beckons laughs.

"Yeah, no, I was completely wrong. I suck at this."

"Turns out, the creature I made was not structurally sound at all. Apparently all the calcium went into the pearl instead of the bones. Not what I intended at all! I tried to put the poor thing out of it's misery, but it was apparently not keen on the idea. It couldn't really put up much of a fight against me, of course-- I mean, what's a tiny organism like that going to do to an iterator? But I kind of admired it for going up against me like that. I played nice for a little bit, but it ended up escaping... I feel bad. That thing is not going to be able to survive out there, it's practically lizard bait... Maybe the void'll take pity on it. Who knows."

"Anyway, I need to start over. I think I need help figuring this out, anyway... I'll contact one of the larger groups; see if anyone with knowledge in genetics is willing to help me out."

[balshumetsbaragouin]

Valentine's Core Exchange Gift: Hybrid Affinity

I can finally talk about this! I am excited to have been able to take part in the first Valentine's Core Exchange. My giftee for this event is the amazing @nursal1060writes! I hope you enjoy your gift! Only the first chapter will be posted on AO3, this week, but they get the Full Monty in DMs. Thanks @valentines-core-exchange for connecting us!

Link: Hybrid Affinity Rating: Mature Characters: Danny Fenton, Vlad Masters Relationship: Danny & Vlad(Badger Cereal) Warnings: Implied/Referenced Torture, Past Torture, Torture, Psychological Torture, Medical Experimentation, Medical Torture, Non-Consensual Drug Use Chapter Word Count: 2,577 Story Word Total: 20k

Summary:

A momentary lapse of attention, a weapon's blast grounding him, an agent's boot heading towards his jaw…

Danny has been the 'primary research subject' of the Area 23 facility for the past three weeks. Since he was captured, he's had no contact with the outside world, and no chance of escape. After complaining about a lack of conversational partners, his heated cage finds a second occupant: Vlad Plasmius.

With his last chance at escape captured with him, Danny's hope dwindled until he heard the other halfa promise he had a plan. The only problem: He doesn't trust Vlad.

Have a sneak peek at the story below the cut!

The gun at the back of his head pressed deeper into the base of his skull. “I’m moving.”

“Not fast enough, ghost.” The agent tapped the spot right over his brain stem, “Keep dragging your feet, and I’ll save the government the expense of containing you.” The hiss of the pneumatic doors ahead of them sent tingles over his skin. The air on the other side smelled like the ecto-suppressant they pumped inside, burnt acrid chemicals, and days old sweat. 

“I’m floating; you see me floating forward, right?” He stopped just on the other side of the barrier, long enough for the scan, and moved again when the light flashed green above the entrance. The hum of the ghost shield grated his ear drums as it scrapped over his skin. “No need to be so hostile.” The door clicked shut behind him, the agent no longer bothering to threaten him once he reached the inside of The Oven. “Whatever.” Danny floated the rest of the way into the heated metal box and tried to decide which wall he’d sizzle on for the next few hours. He’d favored the one facing the door when he’d first arrived, but the heating element sat closer to the surface. The sadists running this circle of hell designed it that way. Their scientists were probably measuring how long he’d put up with more pain to feel ‘secure’ or something. 

He hovered in the middle of the room, eyeing the coolest wall, with an ache building up in his core. He decided to split the difference and sat against one of the walls perpendicular to the door. A low hiss filled the room as he sank down to the floor and leaned back. “You know, you don’t have to BBQ me. I’d be happy to answer questions without being spit-roasted.” The agents on the other side of the monitoring equipment couldn’t hear him. He’d made a show of cursing and insulting them the first… however long, until he was hoarse. They’d only told him they didn’t receive audio after he couldn’t speak. They said, ‘we’re not interested in any lies you ghost vermin want to tell’ and sneered down at him like he’d become a bug that learned to speak. They did monitor his energy levels, though. When he’d attempted an ecto-ray, a whole host of guns popped out of some panels in the ceiling and hosed him down with molten misery. The liquid didn’t start hot, not like the walls, but as soon as it touched him…

He rubbed at the spots along his forearms that got the worst of the spray. The jumpsuit still laid odd over those spots, like the ectoplasm underneath refused to come back all the way. He poked around the area, feeling the way the latex enmeshed with the healed flesh under it. Other areas stuck because he was slicked down with sweat, but here it felt glued down into the muscles. He leaned forward and frowned down at the half-melted state of his boots. The soles of his feet and the back of him always took the worst of it whenever he was back in the cage. Still, it was better than being in the labs. The blazing temperatures and grating silence granted a peace that left him when they wanted to stick tubes down his throat or needles into his skin. “I could even convince myself this is pleasant if I couldn’t smell that burning ectoplasm.”

[cringecompanionapologist]

Top 5 Worst Days for Turlough

Okay maybe I'm as bored as I implied in the last post but this isn't a top five you're gonna find anywhere else.

Basically, here are five stories where very bad things happen to Turlough from least bad to most bad. Obviously, these are my perceptions and other people might not be put this in the same order. Also, I haven't seen everything, so I might miss something big and just not know.

Also, this turned out really fucking long because I just had to rant about number 1.

Number 5: Loups-Garoux (Big Finish Audio from 2001, written by Marc Platt)

I'm only putting this one at the bottom because Loups-Garoux is mostly a comedic story and Turlough seems to recover fine. He sees a vision of his dark side so terrifying he jumps out of a moving train and gets eaten by a werewolf, who spits him out because he has silver on him. Unlike in many of these examples, the Doctor seems a bit upset about this. But, this almost feels like business as usual.

Number 4: Trap for Fools (Big Finish Short Trip from 2018, written by Stephen Fewell)

Okay, this one might be a bit of a me thing. I can get a bit overly sensitive about the subject of mean teachers. In order to find and defeat the Monster of the Week, the Doctor has Turlough go undercover as a student at Space Brendon, basically. The Doctor seems completely oblivious to Turlough's misery and doesn't do much to help him through reliving experiences he was willing to kill to escape. This is another one that's mostly played for laughs, with most of the Horrors Turlough faces being mild bullying and a teacher pronouncing his name wrong on purpose to be a dick, but Turlough is actually intimidated by the mean teacher and mentally categorizes the other students by how much of a threat they might be and is just generally miserable the entire time.

Really, there's one bit that made me decide that this belonged on the list because it's really sad:

Someone please hug him.

Number 3: The Velvet Dark (Short Trip: Farewells from 2006, written by Stewart Sheargold)

The Master shoots Turlough with the TCE, making the Doctor think he'd just casually murdered him, only to reveal that he shrunk Turlough without killing him to make him a more manageable hostage. The Master places him in a box and shakes the box around when the Doctor hesitates in cooperating with him.

This story starts with the Master faking his death and the Doctor, Tegan, and Turlough attending his funeral. Tegan doesn't get why the Doctor is sad that the guy who killed her aunt is dead now. Turlough also doesn't get it, but he doesn't have as much of a personal reason to hate the Master, so he tries to be patient and Tegan seems kind of jealous that the Doctor listens to him more than her.

After being returned to his proper size, Turlough hates the Master just as much as Tegan does. The Doctor, apparently unable to truly hate the Master, kind of treats them both like the bad guys in this.

Number 2: Frontios (TV Serial from 1984, written by Christopher H. Bidmead)

An actual TV story! Tractators. Trion, at some point in the planet's history, was attacked by this story's Monster of the Week and now all Trions, regardless of when they were born, remember the Tractators on some level. It's never explained how this actually works, but Turlough personally had probably never heard of the Tractators until he saw a tunnel and a massacre just showed up in his brain. The Doctor awkwardly hands him off to the one-shots to go explore the tunnels, not knowing what to do about all this emotional stuff.

You'll notice that the Doctor's response to whatever happens to Turlough is a major factor in how I rank these.

Anyway...

Number 1: The King of Terror (Past Doctor Adventure novel from 2000, written by Keith Topping)

It isn't even close. The novels of the Wilderness Years (1990-2004) were aimed at an adult audience and there were very few limits on what sort of situations the Doctor and his companions could end up in. So, sometimes, shit got dark. I usually tend to find these morbidly funny, because saying things like "The Doctor and Dodo meet the Marquis de Sade" and "Doctor Who's Cannibal Holocaust" is fun. It just is. Shut up.

These books vary in quality. Some actually do interesting things with their darker subject matter while others are just sort of edgy for the sake of it. The King of Terror is in the latter category and is annoying as hell about it. I could go into way more detail about every stupid thing that happens in this book, but the Turlough stuff is the most interesting stupid thing, because of how fucked up it is.

So, Turlough, feeling a bit OOC on a trip to Los Angeles in 1999, goes to a bar, gets completely wasted, and chats up local girls trying to get laid. Then one woman stands out as hypnotically sexy, introduces herself as Eva, and invites Turlough back to her place to have sex. Turlough is too drunk to notice that this is moving a bit fast.

Anyway, Eva is actually a member of an alien species called the Jex who are trying to take over the world. They want to terraform Earth to be more like their homeworld, which has a hotter, thicker atmosphere, but their human slaves wouldn't be able to do hard labor in those conditions, so they want to genetically modify the humans to have higher heat resistance, among other things. There's something wrong with Jex DNA, so they need the DNA of some other alien with higher heat resistance.

The CIA, wanting to see where this is all going, tipped the Jex off that some aliens had just showed up in LA and Eva went out to kidnap one. Turlough then spends like half the book being experimented on to both confirm that he's an alien and that he's the right type of alien.

It's a lot of torture. I'm not even going to say any of what happens. Here's one screenshot of Turlough reflecting on all the torture happening to him that is vague but sums up why I'm not going to elaborate:

(Note: There actually is a reference to something specific in here and I apologize in advance)

Meanwhile, the Doctor and Tegan find out that Turlough's missing. Tegan seems to think that they should do something about this, while the Doctor comments jokingly on how often Turlough gets captured. He eventually gives Tegan the day off to take her mind of things, leading to a really stupid romance subplot, while he does absolutely nothing to find Turlough.

Turlough eventually very brutally murders Eva in an understandable lapse of sanity and escapes. The Doctor isn't even there when he gets back and they reunite "offscreen". From that point on, the whole subplot is basically dropped. The Doctor asks Turlough if he's okay, he lies and says he is, the Doctor knows it's a lie, but he's glad for a chance to act like it never happened.

So, it really sucks to be Turlough and I'm now exhausted.

[real-total-drama-takes]

cody emmett jameson anderson, to call you a pathetic earthworm would be an obscene insult to pathetic earthworms. your scrawny build incites a fiery rage within me. your gap teeth tick me off so hard i want to make another gap in them with a well-placed sucker punch. the fact that you drew the attention of sierra is laughable at best and horrific at worst. i’ve held pencils with more thickness than you. i’ve touched feathers with more weight than you. i’ve seen squirming insects with more dignity than you. i’ve seen piles of dog poop with more intelligence than you. i’ve watched drying paint have a more interesting personality than you. and i’ve seen dehydrated maggots that are cooler than you. i want to murder the writers, but especially you, you puny piece of filth, for lending you favoritism. i am currently typing this by moving my fingers across the phone keyboard to feel the braille dots. do you know why, cody emmett jameson anderson? because i scratched my eyes out from the torture that was sitting through the twenty-six episodes of world tour that you sullied with your rotting corpse of a presence. not even the smallest sip of water would i lend you, should we be the only two humans left on the planet and you were burning alive to a crisp right before my blessed eyes, even if it meant my excruciating death should i refuse you a sip. seeing the joyous, heavenly imagery of your slimy, sickening skin slipping off your flesh, crumbling to burnt, blackened ashes would be enough to justify an eternity of misery for me. when you were wheeled off the island in season one, i cackled something fierce. not because i was glad you were gone–that intensely pleasurable sensation would be felt after the shock–but because i had finally seen the true power of god right before my very eyes, as his mercy rescued me from another episode of your incessant animated existence. “unbearable” does not even begin to describe the overpowering nausea and agonizing migraines i experience whenever your sour smell wafts from my tv to my nose or whenever your grotesque, gap-toothed speech escapes your lips and the audio waves of your words violate my ears. i hope you die, cody. not only do i hope you die, i hope you do so painfully, miserably, and eternally. not a day goes by that i fail to fantasize about the satisfying revenge i will enact upon you for daring to be drawn and displayed on national television to impressionable kids who were also traumatized by your satanic screen time. but never fret. i am always watching and waiting, biding my time for when my words can transition into action and i can endlessly torture you in my basement, rightfully steal the fair mistress sierra for myself, and break every single limb, joint, ligament, tendon, and appendage of your miniscule, pathetic vessel of shrunken muscle and brittle bones. mark my words, i will spit on your grave, cody emmett jameson anderson. i will hock up the biggest loogie in existence and spit on it. that, i promise you.

𓂸

[adventure-showdown]

What is your favourite Doctor Who Story?

ROUND 1 MASTERPOST

synopses and propaganda under the cut

Escape from Kaldor

Synopsis

Returning to a home world she'd rather forget, Liv reluctantly accompanies Helen to the grand opening of a luxury shopping mall. But when a glitch in the system sends the Robots of Death on a rampage, Liv's past comes crashing down about her.

Propaganda no propaganda submitted

Better Watch Out/Fairytale in Salzburg

Synopsis

The Doctor hopes to take Liv’s mind off recent events by treating his companions to a traditional European Christmas. But not everybody is full of the spirit of Christmas when a wave of misery follows the Krampus as they run through the streets of Salzburg.

Propaganda no propaganda submitted

Companion Piece

Synopsis

When the evil Time Lord known as the Nine comes across a rare and valuable item floating in the space-time vortex, his acquisitive nature means he can't resist the urge to complete the set.

Soon a wicked scheme is underway. Only the Doctor's friends – past, present and future – will be able to stop him.

But without the Doctor around will even the combined skills of Liv, Helen, River Song, Bliss and Charley be enough to save the day?

Propaganda no propaganda submitted

Day of the Master

Synopsis

The Doctor investigates a mystery in the vortex, Liv follows the trail of their enemy, and Helen searches for a god. Everywhere they go there is a Master or Mistress, but is the Doctor's oldest enemy there to hinder them, or to help? With the TARDIS crew scattered and lost, only a miracle can save the universe. And for that to happen someone is going to have to die.

Propaganda no propaganda submitted

Paradox of the Daleks

Synopsis

When the TARDIS is drawn to a space station running temporal experiments, the crew discover Daleks in control in the aftermath of an invasion. But these are no ordinary Daleks...

To stop his mortal enemies gaining control of the time technology, the Doctor must work out why these Daleks are here and where they came from.

A war fought through time has many fronts - and in this battle, the Doctor, Liv and Helen will face mortal danger in every time and place they find themselves.

Propaganda no propaganda submitted

Inside Every Warrior

Synopsis

The Great Detective, Madame Vastra, aided by her resourceful spouse, Jenny Flint, and loyal valet, Strax, is looking into a series of mysterious break-ins.

An eccentric scientist and his put-upon assistant are the latest victims. Evidence mounts, with animal footprints and a trail of destruction.

Propaganda

The first audio adventure for the Paternoster Gang that involves SO, SO much lesbian flirting??? And werewolves! First of all Jenny makes Vastra fluster at least twice in this thing, they fight werewolves together after Strax got kidnapped and try to get him back. A maid struggles with her rich employer's abusive behaviour and seeks revenge, and she wrongly assumes Jenny must be in a similar situation. In the final showdown, Vastra uses what she fears to be her last breaths on telling Jenny that she loves her. Also, Vastra actually gets to kill in this audio! Always fun! Overall jumps between the inherent humour that comes with Jenny, Vastra, and Strax, so much fluffy gay flirting, and intense, emotional action-packed scenes. 10000% recommend, I swear to god. (@jennyandvastraflint )

[boombox-fuckboy]

Personal rankings (Contains spoilers for all)

Other (David Ward): Miserable even before reaching Eskew, a city that then proceeds to torment him constantly. For a detailed summary, listen to the entirely of I Am In Eskew.

Daniel Powell: After a half year isolated in a remote archive with no privacy and being used as a conduit for an eldritch being (which destroys all of his relationships) he escapes what then becomes a localised warzone only to get re-kidnapped, shoved into a hellish dreamscape, and then experience (fully aware) having his internal organs violently removed and replaced with audio equipment. Promptly treated like a thing and/or a monster by everyone and still has his every action recorded. Doesn't even own most of his body. After being found by his one remaining friend (who's turn himself into something else) he promptly undergoes a second nonconsentual surgery and is left in a literal void for many additional months. You could argue him lower as his life before the horrors was pretty average and probably mellows out post-horrors.

Arthur Lester: Arthur has had a truely miserable life from his parents to his marriage to his daughter. Now he's had his eyes and various body parts nicked by an eldritch entity and is experiencing additonal horrors. He was in a coma. Went to a hellish dream reality also. He had to eat a guy. I believe he's attempted suicide. The reason I've got him in at #3 is that the eldritch entity in his head is kind of his bestie now, he's in mostly one piece, and nobody's questioning his personhood, but it's close.

Jonathan Sims: Orphaned from a young age and raised by a woman who resented him for it. Operating on very few friends. Has been kidnapped multiple times including once when he was moisturised in a warehouse for a month or so. Burned, stabbed, bargained away some ribs, failed to cut off his own finger, does not see himself as human (and neither does anyone else). If you gauge this at S5 he is however accompanied by someone who loves him and, here's the technicality, now literally wired such that the horrors bring him wonder rather than misery.

Doug Eiffel: In prison for a drunk driving incident that was his fault, then sent into space to be a test subject for a deadly virus. I think the most miserable bit is where he gets shot into space and constantly has to freeze-thaw himself in cryo to the point of frostbite, but Doug deals with a lot of mundane general misery. However he's the sort to find entertainment where he can and, well, remembers none of this.

Jónas Þórirsson: Great life up until the horrors. Literally signed up for the horrors and more specifically for the others to get consumed by them. Actively pursued the horrors with great interest. Yes he died in some underground caves kind of horribly but it amounted to an ordeal about as harrowing as Doug's Space Adventure and was not even as badly as his teammates. He's not even completely dead. Not especially miserable.

Cecil Palmer: Nightvale is horrific yes but within it, Cecil is living his best life. Husband, son, the wonders of a significantly smaller than previous universe. He's seen the horrors but is rarely truely miserable.

Juno Steel: Not technically a man, an excuse I am using for not being up to date with Penumbra for over a year now.

Others worth consideration:

The Red Valley lads

The Lobby Boy (The Hotel)

Most of the Dining In The Void cast

Mike Walters (WOE.BEGONE)

[cocktailsfairytales]

DO NOT OPEN is a dark and twisted thriller about obsession, featuring an author and her 'number one fan.' It's releasing on Halloween!

You can pre-order it on Amazon and Apple now, but other retailer links will be available later this week! Paperback and Hardcover copies will be available on release day and audio is coming soon!

ABOUT THE BOOK:

On the day author Mari Montgomery receives the email, she has little left to live for.

The message—simple yet utterly life-changing—offers a glimmer of hope to her dismal existence. It’s the opportunity of a lifetime, and if she takes it, it could change everything.

Mari’s immediate sense of unease is eclipsed only by her curiosity—elicited from the supposed fan on the other end of the email. Unsatisfied despite doing her due diligence, and with no way to discern the legitimacy of the sender, Mari takes a leap of faith and replies.

What harm could come from one innocent message?

Soon, as she comes face to face with her ‘number one fan,’ it’s all too clear things are not what they first appeared. Now trapped by a villain far more sinister than she could’ve crafted herself, the fate awaiting her is inspired by the darkest depths of the monsters in her own novels.

In order to escape and survive, Mari must use the strength of the heroines she’s spent years writing about. But this villain has spent years inside her worlds, too.

How will she defeat an evil who has learned from the best?

For fans of Misery, YOU, and Behind Closed Doors, million-copy bestselling author Kiersten Modglin brings us a haunting tale of obsession and survival in the form of a writer’s worst nightmare come to life.

→Pre-order now: https://books2read.com/donotopen

→Add to Goodreads: https://bit.ly/donotopenkm

→Order a signed copy: https://www.kierstenmodglinauthor.com/store/p149/donotopen.html

[escapedaudios]

Can we know more about Jack and his kind??

Yes! They will appear in Vox Gothic and you'll get to learn more about them, but here's some deep lore:

Miseries are all part of underground colonies, similar to mycelium webs. Those colonies spawn their bodies when it's misty and dark.

They're born with the minimal information needed to mimic a human. When they're born they can speak but have no identity outside of what the colony gave them. That's why they all start out with the name "Jack". They gain more complex individual identities over time by eating humans.

Other colonies produce different Miseries, the one that makes Jacks is just the biggest one in Western Europe, and it's original web originated in England.

They aren't actually shape shifters. They're always physically in their monster form, they appear to be shape shifters because they use illusion magic and psychic influence to look human. Their illusion drops when they attack.

They cry when they're excited, they cannot experience sadness.

They are local to the mycelium web, but not to each other. They will sabotage and attack each other when in competition for prey or in danger of having their true nature exposed.

[bob-foolery]

The Boatman 

Launch Audio in a New Window

BY CAROLYN FORCHÉ

We were thirty-one souls all, he said, on the gray-sick of sea

in a cold rubber boat, rising and falling in our filth.

By morning this didn’t matter, no land was in sight,

all were soaked to the bone, living and dead.

We could still float, we said, from war to war.

What lay behind us but ruins of stone piled on ruins of stone?

City called “mother of the poor” surrounded by fields

of cotton and millet, city of jewelers and cloak-makers,

with the oldest church in Christendom and the Sword of Allah.

If anyone remains there now, he assures, they would be utterly alone.

There is a hotel named for it in Rome two hundred meters

from the Piazza di Spagna, where you can have breakfast under

the portraits of film stars. There the staff cannot do enough for you.

But I am talking nonsense again, as I have since that night

we fetched a child, not ours, from the sea, drifting face-

down in a life vest, its eyes taken by fish or the birds above us.

After that, Aleppo went up in smoke, and Raqqa came under a rain

of leaflets warning everyone to go. Leave, yes, but go where?

We lived through the Americans and Russians, through Americans

again, many nights of death from the clouds, mornings surprised

to be waking from the sleep of death, still unburied and alive

but with no safe place. Leave, yes, we obey the leaflets, but go where?

To the sea to be eaten, to the shores of Europe to be caged?

To camp misery and camp remain here. I ask you then, where?

You tell me you are a poet. If so, our destination is the same.

I find myself now the boatman, driving a taxi at the end of the world.

I will see that you arrive safely, my friend, I will get you there.

Here speaks the "Boatman" who is narrated by a man who is charged with navigating a boat through wartimes or to escape a war torn city of Christendom (A mostly Christian state ) I gather from the poem that the Boatman is a depicting his symbol of Jerusalem . The poem creates a real Image in my mind of what this person has experienced in the time that he was the Boatman and I can imagine the feelings that he felt and what horror his people faced in the uncertainty that was their reality. Through the Boatmans description of the events that were present it leaves me with a clear Theme of the place that they were Leaving and the uncertain destination ahead of them. There is Consonance in that the account of the Boatman is in fact his depiction of the events that he perceived, but that does not take anything away from this work for me. The Author CAROLYN FORCHÉ has done an impeccable job in relaying the story of a Cab driver who is a refugee of this horrible war that tore a hole in his life and the land that he once knew. " What lay behind us but ruins of stone piled on ruins of stone" this excerpt from the poem instills that the 31 souls aboard the boat were left with no option but to run to the sea and be Captained by the Boatman even though he had no destination because all the lands out of sight were torn by war and death. No time soon will I forget the Image that the Boatman depicts in the authors recollection of the Refugees story of his life. In my opinion there is no consonance in this work, more so a clear Narrative of a true life event for a real person.

[athenafire]

Seven.

Meredith watched her timer carefully, trying to keep her breaths even through the panic and pain. The second that ran out, her suit would power down, and she would suffocate in the very thing meant to keep her alive.

She held onto Swindle through it all. Keeping her eyes closed, and shutting off the outside audio. The more she could force herself to imagine this was just a wacky adventure, and not escaping a heavily fortified fortress of death and misery.

When she opened her eyes, fear seized her heart.

Four.

Why the jump? What about five or six?

Two.

Her vision narrowed to only that timer. Parts of the suit shut off, trying to keep all remaining power on keeping her alive. Including the audio allowing her to speak to them.

She slapped Swindles arm several times, hoping to get his attention. "Buddy, I hope you have power--" she said, knowing he could not hear, but hopefully read her lips. "Because I'm about to run out." Meredith deployed a small cable from the systems on her back, pointing rapidly at the small symbols written in the language of Junk on her HUD.

One.

Blast Off's voice lit up the comms again, ::Incoming!:: It was all the warning they got as the security system activated and auto-turrets began targeting their ship.

"He has security this far out?" Vortex shouts.

"Guy's paranoid. No one of sound mind would live in a fortress in the middle of nowhere."

"Grab everything you don't already have on hand, we're moving out." Onslaught swapped over to comms to reach Blast Off. ::Make your way over to our position ASAP.::

::Want me to snipe any of the turrets first?::

::Only along the way. We don't have time to dawdle; we need Bruticus online.::

He may be huge and heavily armored, but even Bruticus wasn't invincible. The various defenses outside had caused enough damage to border on severe, almost reminding him of some of the worse conflicts he'd been involved in during the war on Cybertron.

But he'd breached the walls of the fortress, following the scans Blast Off had done. A location was pinned as "high priority"; the spot where an organic lifeform was detected.

The flamethrower was used to discourage any guards from following, while he tore apart whatever was in front of him to get to where he needed to go. It wasn't all too long before his own scanner pinged to tell him that he'd arrived. There looked to be a... tiny house? And a small figure next to it.

"Time to go," Bruticus announced, intending to wrench open the casing around the house and human. But shouts sounded from the trail of destruction he'd created. Backtracking was going to lead to a confrontation, and probably a shootout. He looked up. Maybe if he could make an opening...?

Only one way to find out.

He activated his main guns, the barrels on his shoulders humming. "Hold on. Making us an exit." Bruticus aimed and fired.

In the end, they all made it back to the ship. Barely. Bruticus hadn't lasted much longer after decimating the ceiling of the holding area. It was probably for the best though; he had firepower, but not a lot of speed.

Blast Off and Vortex took flight and provided cover while Meredith was scooped up by Swindle. And then they all got the hell out of there. Onslaught and Brawl needed help from the fliers, but Swindle still had his grappling hook to get himself through their exit. Thank goodness so much of the defense outside had been neutralized beforehand, otherwise they would've been turned to scrap.

They didn't even have time to breathe a sigh of relief at the sight of their ship still standing. Barely enough time to check on Mer for longer than it took to confirm she was breathing and not bleeding out.

But they made it. Their ship lifted up and up and up... and soon they broke away from orbit, and were on their way back towards more populated space.

[reformationcartoons]

From Grace Gems…

He may be on earth at noon, but in Hell at night!

(James Smith, "The Dangerous Progress!" 1864) Play Audio! Download Audio

https://www.sermonaudio.com/saplayer/playpopup.asp?SID=5712185102

"They walk on in darkness!" Psalm 82:5

The minds of sinners make progress, but it is in the wrong path! They started wrong. They will not believe that they are wrong. Therefore they walk on to their own destruction. It is a painful sight to see thousands, and tens of thousands of travelers, passing through this world--and all going wrong! Every step they take, leaves us less hope, and gives the Prince of darkness more power over them. In temporal things, they see clearly enough; but in spiritual things, they are stone-blind! "They walk on in darkness."

Darkness is the emblem of IGNORANCE. They are ignorant . . .

of their true state before God,

of the character of the God who made them,

of the just desert of sin,

of the only Savior who can deliver them,

of the way of escape opened up before them,

and of the dreadful doom that awaits them!

They walk on in ignorance! If they were not so ignorant, they would surely fly to the Lord Jesus to save them.

Darkness is also the emblem of SIN. They live . . .

in the violation of God's holy law,

neglecting Christ's gracious gospel, and

making SELF the end of their existence.

They live to themselves,

they live for themselves,

they neglect God's requirements,

they despise His invitations,

they turn their backs on His throne of grace,

they treat His Book with contempt,

they waste their time in idleness and folly,

and yet talk as if they expected that He would have mercy upon them at last!

They walk on in sin, and yet hope to arrive in Heaven at last!

Darkness represents DANGER. These people are in imminent danger!

Disease may arrest them at any hour!

Death may remove them out of this world at any moment!

Disease introduces death,

death ushers into the presence of God,

and God dooms the careless sinner to Hell!

He may be in health in the morning, but a corpse at noon!

He may be on earth at noon, but in Hell at night!

He walks upon snares.

He is surrounded by the officers of justice.

He may be seized any moment. Once seized . . .

hope departs,

despair approaches, and

outer darkness closes up the scene!

And yet they walk on in thoughtlessness! They . . .

fool away their time,

neglect their opportunities of escape,

disregard the warning voice, and

perish in their own deceivings!

Beast-like, they have no concern for any of these things. They say they shall not be worse off than others, as if it were any relief to be no worse than others--where all are in misery, agony and endless woe!

Not worse off than others! Yes, they will, for it will be more tolerable for Sodom and Gomorrah in the day of judgment, than for them.

Not worse off than others! Indeed they will, for the men of Nineveh will rise up in the judgment and condemn them.

Not worse off than others! This is a mistake, for careless, indifferent, Christ-rejecting sinners, "will receive the greater damnation!"

"They walk on in darkness," but if they persevere in doing so, then how fearful will their end be. It will be . . .

misery without mercy,

darkness without light,

despair without prospect of deliverance,

and all the result of a willful determination to "walk on in darkness!"

~ ~ ~ ~

[five-rivers]

Solutions to Nonlinear Equations

For @currentlylurking for the Phic Phight.  :)

.

“Ancients, Vlad.  I’m not rejecting you because I’m a rebellious teenager and you’re an adult, I’m rejecting you because you’re incredibly creepy.”

Vlad sniffed in what he hoped was an aristocratic manner and raised an eyebrow, minutely adjusting his grip on Daniel to keep him pinned to the floor.  

“We’re human-ghost hybrids, Daniel.  I’d hoped that you’d have realized by now that we are meant to be ‘creepy.’”

Daniel squirmed and began to mutter into the carpet. “Clockwork never acts like this, I’m fine with him—”

Vlad pulled back as if burned.  He hadn’t heard that name in—in—

In a long time.  

Years.  

The thought was almost expelled from his head when Daniel managed to elbow him in the jaw hard enough to make him see stars. Before he knew it, Daniel had slipped from his grasp and zoomed away.  

Whatever aspersions Vlad cast on Daniel’s mastery of his ghostly abilities, the boy was fast.  When he put his mind to escaping instead of picking a fight, he managed it more often than not, to Vlad’s great frustration.  Hence Vlad’s usual strategy of needling the younger half-ghost until fighting was the only thing on Daniel’s mind.  

He set down on a nearby roof.  There went his plans for the day.  Which, admittedly, had consisted of distracting Daniel while his ghostly minions set up a nasty surprise for him at the school, hence making him fail his test, which would, in turn, convince Maddie and Jack to let Vlad set Daniel up with a tutor, something he had suggested to them earlier, and—

Well.  Daniel would find them, now, no doubt.  

Ah, well.  

He had more important things on his mind, now.  Such as, how in two worlds did Daniel know Clockwork?  Because Daniel never just said things like that.  He barely knew anything about ghost culture.  He wouldn’t know to bring up obscure, secretive, ghost historical figures.  He wouldn’t know what that particular name would mean to Vlad.  

Tongues of fire flared out of his fingers, bringing a measure of stability to the gyrations of his core and his emotions.  

Daniel knew Clockwork.  And, it seemed, met him with some regularity.  Enough for him to compare his actions to Vlad’s.  

Would that ghost never be satisfied with ruining Vlad’s life?  Was he not satisfied with—

He cut off the thought, shaking his head.  Never mind that.  

What Vlad needed to do was find Clockwork.  Which meant inducing Danny to go to him at a time when Vlad when Vlad could follow.  Which meant determining when he had visited Clockwork in the past.  An undertaking to be sure.  

He closed his eyes and teleported to his lab beneath his mansion.  

“Maddie!” he called out, even before his body had fully reformed.  

The hologram flickered to life with a faint crackled from the projector.  “What is it, sugarpie?” it asked with a smile.

“Review the audio recordings from Fentonworks,” ordered Vlad.  “Search for the term ‘Clockwork.’  Report findings to me.”

“Sure thing, honey!”

Vlad had to review the cheerfulness settings on the Maddie program.  Maddie was upbeat, but not that upbeat.  This was almost sickly sweet.  

He threw himself into a nearby chair.  

Clockwork.  He thought he’d never hear that name again.  Not after he’d been literally and figuratively ghosted by him.  

He telekinetically pulled a book off his shelf. He ran his fingers over the leather tooling on the cover.  The book had been given to him by Clockwork, years ago, when he was still in that hospital.

Clockwork had been the one to first show him the Ghost Zone, and all the wonders in it.  Clockwork had been his friend, his only friend, through that long, agonizing hospital stay. He had been supportive, wonderful, kind. He visited often, though not on a regular schedule.  He’d helped Vlad ride out the waves of misery and anger that so often threatened to overwhelm him.  

Then, without warning, nothing.  

No goodbye.  The last time he left, he had even said something along the lines of ‘see you soon,’ although the memory was frayed from age and Vlad could no longer recall the exact words.  For a long time, Vlad had worried something disastrous had happened to Clockwork. But then he had finally managed to build his own portal, reach the Ghost Zone under his own power, and, according to every search he did, every line of inquiry that bore fruit, Clockwork was just fine.  

Vlad had been furious.  He had been betrayed.  He had spent the better half of a decade trying to plot revenge against Clockwork, before realizing that was akin to plotting revenge against a god and turning his sights to a more manageable target.  

Now…

Now, Vlad just wanted answers.  Both as to the reason behind his abandonment and as to why Clockwork was apparently repeating history with Daniel.  

“Sweetie pie,” said the hologram, with a chime, “audio processing complete.  There are over ninety-nine instances where the word ‘clockwork’ is mentioned.  Would you like to play the selected files?”

“Yes,” said Vlad.  “Include the video portions where available, and the thirty seconds immediately prior to and following the mention.”

He turned his attention to the nearest screen.  He had a lot of videos to watch.  

There was an envelope pinned to it.  It was sealed with wax, impressed with the image of a pocket watch and the initials CW.  Vlad attempted, and failed, to suppress the growl that grew in the back of his throat. Was this a joke to Clockwork?

He tore the envelope from the screen, ripped it open with equal viciousness, and began to read.

.

Three cups sat on the tea service tray next to the teapot.

“Are you expecting someone else,” asked Danny, “or am I going to break one of these?”

Clockwork chuckled as he began to pour the tea.  “The former,” he said.  “Although you may always surprise me with the latter.”

He handed Danny his cup.  Danny inhaled deeply.  It smelled sweet.  “What is it?” he asked.  

“A chamomile blend,” said Clockwork.  “For calm.”

“I think Sam drinks chamomile before she goes to bed,” observed Danny, offhandedly.  “Who’s coming?”

“You’ll see soon enough.”

Danny made a face.  “Do you have to be mysterious all—”

The front door of Clockwork’s lair slammed open, and Danny jolted forward in alarm – the only people who regularly did that were the Observants, who didn’t much care for Danny – but Clockwork put a steadying hand on his shoulder and rewound his tea into his cup.

“Clockwork!” came the expected yell.  The yeller, however…

“Is that Vlad?” asked Danny, not quite scandalized, but more than a little surprised.  

“Why, yes,” said Clockwork.  

“Did you – Clockwork, did you invite him here?”

“Other than the Observants,” said Clockwork, “no one can enter unless I will it.”  He took a sip of his tea.  

“But,” started Danny.  

Clockwork raised a hand.  “Don’t worry, he’ll find us soon enough.”  He repurposed the hand to pat Danny’s knee.  “And even should he prove to be in a combative mood, I will not allow you to come to harm.  You are safe here, Daniel.”

“Thanks,” mumbled Danny, looking away, towards the door in the sitting room through which Vlad would presumably enter.  

Sure enough, a few seconds later Vlad half-flew half-skidded into Clockwork’s sitting room.  He leveled an accusatory finger at Clockwork.  “You!” he proclaimed, with a great deal of venom.  

“Hello, Vladimir, I’ve poured you some tea.  Why don’t you sit down?  I understand it has been some time.”

“You under-?  No!  I will not sit down!  I will not drink your tea.  Not after you abandoned me for over a decade, just like that bumbling oaf—”

“Hey!” interjected Danny, not only because Vlad had once again insulted his father, but because he could tell that Clockwork, regardless of his stoic façade, was actually quite upset.  

“Don’t interrupt me, Daniel,” snapped Vlad.  “You don’t know what this, this ghost is. What he does.  You don’t know that he gets close to you, makes you think you’re friends, and then drops you without a moment’s notice.  Did you think it was funny to string along a man in dire straits? Did you?”

“I did not abandon you, Vladimir, I—”

Vlad scoffed and went on a tirade that Danny honestly found hard to parse.  But it sounded like Vlad and Clockwork had known each other in the past and then fallen out of contact in a way that aggravated Vlad’s abandonment issues.  Which didn’t seem like Clockwork at all, but Vlad sounded extremely certain and insistent, and Clockwork’s upset was actually finding its way into his voice, now.  Danny didn’t—

With all the force and abruptness of epiphany, Danny realized what was going on here.  

“Wait, wait, wait,” said Danny, putting down his cup. “Vlad, breathe or whatever.  Clockwork, you did tell Vlad that you experience time nonlinearly, right?”

“Of course,” said Clockwork, clearly offended.

“But Vlad, ah, had you gone through natural portals often when you met Clockwork?  Or, like, did you ever see him without him initiating contact?”

“I didn’t have my portal built yet, Daniel, so, no.”

Danny turned to Clockwork.  “Why did you-?  No that doesn’t matter.  Haaauuuhh, Clockwork, do you have-?”

Clockwork waved a hand and a whiteboard appeared.  

“Thanks,” said Danny, picking a marker up from the little shelf on the bottom.  He uncapped it, then recapped it.  “Actually, before that.  Vlad—” he pointed at Vlad, who looked about one second from exploding “—you have some idea of how old Clockwork is, right?  Or at least how old ghosts can get?”

“Yes, Daniel,” said Vlad, managing to overlay his supercilious ‘I know better than you’ attitude over his still obvious anger.

“Okay, great.  So, just to establish, Clockwork has been around at least since, uh, beginning of time?”

“Give or take,” agreed Clockwork.  “Although I have not experienced it all directly.”

“Right,” said Danny.  “Just, already, his perception of time is different from our because of age differences.”

Vlad looked slightly less angry, and slightly closer to curious.  

“But, then, there’s the larger issue,” continued Danny.  This time his uncapping of the marker was decisive.  He drew a flat, straight, horizontal line across the whiteboard.  “This is our timeline.  We deal with time linearly.  We’ve also got, I don’t know, parallel timelines, like this.”  He drew several more lines.  “You following so far?”

“Yes, Daniel, I’ve read my share of science fiction.”

He was probably rolling his eyes.  Curse his solid-colored red eyes.  It made interpreting his looks and figuring out where he was looking during a fight much more difficult.  

“Anyway, Clockwork isn’t on any of these lines. Because he experiences time nonlinearly.”  He drew a squiggly up and down line on the board that resembled the world’s saddest sine wave.  Or cosine wave.  There wasn’t a y-axis on the not-quite-graph, so it wasn’t like anyone could tell the difference.  They were effectively the same.  

And Vlad still made fun of him for failing math. Danny knew plenty about math.  He just didn’t have time to do the work.  Mostly because of Vlad.  

“Now, that, that is Clockwork’s timeline.  It isn’t always in contact with ours.  It’s, like, solutions to a system of equations. Nonlinear equations,” he specified, in case it had been too long since Vlad had encountered basic high-school-level algebra.

“It is somewhat more complicated than that, Daniel,” said Clockwork, exasperated.  “It’s more of—"  

“Yeah, but this gets the idea across more than the whole parade metaphor, doesn’t it?”

“I would say not.  This doesn’t even begin to touch on my abilities.”

“That’s because we’re just talking about your perception of time,” said Danny.  He considered for a moment.  “And also your ability to interact with our timeline.”

“Which includes my ability to perceive multiple timelines.”

“But that’s complicated, and I still don’t get it,” complained Danny.  

“It is less complicated than what you are currently trying to explain.”

“To you maybe, but the whole point of this is that you aren’t seeing things the same way we are.  You disappeared on Vlad, what, a decade ago?”  He looked to Vlad for confirmation.  

“A decade is hardly any time at all,” said Clockwork with exasperation.  He sipped at his tea.  

“It was fifteen years.”

Clockwork made a somewhat dismissive motion with a gloved hand.  “It’s a tiny fraction of your life as a whole.”

“It’s… closer to a third of his current lifetime,” said Danny with a wince.  “Or a fourth?  I don’t know how old you are, dude.”

“I went to college with your parents.”

“I know, and you were already graying then. Your age is weirdly hard to place.”

Vlad gave Danny a look, but his body language was no longer screaming ‘I’m going to beat the snot after you.’  Danny counted that as a win under the current circumstances.  He disliked Vlad, but in a fight with Clockwork… Well, Clockwork could demolish just about anyone.  

Not that Clockwork would.  Just that he could.  

“Daniel—”

“Please, Vladimir.  Just sit down.  Try the tea. I made it for you.  I knew you would be upset, although I could not see exactly why.”  Clockwork was almost pouting, now.  “Fifteen years is such a short time.”

“Clockwork, I’m fifteen.”

“I know,” said Clockwork, patting Danny on the knee. “Your timeline is so small.  And cute.”

Vlad was now distinctly on his back foot, offput and disarmed.  “His timeline is cute?”

“It is.  Don’t worry, yours is almost as cute.”

Vlad opened and closed his mouth like a dying fish. Danny pushed the whiteboard away.

“Don’t worry about it too much,” he said.  “Like I said, different perception of time.”

“I really didn’t mean to make you feel abandoned, Vladimir.  I simply wanted to give you some time to, ah, how should I put this?  Have space?  Find yourself?”

Vlad sat heavily on the couch.  

“You get used to it,” said Danny.  “But, Clockwork, do you think you can talk him into having fewer evil plans?  Because, really.  There are way too many.  Like, one a week.  They’re destroying my grades.  Have you ever seen anyone else who had weekly evil plans?”

“Evil plans, Vladimir?  Really?”