#had this as a text post but thought the image format gave it more punch

[ace-robot-has-matcha]

[memcaked]

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Source: Subarashiki kono Sekai | The World Ends With You

Relationships: Kiryu “Joshua” Yoshiya & Hanekoma Sanae

Characters: Kiryu “Joshua” Yoshiya, Hanekoma Sanae, mentions of shibuya kids and higher plane

Additional tags: Post-game, possible downer ending, vague talk of suicide that’s joshua kiryu, TWEWYTOBER, TWEWYTOBER 2020, Not beta read

Summary: Joshua opens the door to WildKat and doesn’t even bother turning the lights on when he shuts it behind him. He steps gingerly over the torn wallpaper, uprooted flooring, and broken furniture to the counter and turns a chair the right way up. He flips open his phone and punches in the keys, summoning black coffee in a perfect porcelain cup that he knows isn’t the one Sanae made for years when it touches his lips.

Beginning notes: this was repurposed from unpublished vent shit because again JoshuaSympathiser69. originally it was in the format of a letter joshua was writing neku about the current state of the UG that hanekoma forced him to for ment tell health which is very funny because like, vent shit that was probably a little bit too enabling. i couldn't keep the format so i just nixed it rip. the image of joshua sitting in the empty trashed wildkat never leaves my head

also i wrote this in comic sans lol

Body: Joshua opens the door to WildKat and doesn’t even bother turning the lights on when he shuts it behind him. He steps gingerly over the torn wallpaper, uprooted flooring, and broken furniture to the counter and turns a chair the right way up. He flips open his phone and punches in the keys, summoning black coffee in a perfect porcelain cup that he knows isn’t the one Sanae made for years when it touches his lips.

Maybe it’s a sense of twisted nostalgia. He doesn’t have the same darkvision he has tuned down to his human form, but he could feel the same debris squelch under his soles; the food wasted on the floor, all his shelves ransacked, that precarious fan with its blades bent half-hanging from its wires like a chandelier over the ruins. Minamimoto blazed through the UG, and when he burnt out everything tasted like ashes. It hangs low on his tongue, but he's not really sure if it's the coffee’s bitterness or the cleanup he has left in his wake or learning entirely why Minamimoto was like that.

It came so fast, flashes of light and explosive power that Joshua could barely register anything other than the Higher Plane was angry and he couldn’t tell if it was him or Sanae or both. There was another Angel, not that he could remember their face or name, and they were the new Producer looking after him. Joshua asked why this was so sudden and it was about Sanae Hanekoma broke Angel code and needs to Fall for his crimes - and you’re not doing anything freely for a long time either, Composer.

Whenever he wasn’t stuck Composing, having to watch whoever this Producer was do everything for him, he visited WildKat. It was in shambles, and he thought nobody had the time to clean. He visited WildKat, still in shambles. He visited WildKat, visited WildKat until the food started rotting and reeking, until the rot sank into the floor, leaving it sticky and burnt and not, not like the place he remembered visiting. Not like the warm café that smelled of java and pastry and soup and someone who understood. Sanae is different now and it may be his fault, a lot of it. He saw Sanae in Pork City in his rare off time fixing the elevators and all but launched himself at him. He was going off like a weird motormouth, asking are you good and why is an Angel doing everything now and why don’t you clean up WildKat and why do you look so solemn, Sanae?

His words sounded stilted, spaced, broken. He says things like Taboo and Fallen and fugitive and it doesn’t make sense until he says he did it all for Shibuya. “My Producer tried to kill me,” Joshua said, trying to keep his voice leveled, “and you thought this was a little trifle?” He couldn’t restrain himself for long until the chains snapped. Maybe it set the precedent for every conversation they have now; something reopens the wound in Joshua his trusted men tried to kill him for what he wanted and he starts screaming with the wrath of all of the Noise in Shibuya on his side, and Sanae escalates when his reasons (excuses) don’t penetrate the red in Joshua’s eyes. Nothing new is said, they strain harder and harder, and Joshua has to erase the Noise tailing him the hours after from how intense it is.

There’s a whole optimal world down there; everyone is so happy and it’s nowhere close to the same place that he wanted gone back before the Long Game. But the UG is trying to scramble to fill in the gaps of Officers and Conductors and it’s only so much Soul he can identify and bring back, all while the RG people sicken and take too many risks or be in the wrong place at the wrong time and they pile up, ready for another Game. His clairvoyance has been so blunted in the Higher Plane’s punishments he tried to tell how long until now and he came up with nothing. He wants to ask the new Producer how, but everything Joshua says is rude and unbecoming to an Angel. He asked Sanae in another rendezvous if all Angels were like this and before he could answer he elaborated into a long vignette on how he has so little control over things, so little feeling or expression involved, and he just wants to--

Sanae grabbed him by the wrist. “J, don’t tell me you’re thinking of dying again.” His voice was gravely stern, the way of talking he’d only heard several times for how much he’s known him. “You and I both know we won’t have the strength for it if you do.”

“You’re so worried,” Joshua put on his mock-affected voice Sanae loves to defuse the tension. “To put you at ease, I’m not texting my l’appel du vide again until next year.” Sanae didn’t like that one either. When he echoed the give up on yourself and you give up on the world, Joshua exploded over how he’s such a hypocrite and gave up on his Composer because he couldn’t respect his wishes. It’s been 11 days since he’s seen Sanae. They’re all bitter.

To lay himself bare, he doesn’t feel like anything Sanae was concerned about. There’s something in him he needs to fill, something he didn’t know was missing back when all he could feel pulsing through the veins he didn’t have was the corruption that wouldn’t empty, that needed to be destroyed. Joshua hasn’t felt emotional or human for a long time, hasn’t felt more uncertain and stuck when this should be the perfect world. He wanted the best for Neku, for Neku and Shiki and Beat and Rhyme and he knows he could never be a part of their human equation or if he deserves it. The world is perfect for them, the one Neku earned himself. This is him dealing with the consequences of everything.

Through the rustles (does WildKat have an infestation too? probably.) and chilled, stagnant air there’s something only just palpable - more like ESP, stronger than Noise or Reapers or him that he can’t sense. Sanae told him the Angels of Shibuya are everywhere, waiting for any spare moment or lead to arrest him, and asked Joshua “if you were me, where would you regularly go?” when Joshua remarked how WildKat still isn’t clean.

He drinks up the last lukewarm dregs of the coffee, hunches over and types the keys to vanish the cup; he doesn’t need to add dirty crockery to this never-cleaned mess. He thinks he needs to put 680 yen on his tab when one of them breaks the silence, like they don’t realise they’re trapped in a cycle and straining. Joshua plugs the siren song of the void. Sanae didn’t Fall for him to not to.

End notes: gonna give up my dreams and ideas forever now after writing "I'm not texting my l'appel du vide" its the perfect line

[nonsensical-shitposting]

Pyrite (Seeker hypothetical ending)

I would’ve posted this earlier, but I ended up adding a lot of extra stuff and it took me a few more days to get around to it. Anyway, this is a fanfic I wrote that evolved from a bunch of my theories about how the comic over at @seekerquest​ is going to end. (I have no idea how close any of them are to being correct, though.) There was some parts I was forced to leave vague because it was getting pretty long already, but I’d be glad to elaborate on those parts later.

Full fic under the readmore, because like I said, this got pretty long.

.

It’s another part of your short, short life, and you are, as you have always been, the Seeker.

You are swimming through the void with Fen once more, heading back towards Pax’s world. It’s been a strange and emotionally exhausting past few… hours? Days? Years? (Definitely not the last one.) Whichever. At least you have more of a clue what’s going on now- more than you did when you started, anyway.

The Architect is still hovering quietly behind you, following you through the abyss. She’s been following you ever since you absorbed the last of what remained of her- now, she appears as a specter of sorts always in the corner of your eye, though only you can see her. She’s even less happy about the situation than you are, especially considering that she’s somewhat bound to you and physically can’t move far away from you, but you’d like to think that your charm is slowly breaking down her general moodiness. At least she’s actually talking to you now.

“Seeker?” Fen breaks the uncomfortable silence, glancing back at you. The black splotches around his jaws and curling up his mask don’t look any better in the dim light of the void. Maybe Mim was right to be concerned about him, but there isn’t much you can do about it. “Do you h- do you know what you’re going to do once we get there? You said you… had an idea, but you d- you didn’t elaborate.” You sense more than see the Architect frown at his query.

the architect said to seekerquest: Why tell him? He’ll only get in the way.

On cue, your faceless guides speak.

Anonymous said to seekerquest: Actually, yeah, what ARE you going to do? Do we even want to know?

[USERNAME REDACTED] said to seekerquest: You said something about finding Usurper, right? Are you going to tell him you know who he is?

You feel… tired, strangely tired, in a way you don’t think you can describe. The word schadenfreude springs to mind, except if it were aimed at yourself.

Yeah. That works. You’re finding some kind of weird enjoyment in your own tiredness, except it feels more like you’re a completely different person observing your own exhaustion. Somehow. That totally makes sense. You feel a flicker of concern from the Architect, but nothing else.

“I’m going to find him.” you say, your voice leaving no doubt as to who you’re talking about.

Fen flinches, his newly-blackened teeth bared in a silent fearful snarl. “A-are you- are you sure that’s- is that really a good idea? What are you even going to do once you find him?”

Just one of them speaks now.

[USERNAME REDACTED] said to seekerquest: Weren’t you contemplating revenge or something? How are you going to do that?

You’re so different than you were when you started out. You’ve changed- the memory orbs have seen to that. You’re covered in colors, mottled across your entire body, gray, white, pale blue, black, purple…

Your eyes are the only thing that haven’t changed since you awoke, really. They’re still the same yellow color.

“Make him pay.” you say, and nothing more.

“Oh.” Fen looks away from you, concern creasing his weird skeletal face. “Should I a- do I even want to know?” You can tell that he wants to go to Pax’s world with you, but the Impostor will kill him without question if he shows up there, and in his current weakened state after his failed attempt to attack the Impostor, you’re not willing to let him risk pulling his eye out or something.

“It doesn’t matter if he didn’t know what he was doing. It doesn’t matter if he’s forgotten.” you say. You feel the pressure of a myriad memories of being torn to shreds surge forth once more. “He must pay for what he did.”

“Oh.” Fen goes silent again. You get the feeling that your current seriousness is out-of-character enough that it’s concerning him. “Again, do I even want to know how you’re going to, uh, ‘make him pay?’”

the architect said to seekerquest: Don’t answer that question.

Your silence is apparently enough of an answer, and Fen looks away with a half-sigh, half-scoff. “That’s what I thought. Just… don’t do anything stupid, okay?”

“My, my, is that a hint of concern I detect in your voice?”

“Uh, n-no! I just don’t want my sisters to kill me if something happens to you!” Fen sighs, shaking his head.

“Suuuuuure.” you say, stretching the word out obnoxiously. “See you later!” You flick his nose in farewell before heading back into Pax’s world, and a truly bastardly grin spreads across your face as you hear him sputtering indignantly behind you. That never gets old.

.

You’re finally back at the column where you first appeared. It was a bit of a trek, but you made it. Now… there’s something you have to check before the impostor shows up.

You reach for the column, and your suspicions are confirmed as you knock on it. It’s hollow. What’s more, you think you can see a thin seam forming a barely-visible ring just beneath it.

As you start to lift the lid off the column, there’s a sudden rustling noise behind you, and an uproar in your ears and eyes.

the architect said to seekerquest: He’s here.

[USERNAME REDACTED] said to seekerquest: LOOK OUT BEHIND YOU

Anonymous said to seekerquest: Oh, shit, a rat!

Anonymous said to seekerquest: Uh, Seeker? Impaxter’s behind you and he doesn’t look happy.

Anonymous said to seekerquest: Well, the Imposter’s here now. Took him long enough. Do your thing or whatever.

“You’re here.” you say, dropping the lid back into place. If what you think is inside it really is there, you can’t let him see it.

The Impostor says nothing.

You turn around, and there he stands, that same blank look on his face. The old scar across his neck from where Rul knocked him out with that rock (was it really less than a day ago?), the newer one from where Fen bit him in a panic mere hours ago while you were fleeing from him (and then those awful black stains started spreading across his face, but you don’t want to think about that), and, of course, the large, jagged one carving a furless stripe down one leg. The newest one.

The one you made.

“Why did you come back?” the Impostor asks finally, and his voice is so abnormal that you blink in surprise. He doesn’t sound like a monotone freak, he just sounds… broken.

“I think you know why, Usurper.” you say.

The Impostor- Usurper- stiffens.

“Come on, don’t tell me you don’t recognize your own name. Pax gave it to you and everything.” you say.

“It is… familiar.” he acknowledges, the old monotony returning to his voice. “Then you recognize it?”

“Yeah, I’d think I would.” The images from that one memory orb flash in your mind once more- images of Pax, tired, broken, color fading away, scattered cracked pieces of his mask in a vague circular formation on the floor between his front feet. Images of a black mass spiraling up from the floor, the piece of Pax’s mask adhering to the center of its face as the entity rose like a blackened, twisted copy. Images of the dark, stick-thin figure silently staring at Pax, awaiting orders. Images of Pax greeting the entity and giving it the name “Usurper.” Images of him giving the Usurper its two tasks: to remove all aberrations from this world, and to rule it in his stead. Images of him telling the Usurper what qualifies as an aberration- anything with a mask like his- and that they must be immediately killed. Images of the Usurper asking if Pax would count as an aberration under these rules.

Images of Pax nodding once, and his limp form falling to the ground and dissolving. Images of Usurper standing over all that was left of him- his mask, fractured and discolored, landing on the floor with a hollow cracking sound. Images of Usurper grasping the mask as it, too, dissolved, rushed towards his face, and became his.

You don’t want to remember what happened after that. Neither does the Architect. But it’s not like you can forget the memories of hundreds of people being torn apart all at the same time.

“And you recognize what you are?” Usurper asks.

“Nothing.” you say with as nonchalant a shrug as you can muster. “You made me from nothing, and that’s all I am.” That’s why you can’t touch anything that isn’t either a mask or also a creation, why you don’t eat or drink or breathe, why your form is so malleable in the face of the absorbed memories- you are, quite literally, made from nothing. “Nothing.”

“Then you understand the pattern.” Usurper nods, as if pleased.

They speak again, confused, chattering, voices and text rushing over one another.

Anonymous said to seekerquest: HEY YEAH WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON

[USERNAME REDACTED] said to seekerquest: Seeker, don’t do it!

Anonymous said to seekerquest: Okay, you need to sit down and have a long chat about whatever the hell is going on right now!

But above all of them- drowning them all out- is a singular command that reminds you why you’re here.

the architect said to seekerquest: Finish what you started.

“Yes. I do.” And then you jump from the pedestal and fling yourself at Usurper and through him as your body of nothingness passes through his.

Well, most of it. Because you’re also reaching as you jump, and you grasp ahold of his mask as your claws (a more recent addition, courtesy of the Architect) spring from your fingertips and grate horribly across the surface, bringing the rest of your body to a halt.

And even as Usurper is spinning confusedly, trying to shake off this awful little thing that’s inside him, you let go with one hand, ball it into a fist, and punch the back of his mask as hard as you can.

The world reels, twists sideways, and you feel the cool sensation of the inside of Usurper’s- formerly Pax’s- mask against your fist as it twists away from his face, landing in the grass with a soft thud as it spins like some kind of demented top. You kneel as Usurper dissolves, his body becoming one with the mist, and pick up the mask. The instant you touch it, it begins warping from a flat disk into something with a protruding muzzle. At first, you assume it’s returning to how it looked as Pax’s mask, but then you realize with a shock that it’s shaped like your face, or at least, the upper half.

Anonymous said to seekerquest: Put it on.

You comply, the hard, bonelike material closing over your face and settling, and you get the feeling that you couldn’t take it off now even if you wanted to. “Now I am the Impostor.” you whisper, feeling worse than ever before.

The world looks different now, as if your vision’s been… elevated, but you barely process it as you slump to the ground next to the pillar you appeared on, covering your face with your arms. You wish you could cry, but you can’t.

the architect said to seekerquest: What now?

You wish you had an answer.

Anonymous said to seekerquest: So you got what you always wanted, so you got your dream come true! Good for you! Good for you, you, you!

But you didn’t! You never asked for this! You just…

You don’t know what you wanted. You don’t know if you ever did. But it wasn’t this.

[USERNAME REDACTED] said to seekerquest: Well, that was certainly something. How’s Fen going to react to this?

Oh. Right. Him. Funnily enough, you feel like your past self would’ve loved this opportunity to mess with his head, but now, you can’t even summon the willpower to get back on your feet.

He’s not going to take this well. You already know that.

You were Seeker. What are you now? You’ve found what you sought- an end to all of this. Now, you just need to see what you can do with this… mess of a situation you’ve been handed.

Anonymous said to seekerquest: You could try to make the world come back or something? It should be yours now, since you took the mask.

Yeah. Okay. You think you can do that. You rise unsteadily to your feet and spread your arms.

Anonymous said to seekerquest: Let there be light!

And… nothing happens. You can feel the capability to use your new powers, it’s right there in the corner of your mind now that you’ve got the mask on, but you can’t actually do anything with it. Not while you’re in Pax’s world.

You don’t know what you expected. If Usurper, who was specifically designed for this purpose, couldn’t do it, why would you be able to? Pax’s world isn’t yours. It knows you’re just as much of an impostor as Usurper was, if not even more so.

Anonymous said to seekerquest: Since you’re a god now, try bringing Pax back to life. You should be able to recreate him or something, right?

You don’t even need the Architect to tell you that’s not how that works. Even if you did try to create a perfect replica of Pax as he was, even if you did give him back all his memories somehow, it’d be a mere facsimile, not the real thing. You doubt it’d fool his siblings, either.

Anonymous said to seekerquest: You can still try, even if you unmake him afterwards. At the very least, it’ll be good for practice.

This doesn’t feel very… moral, all things considered. But you’ll try anyway.

You reach up to the mask and snap off a piece from the front. Setting it on the ground in front of you, you close your eyes and focus, concentrating on Pax, on everything about him that you know from his siblings and memories.

You don’t know how long you’re standing there for, shaking, trying not to let your thoughts wander, but when you open your eyes, there’s a black, furry creature standing in front of you that almost perfectly resembles Pax. The only thing it’s missing is the mask. The creation rises in front of you, still shaky on his new legs. At the sight of you, he flinches back, fear rising in his eyes.

“Hello there.” you say, making your voice as gentle as possible. “Your name is Pax, in case you were wondering. Welcome back to your world.”

The facsimile blinks and stares at you. An expression of confusion crosses his face, and he looks like he has a lot of things he wants to ask. He starts with “What’s with your ears?”

“Ears?” you repeat.

“Yeah. You’ve got weird, long ears. Is there a reason for that, or…”

All you can do is stare incredulously at him as you think back to your first memories of this world, of this exact same exchange you had with Usurper.

“Are you just going to keep staring at me?” copy-Pax asks, which is the moment you finally lose it and start cracking up, harsh, hollow laughter shaking your entire body.

“Sorry. You just… reminded me of someone.” You shake your head. His body’s stable. There’s that. Maybe I can transfer the memories over to him? “Okay. Pax. I need you to hold still for a moment. Can you do that for me?”

“Uh. Okay?” The facsimile stays rigid, trembling slightly, as you raise your hands to his maskless face and focus.

The memories are there. They won’t be enough to reconstruct his real mind, but you can make the facsimile passable enough, and with time, maybe he’ll be close enough to the original Pax that his siblings won’t be able to notice the difference. Maybe, if they notice a difference, they’ll just pretend they didn’t, because what’s worse- the thought that their brother lost a few memories in between dying and coming back, or him being dead for good?

This is what’s best for them. This is what’s best for everyone.

You imagine your hands as a conduit, and the memories suddenly surge forth into the facsimile, who gasps and collapses into the ground. I overloaded the poor sap, you think detachedly, lowering your hands. Guess I have to wait for him to wake up again now.

Anonymous said to seekerquest: What about the pillar? You didn’t get to check what was in it before Impaxter interrupted.

Right. That thing. You step back from the facsimile and open the pillar again. Sure enough, there it is inside it in all its horrible irony.

the architect said to seekerquest: Is that the kill switch?

“If that’s what you want to call it,” you shrug. You’re trying to stay nonchalant, but you’re really freaking out. You didn’t want to see this. You’d hoped that anything but this would be here.

It’s quite literally just a switch, set in the stone floor of the hollow column. You saw it in a memory- the siblings designed them in their early days as a quick, convenient means of getting rid of old creations when they were newly formed, and Pax forgot to get rid of his. Usurper was designed to be a more selective version of this, but while he was only made to destroy Pax and certain creations, the kill switch will wipe out everything in this world- turn it into a blank slate.

You could do it. You’d be protected from it, and so would the Architect, considering that she’s a part of you now. The facsimile would be destroyed, of course, but you could just remake him.

This world would truly be yours. You would take your rightful place among the Family as a god, a creator in your own right.

And yet…

You shut the column and lean back against it, staring at the facsimile’s limp body. “I don’t want to finish what the Usurper started.” you say, voice barely audible.

The Architect remains silent. You wait.

The facsimile wakes up eventually, pawing confusedly at his eyes, disoriented.

“Do you remember who you are now?” you ask.

“I’m… Pax.” The facsimile frowns. “Where’s… where are my siblings? I need to talk to them, I don’t know how long it’s been since I’ve seen them! Where are they? Who are you?”

the architect said to seekerquest: Well, that seems a little closer to the original Pax. Still not quite it, though.

“Calm down.” you say in your best reassuring voice. “You can’t go to them, not in this state. Haven’t you noticed something missing?”

“I…” It takes Pax a moment before he starts poking at his face- more specifically, the part where his mask should be. “Where’s my face? What’s happened to me?!”

[USERNAME REDACTED] said to seekerquest: If you give him back his mask, maybe he’ll go back to the old him?

You frown, considering. It’s likely, considering that the masks are a fundamental part of who they are, but on the other hand, it’s kind of attached to you now. You don’t know how he could get it back…

And then you remember the Usurper, and what happened to him, and the mist his body dissolved into.

“And nothing of value was lost,” you mutter under your breath, grinning grimly at the unintentional pun. “Pax. Listen to me.” Your voice trembles. You hope this works. You really hope this doesn’t kill you.

“What?” Pax’s eyes are still wide, but he looks marginally less panicked now.

“This mask rightfully belongs to you.” you say. “I need you to reach through my head and push it off my face from the inside.” You’re pretty sure he’ll be able to do this- you’re still made of nothing, after all. Probably. Hopefully.

the architect said to seekerquest: You’re insane. This is going to kill you!

“When did you start caring about that?” you mutter at her. You don’t listen to whatever she says in response.

“Okay.” Pax nods. To his credit, he doesn’t question it.

You close your eyes, but you can still feel his hand passing into your head through your jaw and pushing at it gently.

The mask falls off your face, and the world dissolves.

.

“Hey! Hey, are you okay?”

You open your eyes to see a clawed hand hesitantly hovering over your face. “I’m… alive?” you mutter in confusion.

“You’re okay!” Pax beams. “I, uh, don’t know what you did or how you had my mask, but I have my powers back now!” Sure enough, as your vision stabilizes, you see that he’s wearing the mask- the mask that’s rightfully his. He looks so much more alive, too- like the him you saw in his earlier memories.

“How am I alive?” you ask, pushing yourself upright into a seated position. “I… when I took your mask off the Usurper, he dissolved into nothingness.”

“No, he dissolved into raw material.” Pax corrects. “I got some of your recent memories when I got the mask back,” he adds, cutting you off as you’re about to ask how he knows that. “With the mask removed, he became what he was originally constructed from without that…” He gestures to the side of his mask, where barely-visible cracks can be seen dividing the pieces of his mask he used to make the Usurper from the rest of his face. “…to hold him together and give him form. I’m not quite sure why you didn’t dissolve into whatever you were made out of, too, though. Maybe you were just lucky?”

“Because I’m not made from anything.” you say slowly as the realization dawns on you. “I… I’m nothing. He made me from nothing, so there was nothing for me to go back to being. I guess it... cancelled itself out and I stayed the way I was?” That barely makes any sense, but it’s the best thing you can come up with.

“…that shouldn’t be possible.” Pax furrows his brow momentarily before dismissing it with a nonchalant shrug. “Well, I’ve seen plenty of things that are supposed to be impossible in the past few minutes. I guess that’s reasonable compared to my personal kill switch destroying my world, forgetting about it, and then getting killed by his own creation.”

[USERNAME REDACTED] said to seekerquest: Now that he’s brought it up- make sure he’s not going to do that again.

“Speaking of which.” You jab a finger at him. “You better not go trying to kill yourself again, ya big loser. You really got everyone worried.”

“I… no, that won’t be a problem.” Pax reassures you. “I just… wanted a way out from being so tired and weak all the time and never being able to create what I wanted to, and I figured that it wouldn’t matter if there was somebody doing everything I used to do in my place, so I... made a poor decision that I didn’t think through very well. But I am feeling a little better now, and... well. I’ll try not to in the future, alright? Promise.” He pokes his mask hesitantly, as if to make sure it’s really there. “Seeker… thank you. For everything.”

“Just doing my job.” you say, a melancholy smile crossing your face. “You should probably get going, your siblings are going to want to see you.”

“Oh! I almost forgot about them!” Pax smacks his forehead before dashing off across the misty fields.

the architect said to seekerquest: You’re not going to follow him?

With a shrug, you spin around and run after Pax. “Speaking of which,” you mutter to the Architect, “we’re going to have to ask him to give you back your own body.”

the architect said to seekerquest: About time you remembered that.

“You don’t have to be so passive-aggressive about it.” It’ll have to wait until after the whole family reunion thing, though. And after that… well, who knows?

You push the thoughts of the future to the side and focus on not losing track of Pax in the fog. Now that you think about it, you definitely want to see Fen’s reaction to this.

.

It’s some time later, and as far as you’re concerned, everything worked out fine in the end. The Family’s reunited, those black splotches on Fen’s face apparently started fading after Usurper died, Pax is back for real (as his siblings verified pretty quickly- he might have started as a poor facsimile you made, but he really did become “himself” again after getting his mask back), and while Pax’s world might still be destroyed, he’s already planning to build it back up- and, after you mentioned the Architect’s predicament, he promised to fix the situation for her, too.

You should be happy. You know you should. But something just feels off, and you know exactly what it is.

Anonymous said to seekerquest: What’s wrong, Seeker?

“You.” you say aloud, pointing up at the white box. “I never found out what you are. Fen had a few theories after I told him, but I still don’t know. You’ve never said anything about what or who you are, you’re just… there, suggesting a bunch of ideas that are sometimes helpful and most of the time aren’t. Who are you people? What are you?”

There’s silence, and then there’s a lot of responses, overflowing and cutting each other off- you hear “just an ordinary guy who wants to help the weird bunny” and “I don’t think we’re the ones who are supposed to explain that” and “Seeker, I am your father” and “lmao how do you expect us to know” and a lot of other things, but then, cutting through everything else and drowning them out, there’s just one of them you can fully hear and see:

seekerquest said to seekerquest: They’re nobody. Just like you.

If you had a heart, you feel like it’d be pounding out of your chest right now. “Wh-what?” you manage shakily. This one feels… different. It sounds and looks like it’s everywhere, everything, like it’s the entire universe… including you.

The world falls away, and you see them, for the first time, alternatively standing and sitting in perfect patient lines in the abyss.

They’re bipedal furless creatures, all of them, staring at screens and tapping at them- sometimes on keyboards in front of them, sometimes directly touching the screen. And in front of all of them, there’s a being quite like yourself staring back at you. It doesn’t have ears, though, or a nose, or fur- its entire body is hairless gray skin with no texture, like a sketch brought to life, save for the part covered by the hooded sweater it’s wearing. It grins, revealing teeth sharpened to the point of being literally triangular.

seekerquest said to seekerquest: I was honestly kind of unsure of whether we’d ever get here a few times. Yet, here we are! Yay for me!

“What are you?” you hear yourself ask, as if from a distance, and your voice almost sounds like that of the entity staring back at you.

seekerquest said to seekerquest: You can call me “Arc.” That name’s gonna mean more to them than it will to you, though.

Apparently, it does, as the creatures start muttering among themselves in surprise. “Okay, uh, ‘Arc.’” you manage. “I’m going to guess you’re one of the gods, then? They’ve all got three-letter names, too, so…”

seekerquest said to seekerquest: Well, yes, but actually no. I’m… a tier above them, I guess. So are these guys, even if they don’t look it.

That answers nothing. “Then what are you?”

seekerquest said to seekerquest: The only major difference between us, asides from the obvious, is that I made them and the world they’re in. Outside of here, I’m pretty much powerless comparatively, which is another similarity between us, I guess. Neat how those little parallels work out. Instead of just setting tasks for them and letting them do whatever, though, I control them directly.

the architect said to seekerquest: That doesn’t make any sense. They would’ve said something about that at some point if it were the case.

You privately agree, but you don’t know how powerful this “Arc” is or what it wants with you, so you may as well hear it out. “So you’re like the voices in my head, but… for them?”

seekerquest said to seekerquest: Not exactly. It’s more of a puppet-puppeteer situation, honestly. Same for everybody else in this world.

“Does that include me?” you ask, feeling a chill run down your spine. The Architect doesn’t say anything, but you’re getting the feeling she’s freaked out by this as much as you are.

seekerquest said to seekerquest: Only mostly. You’re a sort of wild card. See, these guys, the ones you refer to as “the voices,” are the ones who give you suggestions, and I interpret them. It’s part of my job.

Arc smirks at some inside joke in the last sentence, but you ignore that for right now. “And what is your job?” you ask.

With a flourish of its hand, Arc pulls a thin, pen-shaped length of plastic out of thin air and points it at you.

seekerquest said to seekerquest: Making all of this possible. The really funny thing is, this isn’t even the only world I have- you have no idea how many other projects I have in various states of incompletion. Not that yours isn’t special, of course- it’s finally coming to an end, for one, and I do intend to revisit this universe in the future.

“C-coming to an end?!” Naturally, you freak out upon hearing something like that.

seekerquest said to seekerquest: Don’t be so melodramatic, I’m just talking about the current story. Like I said, I will be coming back here, don’t worry. You might not necessarily be part of the next story, but it’ll still be your world and you’ll still exist. There’s nothing you can do about it, so just accept it and move on.

“This still doesn’t explain anything!” you shout, frustrated laughter bubbling in your throat.

seekerquest said to seekerquest: It doesn’t matter if you’re satisfied with the explanation. What matters is whether they are. If it weren’t for them, your story might very well have died before it even started. As it is, you got to exist for this short, short while, and isn’t that what matters? That you existed at all? Or have you changed your mind over the past several hours from what you told Fen earlier?

You fight back the growing existential dread and stare Arc dead in the eyes. “Why are you telling me this? Why now?”

seekerquest said to seekerquest: Same answer goes for all of those questions: “Why not?”

And then, just as quickly as it began, it’s over, and you’re standing in the hallway once more.

It’s yet another part of your short, short life, and you were, as you have always been, the Seeker.

[roominthecastle]

A ‘bullet point text reaction’ post thing to the season premiere would be forking good. If you can spare the time in between all the rewatching and RL, which again might be messin with the rewatching. Ps. sexy librarian ftw.

Apologies for the late reply, anon, and thank you for the interest. I gave it a try but apparently I had a lot more rambling in me than expected, so I’m not sure how much the bullet point format will help. Still, I rolled w/ it behind the cut:

obv spoilers ahead for those who haven’t seen + it’s mostly Michael focused but who is surprised at this point? ok, here we go:

Yes. All hail the Sexy Librarian Guy! 👍

and his ~~flawless~~ Australian accent lmao. I am no native speaker but even I could hear it was just… delightfully off. I love this disaster zone demon so much.

and how pleased he was that Eleanor was pleased w/ that particular “intervention”. It’s a small but nice reminder of how making her happy makes him happy now. #oppositeTorturesRule

it’s a v small thing but I also loved the “fast food link”: Michael being ecstatic about the Pizza Hut/Taco Bell combo & Eleanor fantasizing about Chipotle during Chidi’s lecture on Aristotle. It reminded me of that s1 moment when she tells Michael about those Arizona churro dogs and they both just go ahhhhhhhh at the image + Judge Gen ofc (they love fast food in the afterlife)

also also the sweet ache of Michael being entangled in her ticker tape while insisting on nudgy-nudge-nudge her & Chidi together bc that’s how it should be is still pressing hard on my heart thank you v much

but

I think that being deprived of close contact w/ his humans is causing Michael to slide back into puppet master mode again. His motivation is different or “reformed” now (secretly helping instead of secretly torturing) but his methods, his itch to control everything (and failing), and the rigid focus on his goals are… not so much, imo, and I love it bc this is Michael: he is a nerd but also an idiot w/ Wile E. Coyote vibes. Janet tries to reel him in but she can’t. Eleanor was the only one who could control him and she was the only one whose advice he actively sought and listened to, but she cannot be there for him now, so yes, I am getting a lot of S1 vibes from this double ep complete w/ her unintentionally messing w/ his formula by not falling for Chidi & the arrival of Trevor. *rubs hands*

COCOONS

so many

so… squishy

and TODD! I never thought I would see him so soon but I was right: he is the best lava monster and fork you, Shawn, for being a jerk to him when he was nothing but supportive and even brought you guys Dunkin’ Spiders to snack on.

I love Shawn, he is the perfect baddie, and I love that we got another glimpse into how TBP operates w/ all their excruciatingly low-tech gadgets. It’s in sharp contrast to (even Michael’s fake) TGP where everything is so neat, efficient, and high-tech. It’s another nice reminder of how the torturers are also being made miserable in TBP in various ways. I can’t blame Michael for wanting to keep his failing experiment running as long as possible.

Judge Gen (who continues to be a delight and way too relatable w/ her binge-watching of media content) is so up to something, people. I cannot shake this feeling that this whole “Operation Resurrection” is not what it looks like on the surface at all. Maybe it’s an experiment within an experiment sort of deal. I mean, why does she trust Michael of all creatures w/ the monitoring duty at all?? She might be quirky but she is def not stupid. She must know he’s a natural rule breaker who’s incapable of sitting still for longer than 2 seconds and he’s not at all impartial here. The way she set this all up reminds me of the test she gave Jason, and Michael is already failing just like Jason did bc he couldn’t opt out of “playing” due to lack of impulse control and a massive personal bias regarding his favorite team, the Cockroaches. idk what this will mean long-term but I think he’s gonna be in a lot of trouble soon.

speaking of Jason and Michael: theirs is my favorite (sort of bonding) scene, hands down. Again, it reminded me of an early S2 moment when Jason stumbles on a brooding, lost Michael and tells him a dope story about his 60-person dance crew that unexpectedly inspires Michael to seek out Eleanor & Co. The situations are reversed here but it’s an excellent parallel, esp when you compare the two scenes and see the development in both characters and their relationship. Jason is a bit   more grounded and Michael is less dismissive and much kinder to him now. I also love Jason’s continued immunity to Michael’s b.s. It’s different from Eleanor’s (his is stupid-based and hers is about being smartbrained) but it works and pushes Michael to just level w/ him and the second he does, Jason becomes instantly receptive. It’s just a really really great character moment that also moves the plot, so it’s basically perfect. Also I think this is the moment when Michael is temporarily pulled from his puppet master mode due to being near one of his human friends again, and his other side peeks out as he lets himself rest a bit - it’s in his body language, too, as he leans back against the bridge railing and has a semi-honest chat w/ Jason.

Michael’s disguises are an eternal source of happiness to me. All of them (and based on promo pics, more is coming). I also love the way he approaches each human bc it is reminiscent of how he steered them during the reboots: to Eleanor he gave a small clue and just let her chew on it and work w/ it. W/ Chidi, he was more direct, posing as a wise helper/guide. W/ Tahani, he targeted her sense of self-worth. W/ Jason, he gave up after 5 seconds and just told him what he wanted him to do.

I doubt his aliases raised many eyebrows, tho, not in a universe where Simone has colleagues called Mrelk and Catapulp :D but Eleanor seemed to have a bit of a “hmm” reaction to the name of Dr. Charles Brainman, so… we’ll see.

Dr. Simone Garnett had probably the smoothest entry into an established character group, imo. I’m usually sensitive to changes like this but it’s like she’s always been here - another excellent casting choice right there. I am not gonna touch shipping issues, thank you, but I love how Simone’s presence, which is a lot of fun in itself, instantly enriched the landscape of relationship dynamics regarding the present, the future and also the past. I feel that every character combination exists somewhere in canon whether it’s explicitly on screen or not, and that’s just an incredibly freeing, resourceful attitude to have on a show w/ this sort of “multiverse” setup, imo. They have the premise, so why not milk its full potential? The writers use relationships as tools to aid character development, they have admitted as much already, and I am looking forward to seeing what other combos they have in mind and how they play out.

despite his limited screen time and despite him spending most of it being flat and emotionless, frog guy aka The Doorman managed to deliver the biggest punch in my heart w/ that reaction to Michael’s gift. I.crumbled. the way his flatness did when he saw the frog on the mug. Thank you, Mike O'Malley.

It’s probably a good thing that they are becoming buddies now bc w/ evil Trevor in the mix, Michael’s gonna turn that Earth entrance into a revolving door. Unless Judge Gen is onto him and steps in at some point. And I still don’t know how he will interact w/ the team now since they’ve all met him already and he was posing as a different person each time. And given his track record, whatever solution he comes up with, Eleanor will see right through him eventually anyway.

ok this is way too long already, so I’m just gonna say that I am very excited for this season, I love the new setup, I miss the fake Good Place but the university environment is growing on me fast, too, and just bring it, show, ok?

my body is ready

[troutfishinginmusic]

Interview: John Galm (Bad Heaven Ltd.) talks Twin Peaks

John Galm (Bad Heaven Ltd., Snowing, SLOW WARM DEATH, Street Smart Cyclist) loves Twin Peaks. I love Twin Peaks. He has a new Bad Heaven Ltd. record out called Strength. He did a good interview about the album here. Instead of going over the standard questions about the album, I wanted to get his thoughts on the new season of Twin Peaks.

But first I wanted to include the text from an Instagram post Galm made about the album that gives some insight into his deeply affecting new album.

Over the past few years, I've been writing a lot more from these series of disparate memories, where I take images from my past and create these new scenarios based around them. For Strength, I kept coming back to this one image, of evening on pine street in Kutztown, Pennsylvania, the town where I went to college and spent four difficult years. After high school, a lot of my friends went off to cities and were enjoying the culture and experiences they provide for folks fresh out on their own for the first time. I was stuck in the middle of farmland, still reeling from the death of my dad a year prior and struggling to relate to anything and anyone around me. I felt alien; isolated, and it's a feeling that’s stuck with me for many years. When these songs started coming to me, I'd see Pine Street, and the old house where some of my only friends lived draped in orange streetlights, and I’d imagine a world where I had someone, that type of friend you have an irrefutable connection with, to sift through the darkness with. For years, I felt like my years in Kutztown took something from me. I took my inability to feel OK there as a personal defeat; as something fundamentally wrong with myself. I know now, almost a decade removed from it, that that's bullshit. In a way, Strength was a way for me to reconcile with this thing that I haven't known how to: A time of great confusion where I couldn't find the comfort and support I needed in the place I was stuck in. To go back and re-see these streets knowing that what I needed wasn't there and to re-imagine how it'd feel if it had been, in its own odd way, helped me heal.

Now here’s my awkward attempt at talking about season 3 of Twin Peaks and being out-nerded by John Galm. I’ve changed the format to go with my style for the blog. Other than that, I left things mostly as they were in our conversation via Facebook Messenger.

What did you think of the split of the Dale Cooper character?

I took the split Dales a lot like how I took the rest of the season. I remember staying up until 2 finishing the first four episodes the night they premiered and being so utterly confused by the tone of the show. The vibe had obviously changed, which I don't think anyone was expecting, but that's David Lynch. He's an artist that trusts his vision and follows where it takes him, which I respect. Once I realized that, I just let the show sweep over me and rolled with the punches.

Having the split Coops was a necessary thing with how season two ends, and Kyle Maclachlan did a masterful job. I have no idea how he wasn't even nominated for an Emmy. All three roles (four if we count the tonal shift from Coop to Richard) really touched on these almost ingrained, primal human qualities that made each so unique, and again, Kyle MacLachlan played them so perfectly. To watch him as Mr. C and a scene later see Dougie Jones didn't even seem like the same actor. Was it all good? No. Dougie was a lot to handle, but I think with a lesser actor, it would've been unbearable.

I found myself typing out all the stuff I thought about it too but realized that'd probably make for a shit interview. I totally agree with those assessments though. Anyway, what did you make of the room with the portal? That whole thing was interesting to me. A lot of pieces of the season feel like they could be short David Lynch films. Episode 8 with the bomb definitely could have been.

Which portal room are you referring to, specifically? There were a lot of portals to be honest.

Yeah I didn’t even think of that but yeah there are. I was thinking of the part where the guy was just paid to sit and watch the glass box.

Ah right. It's hard to say. I think the later implication is that Mr. C was the mystery financier of that room, but I could be wrong. I know Lynch left a lot of those sort of details hidden, probably so that we could have conversations like this one. And honestly, it's been a bit of time since I've re-watched season three, which is on my to do list for the next few weeks.

I think it makes sense that if Mr. C was financing the room, he was either trying to capture Cooper to keep him from returning to our world, or he was trying to capture the creature that arrived (known as the experiment in Twin Peaks lore). Either way, it makes sense: Mr. C was literally evil incarnate; the complete inverse of our Cooper. Harnessing literal, pure evil seems like pretty reasonable task, and one that would've provided an already powerful creature with even more power.

Also, my god, I fucking love this show.

Well that certainly makes sense if it's true. It's definitely going to give me some new perspective when I watch it again. What was your take on Audrey's storyline?

Audrey’s storyline was a tough one. I know it disappointed a lot of people, including Sherilyn Fenn. There are some really interesting elements to it, though. There’s that now famous scene, the Monica Bellucci dream, where she talks about living inside a dream. I think that is a larger element to the overarching narrative of the season, and I think it plays out largely in what we see of Audrey. I mean, it’s hard to talk about all the elements, but Audrey led a traumatic life after season two, and I think the scenes we see of her are she’s created to escape it. Where it gets interesting for me, though, is thinking about, well, if Audrey is living within a different plane of thought, what else is taking place there? What other scenes from the show are also a product of this reality in which Audrey finds herself in? I know a lot of people were confused by these Roadhouse scenes where characters discussed people and events we hadn’t heard of before. Maybe they’re all in Audrey’s head? maybe we were seeing a lot more of Audrey before we knew we were.

Also, the end of episode 16 where she snaps out of one reality and into another was one of the most terrifying and intriguing moments of the whole show for me. I absolutely loved that.

What was your take on the score and the more song-based soundtrack?

I think the more song-based soundtrack was kind of a neat touch. the original soundtrack had such an impact on so many musicians, and you could really see that in a lot of the bands they chose to work with.

I actually listen to the season three soundtrack quite a bit, as well as the companion piece that Dean Hurley released. What I find most fascinating about the season is how sound really plays a role in the events. Oftentimes, you'll get these long expanses without background composition, which, for television, is very rare. It elevates those moments when suddenly a song hits, or there's whispers of static, that break you from this almost monotonous pacing and thrust your mind into hyper drive.

Did the new season work its way into influencing the new Bad Heaven Ltd. stuff in any way?

It's hard to say. David Lynch is one of my favorite artists across any medium, so his influence is always prevalent in what I do. I think that, in general, being a fan of his allows you to think outside the box and try things that may not be so conventional, which I employed on this record for sure.

Do you think season 3 put a good cap on the whole series since it doesn’t seem like there will be more seasons?

A good cap may not be the right way of putting it, but season 3 gave us so much more of a world that a lot of people spent the last few decades speculating about. And while it provided some answers, it gave us so much more to ponder and dream about. For that, I think we should be forever grateful.

You can download Bad Heaven Limited’s new album Strength here

[sobdasha]

I WISH YOU WOULD WRITE A FIC WHERE LINK TEACHES OLD HYLIAN AT EAST CASTLETON PREP WHERE HYLIAN MILITARY HISTORY TEACHER ZELDA HARKINIAN ALSO WORKS

((the problem with answering these asks is that I have to save them in drafts so I can edit the formatting before posting, but reblogs in my drafts are sorted by the time I sent them to drafts and asks in my drafts are sorted by “this was originally sent to you 3 years ago, so we’ll file it 3 years back instead of making it the most recent thing you sent to drafts” ffffffff guys))

***

When Shad gets afancy letter that says he’s being awarded that grant he’s beenapplying for for years, they all pitch in for a little party in thefaculty lounge. Link kind of wishes they were sending Shad offproperly, at a bar, but he does the best he can by pitching in somepunch that is made of pumpkins.

Well, mostlypumpkins, And it’s mostly not Ordona cider (which isdefinitely mostly pumpkins), and it’s after classes anyway, so it’sfine.

They are celebratingthat Shad, lucky bastard that he is, will be spending the fall termon a mostly-funded vacation right adjacent to the famous DeathMountain Goron Hot Springs, while the rest of them, like Link and hiswatered-down cider, will still be here.

Ilia said that Linkought to get out of rural Ordon and see some other bit of the world.Ilia, who went off to become a doctor but remembers to write her dadand visit regularly and how come Rusl and Uli say they haven’t seenyou in months hmm?, said that Link had better go and makesomething of himself.

So he went and gothis teaching certificate and has made himself a lot poorer, mostly.He misses Ordon, where he could find free food lying on the ground,or swimming in the streams. Here in Castleton you have to pay for itif you pick it up, or risk causing an inter-kingdom fishing rightsdispute with the Zora if you drop a line in the river. So instead ofturning up at Rusl and Uli’s house for dinner, these days he orderstakeout and listens to the delivery persons say “Oh goddessesI’m sorry!” when he absently signs thanks while collecting hisfood.

Fado, who stayed inOrdon not making anything of himself and instead making cheese, isapparently putting away heaps of money.

So Link, who needsmoney and hates enjoying sleep times, finishes his punch so his handsare free to tell Shad that he’ll take over his Old Hylian class whileShad is on sabbatical.

***

Link doesn’tactually know any Old Hylian. But, he reasons after the fact, howhard can it be? After all, Link already teaches HSL, so that meanshe’s a linguist like Shad, right? He’s practically an expert already.

Plus, Link is goingto have the exact same textbook to learn from as his new students,except he’s going to have a head-start and he has theeven-bigger answer key. He literally can’t go wrong.

Besides, Old Hylianis a dead language (which has been reincarnates into Modern Hylian)so it won’t hurt it too much when a bunch of teens brutally murderit. They’re already doing quite a good job on Modern Hylian and it’sstill limping along just fine.

And it’s not likeanyone speaks it anyway, aside from nerdy archaeologists andhistorians (note to self: ask Sarge about it?). So all Link reallyhas to worry about is the writing aspect.

Yeah. It’ll be easymoney.

***

Somehow the rumorgets around before Link gets his ass in front of the school board.Reportedly, so many students have been asking Guidance Councilor GorCoron about the Old Hylian class that they might have to divide itinto two sections.

The school boardapproves Link to take over on the spot.

***

Link has just enoughtime for a proper power nap at his desk between his first Old Hylianclass and his Hylian Sign Language class. But Sarge has a break atthe same time which she usually takes in the faculty lounge, to takeadvantage of the tea kettle while she grades or lesson-plans or readsbooks that have nothing to do with historical military campaigns.

The thing about“Sergeant Snowpeak” Zelda Harkinian, with her no-nonsensedress suits, and her stern librarian bun, and her sensible militaryboots, and her severe black-rimmed (actually fake, she admitted toLink, the lenses are plastic but, well, the frames looked the partand she’s always admired the image of a woman in uniform) spectacles,and her baton that’s ideal for pointing to the blackboard or rappingon a desk, and her old-fashioned bathroom and hall passes…the thingis, she’s quick to make a joke. She has a very small laugh, so youhave to watch for it. She’s thoughtful, she thinks about thingsbehind that serious face, and she’ll come up to you with a deadpanand witty response to a joke you made a week ago.

Zelda takes off herboots sometimes in the faculty lounge; there was a big run in thefoot of her nylons once, and she laughed about her toe poking out.She washes the dishes left in the faculty sink, but she hums whileshe does it because she likes things tidy. She walks just a littleheavier than she needs to, so her boots will ring out in EastCastleton Prep’s halls.

(She has it on goodauthority that the sound of her boot heels approaching can send moresensitive students into tizzies of anxiety. So her first term, on theday of final exams, Miss Harkinian thoughtfully removed her bootsbefore striding to the classroom. The sight of her suddenlymaterializing in the doorway, test papers in hand, somehow didnothing to calm her students’ nerves.)

She can hold herliquor, but she can’t carry a tune. She never learned to cook forone, because that would be a waste of good leftovers. She thinks thatHylian Military History is a crucial subject that teaches teenagersabout strategy and critical reasoning and logical thought, aboutpracticality and consequences, about wilderness survival skills, andwill help them become somewhat-sensible young adults.

Sarge worked withathletics teacher Ashei one year to host an archery tournament forthe Feast of Din, and she shot an apple off Link’s head withouttelling him first that this was why she’d ushered him up to thepodium.

The thing is, inshort, Link has a huge crush on Zelda Harkinian. He likes her.He is, in fact, completely smitten, although he hasn’t realized he’squite so far gone despite the fact that he regularly tells the catsat Impaz’ shelter What Sarge Did Today complete with little sighs.

So it’s a bit of ashame she doesn’t feel quite the same way.

Link did ask Zeldaonce if she’d like to “embrace diversity,” but she didn’tseem interested.

***

Zelda quite likesShad, don’t get her wrong. But, she admits to Telma, if only he’dgotten a grant that let him spend the whole year onsabbatical…

This is surely ablessing from the goddesses. Not that Zelda would wish undue stresson Link but, for all his enthusiasm about taking on Shad’s OldHylian, he seems to be finding the subject very hard going. And ofcourse Zelda has a bit of expertise to share–after all, the seminaltext in her field, Sword in Hand, is originally in OldHylian–so he can come to her with any small questions…

…And he does.

Almost every dayLink catches her in the faculty lounge for a few minutes ofconjugation here, or pops into her empty classroom for a bit ofdeclension there, or accompanies her on her walk home for adiscussion of the merits of this translation over that.

It’s not as thoughshe needs an excuse to get to know Link better. She already knows himquite well. But a little bit of extra time is…nice, since they’realready good enough friends that Zelda knows he’s in a committedrelationship with Old Cat Lady Lifestyle.

The cats, thedrinking, the napping all the time, the surprisingly full socialcalendar that Zelda can’t quite squeeze into…in other words, allthe hallmarks of spinster-dom.

It’s just a bit of ashame, seeing as he’s the only slightly-rumpled and generally-mussything she actually doesn’t mind looking at.

In any case, she’stried gauging his interest, and it’s just not there. Anytime shetries to feel him out with a pick-up line, he deflects with acorrection on her grammar or a compliment about how her signing iscoming along. Clearly, Link’s completely satisfied with theirrelationship exactly as it is.

So Zelda will be,too.

***

This is the one,Midna had said, grinning wickedly. This is absolutely stupid enoughto work on that dumbass, Midna had said, with evil glee.

All sorts ofoptimistic hope flowered in Zelda’s chest at the sight of thatparticular expression on her ex-girlfriendcurrent-long-distance-BFF’s face. This had to be good.

So Zelda caught Linkin between classes and asked him, “Am I so beautiful you’respeechless?”

Link repeated itback to her, tweaking the body language a bit to make beautifula little sassier, waited for her to sign it again, and then gave hera thumb’s up and walked off.

***

(Link wished hewere the one she was saying that to, but oh well. He supports herhappiness! Zelda’s his friend, after all.)

***

One of the girlsstays after class, all the way from Hylian Sign Language nearly up toOld Hylian round 2, getting Mr. Link to teach her, painstakingly overand over, how to ask the girl she likes if she’ll go to the Nayru’sDay Dance with her. It’s going to take 5 minutes at the start ofclass tomorrow, she informs Mr. Link, and also a lot of glitter.

In Link’s day–ohgoddesses, he’s old now–they just slipped notes or asked withoutthe performance art. Actually, Ilia usually just informed Link thatthey would be going together to share on the ticket cost. But kidsthese days seem to believe a gift is customary.

Link is old, though,so he just slips Zelda a note.

“I can’t readyour handwriting,” she tells him. “Oh! By the way, I signedup to run the concessions stand at the dance. Perhaps you’d like tojoin me?”

***

Heads bent overcandies and little bags of popcorn and assortments of soda, with thecash box between them, Link asks Zelda to help him brainstorm somereally evil ideas for his Old Hylian final exam. Link isn’t much intodifficult tests, as a rule, because they involve more work to grade.But he doesn’t want Shad to think he’s been slacking.

Link asks Zelda ifshe’d come over to his place for dinner one evening, you know, tokeep working on the exam. Since he needs so much help with it. And tothank her. For helping.

***

She says yes.

[dazzledbybooks]

I am so excited that IMANI UNRAVELED by Leigh Statham is available now and that I get to share the news! If you haven’t yet heard about this wonderful book by Author Leigh Statham, be sure to check out all the details below. This blitz also includes a giveaway for a 2 finished copies of IMANI UNRAVELED, courtesy of Owl Hollow Press and Rockstar Book Tours. So if you’d like a chance to win, enter in the Rafflecopter at the bottom of this post. About the Book: Title: IMANI UNRAVELED (Daughter 4254, Book 2)  Author: Leigh Statham Pub. Date: February 5, 2019 Publisher: Owl Hollow Press Formats: Paperback, eBook Pages: 260 Find it: Goodreads, Amazon, B&N, TBD When her head is artificially filled with more information than she knows what to do with, Daughter4254 finds she can’t trust her own thoughts, much less the words of anyone else. Rumors come creeping in the night, and she finds herself faced with a choice she thought she’d left far behind when she’d walked out the doors of the compound. About Book 1 Title: DAUGHTER 4254 (Daughter 4254, Book 1) Author: Leigh Statham Pub. Date: December 5, 2017 Publisher: Owl Hollow Press Pages: 286 Formats: Paperback, eBook Find it: Goodreads, Amazon,  B&N, iBooks, TBD Daughter4254 used to think life in a community where art, music and names are outlawed would suffocate her creative spirit. Now that she’s rotting in a prison cell, she’s not sure her dying mother made the right choice when she entrusted her with the secrets of rebellion. Prison has given her plenty of time to relive every mistake and lose all hope. Then she meets Thomas, a fellow inmate, who tells her stories of the mythical mountain colonies where people have names and the arts thrive. Together they plot an escape, knowing if they fail, they will die. Or worse, their consciousness will be taken by the MindWipe, leaving their bodies free for the government to use. When nothing goes as planned, Daughter4254 must choose between using her mother’s secret to better the world she hates, or following Thomas to the quiet life of freedom she has always craved. Excerpt: CHAPTER 1 The wind scratches my cheeks with icy fingers. I round the corner of the building and look up, checking the rooftop for an autoeye. It still feels strange to be in a place where I’m not watched every second of every day. I keep thinking there has to be a guard somewhere or that a random person passing a window might notice me wandering alone in the side yard and call for an investigation. I don’t think I’ll ever lose those habits of apprehension from my life before prison and Secondary School. I turn away from the quiet building and search the tree line ahead of me. Did I really see Thomas? I take a few more steps and stop at the dead, gray fruit tree outside my bedroom window. The glass is slightly mirrored, but not enough that I can’t see inside. If he was here, he saw me. I peer again across the clearing to the trees and rocks ahead. Where did he go? My first instinct is to run, hoping to be faster than anyone who might be watching, but my failed history of running away keeps my steps slow and regular. Besides, the blanket of snow on the ground, untouched by anything larger than a rodent or bird, makes my footprints stand out like a big red arrow. My head thumps with sudden pain as an image of a huge red arrow fills my vision, overtaking my tracks in the snow. Neon is the word my mind supplies. Before I can shake my head to clear it, the sign disappears and the pain eases off as well. I take a deep breath. Hamen, who still feels like Professor789 to me, did a great job messing with my head. This is the third time since awaking in the Institute that I’ve had a strange flash of a memory that isn’t mine. Each is accompanied by a word unfamiliar to me: arpeggio and sunflower and now neon. Snow shifts on a nearby tree branch and cascades with soft plops onto the ground below. I tell myself to keep up the lie I started with the main door attendant. I need some fresh air. I’m going for a walk to clear my head. I felt certain they wouldn’t let me just walk out of the Institute, but they did. The woman had been friendly and all smiles—another thing I wasn’t used to. She gave me a thermal parka and some boots and warned me not to go too far from the Institute, that there were sometimes beasts lurking in the trees. A pang of guilt tugged at my gut as I thanked her. I was not simply going for a walk. I was running for my life, and possibly for Thomas’s life. For our life together. I wrap my arms around myself in the puffy coat and rub my shoulders while I walk slowly across the clearing. My bare hands soon grow too cold for that, and I stuff them deep in the parka’s pockets. The trees stand tall and brown against the white snow like an overgrown fence or a row of frozen soldiers. As I draw close to their rough brown bark and suck in the cold, clean air, I search for any sign of Thomas. Still nothing. I scan the ground at the edge of the trees where I thought I saw him from my room. Nothing, not even a footprint. My heart sinks. If Thomas is dead, do I have any reason not to take Hamen’s offer to stay and help him fight the Leaders subversively? At least I could help other people like me who are stuck in the system. But I still don’t trust Hamen. He slipped too easily between the Leaders and the resistance and has lied to me about almost everything. I take a few more steps into the dark shadows of the forest. The sunlight lingers behind me in the clearing. It is now or never. Walk forward or turn back. Run or stay. I shove my hands into my pockets and step deeper into the woods, my feet scarring the fresh snow. I need to keep looking for something better than what I am leaving behind. My first steps are slow. There is no sign that I’m being watched from the forest or the bright white building behind me. I make a silent promise to myself as my eyes well up with tears. I will not cry. I will not panic. I will walk away, go into the woods, disappear. There are people in the mountains, and I will find them. I will make a life for myself. I will do this, or I will die trying. I quicken my pace. My throat tightens further. Breathing through these thoughts and emotions is hard, and the crisp winter air makes it painful. My heart pounds twice as fast as my feet crunching through the snow. The trees fall in behind me, blocking the building from sight. Hope dangles on the edge of my thoughts, close to falling into a chasm of cynicism. There may not be any sign of Thomas, I may be lost to delusions, but I am walking. Choosing my own path and my own future, even for a moment. Then I see it. Next to a large rock in the center of a beam of light cutting through the shadows of the forest—a fresh footprint. I can’t help myself—I sprint forward. I don’t dare call out his name. It could be a trail from a guard or a Leader or forestry worker. Still, I look desperately from tree to tree and back to the trail of footsteps in front of me. The steps come from deep in the woods and double back on themselves. I push through naked bushes and crisp evergreens dusted white with snow. My thick coat catches on the branches, making synthetic scratching sounds that set my nerves even more on edge. I want to take it off but my freezing face tells me that wouldn’t be wise. The temperature is well below freezing. The tracks keep going and I keep following while unwanted thoughts dance through my mind. What if I saw someone but only thought it was Thomas? What if I didn’t see anything, and these footprints are an illusion and I’m going mad? After Hamen described the procedure I underwent to store centuries’ worth of data in my mind, I have no doubt that I could be delusional now, the part of brain that knows reality from daydreams permanently damaged. An index of mental illnesses flash before my eyes, like the pages of a text book flipping in front of me while I read at top speed. Bipolar II disorder Body dysmorphic disorder Borderline intellectual functioning Borderline personality disorder Brief psychotic disorder Bulimia nervosa I groan and shake my head, closing my eyes against a headache that pierces where the previous pain hit with the image of the red neon arrow. The pain dissipates again, as quickly as before, and I stand straight, not remembering hunching over. I must think about Thomas. Thomas. I take a step forward and a heavy weight hits my shoulders and back with such force I fall forward, hands only coming up in time to prevent my face from taking the brunt of the fall. I try to scream, but my face is shoved into the snow. The cold burns my cheeks as my nose is bent and scraped against a rock. Movement on my back precedes snarling hot breath in my ear. I’m crushed deeper into the snow by the weight of a clawing mass. A flash of gratitude for the thick parka fills me as I hear it rip in several places, synthetic skin saving my own. I flail and fight to get out from under whatever has me pinned, but it’s so heavy, I’m losing the battle. Finally, I swing back hard with an elbow and make my first solid contact. Whatever it is wobbles, off balance. I grab the chance to flip onto my back and start punching. What I thought was a forest creature is a person, a man. But something is wrong with his eyes. They’re too dark, too intense. Even in the dim forest light I can tell they are more animal than human. I shove and kick as hard as I can, trying to get him off of me. He slaps my cheek and pulls my hair. I punch and kick, screaming for help. The man grabs both of my arms, forcing them against the ground above my head, and shoves his face next to mine. I push my jaw against his, screaming in his ear, trying to keep his mouth away from my neck. He snarls and roots at my shoulder. His breath is foul, like rotten flesh and sour milk. My arms are wedged up against his shoulders leaving only my head to defend myself from his mouth. I shove the top of my head against his cheek, trying to force it away. It is no use. Disgusting grunts and pants leave moist vapor on my skin until he rears back and crashes his forehead into mine. The blow knocks me senseless but in that same moment his weight is knocked off me. When the stars and black dots leave my vision, I can see my attacker on the ground. Another man has him in a choke hold from behind, squeezing the air out of him until, all too quickly, he falls limp. I scoot backward until I bump against a large rock, then struggle to get to my feet so I can run, but I’m too slow. The second man drops the first man and is on top of me, his hand over my mouth. My eyes sting with tears and I can’t breathe from the shock. His face, covered in a mask like the one my father wore to work in the forest on the coldest winter days, hovers near mine as he secures me with strong arms, wedging me in a sitting position against the boulder and the snowy ground. Then one knee is on my legs while he straightens up to peer back down the trail over the rock that conceals us. His thick green coat is the confirmation I need to know he isn’t a guard from Hamen’s. They would be wearing a white coat like me. I don’t know whether to be relieved or terrified. Adrenaline still pumping through me, I strain to free my arms. It isn’t too late to run. I can survive and find the mountain people. But instead of attacking, he bends down and looks into my eyes before letting his hand slip off my mouth and his grip on my shoulder loosens. Soft hazel eyes meet my panicked gaze, and I freeze. Even with the rest of his face covered, I know those eyes. “Thomas!” The name comes out in a burst of white fog from my mouth. He eases off of me and I pull up his mask to reveal his scruffy face, the same one I saw watching me through bars all those days and nights in prison. I want to hold him close like my mother used to hold me—he’s so close anyway. But I hesitate. Thomas isn’t like my mother. What would it feel like to hold him? It feels strange to consider it. “Hush, lassie,” he says. “They’re bound to be right behind us.” At the sound of his voice, I can’t hold back anymore. I throw my arms around him. All the moments of being without him and wishing I’d jumped with him melt between us as he returns my embrace and his breath warms my neck. “What are you doing here?” I check my voice and whisper, “How did you find me? How are you alive? I can’t…” I’m not sure what else to say, where to start. “I’m a tough nut, you know?” He smiles and rubs my raw cheek with his wool glove. Mixed with my tears, the sweet gesture stings my skin, but I don’t care. “I can’t believe you’re alive.” I pull him to me again and bury my face in his shoulder, my head pounding from the fight with the wild man. His strong arms wrap around me, and I hear his voice echo in his chest. “Honestly, sweets, I can’t believe you’re not a walking veggie head. I want to hear all about your adventures as soon as we’re out of these bloody woods. Come on.” Feeling his legs shift, I sit back and he helps me to my feet while scanning the trail behind us again. “We’re leaving a proper mess for them to follow so we’ve got to scurry.” He takes my hand and starts back over his footprints leading farther into the woods. “How did you get out here, anyway? I didn’t expect you to waltz into my arms like a cranking birthday gift.” “I told them I was going for a walk. I know the leader—he was trying to recruit me. He said I could do whatever I wanted, but I overheard him saying that if I didn’t comply they’d roast me. Complete Mind Wipe.” I am rambling now. Must focus. “How did you find me? And who was that man? What was wrong with him?” As if on cue, there’s motion behind us. Down the trail, the beast man moans and sits up. Thomas pushes me behind him, ready to knock the man out again if he approaches, but a twang cuts through the air, and the man falls back to the snow, convulsing. Shock rifle fire. “Come on, no time to chatter.” Thomas pulls my arm, and we run through the brush and trees, ignoring the footprints Thomas made on his way to get me. I can’t help looking back. One man in a white suit is kneeling to examine my attacker. Two others have spotted us and are charging forward, long black shock rifles wagging back and forth in front of their chests. I know what those guns feel like. I know what happens when they catch you. Shudders trip down my spine and I push myself to keep up with Thomas, determined not to lose him this time as we slalom tree trunks and trip through the snow. Another twang rings through the air, and a branch a few feet to my left shatters. “They are catching up,” I say between breaths, feeling fear rise in my throat. “No matter, we’re here.” He looks back at me and slows slightly. “You gonna trust me this time?” “What?”

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