#finally I have someone to litter all my trivia onto

[mishalikessoundsandcolours]

I showed the Rocky Horror Picture Show to my bestie the other day – his face and reactions throughout the whole movie were really something. I'm glad I was able to induct him into the fandom. I've also put on russian subtitles for him and it was interesting to see how they translated the songs, for example they translated Riff Raff's "Your lifestyle's too extreme" (in Rose Tint My World) to something like "You're too jumpy", stuff like that.

[impulsivefanwriter]

A Tiny Spark Leads to a Roaring Flame (But Flames Can Always be Doused by Water)

Heeyyyyy so y’all know the Reverse Thanos Snap AU for SPBNR? Basically everyone but Smith/S!Kai gets sent to the M!verse. Everyone. The entire population of S!verse Ninjago City & a few surrounding areas. Except poor Smith. Essentially it happens because S!Garmadon tries to send Smith to a place where he can't mess with his plans, and ends up sending everyone away from Smith to take him out of the equation. 

The second part to this AU is that the S!Ninja end up searching for Kai in the chaos and grab the Red Ninja before jetting out of there with the Bounty. Except... they didn’t grab Smith (who’s still home), but rather Red (M!Kai).

Red thinks the S!Ninja are babysitter clones created by Garmadon after he somehow turned Lloyd younger without his memories & is trying to raise him to be his new General #1. With this in mind, he pretends to be S!Kai, and waits for the moment he can rescue Lloyd.

What would happen in the S!Ninja discovered his deception/their mistake of grabbing a wrong Kai and mistake Red for a recreated Aki (aka Bizarro Evil Clone Kai) before he could enact his plan?

Well, this is that idea. (Title inspired by how a crack AU spiralled into a beautiful angst-fest)

Enjoy. :3

-----*-----

Red was going to get Lloyd out of here tonight. 

Away from these Not-Friends made by Garmadon to emulate the Ninjaforce. Away from this flying ship built to emulate Master Wu's ship, so familiar and yet so off. Away from this false reality and back to the real everything where they could hopefully get his memories back and his age back and everything back to the way it was before the city descended into chaos.

He just had to... bide his time. Be patient. 

FSM, he was bad at being patient. 

His hands itched to grab Lloyd and run now, but he was horribly outnumbered and without his mech. No matter how badly he wanted to, he couldn't rush this. If he did, he would make everything worse. Like he always did.

But fate- or rather, Lloyd- had other plans.

The little version of his younger brother- yes, they were roughly the same age normally, shut up, Lloyd was still his younger brother- had been... eying him weird all morning. Not like Not-Jay and Not-Cole and Not-Zane, but like Not-Nya. Like he actually knew instead of suspected. These babysitter clones seemed to think he was the Not-Kai, and if that was the opportunity the universe was going to give him, then by the flames of the departed world was he going to skip this chance to save Lloyd.

Currently he stood on the deck of the ship as they parked in the sky a few meters above the docks on the outskirts of the city. It wasn't the docks with the Bounty warehouse, curse his luck, but it wasn't the endless sky or the empty ocean (though it was still too close to that murky, haunting water for his liking. Water was his sister's domain for a reason). At least he could sneak Lloyd off in the cover of night, maybe find someone in the city who wouldn't recognize the Son of Garmadon this way and would be willing to help them hide until they could make it back to the real ninja.

"Kai," Not-Zane spoke suddenly next to him. 

Red would never get used to the way his voice... lacked the same effect the real Zane's had. The effect that Kai and the rest of his team had assured their friend over and over was unique, special, but in a good way. To embrace it. That it wasn't noticeable, but when it was, that it was so Zane that his friends didn't care that it was different. 

This 'Zane' sounded much too different than his own. He hadn't recognized Kai's tested line of 'road work ahead' when they passed one of the many construction signs littering the city (even more so since the chaos happened a week ago), and instead had responded with 'a great deal of work to fix in the city'. 

Seriously, Garmadon, do better research on your clones.

Not-Zane was also much too... calm. Too 'wise' compared to the wild teen that was Zane. And he walked without heelies or whatever Zane used to slide around like a boss, though he was still silent. And that meant, like now, he snuck up on Red fairly often- and Red was training to be a Ninja, so that took serious talent. 

"Kai," Not-Zane said again, and Red finally broke his gaze from where he'd been staring over the railing, planning tonight's escape route. "Lunch has been made for over an hour. Are you alright?"

Red forced his brightest smile. "Course I'm alright! Just trying to figure out what happened, as usual."

Why Lloyd was suddenly like, 8, and without his memories. Why the Not-Friends were on this Not-Ship and had mistaken him for Not-Kai. Why the city was in a state of disarray and chaos. 

Not-Zane studied him, then turned to give the city a sad look. "I'm not sure myself. My scanners can't seem to figure out what is happening. It is as if... blocked by some force."

Red winced, then expertly disguised the move by leaning against the rail. Zane never would use 'my scanners', despite how often Red and the others assured him it was okay. Yet another reason why this wasn't his friend.

"You know Ninjago City," Red said with a weak laugh. "Always one crisis or another. Always those annoying Garmadon Attacks"

This seemed to satisfy Not-Zane, who nodded thoughtfully. "This event definitely seems to have Garmadon's hand in the mess."

He patted Red on the back. "Well, don't worry yourself ragged, Kai. Come in for lunch soon, alright? We have training for Lloyd later."

Ah, right. Training. AKA what Red assumed was how Garmadon was planning to shape this impressionable version of his friend into his new General #1.  

"I'm ready for training now, Zane!"

Speaking of Lloyd- 

The little gremlin came up from the hull with the rest of the Not-Ninja. Red hated when the entire group was together; it was way more difficult to act as Not-Kai around them, especially around Not-Nya. 

For starters, Not-Jay had a notch in his eyebrow that the real Jay never had. He was missing the iconic freckles, and the scarf, and the fluffy hair, though you could always say it was just a wardrobe change. What you couldn't change was the personality differences. This couldn’t be Jay. Jay was anxious and quiet, his jokes (while plentiful) said more timidly and his newest ideas shared with hesitance that only shrank after years of encouragement. He would never be this loud, ever. 

Not-Cole was the leader, probably because Lloyd was so young. But even then, in Red's team, Nya would probably take second-command. Cole was their sturdy support, yes, but he was chill, laid-back. Ready to follow and support his friends to the ends of the earth with his tunes and occasional sarcastic wit, but not lead. Not like Not-Cole, who was more serious and commanding and didn't. listen. to. music. Red hadn't spotted a single record or boombox in the room in the hull. That was a tragic oversight on Garmadon's part. The members of his research team should be Fired.

And then there was Not-Nya. Who wore a dress with confidence that his sister would love but never publicly wear. Who had short hair- Nya had tried that style once, and decided it itched around her neck too much- and jewelry, and a giant flying Samurai mech suit. His sister had the Water Strider Mech, and Not-Nya had a flying combat suit. Sure. Close enough. Personality-wise they were similar. 

Similar at first glance. Nya was fluid and adaptable to whatever role she needed filling. She was spunky, and as fiery as him when it came to tempers, though she knew how to keep hers in check (she had to, right? No one called her hot-headed and impulsive and reckless and blamed her temper for mistakes or damage or whatever the news comments liked to say about the Fire Mech). Not-Nya was also adaptable and independent-minded, but she seemed more rigid. More doing her own thing. 

Point was, everyone wasn't actually his friends, despite how much they tried to prove they were. And they kept acting like he was this Not-Kai, who was just as hot-headed but apparently more mature and training-oriented and basically the better, cooler (or hotter, perhaps, for the fire theme of the red ninja) him, since his acting never seemed to fully convince them. Trying to impersonate a standard he couldn't seem to reach, some legendary hero he wasn't- er, wasn't yet! Yeah! He just needed to prove himself, be better, and he'd be fine. Just... fine. Yeah.

Mini-Lloyd (Red was tempted to call him L'ilyod in his head, but that felt wrong somehow, like he was infringing on some kind of copyright law) stared at him like a goddamn falcon, and he wasn't talking about the bird that circled the ship. He had this bowl-cut Red would tease him about endlessly after all this was over- seriously, how had Mr. Fabulous Hair started with this mess? Garmadon probably didn't even have hair, so there was no way the guy knew how to style it, and it was very evident based on Mini-Lloyd's hairdo. 

Red noticed that all of them were staring, actually. Despite his relaxed rest against the rails, his fingers behind his back clutched the cool bar with a dull shake. He didn't notice how the metal seemed to glow red under his touch. 

"Training, right, we should get onto that," Red tried. "What do you want to start with, Lloyd?" 

"How about a little game?" Lloyd asked with complete innocence. "What we were playing last week before we got interrupted."

Oh sh!t. 

"I-I don't know, shouldn't we start with stretches? Or how about some sparring, that's always more fun than a game!"

"But I wanted to continue our game..." Mini Lloyd said, and FSM's sake, he couldn't deal with that pouting look.

Okay. Okay, don't panic. Think logically. What kind of game would an 8-year-old Lloyd like to play with him? Something physical, so no board games- he liked to test his mettle against Zane on those, and sometimes he would almost not-lose. Logic puzzles also fell more on Jay's area. Trivia, especially music trivia, was a bubble between the anxious motormouth and Cole. Video games fell on team building, and wouldn't classify as a training warmup.

"Well," Red said, taking a hopeful stab in the dark. "There's not too much space on the deck for... tag..."

Lloyd nodded, looking satisfied. The Not-Ninja looked- well, their expressions were hard to read because of how different it was compared to his friends. But Red was a master of deception (well, fire, but eh, technicalities), and he had them fooled, and he just had to keep it up until nightfall so he could rescue Lloyd and explain in a safe location-

"HE'S NOT KAI!"

Orrrrr improvise. Okay, yep, he could improvise. 

Red lunged forward and grabbed Mini Lloyd's wrist from where he had his hand extended in an accusatory point. He ducked under Not-Jay's attempts to grab him- fast, but not as fast as his Jay, his Jay who could disappear from an awkward social interaction in the span of a flickering lightbulb- and dragged his younger brother with him as he vaulted over the railing. Not-Zane almost managed to yank him back onto the Not-ship, but his icy grip caught only empty air as Red pulled Lloyd into a tight hold and ducked.

He hit the dock below with a stumble, rolling back onto his feet and taking off with a very stubborn green ninja in tow. It took all his strength to drag Lloyd (kicking and screaming like he was being kidnapped or something when Red was just trying to rescue him, for FSM's sake. Lloyd didn't know that, but he could still try to be at least a little more considerate.)

The wooden docks creaked and shuddered underfoot and Red grimaced; whoever rebuilt them after the latest Garmadon attack had shredded them like newspaper clearly hadn't wasted any unnecessary change. It certainly didn't help that Lloyd packed quite the punch for someone so small. Red definitely would come out of this with bruised shins and arms from where Mini Lloyd tried to push him away, but it would be worth it to keep his teammate, his younger brother, safe.

Then green filled his vision and broke his hold on Lloyd's wrist, sending him skidding across the dock planks as he was sent flying. When he finally rolled to a stop, neck and shoulder stinging from where the blast had caught him (no burns, just jitters like he'd been shocked), he had to take a few seconds to re-orient himself. Did the Not-Ship have cannons or something? What hit him from behind, so close it could have hit Lloyd?

Lloyd. Was Lloyd okay?

Red pushed himself to his feet, ignoring the bleeding scrapes on his hands and legs from where he'd gotten banged up by the splintered docks. His gaze, sharp and frantic, searched for signs of green. The warning of more blasts, the flash of the fabric of a gi, anything.

He spotted his brother in the arms of Not-Cole. No, no, no-

And suddenly Not-Nya was there, given a boost by Not-Jay. Her grip was as if she were wearing the robotic mech suit, harsh and powerful and near in-human. She threw Red back to the dock floor as her face twisted with the fury of a storming ocean. A resounding crack rang out over the harbour.

Red couldn't tell if it came from the planks under him or his own shoulder.

She pinned him to the wood, barking accusations and threats in his face faster than Not-Jay could talk. Red blinked through a haze of pain, trying to focus on her face and words. She was missing the beauty mark on her face, he noticed. Yet another tell she wasn't his sister.

"-scar on the wrong side-" And it was hard to hear again over the ringing in his ears. He tried to throw her off, get back to Lloyd, anything, but he was-

Useless. 

Her hands suddenly got in his face, slamming his left cheek to the wood. She was close- close to his face, close to his eye, close to his scar- pushing and prying as she tried to do something. Red picked up in his struggling, his attempts to free himself turning to desperate shoves and wild clawing like a trapped animal. He wouldn't let this creation of Garmadon's finish the job that teen had started all those years ago. 

"Or better yet, he needs to shut his damn mouth."

The flash of a knife. His vision half-blurry. Blood- so much blood- and a lasting scar.

"-contacts-" "-red-" "-struggling-" "-we know what he- it- is already-" "-not the real Kai-" "-wish-" "-Garmadon-"

He had to get away. Get Lloyd away from them now.

In one surge of strength- and yep, his shoulder definitely wasn't okay after that move, as if he'd ripped it not just from its socket but from its very attachment to his body- he knocked Not-Nya aside. If he could’ve seen through the red haze, he might have noticed red embers dancing around his fingertips as his desperation and fear tapped into something deep in his soul.

He tried to shoot to his feet, tried to run for Lloyd (held so tight in Not-Cole's grip, surely they were hurting him, he couldn't let that happen-). He roared, "LEAVE MY BROTHER ALONE!", but before he could take another step through Not-Jay and Not-Zane in his path, the docks gave one last ominous shudder  before deciding it had finally had enough.

The planks crumbled underfoot like charred firewood in a crackling campfire, and Red was sent tumbling into the frigid ocean water below.

[cheri-translates]

[CN] Shaw’s Exorcism Date (Eng Translation)

🍒 Warning: This post contains detailed spoilers for a date which has not been released in English servers! 🍒

Note: This date was translated by @redqueenschoice! It’s on my blog because she doesn’t want to put individual translations on hers...

Shaw’s Qixi Collection: Date ♡ / Call 1 / Call 2 / Event / Special Call

Check out Victor’s date (by @lucienism) and Kiro’s date (by @skyholders​) too! A lot of effort has been put in by these three lovely humans T^T💕 Do send them lots of love!!

On the night of Qixi, I had a terrible encounter and happened to be saved by Shaw. In order to repay the favour afterwards, I promised to run errands for him for seven days. Very soon, the seven days are coming to an end…

~

The crescent moon reminiscent of a bow hangs in the sky, the canopy of the heavens are painted pitch black. The little starlight that filters through the dense canopy of the forest scatters, and a line of men make their way through the mountain’s forest in a hurry, the swords on their waists still red with fresh blood.

A drop of blood falls onto the surface of a leaf, before it is trodden underfoot all of a sudden.

MC: Ahh…

Bandit Leader: Tell me the truth!

My head was harshly hit, and I let out a weak, muffled cry through the cloth stuffed in my mouth.

The image of my family’s pitiful state right before the moments of their deaths surface in my mind again, and my throat tightens, both my heart and mind unable to move on from the tumultuous upheaval in my life.

It was only supposed to be a trip to the neighbouring village to visit some relatives. How had it come to this?

Bandit Leader: The ones we’ve gone after the last few days weren’t lacking in anything, huh? Hiding so many goods…

Bandit Underling: That’s right. Especially this young girl here, she’s still young and healthy.

Bandit Underling One: Boss, before we sell her off, how about we… ehehe.

Upon hearing his perverted words and laughter, I start thrashing about in a panic, but the ropes wound tightly around my wrists and ankles just won’t budge no matter how hard I pull. Tears stain the blindfold over my eyes and I stretch my hands towards my waist, getting ready to put up a fight with everything I have - I’d rather die than be disgraced in such a way.

At this moment, however, he is interrupted by another low voice.

Bandit Underling Two: That’s enough. You can make merry anytime you like, but in this instance, it’s better for us to hurry and get on our way. I heard these woods aren’t to be trusted at night, and there are rumours that monsters come out at night.

Bandit Underling One: Big Brother, aren’t you a little too believing of these old folk tales? Where on earth would there be demons, and even if there were, I’m not scared of them!

Note from Red: and here, ladies and gentlemen, is the beginning to every horror movie ever

A cocky laugh leaves his lips, but the second he does, the surroundings in all four directions abruptly fall silent.

All of a sudden, a long, piercing cry rips the still night in two.

The sound is delightful to the ears, yet it is striking enough to tear through the haze - upon hearing it once, it would be irreversibly carved into one’s heart.

I only feel my body sway for a moment, but in the blink of an eye, I find myself shoved down onto the ground. The second my shoulder collides with the wet, slippery dirt, I hear the bandits’ terrified shouts flying to and fro above my head.

Bandits: Mon… Monster!!!

The snarl of a predator beast, the metallic hiss of a blade being unsheathed, frantic and hurried footsteps… followed by bloodcurdling screams.

The chaos and what I experienced a few hours ago are far too similar, the same sounds echoing inside my head until they slowly fade away to nothing.

I cannot see anything in front of me, and can only smell the faint scent of blood mixed with that of the cool forest suffusing my nose.

At this moment, footsteps gradually approach me.

I hold my breath, and feel cold sweat slowly trickling down my back.

Who is it? Did one of the bandits survive?

Or is it… the monster?

The owner of those footsteps stop before me, and a strong hand pulls me up from the ground.

The person lifts up my bangs and a fingertip meets my forehead, the ice cold sensation making me shiver.

Mystery Man: Hah.

He seems to have no intention of loosening my bindings, a peculiar silence filling the space between me and the nameless man before me. With the blindfold over my eyes, my senses of hearing and touch are my only links with the external world.

His breathing is very light, but with each exhale that leaves his mouth, I sense undeniable danger in the air. I can feel his gaze, like that of a wild predator surveying its prey, as if he would sink his fangs into me in the next second.

MC: Mmn!

Terrified, I duck my head away from him, trying to avoid his touch. Instead, I hear a short laugh coming from the person in front of me.

Mystery Man: Fine. Since you don’t want me to save you, just wait here on your own, then.

With these words, the heated breaths across my cheeks vanish and the man seems to disappear into thin air, leaving no trace. My surroundings are completely silent once again.

He left?

I don’t dare to confirm it myself, waiting where he left me for a moment. Once the sound of birds and chirping of crickets returns to the area, I let out a breath of relief and begin to move once again.

Since I was under constant scrutiny of the bandits, I didn’t dare to do this earlier. Now that there’s no one in the vicinity, I can finally reach for the small knife I had secretly strapped to my waist.

This is the last thing my parents, who died earlier this year, left me to defend myself with.

I carefully feel around for the handle of the blade, wrapping my fingers around it. Because I can’t see and my movements are restricted, the tip of the blade ends up nicking my skin a few times. Gritting my teeth, I bear the pain and work on severing my bindings.

Note from Red: guys this is the mc we need but don’t deserve-

When I finally pull off the blindfold around my eyes, I see that the moon has already moved considerably towards the west.

Apart from the goods the bandits had been carrying with them earlier, I don’t see anyone else when I glance about.

MC: Did those people… really get eaten?

At the thought of the danger I experienced earlier, and might still be in, I couldn’t care less about the injuries littering my body, and force myself to my feet with the support of a tree branch, preparing to leave the forest as fast as I can.

The mountain paths are confusing and complicated, and I feel like I’ve been wandering around in circles for awhile when I finally hear the sound of running water coming from nearby.

MC: That’s great! If there’s water, that means I can clean my wounds!

I hobble towards the source of the sound slowly, but just as I’m pushing through the underbrush, a sound suddenly rings out through the air, causing me to freeze where I stand in fear.

Mystery Man: Don’t panic, everyone has a share.

It’s the voice of that man from earlier!

Before I can react, there’s the sound of flapping wings in the distance, taking my attention with it. Several strangely shaped skeletal birds flap over, and from their shrill, clamorous cries, it sounds as if they’re begging for food from someone.

I turn my head, only to see a young man casually lounging in a rowboat on the surface of a pool, next to a grove of trees. In his hand is a bunch of evening primroses. Under the light of the night sky, their petals give off a gentle glow.

The young man’s long legs are crossed, golden eyes half narrowed lazily as he looks at me. His expression is leisurely and indolent, and I see the petal of an evening primrose held casually between his teeth.

If I hadn’t encountered him in such an unusual circumstance, in the depths of a mountain forest, perhaps I would have thought he was the pampered young master of a rich merchant or businessman.

Mystery Man: Oh, that sentence wasn’t quite right. It should have been ‘every bird has a share’.

As if the skeletal birds can understand what he’s saying, they let out noisy chirps before obediently taking the petals from his hand one by one. The second the petals leave his palm, they dissolve into puffs of black smoke being swallowed up instantly by the skeletal birds.

Mystery Man: Today’s haul wasn’t too bad, there’s so much evil energy about, there’s enough for all of you to gorge yourselves on for a long time…

Mystery Man: Oi, you little idiot at the back, I caught you! Be a bit more honest, you’re not allowed to cut the queue…

Skeletal Bird: Squawk squawk?

Mystery Man: What did you say? Why didn’t I swallow up that little lady from earlier?

Mystery Man: Come on, do I really seem like a scoundrel who doesn’t take proper care of women… yeah, I am.

Trivia from Red: The word ‘scoundrel’ was translated from is the negative of a Chinese idiom 怜香惜玉, meaning a gentleman who takes care of the fairer sex. Shaw referred to himself as someone unlike a gentleman, so that’s how I translated it.

Skeletal Bird: Squawk!

Mystery Man: [clicks his tongue] I was just playing around a little. After I feed the lot of you, I’ll go back and save her, is that cool with you?

At hearing his words, I secretly make a face in his direction, muttering under my breath.

MC: I didn’t need you to save me… I got out on my own...

A skeletal bird suddenly caws in my direction. The young man’s eyes narrow instantly, the light in his eyes intensifying to something swift and fierce, before he turns his gaze right in my direction.

Mystery Man: Whoever’s there, come out.

I’ve been found out!

Note from Red: She, in fact, had been found out.

I subconsciously take a step back, but all of a sudden, the injury on my leg flares up with immense pain. My body loses balance all at once, and I find myself pitching backwards before I know what’s happening.

MC: Ah!

Note from Red: MC then proceeds to black out in typical otome heroine fashion… but let’s cut her some slack she was cool here T^T

I drift in the darkness, countless strange dreams blending together and surfacing before my eyes. One moment it’s the leering grin of the bandits, the next it’s the cawing of the skeletal birds I saw earlier. But the final thing is the long, piercing cry I heard in the forest.

When my eyes blink open, I find myself in an unfamiliar room.

It’s a perfectly normal looking bedroom, and the sheets under me are fresh and clean. Somewhere, I can hear the sounds of a vendor selling his goods and the voices of kids peddling flowers drifting in from outside the window.

Everything is so peaceful, it’s as if everything I experienced before has just been nothing but a dream.

MC: Where exactly am I…

Mystery Man: You finally decided to wake up.

A young man dressed in purple appears at the door in the blink of an eye. Startled, I sit up as fast as possible in shock.

MC: Who are you!?

At my question, he leans against the doorframe casually, and after seeing my expression, the corner of his lips turn up in a smirk.

Mystery Man: What are you being so on edge for? I’m the benefactor who saved your life, you know.

MC: What benefactor, I clearly saw you on that lake earlier…

Mystery Man: You’ve had some entertaining dreams.

Note from Red: o k a y shaw

MC: Huh?

Mystery Man: You, little lady, fainted in the wilderness in the nearby mountains. If I hadn’t just happened to be passing by and decided to do a good deed, there’s no guarantee you wouldn’t have been eaten up by a demon.

What he’s saying doesn’t match up with what I remember, but the way he speaks so smoothly with absolute confidence makes it hard for me to doubt his words, and for a moment I question my own memories.

Could the glowing primroses I saw by the lake… and the skeletal birds… all been some sort of strange dream?

Mystery Man: It seems like you’ve slept yourself silly.

The young man runs a hand through his hair before straightening up once more, and I watch as he steps towards me until he’s right next to the bed, bending down to look at me more clearly.

His golden eyes flash with sly amusement.

Mystery Man: Since you’re awake, remember this clearly: you’re on my territory.

Mystery Man: The name’s Shaw, and I’m your benefactor.

Mystery Man: As for what you should do now, you should carefully think… about just how you’re going to repay me for saving your life.

-

Carrying a bucket filled with water, I stagger into the garden, out of breath.

The only other person in the garden is currently lounging next to a flower bed, legs casually swinging back and forth, the picture of idleness.

MC: May. I. Please. Ask. If. Sir. Benefactor. Has. Any. Other. Instructions.

Since the day I woke, in return for Shaw safely bringing me out of the mountain, I agreed to run errands for him for seven days. Today is already the seventh day.

Upon seeing me puffing and panting, his brow lifts in an amused arch.

Shaw: Hmm, go water those flowers over there while you’re at it, then.

MC: Shaw, don’t take your bullying too far!

Shaw: How am I bullying you? Weren’t you the one who said that you wanted to repay me by running errands? Or perhaps you want to do it by offering your body instead?

Trivia from Red: ‘Offering your body’ is translated from the Chinese idiom 以身相许, which means 1) pledge to marry or 2) have sex with a man of her own will.

I stare at him in horrified shock for a moment, face burning red from embarrassment. Grabbing the gourd dipper, I scoop up a full ladle of water and fling it at him with all my might.

Shaw ducks out of the way at lightning speed, and the spray of water splashes onto the flowerbed he had been lounging next to earlier, catching the light of the afternoon sun and forming a rainbow. Shaw’s laughter rings out clearly.

Shaw: I asked you to water the flowers, not water people. Or is your eyesight so bad you can’t tell a human clearly from a flowerbed?

MC: ...You!

These last few days, whenever we’ve had banters like this, I’ve never won even once. Determined not to fall into the same trap again, I ignore his words and instead ask a question.

MC: The seven days are almost up. Can I leave tomorrow?

Shaw’s smile turns teasing.

Shaw: Your house is opposite this mountain, isn’t it? Are you sure you won’t faint halfway on your journey back again?

MC: I definitely won’t!

Upon seeing my determined face, Shaw grins, opening his mouth to say something again. All of a sudden, however, the smile fades from his face.

MC: What’s the matter?

Shaw: Nothing’s up, I’m just heading out for a moment.

Shaw: If you want to go home, I’m not stopping you.

Shaw: But you’re not allowed to leave tomorrow. Stay put in my house, don’t take a step out of the compound.

MC: Why not?

Shaw doesn’t reply my question, and with a few strides of his long legs, he’s vanished from the garden.

MC: Shaw, wait a moment, you haven’t explained yourself-

MC: He’s gone?

This isn’t the first time he’s simply disappeared like this. With a shake of the head, I shrug off his warning. Besides, after tomorrow, I’ll have repaid my debt to him in full, and we’ll have nothing more to do with each other.

On the morning of the next day, Shaw still hasn’t returned.

I chew on my lip, looking at the doors for the seventh time, slightly hesitant to leave without bidding him goodbye.

MC: Well, it’s not like that rascal is going to bother about it anyway…

Trivia from Red: MC quite constantly refers to Shaw as 那家伙, which is a casual way of referring to a mischievous, rascally guy, and can be interpreted as ‘that guy’, or ‘that little punk’.

Even though I say those words, I find my footsteps slowing on the way out of the front courtyard.

MC: Perhaps I should leave him a letter.

I write him a letter and leave it on his table. Just when I’m about to leave, a painting hanging on the wall catches my eye.

MC: This is…

Taking a step closer to look at it more clearly, I realise that it’s a mythical beast that I’ve never seen before.

On the beast’s lower back are five tails, and on its forehead is a single horn. Just from the painting, I can sense a strong aura of pride and arrogance.

MC: This painting… it kind of resembles that guy.

Curiously, I reach out and touch a corner of the painting. All of a sudden, however, the sound of thunder rumbles outside the window.

I look out of the window, and am surprised to see that the sky, that was sunny just moments ago, is now blanketed with thick grey clouds, looking like it’s about to start pouring anytime soon.

MC: If I don’t leave now, it’ll be bad if I’m caught in the rain.

I fasten my cloak, pick up an umbrella and leave Shaw’s house.

Even thought it’s well into the afternoon, the little town is completely covered in a thick fog, as if it has been completely blanketed by a layer of grey. The little river that runs through the town has little lotus lamps dotting the surface, all of them floating along silently.

Just as I’m about to leave the little town, my mind gradually begins to calm.

MC: This feels a little strange…

The town that Shaw resides in might not have too many people, but on a normal day, it would usually be bustling with activity, the smell of firework smoke in the air.

Yet today, there isn’t a single person on the streets.

Note from Red: gee, i wonder why, mc-

The further I go from Shaw’s house, the faster the sky seems to darken and unease wells up in my heart.

MC: Maybe I should go back and wait for him…

[thunder rumbles]

The clouds seem to descend, and the sky darkens even further. I don’t know whether it’s just my imagination, but the mist seems to suffuse and thicken in the tunnel before me, and I can see the outline of dark shapes moving about inside.

Before I can look more closely at them,  there’s a sound behind me, and I turn around. The moment I do, I can’t help but feel shock race through me.

It’s the skeletal bird I saw that night on the mountain!

The bird hops onto the side of the bridge, cocking its head at me. When it opens its beak to speak, what comes out isn’t the shrill squawk of a bird, but the familiar cool and clear voice of a man.

Bird!Shaw: Finally found you… what are you doing here?

MC: Shaw!?

MC: How are you… this bird is-

In typical Shaw fashion, the bird does not answer my question. Instead, it turns its head to look at the tunnel, and lets out a clicking sound even though it doesn’t have a tongue to do so.

Bird!Shaw: Come with me.

With that, it flies to me, taking my sleeve between its beak and tugging me in the opposite direction. Being pulled along into a run with it, all my words come out garbled.

MC: Wait a moment… What, what exactly is going on? Just now, what was that? And you, what are you?

Bird!Shaw: You have so many questions.

MC: It’s not me who has too many questions! It’s just that you’ve hidden too much from me!

Bird!Shaw: ……

Bird!Shaw: It’s the Ghost Festival today.

MC: Ghost Festival… Hungry Ghost Festival!?

Trivia from Red: The Ghost Festival, also known as the Hungry Ghost Festival, is a traditional Buddhist and Taoist festival held in certain East Asian countries. According to the Chinese calendar (a lunisolar calendar), the Ghost Festival is on the 15th night of the seventh month.

In Chinese culture, the fifteenth day of the seventh month in the lunar calendar is called Ghost Day and the seventh month in general is regarded as the Ghost Month (鬼月), in which ghosts and spirits, including those of deceased ancestors, come out from the lower realm. The deceased are believed to visit the living as the realms of Heaven and Hell and the realm of the living are open and both Taoists and Buddhists would perform rituals to transmute and absolve the sufferings of the deceased.

Bird!Shaw: That's right. This is when the nine yin converges, and evil grows easily. It is the day when the Ghost Gate opens, and evil and living souls intersect. It will be more troublesome than a typical day.

Bird!Shaw: I distinctly remember telling you to stay put in my house, who would have thought you’d actually dare to leave and make trouble for me.

As the bird says this, it turns back to eye me. Even though it has no eyes, I can clearly see the words ‘annoyance’ written in its eye sockets.

At that moment, a feeling of unhappiness washes over me, and I can’t help but open my mouth to speak.

MC: All these things… you could have just told me earlier. You made me wait for you for the entirety of yesterday… without so much as an explanation.

MC: Shaw, am I really not worthy of your trust? Am I a burden to you?

The bird stops fluttering its wings for a second before it turns its head, not saying another word.

For a moment, I wonder if Shaw is angry with what I said, but after a while, a small snort of laughter leaves the bird’s mouth, ringing in my ears.

The sound is so clean and clear, it seems like Shaw is standing right next to me.

Bird!Shaw: I don’t think of you as a burden.

Bird!Shaw: I can tell you my true identity, it’s just that at that moment, you can’t be afraid and you’re not allowed to regret it.

MC: I won’t be scared, and I wouldn’t regret it.

Bird!Shaw: Then follow me closely.

The clouds close in on us, and the first drops of rain begin to fall.

It’s going to rain.

I follow after the bird closely, and each time, I narrowly manage to escape every encounter with a dark shape. Just as we’re about to leave the small town, however, it’s as if all the spirits suddenly sense me, and they all turn and start rushing towards me!

Bird!Shaw: Don’t bother about them! Just run towards the exit of the town!

The second it finishes those words, it lets out a caw. As if rallied, a hundred of the skeletal birds suddenly fly over from behind the wall. Like arrows loosed from a bow, they descend on the mass of black spirits and attack them with their sharp beaks and wings, keeping them tightly packed together.

But there is a limit to the number of birds, and the pitch black spirits can’t be stopped.

Understanding that the birds can’t buy me all the time in the world, I grit my teeth and run as hard as I can for the exit of the town.

Even before I can take two steps, pain runs up my leg, as if I’m being yanked back by something. I fall painfully to the ground.

Withstanding the pain, I look down to see a skeletal person grabbing tight onto my ankle, refusing to let go!

No matter how hard I struggle, the person refuses to let go, and only holds on tighter and tighter. Watching the rest of the dark shapes slowly approaching, I yank out something I have tucked in my waist, and bring it down as hard as I can on the person.

Shiing!

A loud wail rings through the air, but the grip loosens enough for me to pry it off. Looking down in my hand, I clasp the dagger that had saved me seven days ago, I’ve never let it leave me even once.

But in the time it took for me to do all that, it’s too late for me to escape the town.

I grip the dagger tight.

The dark shapes draw closer, before they finally rush at me ferociously.

[thunder rumbles intensely]

Thunder rumbles throughout the sky, like the beating of a thousand drums, the galloping of a hundred thousand horses, unceasing. In that second, hundreds of white hot lightning bolts flash through the air before me, bathing the entire sky in bright white light.

Note from Red: that can’t be good for your eyes...

A large hand covers my eyes from behind.

Note from Red: who needs sunglasses when we have shaw’s big hands T^T

Shaw: You idiot, why are you just standing there for? Do you want to keep your eyes or not?

His tone is teasing and lighthearted, but it makes me feel safer than any promise or vow in the world.

MC: Shaw…

Shaw: I didn’t think you’d be able to save yourself, not bad.

Shaw: No wonder I-

The rest of his words are cut off by the rumble of thunder, the flash of lightning. I feel raindrops land pitter patter on my nose and cheeks.

In order to let me hear his words clearly, he leans down and puts his lips right next to my ear when he speaks, breath hot against the shell of my ear.

Shaw: Turn around, open up your umbrella and count to ten in your head before you open your eyes. Got it?

I nod with all my strength.

Shaw releases me and I obey his instructions, opening the umbrella and beginning to count.

MC: One, two, three…

The strikingly familiar cry I heard that night in the forest rings out from behind me, leaving yet another deep impression in my heart.

MC: Four, five, six…

The rain slows to a gentle drizzle, and the oppressive air hanging over the town seems to be slowly fading.

MC: Seven, eight, nine…

Shaw… Shaw…

MC: Ten.

I turn around.

Within the bright flashes of light, I catch sight of a silhouette of the five tailed mythical beast.

-

Evil spirits dealt with and the dark clouds gone, it seems like the town has finally gone back to normal.

Because I injured my foot, Shaw takes me to a small boat, and the two of us drift along slowly on the river. As the boat is slowly carried along beneath a bridge, Shaw, who is lazily sitting at the front, plucks a flower from the side to play with.

The lotus lamps bobbing alongside us glow softly, and what was initially supposed to be a gloomy Hungry Ghost Festival resembles more of a pleasant evening of a wedding night.

Shaw’s purple robes flutter in the wind, and under the light of the lamps hanging from the boat, the horn on his forehead seems to be softened with a soft glow.

The scenery before me reminds me of the time we first met on the lake back in that forest, the only differences being that he’s now missing a few birds, and that I am here with him.

MC: Right, why haven’t I seen any of the other town residents today?

Shaw: You think everyone is like you? I already warned them beforehand not to leave their houses, it’d make way for the souls and I can do what I need to do.

MC: Hahahaha…

Shaw: What are you laughing about?

MC: I’m laughing at you - with that image and disposition, who would have guessed that you’re actually a great immortal?

After hearing my words, Shaw lifts an eyebrow, looking slightly miffed.

Shaw: Then what did you think I was, a monster?

MC: I think that you’re Shaw, that’s all.

Shaw stares blankly at me for a moment.

MC: Shaw, on the day of Qixi, when you brought me out of the mountain, was it you who rescued me from those bandits as well?

Even though my words are phrased as a question, my tone is sure and certain. There’s a flash of surprise in Shaw’s eyes, but he doesn’t reply. He casts his eyes downwards, manner insipid.

Shaw: That isn’t a good memory to have for the Qixi Festival. Just forget it.

MC: I won’t forget it.

What he says is true. The Qixi festival is deserving of good and happy memories, and being by bandits certainly isn’t that, but still…

I look earnestly at Shaw.

MC: But on that day, you also appeared.

All around us, the lotus lamps flicker softly in the night, jade green smoke curling up faintly, the cool sounds of running water in my ears.

MC: I feel like this is the most memorable, and also the most treasured Qixi I have ever experienced.

This world’s thousands of relationships cannot be clearly defined by these dates, but on this Ghost Festival, my heart soars more than it did on the day of the Qixi Festival.

Shaw watches me silently, before he puts down the flower in his hand and leans forward, closer to me.

His hands carry with them the body temperature of one that is not human, fingertips lifting up my bangs once again.

Inch by inch, his finger trails down, as if mapping out my face.

His golden eyes are locked firmly on me, gaze intense and captivating like that of a wild beast, not letting my eyes deviate from him in the least.

This time, I don’t shy away from him.

Shaw: The last time, didn’t you ask for my true self?

Shaw: I’m Zheng, and I consume evil energy as sustenance.

Shaw: I’ve never felt like I’ve done this to help humans, and I’ve never considered myself to be an auspicious sign like the legends say.

Shaw: When I’m hungry, I eat.

Suddenly, my hand is grasped tightly in his, and he lifts it to his mouth.

He bites down slowly on my index finger, sharpened teeth scraping over delicate skin, and slight pain radiates out from where his lips are wrapped around my fingertip.

Shaw: Even if that’s what I am, you’re not going to be afraid of me?

Even though he’s clearly giving off a sense of hidden danger and his words are meant to provoke me into giving him a response, my heart skips a beat at the smile on his face.

MC: I…

Shaw: I… what? Speak louder.

With a self satisfied smirk that looks reminiscent of a cat that got the canary, he nips on my finger again.

MC: I said, I won’t be-

Before the word ‘scared’ can leave my mouth, my finger suddenly slips free of Shaw’s mouth to land on his lower lip. My fingertip softly runs against his lips, breath warm and eyes shining.

It’s clearly… a kiss.

Note from Red: yes mc you get flustered NOW when your finger was on his lips but not when he was literally biting on it priorities on point we stan

In a moment, my entire face burns bright red and I hurriedly pull back my finger.

MC: Shaw!

Shaw grins at me as he releases my hand, his gaze on me filled with an emotion I can’t quite recognise. Having fallen for his tricks yet again, my heart races and I desperately look for something to say, but didn’t expect that Shaw would beat me to it.

Shaw: Shouldn’t you be heading home?

The second he says that, I’m reminded of my original purpose: to bid my farewells to him before leaving for home.

I nod at him for a moment, before I shake my head energetically.

MC: Shaw, I…

Shaw: But today, haven’t I saved you once again?

MC: ...Eh?

Shaw: The timing’s just right. I’ve polished off all the evil energies and spirits here completely, it’s time for a change in scenery.

Shaw: The town near your home… is there anything entertaining?

He speaks so quickly that I have no time to think.

MC: Entertaining… well, not really, but there’s a lot of good food there! Recently it’s been chestnut and lotus seed season, so there should be a lot of confections sold on the streets…

MC: Wait a second, you’re not thinking of following me home, are you?

Shaw: Of course I am. How else are you going to repay this huge favour you owe me for saving you?

His words are bold and upright, but the grin on his face is that of a satisfied hunter.

Shaw: Before you fully repay the favour… don’t even think about escaping from me.

[jojomugi]

Hello, again! This is the same anon who said thanks (I’m a little embarrassed to ask for something similar but, I really did love the last scenario). May I please have a scenario with SDC Dio nsfw/sfw w/ the same fem s/o who absolutely adores Halloween? Thank you so much! I truly appreciate it ❤️

Awh yes! I love Halloween themes! 🎃👻

Hope you didn’t mind but I decided to change it up a bit and make it a bit...AU-y(?) lol. I’ll describe it at the bottom :). I apologize for the wait and how short is it compared to the last one. Hopefully it was worth it and I hope you enjoy this piece because I certainly enjoyed writing this!

[Request:Open]

✨AU: Basically everything is the same except Dio is less focused on ruining the Joestars and more focused on his future plans (and Halloween)

✨Word Count: 1779

✨SFW?: Yes

SDC Dio x Reader (Halloween theme)

“Only 30 more days!” You proclaimed to yourself as you wrote in a little journal upon your bed. The gel tipped pen with the elegant white feather glided across the pages as you began making a list of what to do for your favorite holiday, Halloween. Of course, you had not yet had the chance to discuss your ideas and plans with your head of the household, DIO, so you had not yet gotten executive approval from your dearest. However, you kept your fingers crossed that you would be able to possibly sway him into allowing you to at least decorate. 

Though you have called this place home as Lord DIO has done nothing but provided for you here, in all honesty, the majority of the work was already done for you. The mansion itself already had a decrypted aura surrounding it. It was dank, dark, and was littered with cobwebs of many varieties. Though Lord Dio had never struck you as the type of man to be invested in holidays, you hoped he would not mind a few pumpkins and spooky ghost decorations scattered about. Actually, you couldn’t help but dorkishly grin at the ideas you had come up with to decorate the halls and rooms of the manor.

They frilly feather twirled between your fingertips as you continued to ponder and daydream on what else you’d do for Halloween if given the opportunity to celebrate. Though this was suddenly interrupted by a small yet strong gust of wind had blown through your window. A silhouette of a majestic falcon framed your windowsill, and it was none other than your favorite bird, Pet Shop. It sat there for a moment, before quickly darting to the floor to devour the rat that had gone unnoticed in the far corner of your bedroom. You jumped back at first, after all, he was a very fierce creature, however, you finally loosened up when he flew back over to your windowsill and perched himself proudly.

You shut the journal and got up from where you had resided, and made your way over to him. With a smile, you approached the falcon and gave him a single stroke on the head. “Thank you Pet Shop, you’re such a marvelous creature!” You softly praised.

Though you were not his master, the bird spread his wings and let out a sound that you could only assume was a ‘thank you’. A soft giggle escaped your lips, as you were completely tickled over how smart he was to actually understand you. “Perhaps for Halloween Lord Dio can let you be...A headless horseman! If they make dog and cat costumes, surely they make them for birds too.” You proposed. The bird merely lifted its head away from you and shut his striking eyes. You frowned a bit at his response, but let out a small smile quickly. “Or maybe instead of being a guard-bird you can look like a pharaoh bird?” 

Pet shop turned his head back to you with an approving gaze, however, just as quickly as he came to visit you, he quickly flew off to return to his guard-bird duties when the creek of a door filled the room. Your h/l hair flipped as you turned, knowing already who your next visitor was, none other than DIO. Your e/c eyes lit up with excitement, not only did you enjoy each other’s company, you also could sense he was in a good mood, possibly a good enough mood to even inquire about your idea of the upcoming spooky holiday that was approaching. 

“Good evening y/n. Say, who were you talking to?” His words were a harmony in your ears, even in the way he teasingly asked you about your conversation with your animal visitor.

 “Lord Dio! Welcome! I just got done with a visit from Pet Shop, he disposed of a rat in the room.” You smiled warmly, placing your hands together in front of your chest. “How has your evening been?”

DIO’s lips had turned up into a very calm smile as he approached you. “Oh? Yes, Pet Shop is a fine bird isn’t he?” DIO nodded before continuing. “So far it has been excellent, I thought that I would share it with only my most favorite human.” He explained as he finally made his way to you. He extended a hand and tucked a piece of your hair behind your ear. His honey-like eyes that had been fixated on you caught a glimpse of the bright full moon that was framed by your window. “Oh? And it's a full moon? How romantic. Just another thing for us to share tonight.” The large blonde had noted as he took his place beside where you stood. Now, both of you were admiring the view of Cairo and the bold night from your window.

“I know right, tonight is just wonderful isn’t it?” You nodded, leaning against the windowsill. A strong sculpted yet protective arm wrapped itself around your waist and pulled you close to his body. He obviously couldn’t allow his sweet angel of a pet plummet on accident, even though you were quite confident you wouldn’t as you had done this many times before. You turned up to his with a smile. “Oh, Lord Dio! Did you know on the 31st, there will also be a full moon.” You quickly spilled the piece of trivia.

Dio rose a boldly arched brown at the oddly specific information you gave him, however, he took it merely as a sign of your intellect and patted your head in response. “Well, that's very fascinating my little y/n. Is there anything else I should know?”

Your face quickly went red from embarrassment. You had wanted to bring up wanting to celebrate Halloween in a different more casual way, but instead, sabotaged what you had mentally planned. However, lying to DIO was never an option for you, you’d never want to break his trust in you and your loyalty for someone you lovingly adored. 

“Well, y/n?” He tilted his head slightly, patiently waiting for you to continue upon his request.

“Well...the 31st is also the night of Halloween.” A gulp slid down your throat before you had finally decided to expand onto your information. “Lord Dio, you uh, don’t have to answer if you d-don’t want to, But...do you...do you celebrate any holidays?” You stammered your question, and lightly shook your head at how embarrassingly nervous you got over a simple inquiry. What a silly thing to get all riled up over.

However, for the other party, this was a deep question for him. DIO went silent for a moment as he thought about the last time he had even celebrated a holiday. Suddenly a wave of blurred memories resurrected; The last holiday he spent was New Years with George and Jonathan Joestar. Sure, he was slightly invested in them once upon a time ago when he was still a human, but that was a century ago, and he was a significantly different person in those days. He shut his eyes and thought hard about the answer. “I suppose so. Though last time I had ever recognized a holiday was a century ago. These days I just do not have the time to manage, invest, and dedicate my important time to just another day on the calendar.” 

“Oh.”

Suddenly you felt your heart sink in discouragement over this development. He had a point, you couldn’t help but agree that his time was valuable, his points were unarguable. You let out a small frown and shifted your eyes back towards the streets, letting your disappointment out towards the world instead of letting him see. However, the silent sadness you felt was interrupted alas by his voice.

“Why are you, curious darling?”

You blinked, and slowly glanced back up at him. You felt no need to change what was undeniable, you had assured yourself that he would not be up for Halloween. No more need for beating around the bush, you just bluntly spoke. “Well, I was going to ask if you’d allow me to decorate the home for Halloween.” You sighed admittingly, while limply hanging your arm off of the windowsill. You couldn’t help but give him a smile, even if it was a sad one. “I really wanted to make everyone costumes, bake those cute little ghosts and pumpkin cookies, hand out candy to all your servants, of course, only the ones you say are worthy, and watch scary movies.” You could go on and on about all your favorite Halloween traditions, however, you felt for sure that he probably didn’t care to hear more.

DIO went back to silence, and so did you. You both just quietly looked up into the entrancing moon. Though the celebration of Halloween was much different from his era compared to how it is recognized in the 20th century, another distant memory resurfaced, and a fond one at that. A time when his mother was still alive and he was a young boy, and how they’d huddle close together next to the fire she’d share spooky stories with him before Dario would drunkenly return home for the night. When he thought about it, DIO was actually somewhat touched over how desperately you wanted to share your traditions with him.

With a short “hm.”, an unconscious smile formed from his lips.

“Well...I suppose if you do all of the preparation, it would not hurt to celebrate it if it's only for one night.”

Those were words you hadn’t expected to hear. Your eyes lit up like a spark in the night. “R-Really?” You gasped and before Dio would even be able to confirm, you already leaped into him for an embrace. You were over the moon. “Oh! Lord Dio! Thank you! Thank you so much! You’re honestly too good to me!” You squealed out of sheer happiness.

DIO held onto your waist and gently put you down on your feet with a slight smirk. “Y/n, if you make this Halloween successful, perhaps you can not only be my pet but my holiday planner as well.” He stated while softly patting your head.

“Oh, I surely won’t let you down, Lord Dio!” She chirped with a bright smile. 

“Well then, my dearest y/n, I will be holding you to it.” He leaned in and left a kiss on your forehead.

You shut your eyes when he leaned in to plant his loving mark on you and in turn, your cheeks flushed pink. You were going to make his Halloween memorable for sure!

[necrowriter]

colors after dark

trigger warning: discussion of aging/immortality, war, violent death, gun death. 

---------------------------------

When Siobhan found Mal, he was standing out on the pier, leaning on the railing and staring out at the reflections of fireworks on the water. Where his own reflection should have been, there was only a faint dark shadow, an empty spot surrounded by a halo of popping colors.

Siobhan exhaled softly and went to stand next to him, watching as her own blurred reflection appeared next to where his wasn't. Despite the thick summer air still holding in the heat of the day, he was wearing his usual jacket, though, presumably in deference to making at least a token effort to appear affected by the environment, he had gone without the flannel shirt underneath.

He had also taken off the scarf he almost never went without, no matter the weather. She could see the scar on his throat.

“Hey,” she said.

“Hey.”

He sounded calm and slightly distant, which was strange coming from someone who was normally so lively it was easy to forget that he wasn't alive. Siobhan fidgeted with one of the charms around her wrist. Usually she and Mal could easily enjoy a companionable silence, but this one felt anything but enjoyable.

Usually it was also Mal cheering her up, not the other way around. She wasn't quite sure how to handle this. She felt she had to say something, but she had a sinking suspicion that anything she said would be putting her foot in her mouth.

Well, if it was going to happen anyway, she might as well go ahead and get it over with.

“So...” she ventured, “is this...a weird day for you?”

For a moment Mal gave no sign that he had heard. He could go eerily still, when he wanted to, not that he often did. Most of the time Mal was fidgety and expressive and boisterous, and it made you forget that he didn't need to blink or breathe, didn't sweat or shiver, didn't, in general, have all the little movements and tics and signs of being alive.

She was relieved when he finally glanced at her and let out a faint huff of laughter. “A little bit, yeah. I have had time to get used to it, though. It comes around every year, after all.”

“Well...true.”

This was stupid, she thought bitterly. What business did she have trying to comfort Mal over something like this? He had been around so much longer than her, longer than she would ever live; what useful perspective could she possibly have for this situation? She should have left him to deal with it, whatever it was, in his own way.

“Sorry,” she mumbled. “I guess I just-”

“You know, they thought it was going to be the second,” Mal said.

She blinked. “Uh, what? Oh, the holiday, you mean...?”

“Yeah. That was the day they actually passed the official vote. The Declaration came out two days later.”

“Right,” Siobhan said, a little suspiciously. It paid to be cautious when Mal was giving out historical trivia. “Is this from personal experience or-”

Mal grinned. It wasn't quite up to his usual luminosity, but it was something. “Nah, I read it in a book somewhere. I wasn't really keeping very precise tabs on the situation at the time.”

Siobhan raised her eyebrows. “I would've figured it would have been a pretty big deal.”

“It was. I'm just very unobservant.”

“Well, that I knew,” she said dryly. “But failing to notice that you were suddenly in a new country seems like a big thing to miss even for you.”

“Listen, we were living out on a farm away from town, it took a while to hear things. It's not like we had cable news.���

“Yeah, sure, blame technology.”

“More the lack of technology, really.”

“Excuses, excuses.”

Mal smiled fondly. For the first time she noticed that he had something in his hands, something on a cord that was wrapped around his wrist. She couldn't see what it was.

“So...is it strange, then, seeing it all now?” she asked, feeling very slightly more confident about the treacherous waters of this conversation. “I mean, the way we celebrate it and everything...”

“Actually, the way it gets celebrated really hasn't changed much. We've pretty much been making big noises and setting shit on fire from the start. I mean, the fireworks are definitely better quality now, I'll tell you that, and there's a lot more flag merchandising, but...”

“Huh,” she said. “Well, that's...comforting, in a weird kind of way.”

“Mm. It's nice to have constants.” He fidgeted with the object in his hand. “They were celebrating it before the war even ended, you know.”

“...Yeah?”

“Yeah. People tend to forget how long it went on, I think. Everyone remembers 1776, not so much that there was seven years of fighting after that.”

She winced. “I...yeah, I guess that would be a bit...”

“Odd to watch everyone celebrating like it was all over and done with in one day? Yeah, a little bit.” He shrugged. “Not that I can really say that much. I didn't even see most of it myself. Bowed out early, you could say.”

“I'm...sorry,” she said, which was not at all an adequate response, but then again perhaps nothing would be.

He smiled sadly. “For what? The day of my death not being nationally remembered? That's true for the vast majority of people, you know.”

“Well...yeah...but it does seem a little...I dunno...we kinda put aside the rest of it, I guess...”

Mal shrugged. “A lot of people died,” he said. “Slow, or quick. Heat, or cold, or musket rounds, or bayonets. Trampled by horses, walked barefoot through snow til their feet bled, went home with traumas no one had words for yet. And people did that before the war, and after it, and they're still doing it now.”

He finally uncurled his hand, revealing a small metal ball with a hole drilled through it for the cord. It took Siobhan a moment to realize what she was looking at.

“Is that...a musket ball?”

Mal rubbed his fingers over the rough metal surface. “Yep. Authentic historical artifact, this is.”

She had a sudden, horrible thought.

“That's not...that's not the one that, uh...”

Mal stared at her for a moment before his eyes widened in realization. “What, the one that killed me? Oh, no, no, no. No, that one went straight through.” He mimed the shot, jabbing straight at the pale starburst scar on his throat. “Even if I wanted to carry a thing like that around I would never have been able to find it. No...”

He let the musket ball slip from his fingers and dangle, pendulum-like, over the glittering water. “No, this was the last one I had. In my pouch, you know. My last shot.”

Siobhan watched, almost mesmerized, as he swung it back and forth, back and forth. The motion looked careless, but the cord was wrapped around his wrist so tightly it would have hurt, if he had still felt things in that way.

“I don't really know why I hung onto it...afterward...but I did and now it's the last thing I have left. Everything else that was mine when I was alive-not that there was a lot of it to begin with-it's all gone. Rotted or burned or broken or lost.”

Fireworks flashed red, white and blue over the space where Mal's reflection should have been.

“People forget,” he said. “They forget, they move on. That's how it works. Things lose importance when they fall out of living memory. Some more severely than others, but everything does in time. I don't...begrudge that. Maybe I should. Maybe I should be bothered to see celebration, and no acknowledgment of the things I remember...the stench and the screaming, going down bleeding in the smoke. But who am I to complain? Everyone dies, and it's very rarely pleasant, but most of that pain doesn't get memorialized at all. I was mourned well enough in my time. That's good enough for me.”

A particularly spectacular blast lit up the night, briefly staining the water with red.

“But...it's a reminder,” Mal went on. “To look at what people remember about that day. About that year. And, well, what they don't remember. Oh, I know it's still all studied and written down and known well enough, but the idea of it, now, the things that turned from memory into history into mythology, the things that have fallen aside over time...it reminds me of how long it's been. It reminds me that I'm not supposed to still be here. That I'm not supposed to still be. And it makes me feel...well...old.”

He sighed heavily and cradled the musket ball in his fingers. In the glare of the lights that lined the pier, his face looked stark and pale and ageless.

“Well,” Siobhan said, “I guess I'm not supposed to be here either.”

Mal looked up sharply. “What?”

“I wouldn't still be around if it weren't for you. You know that.”

He shook his head and looked away. “You'd get on. I might have helped, but that doesn't mean you ever needed me. Plus, you know, most of the things I've saved you from were things that I got you into in the first place.”

“We'll have to disagree on that one,” Siobhan said firmly. “Well...not the last part. We definitely agree there.”

Mal smiled slightly.

Siobhan sighed and ruffled her fingers through her hair. “Look...I know what you mean, I get that, but...I really don't feel like I'm supposed to still be here, a lot of the time. Because...well, because. And I know that's, uh, that there's a fair bit of difference between that and being a vampire. I mean,  you get better perks, for one thing.”

She felt a small bit of triumph when Mal laughed at that one.

“But-I am still here. And so are you. Whether we're supposed to be or not, we are. That's...that's, you know, that's kind of like winning.”

He looked at her in surprise. “Well...when you put it like that.”

She gave him a hesitant smile. “Look, I got you something. It's, um...I mean, I honestly don't know if this is appropriate at all, so feel free to pitch it off the side-well, don't do that, that would be littering, but the point is-”

“Oh, you know damn well I'm not pitching it anywhere, so you might as well get on with it.”

“Right, yes.” She dug in her pocket and pulled out a pin that said 1776 with a colorful blast of fireworks behind the numbers. Mal took it carefully and looked at it like he'd never seen anything like it.

“I...they had a lot of them, and I wasn't sure...most of them were really patriotic. Or they had political messages or whatever. But I thought you might like that one, with the color, and...I just felt like you should have a little...acknowledgment, you know? I mean, you can't exactly just tell people you're a veteran, but-”

“But you remembered.”

“But I remembered. And I will remember. Not everything about your life, your time, but...what I can, I will. And...you can wear that and, you know, maybe we can pretend that the world remembers.”

Mal slipped the musket ball into his pocket and carefully affixed the pin to the front of his jacket.

“Thank you,” he said quietly. “I'll wear it with pride.”

Then he turned away from the water and blew out a long and purely theatrical breath. “Well, that was a heavy conversation. Want to go misuse our supernatural powers to get a really good fireworks-watching spot?”

Siobhan grinned. “I thought you'd never ask.”

------------------

Originally posted here. 

[Image descriptions: 1. A man’s outstretched hands holding a musket ball on a cord in one and a metal pin reading ‘1776′ in the other. 2. A man and a woman walking down a pier with fireworks in the background; dialogue: “You know, as a vampire, there is one thing I’ve always appreciated about this holiday.” “Yeah?” “Yeah...the best part happens after dark, so I always get to see it.” “Plus it’s obnoxious and loud, just like you.” “Hey!”]

[apathetic-revenant]

colors after dark

happy Fourth of July, have a happy story about death and the inexorable passage of time. 

also vampires.

When Siobhan found Mal, he was standing out on the pier, leaning on the railing and staring out at the reflections of fireworks on the water. Where his own reflection should have been, there was only a faint dark shadow, an empty spot surrounded by a halo of popping colors.

Siobhan exhaled softly and went to stand next to him, watching as her own blurred reflection appeared next to where his wasn't. Despite the thick summer air still holding in the heat of the day, he was wearing his usual jacket, though, presumably in deference to making at least a token effort to appear affected by the environment, he had gone without the flannel shirt underneath.

He had also taken off the scarf he almost never went without, no matter the weather. She could see the scar on his throat.

“Hey,” she said.

“Hey.”

He sounded calm and slightly distant, which was strange coming from someone who was normally so lively it was easy to forget that he wasn't alive. Siobhan fidgeted with one of the charms around her wrist. Usually she and Mal could easily enjoy a companionable silence, but this one felt anything but enjoyable.

Usually it was also Mal cheering her up, not the other way around. She wasn't quite sure how to handle this. She felt she had to say something, but she had a sinking suspicion that anything she said would be putting her foot in her mouth.

Well, if it was going to happen anyway, she might as well go ahead and get it over with.

“So...” she ventured, “is this...a weird day for you?”

For a moment Mal gave no sign that he had heard. He could go eerily still, when he wanted to, not that he often did. Most of the time Mal was fidgety and expressive and boisterous, and it made you forget that he didn't need to blink or breathe, didn't sweat or shiver, didn't, in general, have all the little movements and tics and signs of being alive.

She was relieved when he finally glanced at her and let out a faint huff of laughter. “A little bit, yeah. I have had time to get used to it, though. It comes around every year, after all.”

“Well...true.”

This was stupid, she thought bitterly. What business did she have trying to comfort Mal over something like this? He had been around so much longer than her, longer than she would ever live; what useful perspective could she possibly have for this situation? She should have left him to deal with it, whatever it was, in his own way.

“Sorry,” she mumbled. “I guess I just-”

“You know, they thought it was going to be the second,” Mal said.

She blinked. “Uh, what? Oh, the holiday, you mean...?”

“Yeah. That was the day they actually passed the official vote. The Declaration came out two days later.”

“Right,” Siobhan said, a little suspiciously. It paid to be cautious when Mal was giving out historical trivia. “Is this from personal experience or-”

Mal grinned. It wasn't quite up to his usual luminosity, but it was something. “Nah, I read it in a book somewhere. I wasn't really keeping very precise tabs on the situation at the time.”

Siobhan raised her eyebrows. “I would've figured it would have been a pretty big deal.”

“It was. I'm just very unobservant.”

“Well, that I knew,” she said dryly. “But failing to notice that you were suddenly in a new country seems like a big thing to miss even for you.”

“Listen, we were living out on a farm away from town, it took a while to hear things. It's not like we had cable news.”

“Yeah, sure, blame technology.”

“More the lack of technology, really.”

“Excuses, excuses.”

Mal smiled fondly. For the first time she noticed that he had something in his hands, something on a cord that was wrapped around his wrist. She couldn't see what it was.

“So...is it strange, then, seeing it all now?” she asked, feeling very slightly more confident about the treacherous waters of this conversation. “I mean, the way we celebrate it and everything...”

“Actually, the way it gets celebrated really hasn't changed much. We've pretty much been making big noises and setting shit on fire from the start. I mean, the fireworks are definitely better quality now, I'll tell you that, and there's a lot more flag merchandising, but...”

“Huh,” she said. “Well, that's...comforting, in a weird kind of way.”

“Mm. It's nice to have constants.” He fidgeted with the object in his hand. “They were celebrating it before the war even ended, you know.”

“...Yeah?”

“Yeah. People tend to forget how long it went on, I think. Everyone remembers 1776, not so much that there was seven years of fighting after that.”

She winced. “I...yeah, I guess that would be a bit...”

“Odd to watch everyone celebrating like it was all over and done with in one day? Yeah, a little bit.” He shrugged. “Not that I can really say that much. I didn't even see most of it myself. Bowed out early, you could say.”

“I'm...sorry,” she said, which was not at all an adequate response, but then again perhaps nothing would be.

He smiled sadly. “For what? The day of my death not being nationally remembered? That's true for the vast majority of people, you know.”

“Well...yeah...but it does seem a little...I dunno...we kinda put aside the rest of it, I guess...”

Mal shrugged. “A lot of people died,” he said. “Slow, or quick. Heat, or cold, or musket rounds, or bayonets. Trampled by horses, walked barefoot through snow til their feet bled, went home with traumas no one had words for yet. And people did that before the war, and after it, and they're still doing it now.”

He finally uncurled his hand, revealing a small metal ball with a hole drilled through it for the cord. It took Siobhan a moment to realize what she was looking at.

“Is that...a musket ball?”

Mal rubbed his fingers over the rough metal surface. “Yep. Authentic historical artifact, this is.”

She had a sudden, horrible thought.

“That's not...that's not the one that, uh...”

Mal stared at her for a moment before his eyes widened in realization. “What, the one that killed me? Oh, no, no, no. No, that one went straight through.” He mimed the shot, jabbing straight at the pale starburst scar on his throat. “Even if I wanted to carry a thing like that around I would never have been able to find it. No...”

He let the musket ball slip from his fingers and dangle, pendulum-like, over the glittering water. “No, this was the last one I had. In my pouch, you know. My last shot.”

Siobhan watched, almost mesmerized, as he swung it back and forth, back and forth. The motion looked careless, but the cord was wrapped around his wrist so tightly it would have hurt, if he had still felt things in that way.

“I don't really know why I hung onto it...afterward...but I did and now it's the last thing I have left. Everything else that was mine when I was alive-not that there was a lot of it to begin with-it's all gone. Rotted or burned or broken or lost.”

Fireworks flashed red, white and blue over the space where Mal's reflection should have been.

“People forget,” he said. “They forget, they move on. That's how it works. Things lose importance when they fall out of living memory. Some more severely than others, but everything does in time. I don't...begrudge that. Maybe I should. Maybe I should be bothered to see celebration, and no acknowledgment of the things I remember...the stench and the screaming, going down bleeding in the smoke. But who am I to complain? Everyone dies, and it's very rarely pleasant, but most of that pain doesn't get memorialized at all. I was mourned well enough in my time. That's good enough for me.”

A particularly spectacular blast lit up the night, briefly staining the water with red.

“But...it's a reminder,” Mal went on. “To look at what people remember about that day. About that year. And, well, what they don't remember. Oh, I know it's still all studied and written down and known well enough, but the idea of it, now, the things that turned from memory into history into mythology, the things that have fallen aside over time...it reminds me of how long it's been. It reminds me that I'm not supposed to still be here. That I'm not supposed to still be. And it makes me feel...well...old.”

He sighed heavily and cradled the musket ball in his fingers. In the glare of the lights that lined the pier, his face looked stark and pale and ageless.

“Well,” Siobhan said, “I guess I'm not supposed to be here either.”

Mal looked up sharply. “What?”

“I wouldn't still be around if it weren't for you. You know that.”

He shook his head and looked away. “You'd get on. I might have helped, but that doesn't mean you ever needed me. Plus, you know, most of the things I've saved you from were things that I got you into in the first place.”

“We'll have to disagree on that one,” Siobhan said firmly. “Well...not the last part. We definitely agree there.”

Mal smiled slightly.

Siobhan sighed and ruffled her fingers through her hair. “Look...I know what you mean, I get that, but...I really don't feel like I'm supposed to still be here, a lot of the time. Because...well, because. And I know that's, uh, that there's a fair bit of difference between that and being a vampire. I mean,  you get better perks, for one thing.”

She felt a small bit of triumph when Mal laughed at that one.

“But-I am still here. And so are you. Whether we're supposed to be or not, we are. That's...that's, you know, that's kind of like winning.”

He looked at her in surprise. “Well...when you put it like that.”

She gave him a hesitant smile. “Look, I got you something. It's, um...I mean, I honestly don't know if this is appropriate at all, so feel free to pitch it off the side-well, don't do that, that would be littering, but the point is-”

“Oh, you know damn well I'm not pitching it anywhere, so you might as well get on with it.”

“Right, yes.” She dug in her pocket and pulled out a pin that said 1776 with a colorful blast of fireworks behind the numbers. Mal took it carefully and looked at it like he'd never seen anything like it.

“I...they had a lot of them, and I wasn't sure...most of them were really patriotic. Or they had political messages or whatever. But I thought you might like that one, with the color, and...I just felt like you should have a little...acknowledgment, you know? I mean, you can't exactly just tell people you're a veteran, but-”

“But you remembered.”

“But I remembered. And I will remember. Not everything about your life, your time, but...what I can, I will. And...you can wear that and, you know, maybe we can pretend that the world remembers.”

Mal slipped the musket ball into his pocket and carefully affixed the pin to the front of his jacket.

“Thank you,” he said quietly. “I'll wear it with pride.”

Then he turned away from the water and blew out a long and purely theatrical breath. “Well, that was a heavy conversation. Want to go misuse our supernatural powers to get a really good fireworks-watching spot?”

Siobhan grinned. “I thought you'd never ask.”

[writingismyhappytime]

Here's a peak at what you're missing!

So you know I'm posting on Patreon, all original content. Here's a sneak peak at what I'm posting on there! I took the zombie comment to heart. 

These days, you took what you could get, no matter the consequences. It didn't matter who it was from --- a family, a child, some dead, half eaten guy on the side of the road.

You just... you had to do what you had to do to survive.

I intended on surviving.

The world had collapsed a few years ago, some virus I guess you could call it.

I just know that one day everything was fine, and then a week later the world was in flames.

People turned on each other instead of standing together, they stole, pillaged, rioted --- basically we destroyed ourselves faster then any virus ever could.

When times get hard, it's everyone out for themselves apparently.

Me, I took that to heart.

My family died pretty quick, within the first few days. I'd come home from baseball practice one night to find my mother eating what was left of my father, his stomach split open, some organs I didn't even know the name of sprawled across our kitchen floor.

She'd been sick for a day or two, said some random homeless person had attacked and bit her. My dad wanted her to go to the hospital, but she refused, said she'd be okay.

I mean, it wasn't like stuff like that was unheard of. A few years ago some crazy guy in Florida high off bath salts was found eating a person, and there were some cultures still that were cannibals.

I'd watched enough zombie movies, I should have seen the signs. I'd pretended it would blow over, that the world just had another flu epidemic or something, that it would be okay.

I hadn't expected... well, for it to be real.

I'd never forget seeing my parents that way, seeing my mother look up at me with blood all over her face. She'd looked perfectly normal, just pale, her normally bright eyes glassy. Her dress had been ripped, probably in the struggle, but it was her teeth that made everything wrong.

She'd always had a beautiful smile, white, perfect teeth just like my sister. Now I couldn't remember it without seeing the red smeared across them, the way she cared them at me with skin and guts between them.

She'd forgotten my dad when she saw me, lunging at me from the linoleum floor. I'd scrambled back, staggered and fell onto my backpack.

Admittedly, I'd shrieked in panic, flailing a little in panic when I'd tried to keep her off me. I'd yelled her name over and over, shoved her away and begged for my mother.

That thing in front of me hadn't been her anymore. It had her face and clothes, but it hadn't been my mother.

I wasn't sure what it was.

A monster.

I did what anyone else would have done; I ran.

I ran as quickly as I could, managing to get out the front door and slam it behind me. I'd fallen on my knees on the porch, gasping for breath, on the verge on a panic attack.

I could hear my mother yowling, throwing herself against the door as she tried to get to me, to kill me.

My own mother.

I'd stayed there for a while, aware of the drying blood on my clothing, aware that I couldn't keep sitting there.

I'd dropped my phone inside, I couldn't call my younger sister to warn her. We had neighbors, we were in a suburb, but I didn't think they'd believe me.

If they weren't like my mother already.

My father.

So I'd just stayed right there, on my front porch, waiting. My sister had ballet practice, she didn't get out for another hour. She was younger then me, she'd be expecting my parents to pick her up --- but they wouldn't be.

I couldn't just leave her there, I couldn't just... do nothing! My dad's truck sat in the driveway, full of his tools and work equipment. I knew where he kept the spare keys, and he'd taught me to drive a manual.

I knew my mom's keys were in the house, and I didn't dare go in there.

I was only fifteen at the time, I had my learners but that was it. I'd seen only two or three vehicles go down the street since I'd come home, all speeding, ignoring the signs that said Speed Limit 25.

Maybe they knew something I didn't.

I should have taken it as a sign.

Instead, I'd gone to my dad's truck, taken the spare keys hidden beneath the seat, and started it up. I'd backed out of the driveway, going too fast and  knocking down our mailbox, but I didn't think my parents would care at this point.

My sisters ballet studio was just down the highway from our suburb, a little building where they practiced twirling in their tutus and with their sticks or whatever they were called. It had taken my mother a month to convince my sister to get out of her first recital costume, to wear normal clothes again.

I'd thought nothing else but getting to my sister, I guess I was in shock.

You can't say finding your parents like that in your kitchen wouldn't do the same. My mother had always been been a peaceful woman, all she'd ever done was yell at us when we tore the curtains down once on accident.

My father had always been the one to ground us or put us in time out, not her. So to see my dad on the ground, his fingers still twitching as he laid halfway beneath the kitchen table in his own blood, my mother lifting his intestines to her mouth like spaghetti... I was surprised I'd even managed to get out the door without puking.

It had been hard just getting ten minutes down the highway, it was littered with people already. Car horns honking in panic, people running around carrying their belongings --- I'd seen one van on fire with figures still inside, others throwing themselves at it.

Funny how I seemed to be so good at blocking that out until later.

It was getting dark then, hard to see, but somehow I'd managed to fumble on the lights. I'd drove off the road and into the front of people's yards, bypassing most of the trouble. I didn't go too fast, but I didn't dare slow down where someone could get in the truck; I'd been smart enough to lock the doors, though.

You didn't live in the city and not lock your doors.

I'd finally made it to my sisters building. I'd parked the truck sideways, grabbing the keys so no one could steal it. I'd shoved them into my jacket pocket and made a break for the front doors.

I should have looked at the parking lot. I should have noticed it was mostly deserted despite I knew there would be more classes, at how one car had someone smacking against the window, how the glass was smeared red.

I should have known I was too late.

It's a strange site, walking into a darkened building yelling for your sister, but to find an entire pack of cannibalistic ballerinas instead.

I never actually saw my sister, I could only assume she was one of them. I managed four steps into the building before I saw the first one of them, dressed in a glittery leotard with some torn tights.

It's true what they say, glitter clings to you for days. I'd backtracked out that door before the glittery woman could get her claws into me, slamming it shut and holding it there.

It didn't help the entire front of the building was just glass windows. I'd waited there a minute, I'd scanned the interior over and over, searching for my thirteen year old sisters face, but I could never see her.

Maybe I'd been a coward for not going in for her guns blazing, maybe I should have tried again and looked harder.

But I didn't.

I was scared, so scared. My legs had been shaking, sweat made my palms slick --- I'd felt nauseous.

The puking was imminent.

I'd abandoned the door and took off for the truck again, slingshot ting myself inside as quick as I could. I locked the doors, frantically fumbling the keys out of my pocket and into the ignition.

I had a horde of tiny ballerinas after me, and you don't wait for them to catch up.

Breathing hard, I'd slung the truck around in the parking lot, flooring it and speeding off onto the highway.

I wasn't sure why, if it was automatic or not, but I went back home. It was black outside now, but there was fires starting everywhere --- or catching from the previous ones I'd seen.

I just wanted to go home.

I pulled back into the driveway, parking the truck where my dad always did. I'd sat there a few minutes, staring off into basically nothing.

I could hear the destruction everywhere, some screaming, the sound of glass breaking.

The electricity was still on then, so porch lights flooded the street, you could see into people's homes.

I'd already learned at that moment that I didn't want to look.

I finally shut the truck off, and I looked over, seeing my backpack, my baseball bat hooked onto the side of it.

I didn't think about my teammates then, how I'd left them all at the diamond a few hours earlier with a wave and a promise I'd be back to practice more tomorrow.

I never returned to that field.

They were probably all dead at that time anyway.

I remember reaching for my bat, curling my hand around the cold aluminium and drawing it to me. I had to get inside my house, I had to get past my mother.

I was fifteen, I didn't know what else to do.

I won't bore you with the details of how I'd opened my front door, how I'd yelled as I'd charged my mother and swung that bat as hard as I could at her head --- I knew my zombie trivia, and what else could she be?

It had only taken one swing, metal bats are pretty hard, before she'd collapsed.

Of course then I'd puked a nice pile in the corner, unable to help myself anymore. The smell was probably the worst back then, it got me a lot in the early days.

I'm numb to it now.