#he's as dark and endless as the night and whatever his existence may be worth its nothing in comparison to Arthur's

[lightasthesun]

merthur love confession but make it river song style!!!

When you love the Doctor, it's like loving the stars themselves. You don't expect a sunset to admire you back! And if I happen to find myself in any danger, let me tell you... the Doctor isn't stupid enough or sentimental enough and he is certainly not in love enough to find himself standing in it with me...

River is Merlin. Merlin is River. Arthur is the Doctor.

[carol-effing-danvers]

see shadows

He's shaking again.

The full body, head to toe tremble that takes him over, and it makes people stare in public and sometimes, when she is particularly furious and hot-headed and they can't just leave their current location because they're at the bank or the grocery store, Max bares her teeth at them and gets all up in their faces and asks What the fuck are you looking at? Because it's so absurd that they can all see that there's something wrong with him, but all they wanna do is stare, like Billy is a fucking television channel they've clicked to and not a living, breathing human being with a hammering heartbeat and a pair of vacant, haunted eyes.

He wasn't that nice of a brother, Max. It's not anyone from the Party who says that - they would never. They might think it, but they care enough about Max, at least, not to say that out loud to her face. They know that he ended up like this saving all of them. They know it wasn't a mall fire that Billy saved them from. He was a real asshole.

But she hears someone at school say it once - she doesn't even care enough to remember who - and it makes Max whirl on them, eyes flashing. So, he deserved this? Is that what you mean? That he deserved to die on the table and come back and relive what happened to him over and over again?

She never hears anything like that ever again, but it's all so heartless she could scream.

Susan and Neil aren't any help at all.

Susan pretends that there isn't anything wrong with him.

Neil seems content to pretend that his son no longer exists. Not that he's already dead, which may have come with a hint of sadness or remorse or the pain of loss and grief. No. Neil Hargrove completely ignores all facts of Billy's existence, for whatever remaining definition that is even worth.

It's not, Max acknowledges to herself, worth much. Terrifying as it is to admit, she kind of even wishes that he'd go back to screaming at her again.

But he never says anything at all, anymore. When he doesn't wake sobbing and retching from his nightmares, he is so silent that sometimes, Max wonders if maybe he is dead after all and has decided that she is the only person who cares enough for him to haunt, her own Billy-shaped ghost. Max wouldn't mind letting him.

But Billy is shaking again, and Max turns the fire off of the stove, leaves their half-cooked grilled cheese sandwiches in the pan and guides him gently to the closet in his room, cramped and dark, and curls up beside him on the floor. Her arms go around him and Max rests her head against his shoulder and he trembles and does not make one single sound, except the raggedness of breathing from those torn-up lungs.

In maybe ten minutes, the shaking will stop, and she can coax him back into the kitchen and he will eat the grilled cheese, but for now they are alone together in the quiet.

Sometimes she cries, and sometimes she doesn't. Sometimes, she thinks of a little mouse cuddled up next to a housecat, completely unaware of how much danger that it's in but aching for the warmth anyway. A little red house mouse curled up against a big dumb yellow tabby. Max wonders if he can still feel her here from somewhere in that world of endless night inside his mind. Hopes that he can.

She can't lead Billy back from that world of darkness, she can't talk him back from out of those woods. The only meager power she possesses is hoping that she can make the journey feel a warmer, hurt a little less. That he'll know he won't really be alone, because she will be here. And if he never returns?

Max presses her face into his shoulder, her arms tightening around his waist.

He can just haunt her. She honestly doesn't mind.

[lupismaris]

sorry you’re feeling so crappy 😔 i hope you feel better soon!!

if you’re feeling up to it, maybe silverflinthamiltons on a lake or beach vacation?

SILVERFLINTHAM LAKESIDE HOLIDAY PART 1 with a surprise! and another segment to follow because this is them arriving to the lake!

(this got long so most of it will be under the cut.)

***

It was summer.

Summer meant blistering asphalt and bags of trash stewing on the curb each morning. Hazy sunlight blinding the street, dark cavernous pockets of shade where the temperature seemed to drop ten degrees, but the air stayed stale and suffocating all the same. It meant too many people and too much noise and parties in the park that never seemed to end, one just replacing another in an endless cycle of hedonism, and bottles of chilled wine and cheap beer sweating on the fountain walls. It meant long dinners and longer lunches, ice cream trucks and Italian ice carts on opposite corners of the street carrying on an old world rivalry. It meant golds and blues and lush greens wherever your eyes happened to fall, be it on a back alley garden or storefront window display.

Silver loved summer.

He loved the warmth and the sprawling picnics and the baring of skin and the feral energy of a child free from school amplified to suit a city of millions and the heady summer storms that shook the glittering skyline in a kind of holy cleanse. He loved the summer fruits and the sweet aperitifs and the old school white linen shirts and open fire hydrants flooding the streets and the neon lights reflecting in the puddles left behind, still evaporating in the hot night, giving the whole world an ethereal glow.

Though he had to admit it was always better spent on a beach with a frosted drink and not a goddamn thing to do. But, if a beach couldn’t be procured, a big, cool, well air conditioned house that was paid for by someone else was an excellent alternative. His sister’s condo in Chelsea for instance was an excellent place to waste away a summer on parties and sun bathing and a private pool that no one else seemed to have the time to use. He had spent several summers with Max that way, even once the Rangers had become part of the picture, if Silver was on the east coast for the summer, he would drop in and waste away a while.

Now though, it looked like summers were going to be spent in Brooklyn, in the big cool townhouse that Thomas had paid for, with the truly miraculously internal air con that was always kept at a balmy 65 degrees from May to October, and with very little to do outside of whatever suited his fancy on any given day. Oh and sex, a lot of sex. This would be the first summer in a very long time where he could not only allow himself a libido, but he could also satiate it.

Silver was thoroughly content with the new circumstances.

He was less content however, with how the summer months, or maybe just the summer months in the city, seemed to bring out the worst in people as frequently as it did the best.

Flint, for example, did not handle summers as well as Silver did. In part it was due to the heat and the sun and the weird smells coming off the steamy side walks, and Silver understood Flint’s frustration with all that, he truly did. But summer also meant more tourists and more people going out for a good time, more people starting brawls in bars and fights in the street and parties spilling over from one bar to the next, or worse packs of bigots making the rounds and harassing whomever they find, everything the working class service folks of the city dreaded- in short, Flint’s stress levels seemed to just rise with the temperature. And considering an average day in July might easily crack 100, Silver was starting to get a tad worried.

“Is it like this every summer?” Silver had asked one Friday morning in June.

The kitchen was soft with the morning sunlight, Thomas in his silk night shirt and robe as he perused the menu for the cafe on the corner, Silver fixing them each an espresso.

“To a point yes. You know how James is about control,” Thomas said with a fond smile, “when he’s at his best he can combat every threat to his sovereignty without so much as flinching. But the summer gets to him, makes him a bit of a wolf in a cage, so to speak.”

“Was he worse in Manhattan?” the buildings sometimes reminded Silver of a cell block, the slivers of sunlight cutting through as hot as cattle prods.

“Much. Hal has tried talking him into not working as much in the summer, but you know how he is, can’t be told anything once he’s got his mind made up. Not to mention he’s never been good at simply existing. There always has to be purpose in it, work to be done, fields to plow and what not.”

Silver huffed a laugh and brought Thomas’ espresso over, feeling a sense of warmth at the notion that he and Thomas were able to share this, to share flint and all his eccentricities.

“I’m sure a man as clever as you thought of some way to keep his blood pressure down, hm?” he asked, raising his eyebrows. Thomas took the espresso cup without looking away from the menu. He set it aside and pulled Silver in, kissing him sweetly in thanks. Ah, that was also a nice thing to share with Thomas, Silver reminded himself.

“Oh I came up with a few ideas, pet. How about we order breakfast, and I’ll tell you about them.”

By Friday, the three of them were packed into Flint’s old Range Rover heading upstate for two weeks of holiday bliss. It had taken multiple phone calls to Gates to make sure the bar would in fact be alright while Flint was gone and to make sure he barred Flint from being within a dozen yards of The Walrus once it closed on Thursday night. It had also taken coaxing, convincing, bartering, and eventually outright bribery with sex to get Flint to stop scowling about the idea of being away from his “ship” for longer than a weekend. There had been other phone calls as well, placed by Thomas in the early hours of the morning when he thought he was the only one awake. When asked about them he just waved the questions away with a mild, “oh just a little extra surprise for James thats all” and Silver did his best to trust him.

It was a five hour drive from the house in Brooklyn to the house on Lake Cayuga that Thomas had purchased during his recovery, to he and Flint would have a quiet place to heal and make up for lost time without the strain of the city grating on them. Silver had never been upstate, his various clients had always preferred houses in the Hamptons, but from the photos it was a cozy little cottage style house right on the shore, a couple bedrooms, an airy kitchen, lush garden, and a private pier that stretched out into the lake. There was also apparently a boat, a little hybrid sailboat of polished wood and deep blue paint, the name Ariel written in careful golden script. Silver wanted to ask whether Flint had bought it or built it, because he was the kind of high strung man to just build a boat from scratch instead of buying one or scheduling extra therapy. But the scowl on his face as they tucked the suitcases into the trunk told him it wasn’t worth the teasing. Not yet anyway.

Flint insisted on driving the whole five hours himself, scowling silently behind the wheel as he drove them through miles of lush farmland, leaving Thomas and Silver to chat about what they might do once they get settled in. There was plenty of hiking, though Thomas was worried the gorges might be tricky for Silver’s regular prosthetic, ample water falls and countless parks to explore. Lots of quaint small towns with seafood shacks and local fare and more wineries than even Thomas knew what to do with. And of course, most importantly, there was the lake.

Flint kept his silence till the last hour of the ride, the scowl firmly set on his jaw. Silver and Thomas had switched seats so Thomas could stretch out and nap in the back seats, leaving Silver to try and coax a smile out of his partner. Not that he had to do much. As the car climbed yet another rolling hill, Silver watched the horizon, his hand in Flint’s, trying to figure out whether the deep blue streak that had suddenly appeared was a dark patch of sky.

It wasn’t, for the record.

Silver frowned and turned to Flint, planning to ask if it was the lake and exactly how big was said lake- but the question died well before he could even open his mouth.

The scowl was gone, dropped from Flint’s face and replaced by the softest look of wonder Silver had ever seen on the man, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, making his mustache twitch. It was as if something had hooked its line into Flint’s chest and was slowly reeling him in, his whole body sitting straighter, the tension in his shoulders bleeding out until he was leaning into the steering wheel. His hand even held tighter to Silver’s, an unconscious need to keep himself tethered maybe, or to keep Silver close.

“Is that the lake?” Silver managed to ask with a soft smile of his own.

“Yeah. We’ll be at the cabin in half an hour.”

They got there in twenty minutes, not that anyone was actually counting.

The lake stretched out before them, a sea of deep blues and aquamarines, glittering with the hot late June sunlight that danced across it’s surface. It’s shores were patched with wildflowers and thick thatches of wood, little clusters of cabins and boat houses, who’s owners were out skipping across the surface like dragon flies on their small boats and kayaks. The afternoon air was hazy and sweet, the whole scene a postcard from the mythical summers of memory that everyone aspired to, bird song and the low hum of the radio escorting them along the final stretch of route 90. Flint pulled them down a narrow side road, passing a few comfortably sized homes with ample space between them, until they reached the dead end of the street, and the little cottage Silver had seen in the photos, with the shadow of the pier dark across the water, and the Ariel waiting like a loyal dog in her berth.

“Oh good,” Thomas said with a yawn, finally pulling himself back into a sitting position and stretching, as Flint pulled the car into the drive alongside what looked like a rental car. “I was starting to think we were lost.”

Silver looked back at him, ready to tease about old men and naps, but Thomas was looking down at his phone, his fingers quickly switching on the stop watch. “Thomas what-”

The range rover lurched to a sudden stop as Flint hit the brakes and Silver had to cling to the seat to keep himself upright. Thomas seemed completely unfazed, draped across the back seat in his half buttoned linen shirt and designer sunglasses, watching with an air of fond expectation as Flint threw on the parking brake and booked it from the car, leaving the engine running.

“What the fuck is he doing?” Silver asked.

Thomas laughed and reached around the driver’s seat to shut the car off. “Exactly what I expected him to do, though I’ll admit I expected him to at least properly stop the car first.”

“What? Thomas- oh my god he’s going in the lake?” Silver asked, watching as Flint cleared the back fence and striped off his shirt, leaving it on the lawn as he kept moving towards the pier. His boots, socks, and jeans followed, barely breaking his quick stride to strip them off.

“Last time it took him a whole ten minutes to get into the water,” Thomas said, helping Silver, who was too busy staring in shock at the sight of his stern and stoic partner racing across the back patio like a child, from the car. “He might clear five minutes this time.”

A few more quick strides and Flint dove from the end of the pier, breaking the surface of the lake with a thunderous sound and disappearing into the blue.

“He’s in the lake,” Silver said.

Thomas hooked their arms together, the two of them walking leisurely across the lawn. “Every visit, the first thing he does is go to the water. It’s even more dramatic when it’s the ocean, maybe I’ll book us a house on the coast next month.”

“More dramatic than stripping down to his boxers in the back yard?” he asked.

The back lawn of the house was a mix of a large patio and and a short green, with a fire pit and a grill, a small dining table and some cozy chairs, and what silver hoped was a hot tub. A woman was stretched out on one of the long beach chairs in a deep green bikini, her dark hair cut short and a magazine across her lap, though she was watching the water, where Flint had just resurfaced for a moment before diving again.

“Miranda?” Silver called, aware that Thomas was beaming behind him but not at all surprised to see his ex wife. That explained the phone calls, and the rental car out front.

“I believe our husband is in the lake my dears,” Miranda called with a laugh, getting up to come greet them. “God he’s like a little boy at a swimming hole.”

“I’d ask how you got here but that seems almost silly,” Silver said, letting her pull him into a tight hug. They had taken to each other from the first, which had left Thomas and Flint a little uneasy. Miranda’s humor matched his, her wit sharp and familiar, and Silver had learned very quickly why Flint and Thomas were both still in love with her. He wasn’t far from it himself.

“Thomas called, said James needed an intervention,” She said, letting him go to kiss Thomas hello and hug him tight. “I’m on break from teaching this summer and the fall concert season hasn’t started yet, could I come out and join you for a couple weeks? Which was a silly question, I was buying a ticket the moment he suggested it.”

Thomas kissed the top of her head, smiling brightly. “I had hoped you might be his surprise before he jumped in the lake, I’m sorry my dear.”

Silver watched them, feeling a bit dizzy. They were were a perfect pair, Miranda dark and elegant under Thomas’ arm, the cool dusk sky to Thomas’ golden hour sun.

“Don’t be, I’ll go down to him, maybe join him in the water for a bit.” She kissed his cheek, then Silver’s. “There’s some snacks laid out in the kitchen and dinner will be delivered in a couple hours, why don’t you get the bags inside and then come join us. Maybe we can even take Ariel out before dinner.”

“Oh now there’s an idea,” Thomas agreed, moving to go back and fetch the bags from the car. “Tell our husband we’ll join you in a moment. If you can manage to get him up for air.”

Miranda laughed, a bright sunny sound that always reminded Silver of how she played piano, and made her way down to the pier. He watched as she sat down on the edge of the pier, as the surface of the water broke and Flint emerged, staring up at her in shock. Silver heard her laughing, saw her reach out and watched as Flint reached up and pulled her into the lake with a joyful shout of her name. They were lost for a moment to the water, kicking up waves as Flint held her tight and danced them around, clumsy and free. Behind him Silver could hear Thomas laughing, felt his hand as it came to rest warm and sure on his lower back, pulling him in close, as he said something about wishing they’d gotten that on film.

For Silver, it was one of those moments where suddenly he remembered what all those old love songs were written about. He understood it.

And it was finally his.

[darkdevasofdestruction]

Remember Me ~ Worick Arcangelo x Reader

Disclaimer: This is going to have mentions of past abuse and supposedly illegal behaviour, but considering it’s Gangsta we’re talking about, I don’t think anyone should be surprised by darker themes addresses.

Birthdays...Have always been tedious. A drag. More work than they are worth...So, I wonder...Why do I actually bother doing a party at my home?

I mean, it’s true, I get it, I’m 21, I’m of age...Legally an adult, legally allowed to drink, legally everything whatever...The same as it has been for the past 3 years...

And MAYBE it’s fun to sometimes gather around with your friends and do the same things everyone always does at parties, loud music, alcohol, cigarettes and gossips...

But there is always that annoying anxiety feeling surging through my veins whenever I have to be around more than 3 of my friends, considering this is a party organised by me, and everything has to be done perfectly, everyone must feel good, and at home, not to be left out...

I can already envision myself being the only outcast, anyway, but that’s besides the point.

It’s already evening, the alcohol is sitting on the table, the pizza boxes are stacked up in a mountain on the floor, plastic cups everywhere, ash trays placed strategically, dim lights, coloured light projectors to make the room look like a disco...

And then there’s me. Sitting anxiously on the couch in the living room, dressed in a pair of dark jeans and a long plaid shirt with the sleeves rolled up, along with some silver rings and a necklace. Casual, comfy, yet pretty elegant in its simplicity.

My friends arrived soon, very loudly congratulating me on aging one more year, fantastic...But they had a mischievous smirk on their faces...

And they brought in a tall, blond man who looked very macho, and I could only blink in confusion as everyone walked inside.

“Uhm...Who is he? One of yours boyfriend or something?” I asked, eyeing everyone attentively. “Nooo, silly! He’s our gift for you!” my best friend grabbed the man by his arm, shoving him towards me. “I’m...Not sure I follow.” I spoke with even more unease, not wanting to believe what I was hearing. “He’s Ergastulum’s most wanted Gigolo! And tonight, he’s all yours to do with as you please! C’mon, you deserve to let loose and have fun once in a while, y’know? Forget about all those jerks and enjoy pleasure like you’ve never felt before~!” my other best friend grabbed me by my shoulders from behind, putting her chin on top of one of her hands, slurring seductively. “...I see.” I muttered, looking away, trying to mask my displeasure at what I was hearing. “Anyway, let’s get you drunk! You won’t get to enjoy anything if you’re so cold and reserved with everyone, y’know? Maybe that’s why you’re always alone! Now c’mon, let’s have fun!” she dragged me to the drinks table, and we started playing drinking games like never have I ever...

Gotta say, Vodka and Bailey’s has always been a shot combination that I adore, and I’m grateful that it takes a long time to get me drunk, because these girls are wasted, while I’m not, so I can escape their grasp. Drunk dancing isn’t that fun, even to watch, and they were making fools of themselves, screeching, giggling...More or less sounding like pained donkeys.

Or maybe I’m just too judgemental and mean because I’ve been in a bad mood and spiraling since they got in my home. To be fair, I don’t even care what is the truth. These are my feelings and I’m not going to play them off as insignificant or non-existent.

Eyeing them carefully, I take a pack of cigarettes and make my way out of the house and sit on the stairs, taking a deep breath of the cold winter night air, I light up a cigarette, taking a drag and staring up at the sky, letting my endless train of toxic thoughts overwhelm me.

I was so long in my own mind that I didn’t notice the door opening until a shadow blocked my vision, and I noticed the platinum blond man sitting down on the stairs below me, resting his back on the wall on the side.

“Y’know...I haven’t been to many birthday parties before, but I’m pretty sure the birthday girl is supposed to be pampered and the center of attention, and yet, here you are, outside, alone and sad.” the man spoke seriously, with his usual light glint. “How much did they pay you?” I muttered, lighting another cigarette, realising that the other one burn without taking another drag of it. “Hmmm? What do you mean?” he asked, raising an eyebrow at me. “I’m tipsy, not stupid. You think I can’t think rationally after 8 shots? You’re dead wrong. Now, tell me, how much did they pay you and what exactly did they tell you to do?” I asked in a pressed tone, side-eyeing him. “You’re certainly perceptive, I give you that. T’was quite a lot of money to spend the night with you.” he tilted his head in a playful way. “Not only they have no faith in me to get someone to even remotely like me...They have to pay someone to do something that I dread with a burning passion. Do you even know my name? I don’t know yours.” I shrugged, hanging my head, gritting my teeth in annoyance. “I see your friends screwed up a bit. Name’s Worick, nice to meet you.” he extended his hand towards me. “...Y/N. Nice to meet you too...I think.” I sighed, staring reluctantly at his hand, before slowly shaking it. “Pretty name for a pretty girl. Wanna talk to a guy you’ll never see again? I heard that venting and letting out pent up emotions helps.” he offered, making me look at him with a weird face. “You know you’re not gonna get any action, so you try to do something for the money you earned, huh?” I snorted, raking my fingers through my hair. “Hey, don’t look at me like that. Contrary to my profession, I’m a pretty chill guy. What do you have to lose, talking to someone you’ll never see again? And besides, I have little room to judge you, so if that’s your worry, you can throw it away.” he lit up a cigarette, puffing up into the sky. “You’re...Not wrong here. Okay, fine, Pretty Boy. Imagine this. You’re not even of age, you get your first lover and you’re happy. You finally feel superior. Someone gives a fuck about you...That’s the definition of a lover, after all, I guess...But here’s the deal. Barely one month into the relationship, the person starts getting very pushy and pressures you, without you realising. Words and actions. It goes to the point that they force you to do things that you don’t want to and you’re not ready to, mentally or physically...And you can’t do anything except for denying, since they don’t listen and they overpower you. How is that, so far?” I spoke, taking a few breaks in between sentences to keep myself grounded and lucid. “Very suckish. Does any of your friends know that?” Worick asked in a gentle voice. “They do...My two best friends do. The ones who apparently paid you. I don’t know what’s in those tiny brains of theirs, but I don’t think a one night stand is going to somehow magically get me rid of all problems, traumas, self-issues and nightmares I’ve been having for the last years. Or maybe I’m just paranoid. I don’t know, and at this point, I can’t stay that I care.” I shrugged, leaning back on the stairs. “Maybe you have the wrongs friends. I heard words about you that I don’t think friends should speak like that about their so called best friend who trusted them enough with their bad experiences.” he pointed out nonchalantly, as I shifted my gaze towards him with a frown. “After today...I...Think the same. I...Just...Wasn’t expecting something like this. What more can I say. I am disappointed. And if that wasn’t enough, my second boyfriend, who was a virgin, saw my own virginity as a prize. And the third pity-dated me. Can it get any worse? Because, if yes, I honestly give up.” I sighed, ruffling my hair, obviously done with life. “Life sure sucks, huh? And most people don’t make it any better. All we can do is get stronger, carry on, and fight our nightmares.” he nodded in agreement, clearly sympathetic. “...I see you’re speaking from experience. I wonder what happened to your eye...It may sound insensitive, but after what I just told you, I don’t think there’s any more need for caution.” I smirked at him with a dark sort of self-deprecation that I could also sense in him. “Well, y’know...Sometimes parents aren’t the safe haven they ought to be.” he shrugged, extinguishing the finished cigarette on the stairs. “I see. Yeah, life sucks. I guess I can see why you become a Gigolo. An attractive guy selling his body for money...By what they said, you are the most popular. I can see why. I feel sorry for you.” I gave him a sympathetic smile that disappeared as fast as it came. “You have a pretty smile, y’know? I always thought that people who can smile despite all they’ve been through are the strongest.” he commented, smiling back. “Is that why you appear to be so cheerful? You’re strong, not only physically, but mentally and emotionally too? Wish I was the same. Maybe people won’t find me such an easy target to take advantage of.” I snorted sarcastically, making him chuckle. “It’s a pity people are shit to the few remaining ones who don’t give in to society’s awfulness. But what is a sweet girl like you doing in a shithole like Ergastulum? Doesn’t quite add up.” he asked, getting in a better sitting position. “Life happened. Dad left us, and mum is abroad working to get me enough money to go to university by the end of this year. This place, despite how scary and dangerous it is, was the cheapest place I could afford.” I bit my lip, trying not to worry too much about the future. “I’m sure you’re gonna nail it, so don’t worry too much. You seem like a smart girl, so just study hard and don’t forget to enjoy life. By your standards, not others’.” he smirked, tilting his head towards the door. “You’re funny, Worick. I wish we met under different circumstances.” my voice became lower, only to get interrupted by the door slamming open and the girls leaving the place. “Well, look at you two, lovebirds! You look so cuuuuuuuute! Hey, Gigolo, better take good care of her, got it?! The night is still young for you two! Awesome birthday party, as usual, Y/N, see ya next time!” the girls left, making me blush from embarassment, looking away. “You’ve got very sensible friends.” he muttered ironically, shaking his head. “I’ll...Go tidy the apartment. Maybe I’ll be able to focus on something else. Come one, I’ll warm up some pizza.” I shrugged, getting inside the house. “I didn’t think you’d want me around in your home.” Worick pointed out, leaning on a wall. “You got paid to spend the night with me, correct? Then you’ll do what you got paid for. Keeping me company. You have no idea how refreshing it is talking to someone with some fucking brain in their head.” I plopped down on the couch, putting my feet on the table, turning on the TV to a rock music program and patting the seat next to me for him to join. “It’s an honour to spend time with you.” he chuckled, taking a slice of pizza, leaning back on the couch and mimicking my position.

For the rest of the night, he was gracious enough to help me tidy up and clean everything, and when we were finally done, I went to change in my nightgown, taking a book and getting in bed, only to see the man leaning on the frame of the door awkwardly.

“Ah, yes, how could I forget. Let me find some larger clothes for you to change into.” I put the book down, going to the wardrobe and finding some oversized clothes in which I sometimes sleep. “Are these yours?” he chuckled in amusement. “Yep.Gotta be comfy when you sleep, right?” I shrugged, getting back in bed. “Yeah, you’re right. That’s why I sleep naked.” his grin grew wider, making me frown in confusion. “Sleeping naked is comfy for you?” I put the book on my lap, looking at him for an answer. “Did you try?” he asked smugly. “Yeah. I felt incredibly uncomfortable and anxious the for hours and couldn’t sleep. At 4 AM I couldn’t stand it any longer and I put a nightgown on.” I scratched my cheek, looking away. “That’s adorable. What were you reading?” he asked, getting closer to me. “Get changed and you can come over. I’m not letting you sleep on the couch. You got paid, you deserve better.” I waved my hand at him dismissively, only for him to leave the room, get changed, take the book from my hand, flip through all the pages, and return it. “Ah, Picture of Dorian Gray. I’ve been wanting to read it for a while, thanks for the opportunity, I have to say, I rather appreciate his monologues.” he gave me a shit-eating grin, plopping in bed next to me. “I...You...Huh?! You can’t tell me you just read THIS book, right now, for the first time in your life, by just flipping rapidly through the pages!” my expression was that of pure shock and disbelief, which clearly amused him. “That’s exactly what I’m saying, sweet cheeks.” he smirked, laying his head down on the pillow. “You...You have an extraordinary visual memory?!” I asked in a voice that I wasn’t sure was heard. “You’ve got that right, darling.” he chuckled with a satisfied smile. “...WHY THE HELL ARE YOU A PROSTITUTE?! YOU ARE A GENIUS! YOU COULD DO SO MUCH MORE WITH YOUR LIFE! EARN AN UNBELIEVABLE AMOUNT OF MONEY! DO YOU HAVE NO AMBITION AND SAFE-LOVE?!” I grab him by the shoulders, shaking him, until he stopped me. “Calm doooown, Y/N, calm down. Thanks for looking out for me, but life is life. Don’t worry about me. I’ve got all I need here. You, however, have the whole life ahead of you, so don’t waste it like I did.” he advised in a soft voice, making me look at him for a few seconds, before sighing, getting up, and picking another book. “We won’t be seeing each other again, will we? Well, if that’s the case, take this. It’s a thanks for being nice to me today...But promise me you will take your time reading it, unlike now. Rest, relax, drink a hot cup of tea, and read each page carefully. Enjoy it, live it, feel it. Can you promise me that?” I asked, handing him the book. “The Hobbit, huh? Pretty cover, intriguing summary on the back...Fine, Y/N. I can’t 100% promise you, but I will try. Are you really willing to part with this one? It seems special for you.” he asked, more serious this time. “...Maybe sometimes the stupid ideas that your heart gives you are better than the rational ones from your brain. Now go sleep, I want to read.” I looked away from him, opening my book and pretending to read, away from him.

Five minutes passed, then ten, and fifteen, all of them in a deadly silence, almost awkward, until a chuckle split the atmosphere, making me turn around, looking at the man with a confused look.

“Usually, when people read, they turn the page after five minutes. What’s on your mind?” he asked, taking a strand of my hair and loosely twirling it with his finger. “..Well...You’re a stranger. And...We’ve only talked for a few hours. I know it makes no sense to ask this of you, but...I won’t be seeing you tomorrow anyway, so...Uhm...Do you think...I'm...Cold and mean...And unapproachable?” I mutter, looking away from him. “Not at all. I find you very endearing. The quiet ones are always the ones who have the best surprises once you get to know them. People deal with problems differently, it just takes the right person to want to understand you.” he kissed the strand of hair, making me bite my lip and turn off the lap light so my possibly pink cheeks won’t be noticeable. “Great. Thanks for the info. Now...How about you earn the money you got paid? You can do that by holding me and playing with my hair until I fall asleep.” I try to keep my voice from wavering. “You don’t have to put that pretext as a front, I would do that even if I wasn’t paid.” he chuckled lightly, holding me close to his chest, his fingers masterfully soothing my senses as he caressed by hair. “...Thanks.” I muttered, hiding my flustered face in his chest. “I have insomnia and general sleeping problems, including sleep paralysis and nightmares...And the only thing that used to be able to put me to sleep without waking up in the middle of the night would be mum holding me and playing with my hair until I fell asleep.” I confessed, my voice becoming softer and more emotional. “Thank you for trusting me with this precious memory, Y/N. It’s going to be okay. Now close your eyes...Sweet dreams, Y/N.” his peaceful, velvety voice was the last thing I heard before falling into a restful and calm sleep, for the first time in ages.

When morning came and I woke up, the bed was empty on the side that Worick was and I almost feared I imagined the whole thing...Until I noticed a piece of paper on the pillow where he slept.

“You’re a beautiful person, don’t let the darkness take over you. I hope to hear from you again, in the future, under better circumstances. ~ Worick”

To that, a phone number was written, and the first thing that came into my mind was to get that it tattooed on my body so I won’t lose it.  Of course, that will never happen, so I’ll settle for writing it everywhere I can.

For some reason, I wanted to make him proud, and I still had no idea why, so I only called him once a year, on my birthday, and on that day, we would chat on the phone all night, in memory of that night.  Finally leaving Ergastulum to go to University and get a better life for myself was something revolutionary for me, but after over 6 years, I managed to do just that. However, there was something that never left my brain, and that was the platinum haired man that completely changed the way I viewed life and how to approach it.

And I returned to Ergastulum after almost a decade.

I was dressed in a cute dress, and this time, unlike last time, a confident smile was on my face. Even though it’s fake, I adopted the “Fake it till you make it” motto, and nobody has to know about my problems.

I vibe.

Asking around for Worick, I find out he works as the Benriya with another man called Nicolas, who’s a tag, and even better, I got his address, so I knew just where to go.

As I entered the shabby apartment that was, for some reason, unlocked, I see a meek looking woman sitting on the couch, looking down.

“Did Worick get a girlfriend?” I leaned on the wall, a playful smirk on my face. “Wh-What?! G-Girlfriend?! W-Wait, who are you?!” she shot up to her feet, looking at me with big, blue doe eyes, frightened, might I say. “You’re adorable. What’s your name? And can I ask where Worick is? I’ve been told this is where he lives.” I played with a strand of my hair, trying not to intimidate the girl...Too much. “U-Uhm...He...He’s in his room...Who are you, miss?” she asked, trying to get some courage. “A friend, I’d like to think. From about ten years ago. Now, if you’ll excuse me...” I was ready to go look for him, only for a door to open, and the man in cause to appear, wearing only black boxers, and stretching...He obviously just woke up. “Ally? What’s all the noise?” he yawned loudly, rubbing his eyes. “Do you have a cute nickname for me too, Worick?” I smirked at him, as he widened his single eye, his jaw dropping in shock. “Y/N...?” he muttered my name, making me grin widely. “Glad you remember me. It has been quite a while since we’ve seen each other...And you age like fine wine, I’m telling you...You’re a sight for sore eyes.” he chuckled softly, only for him to come and pick me up, spinning a bit, before putting me down, cupping my face and kissing my forehead, leaving me a surprised and flustered mess. “And look at you! Can you get prettier than this? I told ya, you have a beautiful smile!” he grinned childishly, pinching my cheeks, making me yelp in pain and slap his hands away. “Jerk! That hurts! Ahem...Anyway, dear Gigolo, how are you? I heard some stuff about you working with someone named Nicolas...But I doubt her name is Nicolas.” I chuckled, pushing him softly away. “Oh, yes! Y/N, this is Alex, our new friend. You can say she’s kinda...Our secretary? I guess? Anyway, come over, we have a lot to catch up on!” he guided me to his bedroom that was, unsurprisingly, messy. “Wonderful and clean, just as expected. Have you ever thought of opening the window?” I teased him, plopping on his bed that was unexpectedly soft. “You, lazy little vixen...Here. I bought it years ago, after finishing the book you gave me, and I wanted to find out more. Now, I’m giving it to you. Are we even?” he smirked, handing me a copy of Fellowship of the Ring book. “We’d be even if I’d spend the night over as well. And if you gave me drinks and pizza. Basically a date. That will do.” I told him, looking dearly at the book I got gifted, although I already read it before. “My God, since when are you so bold?” he asked, getting on the bed, resting his chin on my knees, looking at me like a happy puppy. “Did you miss me, Worick? I hope you did, otherwise that little piece of paper you left would be incredibly disappointing and misleading.” I pointed out, booping his nose. “I’ve been thinking about you since then. By the looks of it, so did you. Are you sure you want a date with someone like me? You are beautiful, you are brilliant, your attitude in endearing as hell...And I’m still a Gigolo and my life is here, in Ergastulum. Don’t regret it later on.” he asked with a more serious tone, only for me to scoff and pull on his hair playfully. “I wouldn’t be here otherwise. Besides...Unlike you, I don’t need to be paid to spend quality time with you, doing nothing but chilling and chatting.” I teased him, making him laugh, as he plopped next to me, poking my cheek. “Great, problem solved! You’ve got yourself a parasite latching on you. Good luck getting rid of him now.” he grinned cheekily, only for me to cup his face and pull him into a kiss. “Why would I wanna get rid of a parasite this cute? Now shut up and hold me, it’s been ten years and I’m touch starved.” I grinned, nuzzling in the crook of his neck. “Damn, how I missed you.” he held me tightly to his chest, occasionally peppering my face with kisses.

It was definitely worth coming back to this God Forsaken place, even if it is for only one person. There’s place for everyone in this world, and in others’ hearts, and I found my place, in Worick’s warm arms, where I feel safest and most loved.

[jasperwhitcock]

equinox | chapter 07 –– “a cruel god, a wrathful goddess”

here is chapter six of my bella as a vampire and edward as a human fanfic inspired by an au that @bellasredchevy​​ posted. you can read the new chapter on AO3 or here. i post updates on AO3 or on tumblr using the #equinoxjw tag. but it seems 10/10 times my tag does not work, so that is a fun mystery for me to solve.

oof... sometimes u get distracted and then ur sister gets married and then u get unmotivated & d*pressed and forget to update ur fanfic for over three months... my bad y'all... sorry for the wait hehe. i hope it is worth it. again, i'm so thankful for the comments & i read them all. i get too shy to respond, but i WILL. i just need to talk myself up first. i love u. thank u. hehe. ♡♡♡ merry christmas/happy holidays if i fail u again before the 25th. i WANT to update more frequently. my catchphrase these days is "i'm trying my best," so... i'm trying my best.

this is for the sweet anons who slide into my ask box & ask me questions abt my fanfic. and for taryn, who consistently reminds me that there are people wanting to read this seeing as she is one of those people, kim, who i am so desperate to impress that i began working on a new chapter once she started to read my fanfic, and kae, because without her, this fanfic would never have existed in the first place. i love how i'm writing this as though it's the intro to an actual book when it's literally just chapter seven. ok, i will shut up now so u can read. love u. again.

07 A CRUEL GOD, A WRATHFUL GODDESS

In great contrast to the noisy ambience of the other students in the hallway, we were silent on our walk to our shared biology class. I wondered how conscious Edward was of the stares and whispers focused on our proximity to one another, but my guess was that he was very much conscious of it. I intentionally ignored glancing in any direction that I sensed one of my siblings’ presence, although I figured it was mostly paranoia driving me to feel as though we were about to cross paths. Holding my breath to more easily walk beside Edward left my senses impaired to the ability to pinpoint their location. 

I was lucky that for the majority of my immortal life, I’d managed to escape unwanted attention. But now, it seemed that precious luck had finally run out. Maybe embarrassment had been creeping up on me, maliciously building itself up all these years, waiting until just the right moment to rear its ugly head and exact revenge that immorality had stolen its favorite object of humiliation to torment. But here it was, ensuring that I was finally catching up on feeling awkward and out of step, a feeling I experienced for what seemed like the entirety of my human life. I thought once I’d been changed, I’d never feel this way again, but becoming misaligned with my family made me feel bashful to parade my defiance in their faces. I had operated better under no scrutiny as a mortal and was surprised to realize that that still held true as an immortal as well. Because though there was now never a struggle of staying upright or a risk of tripping over my own feet, that didn’t prevent me from feeling self-conscious as I walked beside Edward. Although for different reasons –– it was too mortifying to consider what my family might make of what my actions suggested about my feelings towards Edward.

And yet still, I would put up with the ridicule and disapproval of my siblings if it meant I could listen to Edward speak his silly philosophical theology, his questioning of god and existence, for just a few more hours. If I were going to be teased over Alice’s visions regardless, I might as well find out what I can about this pretentious boy before I leave him alone forever. If only to understand why his moving to this small town threatened to warp my own future so much. In losing night and in losing death, there were so very little anomalies in the endless amount of time I’d been given. So what would it hurt to allow myself to fixate on this minuscule difference in my life for just awhile?

It could hurt Edward, a more selfless part of myself reminded me. If indulging myself was playing with fire, I was being justly punished with the way flames were efflorescing the inside of my dry, burning throat.

If a god did exist, why would it make sense for such a being to craft someone like Edward with his perceptivity, and send him off to this small town, home to a secret such as ours? If a god did exist, why it would be fair for such a being to craft someone like Edward, someone who tempted me both in bloodlust and in curiosity, and send him off to this small town, home to the very vampire who desperately wished to kill him most? If a god did exist, if our kind had fallen short of heaven, I could understand why sending Edward into our path –– and more specifically, my path –– could be some kind of punishment. But what I couldn’t understand is why a god would allow someone as innocent as Edward to be endangered for the sake of bringing a sinful, undead creature to justice. It seemed the only reasonable explanation would be that a god probably did not exist. 

And how could there be? I was on the precipice of falling into temptation with every step further in the hallway and every question he asked and answered. I could never not be very much aware of the fact –– especially now with his body merely inches from my side and his sweet fragrance blooming both deliciously and relentlessly in the air. And even as I impossibly withstood the lure of his blood, how was I meant to ignore the irresistibility of his mind and how inexplicably concerned I was to understand it? It seemed like a very cruel experiment of free will and knowledge –– far too cruel to allow much room for the kind of god Edward hoped for.

I frowned as I realized that this experiment wasn’t that of a cruel god’s but that of a cruel vampire, and I felt very much like a vampire as the sound of his heartbeat was so appealing that it made my mouth water.

“Do the stares bother you?” Edward spoke quietly to me as we weaved throughout the hallway. Easily distracted, his question was able to pull the more civilized parts of myself together, though this was probably also in thanks to my choosing not to utilize my sense of smell. I found it funny that at least one of his thoughts had been in a similar vicinity. But of course, the rest of his thoughts were probably free of all consuming agony and struggle. For all his curiosity about morality, to inflict this existence upon him would probably devour him in misery. At least as a human, despite whatever conclusions he may come to, there was still some hope to be had for an afterlife. This thought should have been dark and depressing, but because it made Alice’s vision seem like a complete hoax, I almost found it funny. How would Edward ever end up like me?

“Oh, no,” I swallowed the venom in my mouth. “I live for attention.” I watched from the corner of my eyes as his gaze flickered over to me, the ever present half smile appearing on his face at my joke. My answer came out so comfortably as though I was used to this, when in reality, the student body for the most part had grown accustomed to ignoring me. And, of course, there was nothing comfortable about the demanding, aching dryness in my mouth or the burning in my nostrils. “How about you?”

“Likewise,” he joked, laughing. “This is interesting –– their fascination. I understood their interest on my first day because I’d guess a new addition to the student body in a town this small is something of a rarity, but today, walking by your side is garnering even more attention. Is it a once in a lifetime opportunity to have Bella Cullen walk you to class?”

“You’re just so observant, aren’t you?” I rolled my eyes, though the corners of my mouths pulled up despite myself. “And I’m not walking you to class. I’m walking to a class I just so happen to share with you, so don’t get the wrong idea. I think they’re just surprised because they’re probably under the impression that I don’t play nice with others.”

“And do you?”

“You tell me,” I replied, pausing to face him beside a wall of lockers next to the entrance of our biology classroom. As he stopped beside me, a gust of air from a passing student walking hastily down the hallway sent his scent reeling into me at an unfortunate moment where I’d chosen to breathe in. My muscles tensed to spring, and I desperately anchored myself to the floor as my mind fell into disarray.

“Nicely enough,” Edward winked naturally as though we’d been the best of friends since his first day. The demanding thirst was intruding on my awareness, and the desperation for something wet and hot and delicious in my desiccated throat was so dizzying that his voice sounded as though it were underwater. With an effort as though I were swimming through drying cement, I resurfaced, just barely proving my dominion over the desire. I focused on his voice so that it’d become clearer, forcing myself to take another excruciating breath in and exhale the fire out. “I will say I am honored to be the exception –– to be plucked from the masses by the renowned, reclusive Bella Cullen.”

With torturous effort, I snorted as though I wasn’t fighting everything within me to keep him alive. I breathed in again heavily, allowing my body to become a pyre so that I could speak. “Alright, that’s enough. Stop saying my name like that. And you’ve lost the privilege. I am never walking you to class again,” I rolled my eyes even though my joke could very much be the truth. The bunching of my muscles, the twitching of my hands, and the fierce pain in my throat reminded me of the fact. Before he could point out the contradiction of what I’d previously clarified, I sighed. “Let’s take this quiz.”

His pretty green eyes were alive with mischief and enlightened with what must be more answers to questions he hadn’t outright asked me as he turned to enter the classroom. I followed behind him towards our shared table.

Air from the vent rushed out, thrusting the scent of his blood wafting into my face again. I paused for an indistinguishable moment as I battled agony, murderousness, monstrosity. Holy fuck. What was I trying to prove! Was it really worth this? Swallowing hard, I sat beside him as though nothing happened. My suffering was so great that Emmett could have brutally ripped my arm off, he could have beat me with it, and I wouldn’t have noticed nor felt a thing. I could have been set on fire, and it’d feel like sinking into a cool pool of water on an even cooler day. I was already burning alive, my body acting as a furnace, and I was imprisoned inside it.

Without intending to, I sighed aloud, exhaling as though it would smother the flames. It was a stupid, attention seeking thing to do. Humans sighed to expel air or express some sadness or relief or exhaustion, so when my family emitted an audible breath, we did so as a means of blending in. But to breath out in a way to clue Edward into the fact something was plaguing me… it was a stupid invitation for more questions. And these were questions I had no intention of sharing the answers to. I felt his eyes on me, but before he could say anything, Mr. Molina began passing out quizzes face down on our lab tables as students continued to pile in from lunch.

“Alright, class. Today we have a pop quiz–– oh, come on, guys, don’t groan. You will have the opportunity to make corrections after these have been graded. This is just an assessment of what you’ve retained from this unit so far. You will have the entire period to complete–– thanks for joining us, Mr. Patterson, glad you could fit my class into your busy schedule. Why don’t you take your seat? –– You will have the entire period to complete your quiz. If you finish early, feel free to get a head start on this weekend’s homework! I’ve written the reading down on the board. Aw, I’m sure you’re all moaning because you’re disappointed at how light of an assignment it is because I just know how very excited you all are to continue your passionate pursuit of studying biology. Alright, now that everyone’s settled–– wait a minute––”  Mr. Molina paused, raising his pointer finger in the air, his eyes squinted in anticipation. Three seconds later, the bell signaled the beginning of class. “Begin!”

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Edward reluctantly turn away from me. In an elegant script, he wrote his name at the top of the paper and began his quiz. I turned away from him to look at my own paper, preparing myself to uncomfortably hold my breath for the next hour. The difference this made in my thirst was almost insignificant, but enough so that it gave me a tiny more leverage in my control. I smoothed out the pucker on my forehead with the eraser from my pencil, accidentally snapping the rubber off against my face. 

Absentmindedly, I began to breeze through the assessment, circling the correct answers, but my mind was more absorbed in the warmth of sitting beside Edward. Aside from the affliction of doing so, it was too pleasurable to have sat beside him so often and for so long today. I enjoyed the toastiness like a lizard basking in the sun. It made me recall the muddy human memory of laying out on a blanket in my backyard beneath my beloved blue Arizona sky, hiding beneath the small shade of a book. Not the blistering heat of a summertime Phoenix sun, but the warmth of the first day of spring. But the heat of Edward’s body alone was enough to fill my mouth with venom, so I tried to refocus my attention onto my quiz.

When I turned to the last page of questions, a motion beside me diverted my concentration once again. I peeked over, turning my head slightly in Edward’s direction to see what it was. As he thought over one of the questions, his right hand was moving peculiarly as he lifted and dropped down his long fingers almost as though he were impatiently tapping each digit one by one along the tabletop. Except the movement was more exact and calculatingly random. Engrossed, I watched as his his soft, fragile skin rippled over the muscle, the tendons appearing and disappearing with every bizarre movement. It took me a moment to make the connection between the large grand piano in his home and the motion of his hands. I realized he was miming piano movements while he thought through his answers. There was something both weird, funny, and endearing about this. I smiled to myself, not having the required oxygen to quietly laugh.

I felt his curious eyes flicker over to me and watched peripherally as he raised his eyebrows. I shook my head, biting down on my lip to unsuccessfully fight the smile, and returned to completing my quiz.

I finished a moment later and impatiently waited another ten minutes or so before I could turn in my work. I tried to ignore Edward for this small period of time at least, mentally reading myself the opening chapter to Wuthering Heights. Even though the words were committed to my memory, it was still never as good as actually reading from the book itself.

Once I’d decided an appropriate enough time had passed, I stood up to walk my quiz to the completed basket on Mr. Molina’s desk. Even having waited, I was still the first to finish the examination.

“Thank you,” the teacher whispered without breaking his focus away from the crossword puzzle he peered through his glasses at. I breathed in now that I’d placed some distance between myself and Edward, gladly facing the cool, fresh air from the vent.

“Neophyte,” I whispered back now that I’d replenished my oxygen supply.

“Excuse me?” He glanced up, his slightly aged face confused.

“Neophyte,” I repeated. “Eight across, two down.”

I took in one last clean breath and walked back to my seat as he tapped his pen across the squares of the space, mouthing his count of the letters to check if the word fit.

As soon as I took my place in my seat again, Edward stood up to walk his own quiz to the basket.

I wanted to watch him, but instead I forced myself to unzip my backpack and retrieve the biology textbook.

Busying myself with the assigned chapters, deciding to actually read them so as to not feed into my invasive Edward obsession, I couldn’t help but listen as Edward too placed his own textbook on the countertop.

I heard the scribble of pen on paper as he began to write what I imagined were notes until his large hand slid the paper over to me beneath the wall of my hair spilling over the desk. Well, I wouldn’t ignore him if he was the one deciding to bother me.

You know I’m pretty certain that cheating is a violation of the student handbook, but I’ll let you get away with it just this once.

I turned to glance at his face to see if he were serious. His eyes were warm and inviting, his mouth in the same crooked smile.

I took the piece of paper and looked around for my writing utensil that had gone missing somehow. My eyes zeroed in on a suspicious, tiny pile of wood dust on my side of the desk. When had I brutalized my pencil? He held his hand out to offer his own pen, and I accepted it, carefully plucking it from his fingers without making contact.

I wasn’t cheating. You were doing something funny. And what do you know about the student handbook? You’re new.

I slid the paper and pen back to him and watched as he combed a hand through his bronze hair, reading my response. The smile grew wider as he construed the biting tone of my note. 

Can I be let in on the joke? Edward wrote, turning to look at me once he was done. Again I was prisoner, though this time not to my own body. I was momentarily held hostage by the beauty and warmth of his light green eyes. I was understanding more and more the attraction the other students had for him. If I had a soul, it was as though he were staring straight into it.

I recovered, placing my hand atop the desk and then wiggling my fingers as though I were weaving my way through a very complicated piano piece.

Oh, Edward mouthed, immediately understanding. He silently laughed and placed his left hand to his forehead briefly as if to hide his face in mock embarrassment. The ink from the pen spilled onto the paper as he began to write again.

In my defense, there’s research that supports classical music puts students in a heightened emotional state, making them more receptive to information and helping them focus.

That’s very nerdy of you. I scribbled back, the corners of my lips pulled upwards.

I know. As I read the words on the notebook paper, we both laughed a little too loudly for the quietness of the room.

“Please remain silent for your classmates still working,” Mr. Molina stage-whispered from his desk, his eyes still fixated on the crossword puzzle.

It’s a bad habit. Edward tacked on to his message. I beamed. I knew a thing or two about bad habits today. I was appreciative of this silent conversation on paper; it made it easier to be beside him without needing to breathe to speak aloud.

What were you playing? I scrawled.

Clair de Lune. Edward wrote back. His thick eyebrows raised as my eyes lit up, and he continued writing. You know Debussy?

My mother used to play a lot of classical music around the house. It was one of my favorites.

It’s one of my favorites, too. Edward’s eyes were a little sad and lost in thought, and he smiled softly.

I was shocked by the change in expression and weirdly desperate to return the brightness back to his eyes. The burn in my throat was almost forgettable in the face of my concern. Almost, but not quite. He turned his head down to write on the paper again.

You said Rosalie played piano. You never learned? He turned to look at me, his expression curious. I shook my head and shrugged, reaching for the pen.

I didn’t think I had the coordination for it. While this was true for the time I was human, it wasn’t true now. Still, even though my days stretched into endless nights, I hadn’t yet devoted time to any instrument as an immortal.

Edward read the paper, his long pointer finger tracing the line beneath the words as he did so. He held his large hand out, and I dropped the pen into it.

I’ll show you sometime. Edward half smiled at me, his eyes sweet and earnest.

Knowing I shouldn’t be allowing him to think making a plans with me was an option, I reached for the pen to tell him that it was alright, but I froze as he suddenly moved to drop the pen and take my hand. Though he should have been the one hesitant and cautious as though approaching a dangerous, wounded animal, I held perfectly still as though he were the danger, and I needed to play dead for protection. You can’t play dead if you are dead, I thought to myself. 

My body tensed as my hand was enveloped in the heat of his much larger palm, uncertain as to what he was doing. My muscles screamed at me as I clenched my free hand into a tight fist, terrified of myself.

A shiver rippled through him as he felt the chill of my frozen fingers, and I twitched the hand in his possession, wanting to yank it away to protect him from the iciness but not wanting to alert him with the swiftness of the motion.

He smiled mysteriously at the spasm as though he somehow expected it. I wanted to ask him what he was thinking but didn’t want to risk breathing. My control could too easily be lost. Besides, I was scared that if I were to open my mouth, I’d end up screaming.

I felt him push slightly and realized he wished for me to curl my fingers, so with great concentration and the acute awareness of his fragility, I moved my stony hand into the shape he directed, my fingers curved slightly beneath his like a relaxed talon. I didn’t like the shape; it was odd and inhuman and made me think of the violence I could cause.

But it wasn’t a claw. Because once my hand was positioned the way he wanted, he began to slowly place pressure on my fingers, and I dipped and rose them accordingly to carefully move with his. I watched as the two of our hands together played what I imagined must be the opening chords to Clair de Lune.

The disconcerting emptiness in my chest soared at the bizarre pleasure of this touch, and a weird sensation tickled my scalp, moving swiftly down my spine to my entire body. 

My muscles tightened violently and then relaxed, sending a shiver to ripple through me. It was too much pleasure and too much pain as my throat ached and I leaned into the warmth.

Embarrassed and not wanting to push my luck, I cautiously pulled my hand slowly away. He lifted his hand to allow me to escape as though I couldn’t just break his hand to do so, a half-smile pulling on his lips. I pretended not to notice the goosebumps on his arms.

See? he mouthed before deciding to whisper. “You could do it.”

I forced myself to smile and then turned away for the rest of the hour, trying to keep from doing anything stupid like looking at him or killing him. I’d completely forgotten where we were.

When the bell finally rung, I collected my things atop the desk hastily. Edward reached for my backpack and held it up for me.

“Thanks,” I murmured as I dumped my books into the bag. Before I could take it from him, he slid it onto his back and nodded his head once for me to go forward.

Feeling awkward, I turned and allowed him to follow me to the door. I was lucky to walk in front of him, taking the opportunity to breath again as the vent blew out in front of my face.

Exiting the classroom, I paused for a second when I saw Emmett waiting for me across the hallway rather than his typical spot beside the wall of lockers next to our shared Spanish classroom. Even though I was well aware of the fact I’d been dangling my irresponsibility in their faces all day, I still felt as though I was being caught in the act.

Emmett’s eyebrows raised as his golden eyes watched Edward follow behind me, carrying my backpack. I crossed the hallway reluctantly towards my big brother.

“Hello,” I greeted him, avoiding his eyes. I felt smaller than ever beside him with my head down, and yet not small enough as I wished to disappear.

“Hey, little sis,” Emmett began uncertainly, though I glanced up to see his full lips were beginning to stretch into a smile that I didn’t like. “Who’s that with you?”

“Uh…”

“I’m Edward Masen,” the lanky human boy introduced himself confidently as he stopped beside me. “And you must be––”

“Emmett,” my brother interrupted, grinning as though he always so comfortably interacted with humans. This was all too weird, but he looked to be enjoying it far too much. His desire to mess with me and his confidence in Alice’s visions seemed to override the abnormality of speaking to a student so amicably. I watched as he breathed in and shot me a meaningful look. I grimaced.

I opened my mouth to put an end to this torturously awkward interaction, but Emmett interrupted again.

“It’s nice to see you made a friend,” he began, an evil glint in his eyes as he watched my face. I was confused as to where he was going with this because our entire family would come across as misanthropic to the rest of the school, so why should it matter to him. He turned his attention to look at Edward who was closer in height to him. “You know, we worry about her––”

“Okay, let’s go to Spanish,” I cut him off quickly. “Edward, can I have my bag, please?”

Without looking at him, I reached for my backpack as he offered it and threw it over my shoulder, heading down the hallway. It was a massive relief to put some distance between myself and Edward. My thoughts were clearer, and I could breathe freely.

Emmett burst into laughter, his guffaws booming in the hallway. Several students paused in fear making me concerned about Edward’s reaction to my giant of a sibling, but I relaxed when I heard Edward chuckling along with him.

“Um, see you,” Emmett said to Edward before his steady, near silent footfall followed after me.

Even moving at a lethargic human pace, he caught up to me quickly.

“That wasn’t funny,” I grumbled.

“What the hell are you doing?” Emmett chuckled, ignoring my question.

“What the hell are you doing? What was that back there?”

“I don’t know. That was weird, but not as weird as you playing with your food.”

I hissed quietly.

“Damn, I’m kidding, Bells. But seriously, what are you doing? What happened to your high and noble speech about doing the right thing and staying away from the kid? I thought Esme was about to produce real tears. It even softened Rose.”

“Ugh, don’t talk to me about Rosalie right now. She’s been giving me dirty looks all day. It makes me feel awful. I already feel bad!”

“Well, I don’t really care what you do either way so––” I looked at him questionably. “I mean, sure, I want you to do the right thing, whatever that means. I don’t want you to feel miserable. But on one end, I didn’t really mind so much what happened to me.”

“Rosalie did,” I countered.

“Yeah, Rose did,” he acquiesced quietly.

“Anyways, I’m not having that conversation. I wasn’t talking to him today to test whether or not he’s worth it. That’s… unethical.”

“So what were you doing?”

“I don’t know,” I groaned in answer.

Emmett laughed.

“You’re weird these days, Bella.”

“You’re weird everyday,” I quipped back before sighing. “I don’t know. He’s weird, too. I guess… I’m not making any decisions, at all, but if Alice told you what she told me… wouldn’t you be curious?”

Emmett thought it over. “Yeah, I think so. But I also don’t think I’d have even made it to this point,” he admitted. I winced.

“It’s kind of unfair for me to care more about satiating my curiosity and dance with the devil this way, right?”

“Well…he may not know it, but isn’t it more so that Edward’s the one dancing with the devil?”

“Yeah,” I agreed, frowning as we walked into our Spanish class. “I guess it is.”

I made the decision to avoid thinking of Edward for the remaining hour of school. I paid very little attention in Spanish, returning to the familiar mind-numbing boredom that classes had been prior to the last few days. Now that it was in stark contrast to the sudden life breathed into my time at Forks High School by my fixation with Edward, the tedium was no longer something dealt with indifferently and sluggishly. Now, it left me feeling restless, and it almost pained me how laborious it was to sit through a life I wasn’t an active participant in. It was nowhere near the pain of dealing with the excruciating thirst I had around my bronze-haired lab partner, but it almost tampered with my thoughts more knowing I’d feel less miserable if I spent this time analyzing every word Edward shared with me, every fluctuation of his tone, every glint in his perceptive eyes, every expression on his pretty face… But I was becoming too obsessive. The same hunger for adventure that made me fall in love with reading must be what was leading me to so treacherously, so impetuously dive into exploring this insignificant and yet cataclysmic difference in my life.

As though it had a personal vendetta against me, time moved even more lethargically than it ever had before, but finally, the bell signaling the end of school rang. Emmett’s eyes shot a concerned look at me as I rose from my seat too quickly, and I immediately felt embarrassed again. The cautious reminder in his expression made me feel childish as Emmett was never one to care much about bending the rules. 

“See you at home, I guess,” he shook his head, giving me one last look that seemed to suggest I’d lost it.

“See you,” I mumbled, slinging my bag over my shoulder. Leaving Emmett behind to wait for Rosalie, I weaved through the crowded hallway and out to the parking lot. Students were bundling together and squealing at the chilling air as tiny, fluffy snowflakes fluttered down from the overcast sky. The floor of the parking lot was almost as glassy as yesterday as the rain from this afternoon had melted into a thin layer of icy mush. Though there was hardly enough snow for a decent snowball fight, some of the rowdier students were bundling up a pitiful pile of snow to form pathetic snowballs in their fists.

I nearly skipped to the pearly white vehicle parked beside Rosalie’s overly conspicuous crimson car which was forming a small crowd of admirers. Leaning against the trunk of the car, I watched the front doors of the school to look for Edward.

The tangle of reddish-brown hair was easy to spot because of its strange metallic tint as he strolled out of the building with Naomi, the student who’d provided him with the information about my family on his first day. He had his coat folded over his arm, revealing how form fitting his light tan turtleneck was. He truly was a very attractive boy. It was odd that I hadn’t really paid much attention initially. With his dazzling face and tall, lean frame, Edward was pretty enough that for the vampires who searched for exquisitely beautiful humans to create into even more stunning immortals, he could probably be a contender for someone to collect.

Thinking of how Emmett questioned my motives today, I quickly banished the idea of Edward as an immortal from my mind, even if it was only a hypothetical inspired by my observation.

Edward paused, asking Naomi if she could hold on to his backpack for a moment. When she grabbed it, he pulled on his long black coat, and fiddled with the collar. Recollecting his backpack, he slid it onto one shoulder, then rubbed his hands together, blowing the warm air from his mouth to heat them up. Thinking of the sweetness of the smell of his breath made me remember to take in swallows of fresh air before he made his way over to me.

As he was distracted momentarily, I watched as a stray snowball flew towards Edward’s head. I was overcome with the urge to intercept it in the event it may hit him too harshly and knock him to the pavement, but flying across the parking lot inhumanly fast twice in one week was probably not the way to go about correcting my mistakes.

The soggy snowball crashed into Edward’s hair, exploding into shards of ice and water that slid down his prominent cheekbone. I laughed aloud at his shocked expression as the curtain bangs framing his face were immediately drenched, darkening his hair into a brown color. Once he’d realized what happened, his face broke into a good-humored smile.

“Holy shit! Sorry, Edward!” The classmate who had thrown the snowball with poor aim called out.

“No worries!” Edward called back. He shook his head, chuckling as he wiped the water from his face. As he laughed, his eyes found the space where I waited and brightened seeing that I, too, was enjoying the moment.

“Hey, I’ll see you tomorrow,” he told Naomi, who was too beside herself in tears of laughter to reply.

Edward sauntered over towards me, and I inhaled deeply as a fortuitous whisper of wind blew from the tree line. I held onto the notes of crisp eucalyptus, fresh snow, and cedar wood, trying to distract my mind from the offensively mouthwatering scents approaching me.

Edward was a coordinated human, but even he lost his footing on the icy pavement. His body slid forward for a moment, but I stepped towards him to close the space between us and caught him by the elbow.

He looked up from his boots against the frozen parking lot into my eyes, startled momentarily at the swiftness in which I had appeared. Then, his full lips lifted into a crooked smile that creased his astonishing green eyes into half moons. I let go immediately and took a big step back to ensure a safer distance between myself and the warmth of his fragile body. It had been a risky movement, but somehow in comparison to yesterday, it didn’t seem to matter as much. I figured our classmates were too involved in their gawking at the details of my sister’s car or their feeble, slushy snowball fight to notice, and oddly, I didn’t care that Edward had seen. It was beginning to feel too late to keep up certain pretenses.

Although, it wasn’t too late, and it shouldn’t feel that way. I reminded myself I still had every intention of leaving Edward alone once I’d figured out what was so compelling about our paths crossing that had Alice’s visions spiraling in a confusing jumble. I took another step back slowly.

“Thank you,” Edward said, his eyes humored with another secret he didn’t seem willing to share. “You keep saving me.”

“Well, let’s not make this damsel in distress thing habitual,” I snorted, turning so that he couldn’t see the smile forming on my face. I felt shy about showcasing any comfort or happiness in his presence now that I was reminded of how fleeting this experimental friendship was, but I wondered if subconsciously I wanted him to catch me in my misery and ask me to explain, though I wasn’t certain why I wanted to sabotage myself like that. I opened my door and turned to look at him again. “You coming?”

Before he could answer, I dipped into the driver’s seat, and breathed in one last time. Well, once this was all over, I could finally stop inhaling dramatically as though they were truly my last, dying breaths. The air was mostly clean of his scent, but I knew that regardless, the heat of his body would be enough to disrupt my comfort and control. As the thought crossed my mind, I painfully swallowed back the venom pooling beneath my tongue.

Edward swerved through the crowd obsessing over Rosalie’s car and opened the passenger door, sliding into his seat. As he placed his backpack on the floor and fiddled with his seatbelt, I made sure to adjust the air conditioning so that the heat could warm Edward from the frigid Forks air. Though for me, just being in his presence made the intimate interior of the car feel as though I were again sitting by his fireplace.

“That’s a beautiful car,” he murmured. “Is it an M8?”

“Uh, it’s a BMW?” I asked uncertainly as though he’d spoken another language.

Edward grinned as though he wanted to laugh but didn’t want to make me angry. Rosalie would have loved to answer all his questions if he too had an interest in cars. Would have loved to, if she wasn’t deeply offended by my actions or if I had any intention of Edward meeting any more of my family members.

“Ready?” I bit my lip as I forced out any inconsiderate plots of murder that threatened to distract me from being a defensive driver.

“Mhm,” Edward answered.

I reversed out of the parking slot slowly, but as I looked in the rearview once I’d straightened out, I saw the fleeting image of Rosalie’s exquisitely beautiful and exceptionally angry face. I quickly readjusted the mirror to remove my sister’s reflection and sped out of the parking lot in a way that could have taken out a few unlucky students if I didn’t have above average years of driving experience.

Peripherally, I watched as Edward’s thick eyebrows raised, but he decided not to question me. Once we’d reached the main road, I slowed my speed so as not to rush through this time, even though I knew for his safety and my sanity, I should. As I drove, his right hand moved in odd shapes again against the arm rest of the passenger side door as though he were playing piano once more.

I decided to bite and use up some of my limited air supply.

“What are you playing?”

“Clair de Lune again,” he replied. Then, he began to hum the melody aloud for me as he moved his hand.

I thought to offer to play the song for him through the speakers, but I decided against it as I listened to Edward’s soft, velvety voice hum beautifully through the song, breaking the silence.

The ugly, slush-like falling of snow transformed into a falling of rainwater, and Edward’s voice was orchestrated by a lovely symphony of raindrops.

Before his voice could weave into the more involved moments of the piece, Edward stopped.

I looked over at him, curious for the reason as to why. His face was turned away from me so that all I could see was his untidy bronze hair as he gazed out the window. I pulled in front of his driveway and parked against the curb.

Miraculously, I’d made it again. Carefully, I inhaled through my nose to experiment with my control. The sweet bouquet of the boy’s blood was potent and even more mouthwatering than usual from the snow turned rain that’d wet his hair. I hadn’t considered the possibility that he could smell better than before, and I kept myself from groaning aloud as I dug my nails into my own palms. The tingling sensation in my nose was as though I’d sniffed some powerful chemical, the burning sensation in my throat as though I’d taken a long drag of a cigarette. But more painful. More demanding. Desire, need flew from my core out towards my extremities, and the beating of his heart pumping the blood through his body drummed loudly in my ears. It seemed to move through me, my frigid body almost twitching with every pulse, ready to lunge forward and crush his neck to my lips.

“What was your mother like?” He asked me suddenly, his voice soft. Edward turned from the window to face me, and I was bewildered by the intensity of his expression. His eyes were light and beautiful against the gloomy grey of the sky, and they squinted slightly as though studying my face like this information was absolutely essential. But this was not what stunned me, as I’d already seen the severity of this expression before in our ephemeral time together. It was the unexpected vulnerability of his stunning face. The more time I spent looking at him, the more I realized how beautiful this human boy really was. And it seemed a great tragedy for this beautiful boy to harbor such devastation in his eyes.

Whereas previously in his presence, my thoughts had become incoherent due to a lapse in control, now my thoughts were incoherent in distress and desperation to understand what had gone wrong and how I could fix it. I was momentarily dumbfounded, but I pulled myself together after the soft sound of a few droplets of rain against the roof reminded me that he was waiting for an answer.

“Well, she looked a lot like me, but prettier,” I began stupidly. He raised his eyebrows. “Or at least, she used to look a lot like me, and I used to look a lot like her. I don’t so much anymore.” It’d been so long since I’d really spoken about my mom, and I wasn’t sure if I wanted to laugh or cry. I knew I should have made some comment about whether or not she looked like Esme or Emmett since our story made us siblings, but I didn’t want to taint the rarity of sharing who she was with a lie.

“She was more outgoing than I am,” I continued, thinking through the foggy memories I held onto from my human life.

“That’s difficult to believe,” Edward teased quietly, his lips curving into a half smile.

I laughed, listening to the melodic sound of it, thinking of how it symbolized how very much different I was now from the human girl my mother knew.

“I was always very shy,” I smiled, before speaking up again, caught in the echoes of my past. “She was brave and irresponsible and slightly eccentric. And she was a very unpredictable cook!”

I laughed aloud again thinking of some minor explosions in our tiny kitchen and some questionable dishes. Edward laughed too, but when our laughter faded into the falling of the rain, my smile faded.

“She wasn’t perfect,” I admitted. “I think I recognize now that she was very fallible. I worshipped her when I was younger, but when I think back, I do see how in some of the ways she raised me, I was done a disservice… I grew up too fast. When she died––“ I sighed, feeling insincere and guilty about perpetuating this lie when I really should have said when I died, “––Esme became more of a mother to me, and even Rosalie’s been more traditionally nurturing than my mom ever was… But still, she was my best friend.”

“You miss her,” he murmured simply. I met his gentle eyes.

“Yes,” I bit my lip.

“How old are you, Bella?” Edward asked. “And not the formulaic, theorized version where you were born in your thirties. How old are you really?”

I tensed, wondering if he was asking this again because he’d taken note of how I didn’t directly answer this question the last time he asked.

“Seventeen,” I answered automatically.

“You don’t seem seventeen,” he responded, reproachful.

The tension left my body at the tone of his voice. I smiled again easily.

“Sorry?” I asked, biting my lip to hide the smile, unsure of how to respond.

Edward chuckled and the subtle crinkles by his eyes lit up his face. “Well, I wish you’d been given a happier, normal childhood.”

“I’m fine,” I shrugged, brushing it off. “I hardly remember most of it, and what I do remember reminds me that I probably didn’t have much chance at a normal childhood to begin with. I was terribly shy, remember.

“I did do girl scouts, though….Oh, and ballet briefly,” I admitted, unsure as to why I was volunteering so much information about myself. Wasn’t the purpose of me sitting here to uncover information about him?

“Why does that make you… embarrassed?” Edward’s eyebrows pulled up.

For an odd moment, I felt betrayed by the flush of my cheeks before I realized there was no blood rushing to my face. I blinked, bewildered by the peculiarity of this long buried instinct to become frustrated with my easy blushes when I hadn’t blushed for years. I felt self conscious as I wondered what Edward saw reading my expression to so perfectly decipher my feelings.

“I was very uncoordinated,” I dismissed his question as I fought the urge for my hand to flutter to touch my cool cheek.

“Now that truly is difficult to believe,” Edward half-smiled. “I can’t imagine I’ve seen anyone as graceful as you.”

I laughed aloud at his compliment, though I didn’t doubt his sincerity. I knew this was true of myself. It was true of all of our kind to appear fluid and effortless, but still, no one had ever applied the word to me. My vampiric poise was irrelevant and unimpressive to my family, and the very few humans brave enough to overcome their nerves to compliment me typically found their words to fail them.

“You’re very odd,” I beamed.

“What do you mean?” The bronze-haired boy asked, again wanting to be let in on the secret. While I had an insatiable thirst, it seemed he had an insatiable curiosity.

“How old are you really? Your word choice is bizarre for someone your age, you know.”

“Oh,” he laughed easily. “Well, I’m actually not seventeen. I’m eighteen. But I’ll try to strictly adhere to a more teenage vernacular, so I can compliment you in a more acceptable way from now on.”

I looked out at the dim light of the brewing storm, my smile fading as I decided that I should probably allow him to escape me before I did something I’d regret. But I knew I wasn’t resolved enough to completely leave him alone. He made me monopolize too much of the conversation, and I wasn’t satisfied with what I knew about him yet.

I sighed aloud, and Edward, too, looked out at the rain darkened sky.

“Will I see you tomorrow?” he asked hopefully, making the assumption that our conversation was coming to an end.

“Yes,” I promised reluctantly. My eyes flickered back over to his pretty face, studying the lines of his strong jaw, his chiseled cheekbones, his full lips, committing this inconsequential face to memory as I silently resolved that this should be –– and would be –– one of the last times I’d allow myself to be this close to him. Tomorrow may well be the very last.

Likewise, as though his thoughts were in the same vein, his beautiful green eyes studied my face as well, though he did so in that mysterious way of his where he looked at me as though hoping to read my mind.

He sighed, then collected his backpack. Edward opened the door, stepping out into the bitterly cold weather. A shiver ran through his lanky body, making my body tense with perverse excitement. I cringed away from the deadly instinct and swallowed against the dryness of my yearning throat.

Edward’s tall, lean frame leaned down to peek into the car.

“Goodnight, Bella,” he spoke softly.

“Goodnight, Edward,” I almost whispered, gazing into the beauty of his dazzling green eyes.

Edward smiled his half smile, and closed the door, escaping into the building torrent of rain.

I gasped in relief at his absence, then stiffened realizing how the cab of the car was still heavily perfumed with his scent. I took in another deep breath, forcing myself to confront the burning thirst again, willing myself to manage it. I sighed as I hit the gas, making Edward disappear behind me.

  Both my control and the rain pour strengthened significantly as I turned onto the long drive leading to my house. I grimaced as I wondered how I’d face my family and explain the complete reversal of what I’d promised to do. I didn’t have time to consider for much longer as suddenly, a figure appeared instantaneously in the drive. I slammed my foot on the brake immediately in shock at its appearance, not wanting to total yet another car against one of my siblings.

I peered through the windshield, unable to see through the complete downpour that submerged my vehicle as though it were underwater. It was annoying for my perfect sight to be obstructed by anything, rainwater or even the transparent windshield because of my eyes’ desire to focus on the microscopic scratches.

The car violently screeched against the muddy pavement, and it looked as though we would have to bid this car goodbye until the figure hidden by the storm placed their hands out on the car roughly and forced it to a stop. The tires screamed in protest, and the metal groaned as it warped into the shape of the palms. I listened as it unnaturally bent again in a piercing moan as the figure fixed the indentions they’d created.

My windshield wipers swatted away a flood of water. Finally, I could make out my sister Rosalie, her hair dripping wet down her back like a supermodel who’d just emerged from a pool on the cover of Sports Illustrated. Her exquisite face was absolutely furious.

I gulped, feeling like a child who’d just been discovered sneaking home past curfew.

I felt uncertain as to what to do and why she’d chosen to stop me here. Surely she could wait for us to be under the cover of the garage before she chastised me. Not wanting to be drenched by the rain, I revved the engine to ask her to move aside, but the car didn’t inch forward against her strength. Beginning to feel annoyed, I revved the engine again loudly and for longer, but still, she didn’t move.

“Rose,” I hissed as I hit the brake again so that the car could roar viciously in the storm, only to be cut off by the voice of my adopted mother.

“Girls!” I couldn’t see Esme through the obscured glass behind the downpour, but even with the barrage of the rain, I could hear her lithe steps run furiously to the front porch. “Please!”

Rose’s head snapped up to look in Esme’s direction before turning to glance unhappily back at me. She stepped aside, and I sped into the garage, parking the car hastily.

I exited immediately and went to expect the damage to the front of the hood. It was only a minuscule bend from having been pushed and prodded back and forth, and I was positive Rosalie could make it look like new, though why it had been necessary to punish the car was beyond me. It wasn’t even mine.

I wheeled around once I’d heard the near-silent steps of her run, a wave of anger making me forget my guilt.

“Are you insane?!” I demanded.

“I could ask the same of you, Bella!” Now free from the obscurity of the rain, I could see in perfect detail the stunning fury of her glorious face. Her golden hair had been darkened by the rain, and it was slicked back effortlessly, like a glittering waterfall down to the middle of her back. She looked like a wrathful god, but I couldn’t find it in my stubbornness to care about how valid her anger may be.

“Okay, but did you have to take it out on the car? What did it ever do to you! You couldn’t have waited another twenty seconds to confront me? Well, you have my attention now, Rosalie, so say whatever it is you want to say!”

“You’re just unbelievable, Bella!”

“He’s not going to say anything, Rose! We already talked about this yesterday. You heard Alice! He’s not a threat to you and Emmett, so I don’t understand why you’re taking this so personally.”

“Exactly, Bella. I heard Alice. Which is precisely why I fail to understand as to why you wouldn’t understand why I’d take it so personally. After all these years of sisterhood, how can you not understand how I feel about this?”

I frowned, my forehead puckering, but still, I retained my anger. She huffed, continuing.

“If it was an inevitability, I’d understand. However, it hurts me deeply that you recognize the choice that you have. The choice that Edward has. And still, you’re willing to play with his mortality as though it were a game, when I never had that choice.”

I froze, the realization dawning on me that she was right. No matter the ways in which I tried to justify my actions or spin my intentions, she was right. Another part of my mind acknowledged that while I was aware of right and wrong, I wasn’t certain that what was right would be enough to keep me away anymore.

We stared each other down much like we had yesterday. Only today, rather than anger, her face was contorted in hurt, and mine was contorted in hopelessness.

“But… you found Emmett when he was still human…” I weakly protested, selfishly trying to highlight the irony, though I knew it was pointless as I wasn’t advocating for Edward to be changed either. That was too complicated a thought to wrap my mind around. But whatever may happen –– and I was still very much aware of the worst of possibilities –– I didn’t want my sister to hate me for it.

“He was dying, Bella,” Rosalie whispered. The anger on her face had completely faded, and in its place, pain marked her eyebrows, her full lips, her golden, sad eyes. In her sadness, she looked like a work of art, like one of those paintings of a weeping saint. “It’s not the same.”

I didn’t have a response to that, and I felt as though I was at an impasse, both with myself and with Rosalie. Because I knew the promises I’d made and broken, but I knew the promise I’d made to Edward today, and I had no willpower, no desire, and no intention to break that promise.

“You may not feel anything for him now,” Rosalie began, her eyes intently fierce as they bore into mine to warn me. Only this warning felt significantly more horrible than I’d imagined it may be, because it wasn’t made in anger, but in desperation and love. “But if Alice is right, you will. And it seems to me a horrible way to repay someone you love to steal their life, their future, their soul from them. You should leave him alone now while you still can, because once you love him… it’ll only hurt more one way or another. And you’ll have to live with that for the rest of your existence. I know I have.”

And with that, Rose turned, her face cold and sad, and she left the garage.

[michaelbogild]

Quotes by Lord Byron

Adversity is the first path to truth.

All farewells should be sudden, when forever.

All who would win joy, must share it; happiness was born a twin.

Always laugh when you can, it is cheap medicine.

And dreams in their development have breath, And tears, and tortures, and the touch of joy; They leave a weight upon our waking thoughts, They take a weight from off our waking toils, They do divide our being.

And gave no outward signs of inward strife

And mind and dust- and passions and pure thoughts

And when we think we lead, we are most led

As long as I retain my feeling and my passion for Nature, I can partly soften or subdue my other passions and resist or endure those of others.

Be thou the rainbow in the storms of life. The evening beam that smiles the clouds away, and tints tomorrow with prophetic ray.

Being of no party, I shall offend all parties

Between two worlds life hovers like a star, twixt night and morn, upon the horizon's verge.

But what is Hope? Nothing but the paint on the face of Existence; the least touch of truth rubs it off, and then we see what a hollow-cheeked harlot we have got hold of.

But what is Hope? Nothing but the paint on the face of Existence; the least touch of truth rubs it off, and then we see what a hollow-cheeked harlot we have got hold of.

But who, alas! can love, and then be wise?

But words are things, and a small drop of ink, Falling, like dew, upon a thought produces That which makes thousands, perhaps millions think

Come, lay thy head upon my breast and I'll kiss thee unto rest.

Dark-heaving; boundless, endless, and sublime, The image of Eternity, -- the throne Of the Invisible! even from out thy slime The monsters of the deep are made; each zone Obeys thee; thou goest forth, dread, fathomless, alone

Death, so called, is a thing which makes men weep, And yet a third of life is passed in sleep.

Eat, drink and love...the rest is not worth a nickel

Eternity forbids thee to forget.

Even innocence itself has many a wile, And will not dare to trust itself with truth, And love is taught hypocrisy from youth

For Earth is but a tombstone

For the sword outwears its sheath, And the soul wears out the breast, And the heart must pause to breathe, And love itself have rest.

For there was soft remembrance, and sweet trust In one fond breast, to which his own would melt, And in its tenderer hour on that his bosom dwelt.

For truth is always strange; stranger than fiction.

Friendship may, and often does, grow into love, but love never subsides into friendship.

Had they been wisely mingled; as it is

Hath all the energy which would have made

he knew how to make madness beautiful

I am ashes where once I was fire...

I am so changeable, being everything by turns and nothing long - such a strange melange of good and evil.

I can never get people to understand that poetry is the expression of excited passion.

I do not believe in any religion, I will have nothing to do with immortality. We are miserable enough in this life without speculating upon another.

I feel my immortality over sweep all pains, all tears, all time, all fears, – and peal, like the eternal thunders of the deep, into my ears, this truth, – thou livest forever!

I had a dream, which was not at all a dream.

I have a great mind to believe in Christianity for the mere pleasure of fancying I may be damned.

I know that two and two make four - and should be glad to prove it too if I could - though I must say if by any sort of process I could convert 2 and 2 into five it would give me much greater pleasure.

I linger yet with Nature, for the night Hath been to me a more familiar face Than that of man; and in her starry shade Of dim and solitary loveliness, I learned the language of another world.

I only go out to get me a fresh appetite for being alone.

I slept and dreamt that life was beauty; I woke and found that life was duty.

I suppose I had some meaning when I wrote it; I believe I understood it then.

In secret we met - In silence I grieve, That thy heart could forget, Thy spirit deceive. If I should meet thee After long years, How should I greet thee? - With silence and tears

In solitude, where we are least alone

In vain!—As fall the dews on quenchless sands, Blood only serves to wash Ambition's hands!

It is an awful chaos-light and darkness-

Life's enchanted cup sparkles near the brim

Love will find a way through paths where wolves fear to prey.

Mix'd, and contending without end or order

My pang shall find a voice.

Oh too convincing - dangerously dear - In woman's eye the unanswerable tear

On with the dance! Let joy be undefined!

One certainly has a soul; but how it came to allow itself to be enclosed in a body is more than I can imagine. I only know if once mine gets out, I’ll have a bit of a tussle before I let it get in again to that of any other

Opinions are made to be changed – or how is truth to be got at?

Prometheus-like from heaven she stole The fire that through those silken lashes In darkest glances seems to roll, From eyes that cannot hide their flashes: And as along her bosom steal In lengthened flow her raven tresses, You'd swear each clustering lock could feel, And curled to give her neck caresses.

Roll on, thou deep and dark blue Ocean - roll! Ten thousand fleets sweep over thee in vain; Man marks the earth with ruin - his control Stops with the shore

She walks in beauty, like the night Of cloudless climes and starry skies; And all that's best of dark and bright Meet in her aspect and her eyes

Sigh to the stars, as wolves howl to the moon...

Sleep hath its own world, A boundary between the things misnamed Death and existence: Sleep hath its own world, And a wide realm of wild reality, And dreams in their development have breath, And tears and tortures, and the touch of joy.

So, we'll go no more a-roving So late into the night, Though the heart still be as loving, And the moon still be as bright.

Sorrow is knowledge, those that know the most must mourn the deepest, the tree of knowledge is not the tree of life.

Start not—nor deem my spirit fled: In me behold the only skull From which, unlike a living head, Whatever flows is never dull.

The best of prophets of the future is the past.

The bright sun was extinguish'd, and the stars Did wander darkling in the eternal space.

The dew of compassion is a tear

The drying up a single tear has more of honest fame than shedding seas of gore.

The great art of life is sensation, to feel that we exist, even in pain

The great object of life is sensation—to feel that we exist, even though in pain. It is this ‘craving void’ which drives us to gaming—to battle—to travel—to intemperate but keenly felt pursuits of every description, whose principal attraction is the agitation inseparable from their accomplishment..

The heart will break, but broken live on.

The morn is up again, the dewy morn, With breath all incense, and with cheek all bloom, Laughing the clouds away with playful scorn, And living as if earth contained no tomb,— And glowing into day.

The power of thought is the magic of the mind.

The thorns which I have reap'd are of the tree I planted; they have torn me, and I bleed. I should have known what fruit would spring from such a seed.

There are four questions of value in life... What is sacred? Of what is the spirit made? What is worth living for, and what is worth dying for? The answer to each is same. Only love

There is a pleasure in the pathless woods, There is a rapture on the lonely shore, There is society, where none intrudes, By the deep sea, and music in its roar: I love not man the less, but Nature more

There is music in all things, if men had ears.

There is no instinct like that of the heart

There is the moral of all human tales: ’Tis but the same rehearsal of the past, First Freedom, and then Glory - when that fails, Wealth, vice, corruption - barbarism at last. And History, with all her volumes vast, Hath but one page

There's music in the sighing of a reed; There's music in the gushing of a rill; There's music in all things, if men had ears; The earth is but the music of the spheres.

Think you, if Laura had been Petrarch's wife, he would have written sonnets all his life?

This should have been a noble creature: he

Those who will not reason, are bigots, those who cannot, are fools, and those who dare not, are slaves.

Though the night was made for loving, And the day returns too soon, Yet we'll go no more a-roving By the light of the moon.

Tis sweet to know there is an eye will mark our coming, and look brighter when we come

To have joy, one must share it.

To him the magic of their mysteries; To him the book of Night was opened wide, And voices from the deep abyss revealed A marvel and a secret.

Truth is a gem that is found at a great depth; whilst on the surface of the world all things are weighed by the false scale of custom.

We of the craft are all crazy. Some are affected by gaiety, others by melancholy, but all are more or less touched.

Who knows whether, when a comet shall approach this globe to destroy it, as it often has been and will be destroyed, men will not tear rocks from their foundations by means of steam, and hurl mountains, as the giants are said to have done, against the flaming mass? - and then we shall have traditions of Titans again, and of wars with Heaven...

Why I came here, I know not; where I shall go it is useless to inquire - in the midst of myriads of the living and the dead worlds, stars, systems, infinity, why should I be anxious about an atom?

With just enough of learning to misquote.

Yet he was jealous, though he did not show it, For jealousy dislikes the world to know it

You don't love a woman because she is beautiful, but she is beautiful because you love her. Never underestimate the power of love. The way to love anything is to realize it may be lost. The heart has its reasons that reason does not know at all. Music is love in search of a word. There is pleasure in the pathless woods; there is a rapture on the lonely shore; There is society, where none intrudes, by the deep sea, and music in its roar.

[havetheavengersdoneanythingwrong]

An Interlude — The Unknown Expanse

A fearful baker lost his calendar yesterday, and a month passed—

And ever since that year went by, the coward has lost sight of everything but the false safety of ‘home.’

That decade passed without word, without sound, as the baker faded away from the world —

—until, that second later, a message from ‘someone.’

—

I lost my calendar yesterday.

Last April.

It’s been a long time since I’ve seen it. Seconds, maybe, or hours. It could be days.

A light shines underneath the door, for a moment, and flickers off. It illuminates hardwood floor — its texture worn down over months of use, light barely showcasing whatever cracks remained after all that pacing, just before vanishing as quick as it came.

It could’ve been anyone — my parents, perhaps, or someone else entirely — but it felt the same.

It all felt the same. A grip surrounding my neck, that forced the breath out of me, its spare hand rearranging my stomach to tie itself into hundreds of knots.

Dread, wasn’t it? That was its name. That horribly, sputtering feeling, that bit into your heart and ground its teeth relentlessly until all you could think of was passing out to halt the pain.

Darkness surrounded my vision — the tunnel vision that built up, certainly, and the darkness of the place I called ‘home.’

In the shimmer of my light, someone could easily see a target of burglary — someone to steal from — through a window that wasn’t boarded up from the inside just yet.

Compared to that, the endless darkness surrounding me was preferential, if not optimal. The fear of possible insects, of beings that scuttled in the night, was nothing compared to it.

‘Aah, wouldn’t it be nice, if...’

Even in my mind, I cut myself off thinking of a better idea.

Slipping in and out of consciousness endlessly — in this darkness, time was impossible to understand. ‘Sleep’ and ‘awake’ melded into one whole, two lovers apart by circumstances now waltzing together in the haze. Only ever seeing daylight in the times I ate, it was all too easy to mistake reality for fiction, and fiction for reality.

‘...It’s better like this, isn’t it?’

Aah, for all I knew, it was reality that this was all there was — that thieves and criminals existed only in my head, and that the world outside was only an illusion made to hurt me.

Was that reality?

Was that truly reality?

...Or had my eyes closed again?

—

I was 14.

14, 13, 10, 15–

The first incident is impossible to recall in the soup of ‘happenings.’

Twenty dollars — a little dollar bill I held close to my chest, moving slowly through the Toronto streets that lay just outside my home.

The bakery, ‘Roland’s Pastries,’ lay just a stone’s toss away — a half hour walk from our home. My father’s business, one he pridefully named off his last name, and the focus of the pastime we enjoyed more than anything else.

More than even the base jumping my father enjoyed, or the parkour stunts my mother taught to a generation of gymnasts —

Was a simple pastry, made delicately and kindly, warm to the touch, to sweeten even the sourest of days.

To call it my dream to run that bakery one day would be putting it lightly. I could still remember the shimmering gaze I always directed at its structure, the way my parents joined their staff to produce the best quality they could manage. I could still remember the first loaf of bread I helped make — even though it rose poorly, and didn’t taste the best, the gleaming smiles of my family stayed with me.

Yes — today was the day I was going to buy my own baking materials. Twenty dollars wasn’t much, but I wanted to contribute something to the next loaf of cinnamon bread we made.

A man brushed past me, however.

They wore a dark green rain jacket, and a grey shirt. Black jeans, too — they were impossible to miss.

Their face was a blur — a mismatched cloud of skin-shaped vapour in my mind, only a single bloodshot eye remaining in my mind.

It stared daggers into my skull, but I hadn’t noticed.

I was going to get some cinnamon. Maybe flour.

I was going to help. I was going to make cinnamon loaf.

I

I was going to

I was

I couldn’t make the

The hand reached out , and the gaze of the ‘person’ said it all -

Their hand remained in their pocket, but the outline of a <hand/dagger/gun>

Their hand reached to mine, and their <hand/dagger/breath>

The weight was gone in a moment, but the front door opened, and it

—

Aah,

So that was fictional.

Certainly, it were my dreams — separated from reality only by the fact that ‘nothing’ lay instead of ‘something’ before my eyes.

Darkness — the roots of unknown, of fear — felt comforting, compared to that.

The light outside my door was turned off. Shuffling could still be heard, though — and a gentle knock at my door.

“...It’ll be your birthday soon, son. If you want to celebrate... Just let me know, alright?”

...A calm, older male voice. My father.

Aah, how it was so pleasant to hear — how someone existed who could be that kind.

It must’ve been May, then —

...

“...I’ll think about it... Thank you, pops. Really.”

“Of course. Just... Let me know what you want, okay?”

...

Aah, how it almost felt like those older times —

—

...16.

I can still remember the first muzzle I stared down.

I was working the cashier booth at our bakery. Handling money, the works.

“Just smile and do whatever the customer says,” said my father. “If they cause any trouble, just call me and I’ll be here.”

He’d pat me on the back and send me on my way, with a list of basic instructions. Just the way I liked it — after all, words in general were in one ear and out the other when it came to me. Didn’t stop my mother from trying to speak a novel to me, but I could always rely on my pops to write down some of what to do.

Of course, those days usually went well — kind customers, kids with the cutest goshdarn smiles, and admittedly a fair few free cinnamon buns given to people who needed a pick-me-up.

I remember, one day —

“He’s been too slow lately. You need to punish him a bit, or he’s just going to stagnate like this.”

“He’s doing just fine for his age. He’s taking a load off our shoulders, handling customers, so I think he’s doing well.”

“You need to teach him a better work ethic.”

“He’s doing fine enough as is.”

I did have my slow days — where, suddenly, counting dollars didn’t mesh with my mind. Where in a matter of moments, I lost my desire to keep working, and I was fighting my mind to keep moving.

And this, of course, was one such day — the line was small, albeit, but I couldn’t deny I was a bit slow on the draw.

I remember counting out around forty dollars — around four of which were due in change.

Just enough time for—

...

...I was handed a note with the change. I open it, not thinking much of it-

“Empty the register, and say nothing, and nobody will get hurt.”

A teenager at the register of a bakery. The perfect target for a silent robbery.

Nobody was behind me — nobody could see his actions. Least of all the empty line behind this man, holding no witnesses in sight.

My family, arguing in the back, had no idea of what lay beyond that thin wall.

Just me — and the muzzle of a pistol.

It wasn’t possible to forget what the inside of a gun looked like.

A dark, empty void — reflecting what it could do to me, in an instant, if my hands now stopped.

The blur of repressed memory brought the scene into a haze —

—But hours after its completion, as that ‘me’ lay in horror, sobbing, I couldn’t help but listen —

“He’s misplaced most of our earnings for today! I told you that you had to discipline him better!”

—Aah,

They hadn’t known, had they?

—

Something — to nothing.

Faint, hazy memories dissolved like a tablet into water, as I felt something on my face.

I couldn’t see it, nor understand it in full — it were there, however, placed as if to irritate me specifically.

...I’d awoken in a cold sweat. Perhaps from the chilled air surrounding me, and the weak blanket I forgot to sleep under, I found my legs quivering when I tried to stand in the darkness — groping and feeling the air around me, stumbling into my bathroom to take a sip of water from the tap.

Even this darkness, this state of mind as if I hit the supercritical point of reality and dreams, felt comforting —

—Even the horrible memories of what once was could be dismissed as dreams, even the fear that came from living like this, and the fear of abandoning everything.

Here, reality was what you made of it — what you chose.

Lapping at the lukewarm tap water, barely reaching it, unable to see it save for the small reflections in the surface of the water itself, I heard a buzz on a nearby device.

My phone — charging there, waiting for something that would never come, began to vibrate.

“...What..?”

Unlocking my smartphone, I was met with a familiar image as my home screen —

—a young ‘me,’ eyes shining with delight, holding a loaf of cinnamon bread with utter care while grinning in pride.

“The only one who could take that was...”

...My phone began to ring.

A phone number I didn’t know — only one number off from mine, I realized. Out of curiosity, or perhaps loneliness, I placed my finger on the ‘accept’ button.

“Hey! I don’t know who you are, but we’re textdoor neighbours! Thought I’d say hello.”

...

...

“...Who are you..?”

“Uh, Ritsuka. Ritsuka Fujimaru. If it helps, I was the person who bingeplayed tekken and ate curdled yoghurt for superchats.”

“...”

...Had that much changed? How long had it been..?

“...Tell me more.”

—Somehow, it felt wrong to continue.

As if, by saying those three words, I was changing something that should have never been changed.

And yet — as my finger hovered over the button to hang up, the words fell out of my mouth instead.

Within the fear that lay in revealing who I was to a stranger —

—somehow, I felt as if this person was worth meeting.

Somehow, I felt as if something would change if I said something.

Something better would happen —

—surely, better than this.

[uwua3]

still with you (dandelion wishes).

🌸📝🌻🎨 minagi tsuzuru x miyoshi kazunari

summary: kazunari wishes on a dandelion for a wish that would never come true

warnings: break–ups, fake relationships, heartbreak, loneliness, unrequited love

author’s note: here’s some tsuzukazu angst! listened to this song and was reminded of [redacted] & had to take it out some way or another :) not a happy ending, forewarning (btw removed a verse)

your self worth is not based on if someone romantically loves you!!! it’s okay to be single, you don’t have to be in love 24/7 to be worth it to someone ♡ i hope you love yourself as much as you love others!

word count: 3,657

music: still with you – jungkook (bts) (please listen to this ♡ i’ve had this on repeat for almost 9 hours now TT)

YOUR THIN VOICE THAT GRAZES JUST PAST ME,

WOULD YOU CALL MY NAME JUST ONCE MORE?

THOUGH I’M STILL STANDING HERE, BENEATH THE FROZEN SUNSET

STEP BY STEP, I WANT TO WALK TOWARDS YOU

STILL WITH YOU

“Say my name.”

Kazunari begged, forcing Tsuzuru to look at him. Whatever they had, had been going on for too long, he knew that, but Kazunari wasn’t ready for it to end. Not now, not when this relationship they faked had become so real.

Tsuzuru shook his head, about to shake him off with force but Kazunari held onto his face, hands cupped around his cheeks like a lover would do. Tsuzuru stared in horror as Kazunari’s teary, red eyes peered back at him, his hands shaking against his skin, the uneven breathing pattern between Kazunari’s hidden sobs, it was too much to bear. How could he have let this happen? Why didn’t he say no?

“I–If you mean it, say it. Say my name.” Kazunari pleaded, smiling sadly when he gently wiped away a tear that had escaped Tsuzuru’s rapidly blinking eyes. Even though there was supposed to be no feelings between them, it broke their hearts to even be seeing each other like this. How could this have gone too far? Could he even speak right now?

Tsuzuru reached his hand up, placing it against Kazunari’s as if about to hold it for old time’s sake. But, before Tsuzuru could let himself embrace Kazunari selfishly, he pushed Kazunari’s hand down to his side with a firm ‘no’. Kazunari retracted his touch, stumbling back as if he had been physically pushed. He knew he was about to hear it, to witness the end of everything they had been through—

“Kazunari,” Tsuzuru started but stopped. Kazunari admired the way he glowed in the golden hour one last time, letting the tears stream freely down his face as he attempted a smile, but it was flawed and broken, just like their relationship. Tsuzuru wanted nothing more than to comfort him, to console him, take him home like none of this ever happened, but they could never go back to how things were before. It was impossible, it was too late to take it all back.

“I love you, Tsuzu—”

“I don’t love you, Kazunari.”

Silence.

“Did you ever?”

Then, Kazunari took a step forward, his arm reaching out, wishing for Tsuzuru to stay. But, nothing could have changed what just happened.

Tsuzuru ran off, leaving Kazunari to stand by himself with a mess he couldn’t fix at the pier that summer sunset afternoon.

IN THIS DARK ROOM, WITHOUT A SINGLE LIGHT

I SHOULDN’T GET USED TO THIS, BUT IT BECOMES FAMILIAR ONCE MORE

Kazunari could never handle being alone for too long, perhaps this was punishment for starting this in the first place. The light flickered above his head before shutting off completely, subjecting Kazunari to the tidal waves of the night as nothing but moonlight illuminated his surfaces. By the time he had arrived, Tsuzuru was no where to be seen. Gone, never the same ever again.

By now, they were supposed to be getting ready for bed, about to turn in early because Kazunari knew he was the only person who could make Tsuzuru close his eyes. They’d be tangled in their sheets, wanting nothing more than to be in each other’s embrace, whispering about anything with muffled laughter echoing between their four walls. They’d wake up together, and end the day together as always. Now, the truth was out. There was nothing to lie about anymore, nothing to pretend everything was alright for.

Kazunari laid alone that night, listening for a sound that Tsuzuru was still alive. Something just to prove to him he was real, wasn’t a figment of his crazy imagination, someone he truly did ruin everything with. Restless, Kazunari listened to the beat of the rain against his window pane as he left Tsuzuru’s side of the bed open, just in case he decided to come back.

Kazunari’s eyes fluttered closed, despite his best efforts to stay awake as the clock ticked onward, on and on without stop. It was true—Tsuzuru hadn’t come back for him.

I CAN HEAR THE SOFT HUMMING, THE SOUND OF THE AIR CONDITIONER

IF I DON’T EVEN HAVE THIS RHYTHM, I TRULY FEEL LIKE I MAY FALL APART

Kazunari woke up to the sound of endless typing, the rapid smashing of keys that only his ex–boyfriend could produce at an alarming rate. It was louder than the rain at this hour, and this was the scene where Kazunari would persuade him to come back to bed, the blankets warm and distance between them non–existent. But, Tsuzuru was a floor below, typing as if his life depended on it. He would stay up again, again and again every night without sleep until he finished whatever he was working on.

Kazunari pushed himself out of bed, blinking the tiredness away as he stumbled out of his room, not bothering to hide his exhaustion as Kazunari carried his pillow to Room 102. He leaned his ear against the door quietly, sinking to the floor once he heard Tsuzuru’s small remarks to himself when fixing grammatical errors. It was so... like him, that Kazunari just hugged his pillow closer and shut his eyes.

Kazunari wondered if Tsuzuru was writing about him, and what he could’ve been saying if that was the case. Kazunari knew what he’d already write, he already said it.

‘I’m in love with my best friend who could never love me back,’ Kazunari thought, feeling the cold dusk air brush past him as his back faced the courtyard, placing his pale hand against the door. The typing didn’t stop, even hours later as Kazunari finally stood up, shuffling back to his room. He looked over his shoulder, as if praying Tsuzuru would step outside so they could talk it over.

But, what was there to talk about except Kazunari caught feelings for someone who didn’t? That was rejection, plain and simple. Wrong feelings, wrong time, that’s all. Was that all there was, though?

About to walk away, something caught his attention out of the corner of his eye. Kazunari squatted down, picking at a weed growing at the corner of the pavement as it rustled in the wind. Plucking it from its roots, Kazunari tried to maintain a smile as he recognized the puffiness of the flower, a flower that just had to be growing outside of Tsuzuru’s door: a dandelion.

Making a wish, Kazunari blew on the dandelion and watched his wish fly into the sky as the night carried it far, far away.

Kazunari left the stem in front of Tsuzuru’s door.

LAUGHING TOGETHER, AND IN TEARS TOGETHER

IT MIGHT BE THAT THESE SIMPLE EMOTIONS, WERE EVERYTHING TO ME

Kazunari remembered the beginning of the end, how an innocent request had ended their years of friendship together. It was so late, where Kazunari was finishing up an university project as Tsuzuru was revising the final script for the upcoming Mankai production. He remembered looking up from his screen behind him, about to say something to disturb the peace but Kazunari couldn’t bring himself to.

Tsuzuru was already looking down at him, his fingers hovering above the keyboard mid–air. He seemed honest this time, his face bared with such fondness that his teal eyes were unintentionally staring. How long had Tsuzuru been looking at him like that? It must have been the tiredness, the lack of sleep for countless days as Tsuzuru’s half–open eyes were drooping lazily, a blissful, dreamy smile across his usual uptight expression.

“Date me.” Kazunari blurted out, shocking Tsuzuru awake as he stumbled to sit up straight, about to protest with the utmost confusion and denial. Before Tsuzuru could begin ranting about the situation at hand, Kazunari laughed as he stretched, yawning slightly with a humurous glance at Tsuzuru’s flustered expression.

“Don’t be so surprised, Tsuzuroon~ You know how I’ve been talking about wanting a boyfriend forever now.” Kazunari teased, pushing back to nudge Tsuzuru’s leg like friends would. He had been sitting besides Tsuzuru’s chair, leaning his head against the man’s thighs as he propped his laptop up on his own knees. Kazunari missed the way Tsuzuru spluttered, about to defend himself before Kazunari stood up, moving to stand behind his chair with his hands on Tsuzuru’s tense shoulders. Upon contact, Tsuzuru relaxed slightly as Kazunari leaned his lips besides Tsuzuru’s ear, smiling tiredly.

“We’re two college students who don’t have anything going on, right? I’m in need of romance, and you won’t have to worry about catching feelings for me, it can even be fake if you want.” Kazunari whispered, whether it was to avoid waking up the whole dorm or send a shiver running down Tsuzuru’s spine, who knows. Tsuzuru just gulped, trying his best to focus on the blinking cursor on his digital screen as his thoughts ran a mile a minute. The offer to be close with one another without the official commitment was so strange, it completely short–circuited his thinking process.

After a momentary lack of response, Kazunari just let out a small laugh without any sign of embarrassment. Just how often had he thought about this? “Think about it, okay?” Kazunari hummed, pulling back to go sit back down before a hand grabbed his wrist, yanking him towards Tsuzuru’s bewildered face, as if he couldn’t believe it himself.

The distance between them was next to nothing, and Kazunari waited as Tsuzuru found the right words, holding onto Kazunari as if he had to say it. Kazunari leaned over him, his wrist between them as Tsuzuru’s grip loosened like he had become aware of how, friendly this contact was.

“O–Okay.” Tsuzuru finally said, nodding as if to convince himself this wasn’t a weird scenario at all. Kazunari lifted his eyebrows in surprise, about to question Tsuzuru’s indecisiveness before Tsuzuru let go, letting Kazunari stand up to his full height. Tsuzuru cleared his throat awkwardly, as if their dynmamic had changed in an instant.

“Okay?” Kazunari asked, tilting his head slightly to gaze upon Tsuzuru’s flushed cheeks and stubborn pout upon his lips. It was so innocent of him, Kazunari could have imagined themselves not as their current university selves, but back then in elementary when they first met. Tsuzuru just nodded again, about to go back to typing before he held his fist out, his pinky lifted in the air.

“No feelings, right?” Tsuzuru confirmed, and Kazunari made the biggest mistake of his life that night, immediately looping his pinky finger with Tsuzuru’s as a promise.

“No feelings. Just two friends having the benefits of a super not official, non–commital relationship!” Kazunari joked, making Tsuzuru slightly huff out a laugh as they let go, perhaps holding onto each other’s pinkies for a bit too long. Kazunari sat on the floor again and resumed his work, Tsuzuru doing the same as the two shared each other’s company for the first time as “boyfriends”.

That pinky promise was the first to be broken in their newfound, fake relationship. Kazunari had fallen in love with his best friend who he knew would never feel anything back, and the rest was history.

I WONDER WHEN IT MAY BE, WERE I TO MEET YOU ONCE MORE

I’D WANT TO LOOK INTO YOUR EYES AND TELL YOU, I MISSED YOU

How could you move on from someone you weren’t even dating, to begin with?

Kazunari hadn’t even interacted with Tsuzuru in weeks. No looks were exchanged, no intimate touches only they’d do to each other, no more late nights together. How had this fake relationship idea Kazunari started backfire on him in the most catastrophic way possible? That was the number one rule they discussed, to tell the other person immediately if they felt anything.

Kazunari remembered the first time he told Tsuzuru he liked him much more than this convenient set–up allowed him to. It was at night again, after becoming familiar with the boundaries (or lack of) they had set up during a round of drinks, as Kazunari mindlessly played with Tsuzuru’s fingers. He had resorted to typing with one hand, letting Kazunari get his skin–on–skin fix as he just played with his hand like some cat. Tsuzuru was about to say something, turning his head but stopping to stare into Kazunari’s half–lidded eyes and lazy grin.

“Hi, Tsuzuroon.” Kazunari slurred together, placing a gentle kiss upon Tsuzuru’s knuckles casually, missing the way Tsuzuru flinched from the intimate contact. He guessed he did agree to this, just to appease Kazunari’s intense need to be clingy 24/7. But, Tsuzuru wasn’t aware it would feel so real, the kisses, the hugs, the hand–holding, it was all different now.

“Hello?” Tsuzuru said in a questioning tone before Kazunari moved in closer, barely a millimeter away as he seemed drunk under this light. Flushed face with unfocusing eyes, but with the same smile he reserved only for Tsuzuru.

“Tsuzu, why haven’t we kissed yet?” Kazunari rasped, his breath smelling like the fruity sojus he liked so much. Tsuzuru tensed, unable to answer. A moment passed, and Kazunari just kept smiling with no care in the world, moving to sit on his lap and blocking Tsuzuru’s view of the computer. It was like Kazunari purposely planned to take away all his attention tonight, not caring about the consequences.

“I want to kiss you, but,” Kazunari mumbled, wrapping his arms around Tsuzuru’s neck without restraint. Tsuzuru felt Kazunari brush his hair down, his nimble artist fingers threading through his messy bedhead carefully, like he could stop any time with just a single word. Kazunari’s breath on his neck made Tsuzuru want to pull him closer, but stopped himself, instead gripping the base of his chair with a frown.

“But?” Tsuzuru continued, watching Kazunari blink, gazing through his eyelashes with no shame, no filter whatsoever.

“But, I might fall in love with you.”

Tsuzuru let Kazunari lean in, Kazunari’s fear apparent through the way he ran his hands through Tsuzuru’s hair, keeping a safe distance between them regardless of the precarious situation. Right before he pressed his lips against Tsuzuru’s, Kazunari let out a shaky breath and closed his eyes.

“Stop me.”

Tsuzuru didn’t, and they both made a mistake that night. They never talked about it even though it violated their first rule. They would keep making every mistake until it caught up to them.

Kazunari picked his head up at the sound of someone at the kitchen entrance, escaping his memory as he turned his head towards Tsuzuru, who was sleepily staring at him. As if he couldn’t believe Kazunari was real, like he was just a dream hidden away at 3 A.M. The two boys looked back at one another, Kazunari sitting on a stool by the island as Tsuzuru gripped the door frame. Nothing but the moon was there to witness it all.

Kazunari was the first to leave, passing by to push a cup of fresh coffee in Tsuzuru’s hands, just the way he liked it. They didn’t say a word, there was nothing to say.

Except, Kazunari thought, I miss you.

WITHIN THE MEMORIES THAT ONCE SHINED

THOUGH I DANCE ALONE, THE RAIN STILL FALLS

WHEN THIS FOG CLEARS, I’LL RUN TOWARDS YOU WITH MY FEET WET

PLEASE HUG ME THEN

It was raining. Kazunari was soaking wet, his clothes he didn’t change out of clinging to his skin as it weighed him down, his hand hovering above the door. It was much too late to be outside, the rain slapping against the courtyard ground repetitively, his senses going into overdrive at the sounds surrounding the usually quiet night.

Kazunari was staring at Room 102’s door, unable to pick up the sound of Tsuzuru typing over the weather. Was he finally sleeping? Did he drink coffee earlier that night like he always did? Kazunari doubted he was taking care of himself, Tsuzuru never could sleep well at any time of the day, and he just wanted to come inside already. But, Kazunari knew he couldn’t, not after everything.

Kazunari selfishly wanted to re–enter Tsuzuru’s life again, be happy with his role as the best boyfriend ever with no strings attached. But, Kazunari’s heart beat faster when Tsuzuru simply looked at him, his attention was only focused on Tsuzuru even if he couldn’t have him, and his feet automatically led him to Tsuzuru’s dorm room late at night until he couldn’t handle it anymore. Kazunari was so in love with his best friend, someone who could never love him back, and his heart refused to accept it.

So, here he was, shivering from the cold and trying to muster all the courage in the world to just knock. To smooth over the situation, to fix the mess they had created from Kazunari’s unrequited feelings, just to be friends again. But, could they really go back to normal? After all those sleepless hours together, just wishing it could never end even though the whole thing was a set–up. Would it be better off to not hurt their delicate predicament even more, and just leave it be?

Kazunari was about to leave, turn around, and go back to his room like he did every night. Except, a yellow sliver of light escaped from the door cracked open, with Tsuzuru’s sleepy eyes readjusting to the brightness that was Kazunari. They both froze, unexpectedly finding themselves staring at each other with no motivation to move.

As the rain fell, Kazunari watched as Tsuzuru hesitated, his hand holding the door knob with uncertainity as if to let him in or not.

When Tsuzuru decided to shake his head and close the door, Kazunari’s tears felt like the rain.

IF I JUST KNEW,

THAT THIS WOULD COME TO HAPPEN

I WOULD HAVE THOUGHT TO KEEP IN MY HEART

MORE FROM THOSE DAYS, MORE FROM THOSE MOMENTS

Kazunari believed, foolishly believed for a second, maybe Tsuzuru loved him back. It was all the times they were caught exchanging moments like Cupid had struck them with the same arrow. Where Tsuzuru didn’t question if Kazunari faked being sick for the attention (he wasn’t), just gave him a piggy back ride even if he admitted Kazunari wasn’t exactly light. Tsuzuru let him hold on, like he was Kazunari’s actual boyfriend who really did care. Kazunari’s face was flushed for a different reason by the time they arrived back at camp.

Tsuzuru liked planning impromptu dates, blindfolding Kazunari and leading him to a perfectly arranged picnic at the park they frequented so much. Tsuzuru let Kazunari take care of his four little brothers, the younger ones convinced they were going to get married, even going trick & treating together. Tsuzuru began posing for pictures before Kazunari even had time to whip out his smartphone, already warming up to the idea of his boyfriend being social media obsessed and posted all the couple pictures in the world. Tsuzuru even liked reciting lines with him, practicing until the early hours of dawn with the newest script tight in his hand, emoting the character he wrote flawlessly. Kazunari would just watch, wondering how he got so lucky, and how long his luck would last.

Tsuzuru always claimed it was for the ‘script experience’, to further understand romance and write even better plays. But sometimes, Kazunari thought the character monologue about being in love sounded so familiar, so real, that it hurt him. Hearing it from another actor, but knowing his boyfriend was the one who wrote them, but not for him, was painful. Perhaps, Kazunari should have realized it, that Tsuzuru was just following the rules: being romantic so he’d improve as a playwright. But instead, Kazunari was blinded by his own emotions. He was too in love with someone who never could.

Kazunari wondered if he had fallen in love with a person who he imagined, not the true essence of who Tsuzuru was. But, he remembered all their time together, the memories, the experiences both old and new, and every little thing that made up Kazunari’s love. It couldn’t be, he couldn’t keep lying to himself anymore, Kazunari was in love.

In love, in love, in love; how unlucky.

But, was it all acting, then? Kazunari was walking somewhere, with urgency in his steps as he kept on going. He remembered every time where he looked up from his work, seeing Tsuzuru admire his rare solemn expression and later penning a description of beauty within silence. Closed his eyes and could see every moment where Tsuzuru leaned in too close and held his hand for far too long in any situation, initiating contact that was almost too personal, borderline breaking the rules. Was all of that, throughout their entire contract, as fake as their relationship?

Kazunari stopped at the pier, the pier where he soberly confessed he was in love with his best friend. Kazunari took in the sunset once again, seeing how it truly never went away. About to move on, Kazunari caught sight of someone standing in the same spot he got rejected from. As Kazunari took a step closer, Tsuzuru didn’t run away this time.

“I loved you.” Tsuzuru admitted without wasting his breath. Kazunari halted, finding himself in the same position all those months ago.

BEHIND THE FAINT SMILE YOU GAVE ME,

WHEN YOU LOOK AT ME, I WANT TO PAINT A BEAUTIFUL PURPLE LIGHT

THOUGH THE PACE OF OUR FOOTSTEPS MAY NOT ALWAYS BE THE SAME

I WANT TO WALK ALONG THIS PATH, TOGETHER WITH YOU

STILL WITH YOU

“You love me?”

“I... I, once did. Not anymore.”

“Why?”

“I’d rather be your friend forever, than your boyfriend just for a moment.”

“Tsuzuru?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

“I know, I’m sorry.”

“Say it back.”

“I can’t, not anymore.”

“I’m in love with you.”

“I’m sorry.”

Kazunari wish his dandelion wish came true.

[sunflowers-heart]

May 21st – Angel/Demon AU

Lyn’s Writing Event

Pairing: Thorin Oakenshield x Reader

Word count: 1,791

Warnings: None

Author’s note: None

The cathedral was empty, not a single soul wandering through its halls since at least thousand of years. It was a corpse, a memorial of what it have been once, the mere shadow of whispered prayers still lingering on the high pillars which did not have to support anything—the whole wooden roof gone long ago, rotting with the benches on the ground. The most bizarre thing about this place, however, was how quiet it was, as if with the first step inside the ruins all the sounds from the surrounding forest were disappearing behind the glass wall, trapping everyone who dared to come closer.

And it was cold, much colder than the frozen earth, covered with the thin layer of snow.

When you first approached the abandoned building, you thought that it must have been a sign. A very obvious, flashing red sign saying that you should never get inside, under no circumstances. The stink of death was present in every corner and it was exactly that, which led you to this place, walking around the woods until you have finally found the source of the disturbing energy. Perhaps human’s eyes could not spot it, but you saw the cathedral very clearly and you could imagine how did it look like when it was still a house of God.

Crossing the threshold, you let your gaze wander over the pillars covered in wild ivy, over an open roof where you could see the gray sky, over the mossy walls and empty windows. It was a sad picture, bringing back the feeling of melancholy and reminding of a passing time. Slowly, you approached the presbytery, carefully dodging the pieces of wood and rocks laying on the muddy ground and when you were finally by the steps, your attention was focused on something below your feet rather than in front of you.

The stone plate was broken to pieces, opening an entrance to the catacombs level below.

It was so dark here, you could not recognize any shapes not see the bottom, but it did not startle you, not when you could sense that the source was closer than ever before. Turning around, you quickly noticed that although the whole ruin was covered in wild plants, the hole in the ground remained untouched, not a single weed growing on the black earth.

And so, you jumped inside.

The catacombs reminded you of an old basement, wet and full of rats which were nowhere to be seen, as if there truly was only you and the endless corridors ahead. Taking a torch from your bag, you lightened the hall, mentally taking a note that this part of the building must have been never seen, considering the complete lack of any trash nor names written with colourful sprays on the walls.

Whatever lived here must have been frightening enough to keep any intruders away.

You did not know how long you were wandering through the corridors, sometimes realizing that you were walking around, the other times reaching a dead ends and turning back. Losing a track of time was your habit during the stay on Earth, still not getting used to the daily rhythm the humans considered as healthy, but the longer you were looking for, the more you were sure that the resident knew about your presence already. It could have been night outside when you finally spotted a path you did not take before and so, you went along, wondering what kind of creature you would eventually find in a place like this.

Whatever you were hoping for, the reality proved wrong in the same second you went from around the corner and saw the enormous cave—all filled with shining gold. The coins, jewelry and cutlery, the weapons and gems, all of this was reflecting a dim light of the burning fire in the torches placed by the walls. Even you, not being tempted by such a mundane goods, had to admit that the collection was impressive, bigger than anything you have ever seen in your whole life.

Your eyes automatically spotted a dark figure sitting upon the throne by the highest step of the stairs ahead of you, its gaze looming over your frame and waiting for your move. When you peeked down, to the small coin laying right next to the tip of your shoe, you could almost hear the low growl coming from the depths of its throat.

So, you thought, Greed, that is.

“What are you looking for?” The demon asked you and his baritone echoed in the cave, disappearing around the corners and remaining in your mind for a while longer than it should have.

From your perspective you could not clearly see its features but you knew that it was a man, broad and powerful, the King of his Treasure.

“I am looking for you,” you told him and in an answer received only a quiet mutter.

“What for?”

“I have realized that you have been there for quite a long time now. Your presence reached my senses far away, in the city, and if I can do it, then anybody else can find you, too. You and your treasure.”

The demon did not speak further, waiting for your explanation—or considering whether to take your words as a treat and kill you in an instant.

“I came here to offer you my help.”

He chuckled darkly and you heard the fabrics moving when he stood up from his throne, taking few steps to your direction so the light from the torches could touch his face; long hair and beard with silver strands proving that he was not some impulsive, young demon, but rather the one who could possibly watch the fall of Lucifer himself. His bright blue eyes, however, did not seem cruel nor furious, but rather surprisingly calm and utterly tired.

“What kind of help you can offer?” he asked and spread his arms, vaguely gesturing to the wealth all around him. “I have everything.”

You did not say out loud the first thought which came to your mind after hearing those words. Instead of considering him a blind fool, you felt the overwhelming pity.

“It is not the matter of what you have but what you need.”

He frowned. “Do not assume that you have a greater knowledge, angel. I have seen the worlds collide and being torn apart long before you were ever created. And what for?”

“I have not figured it out just yet.”

“Then perhaps there is no purpose. No aim in your existence, just another godly spark which will soon fade into the dark sky. No more remembered than me.”

Admitting the truth would mean that you had lost your arguments and gave upon his will, and it was the very last thing you wanted to happen. You came prepared, knowing that demons tended to manipulate your own fears in a way which would only make you suffer and doubt—doubt your worth, your own value and everything you called dear to your soul.

“Perhaps you are right,” you thought for a while. “Perhaps you are not. What if my purpose is exactly to be right here, standing in front of you now and giving you my hand?”

In a blink of an eye, he was right in front of you, dressed in majestic furs, the crown on his head and the unpleasant expression on his face. But the eyes—the eyes were still as bright.

And curious.

“That would be quite a waste of your existence, won’t you agree?”

“Perhaps you are right,” you repeated, a small smile appearing on your lips. “Perhaps you are not.”

The demon muttered something under his breath.

“What is your name?” you continued and watched the tough expression change, from the surprise to the disappointment.

Then, he turned his back on you and before you could react, he was sitting on his throne again, face hidden in the shadows. That must have been a wrong choice of words, since you have clearly startled or annoyed him and now you could only hope that he won’t want to get rid of you for disturbing his peace. Just when you were thinking of an excuse, maybe giving him your name or using another argument on why should he at least listen to you, his voice echoed in the cave once again, low and reminding you of an animalistic growl.

“Thorin.”

You nodded, speechless. It was a tiny step forward but it was still better than none. You smiled at him politely, although you could not see his reaction.

“Well then, it is nice to meet you, Thorin.” You bowed your head and introduced yourself, too. “Did you know that it is currently winter outside? There is snow all above us, white and cold, and so beautiful.”

“Are all of your kind so stubborn?” he interrupted. “Or is it just you, not taking a ‘no’ for an answer.”

“You have never said ‘no’, Thorin,” you stated. “And if you will, then I will leave you alone. But the question is, if you really want me to.”

There was a silence between you two, all the treasure long forgotten, since something else seemed to catch the demon’s attention.

“You do not see me as a monster.” His voice was now barely a whisper. “You are different than the others.”

As if someone poked you on the shoulder, you turned your head back and spotted the various bones grotesquely piling up by the wall, some of them still freshly white but mostly rusty, dry brown—all shattered to pieces with deadly claws and jaw, torn apart when there was still life around them. You recognized them as belonging to angels, humans and even one or two different demons, the ones who dared to try to steal from the King now damned for the whole eternity.

“I do not believe this is my place to decide on who is and who is not worthy of receiving help,” you answered, turning back to him. “I was not created to judge but to bring hope.”

“And do you truly believing there is still any hope for an old fool?”

“What I believe in has nothing to do with it. It is all the matter of whether you will accept my hand or not and only then I could do my best in bringing you back.”

The demon was quiet, lost in thoughts for so long that you started to think that it has been whole centuries since you came down there. When he eventually spoke, his voice was calm, the slight tremble of anticipation causing the goosebumps to appear on your skin.

“Tell me more about the snow outside.”

[hyotenhyakkaso]

LETS TALK ABOUT VERSES

Verses: (Alphabetical order)

A Place In This World Verse: Jou’s babu years to just before he joined a gang

Number One Verse: Bleach verse lmao 

Did It To Myself Verse: UNKNOWN FASJLDFKADS J

Everybody’s Lonely Verse: Jou’s alone in the world and questioning himself and every relationship he’s had. He figures he’s better off alone and everyone’s fine without him so after a vacation he decides to disappear for good. Leaving no trace or evidence that he’d been there at all, like he’s been erased from existence altogether.

Every Heart Verse: InuYasha Au

 Fly away Verse: Breath of the wild Au 

Hiding In Your Hands Verse: (Main Verse): Jounouchi Katsuya is a part snow leopard due to unfortunate circumstances in his childhood. The rest is history however. ..... Yet, while the Duel monsters world is safe, the real world is not. Jou takes it upon himself to make sure that gang activity doesn’t skyrocket and take down those he sees as a threat to the population. He also adopts four children, Pit, Dark Pit, Jaden and Nimue. Finds a brother in Sora and a sister in Elsa and Anna. His life is weird but its his.

Icarus Verse: Jou works for Kaibacorp for shits and giggles and messes with Seto. He thinks they’re friends while Seto is trying to get used to this. (Exclusive Kaibacorpbros verse)

Killing Time Verse: Literally just crossover verses lmao

Leave Out All The Rest Verse: Oops, Jou fell too deep into his gang life again, he becomes a gang leader and eventually dies from it. He’s shown that he does have loved ones that love him back. The spirit that helps him lets him turn back the clock and fix whatever mistake he made. Endless loop until he figures out what he did wrong and how to fix it. 

Loser Baby Verse: Everything from  the original deleted blog falls into this verse unless stated otherwise.

Mr Sandman Man Me A Sand Verse: Absolute crack/chaos

Never Get Used To People Verse: Insane Jou au????? Maybe??????

Ready Steady Go! Verse: Fullmetal Alchemist Au (Will eventually be fleshed out when I figure out wtf is going on)

See Me Through Verse: Kingdom Hearts Au taking place in canon. Between the regular villain of the month episodes, Jou’s fighting his own monsters. Literally! Set with his keyblade Starset, he tries 

Thank You, Next Verse: He fully comes into himself in this au and quits the gang life for good. He goes to college and goes into car manufacturing business. 

Who is In Control? Verse: Jou never leaves his gang leader position, never makes friends with Yugi or Tristan and eventually becomes a bigger problem than Hirotani. No one’s sure who is worse, their previous leader or their current one. The blonds tendency to get himself into danger more often than not nearly get him killed on a regular basis. And he’s starting to realize he doesn’t care if he does.

Verses I’m not sure fall into the above categories or into their own categories: (To be discussed with muns)

Right Here Verse: Exclusive verse with Mutogamingco

Be Somebody Verse: Exclusive Verse with Game-weaver

I’d Lie Verse: Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh I dunno yet but its like- Exclusive verse with Dungeondicediva

Lullaby for a stormy night Verse: He pretty much unofficially adopts Pit and Dark Pit as his sons and raises them alongside a goddess- (Yeah he’s questioning himself too but he wouldn’t change it)

  Shipping Verses: 

Monster Verse: Exclusive shipping verse for atlantis-prince. However this also contains Atem’s, Mai’s, Joey’s and other’s fights with Jou about getting together with the evil boi. I need to start containing this to this verse, its starting to bleed into other verses- Namely Hiding In Your Hands. 

Must Have Been The Wind Verse: Exclusive shipping verse with Darkheartedprince (?)

Once In A Dream Verse: Exclusive shipping verse with Soraofdestinyislands

The Drug In Me Is You Verse: Exclusive shipping verse with Thiefakefia

Watermelon Sugar Verse: Exclusive shipping verse with Lightheartedwarrior

You Can’t Fight the Moonlight Verse: Exclusive shipping verse with World-duelists: ~I’m in love with the goddess who lives down the street the girl may work at wafflehouse but she dunnt miss a beat (Jaden)~  ~ I want you to remember this when you put yourself down I cannot fear my future now that I have you around (Joey)~

 Character Tags:

Atem (millennium-puzzle-spirit):  ~I’ll carry you home no you’re not alone keep marching on this is worth fighting for you know we all have battle scars (Atem)~

Atem (Sennenpharaoh): ~See that line well I never should have crossed it stop right there that’s the very moment that I wish that I could take back (Atem)~

Akefia (theifakefia):  ~Your secrets keep you sick your lies keep you alive Snake eyes every single time you roll with crooked dice (Akefia)~

Aizen (Bleachintothemultiverse):  ~The world you once created inside your dreams is brought to life as it now leads you and I across the distant sky! (Aizen)~

Bakura (tenacioustheif): ~We could set the world alight there is so much you could be if only you'd join me we’d make one hell of a team (Bakura)~

Byakuya (Bleachintothemultiverse): ~Thousands of cherry blossoms dwindling in the light though I can’t hear your voice keep what I say in mind (Byakuya)~

Dark Pit (WinglessArcher): ~You’ll be in my heart no matter what they say you’ll be here in my heart always (Dark Pit)~

Dartz (Atlantis-prince): ~So I will talk to you the only way I know how to I’ve said my speech through sharpened teeth (Dartz)~

Elsa (Iskrone): ~You can lift your head up to the sky Take a deeper breath and give it time You can walk the path among the lines (Elsa)~

Hanataro (Bleachintothemultiverse): ~Though a thousand words have never been spoken they’ll fly to you crossing over the time and distance (Hanataro)~

Jaden (World-Duelists): ~Live in the now and break your confines take ahold of this precious time glory days cause your life is not to trade (Jaden)~

Jaden (Tenebrosity-bulwark): ~Cause now again I found myself so far down away from the sun that shines into the darkest place Im so far down away from the sun (Jaden)~

Joey (Luckyredeyes): ~I’m alive oh yeah between the good and bad’s where you’ll find me reaching for heaven I will fight and I’ll sleep when I die (Joey)~

Joey (World-Duelists): ~When darkness turns to daybreak go out and see for your sake the people of this world may share your pain (Joey)~

Joey (brooklynxsweetheart): ~ I see your monsters I see your pain tell me your problems I'll chase them away I'll be your lighthouse (Joey)~

Mai (ohmaiwhathavewedone): ~Hey sister do you still believe in love I wonder? Oh if the sky comes falling down for you theres nothing in this world I wouldnt do (Mai)~

Mana (mahoushoumonster): ~Cause you cant jump the track we’re like cars on a cable and lifes like an hourglass glued to the table (Mana)~

Mokuba (Kaibacorpbros) ~Daydreamer kidnap me take me back all the way back to them days runnin around in a gown and a crown barefoot (Mokuba)~

Nimue (Tenebrosity-bulwark): ~The most powerful thing you own is your voice scream above the noise that you’re perfect as you are even when times are hard (Nimue)~

Otogi (Dungeondicediva): ~Here’s to us here’s to love all the times that we fucked up here’s to you fill the glass (Otogi)~

Pit (WinglessArcher): ~Come my child stay with me I’ll protect you and your dreams. Rest my child ‘neath the tree like it’s branches reach for me (Pit)~

Seto (Kaibacorpbros):  ~Icarus Icarus why you so serious serious? You know you gotta let it go cause you're flying too close (Seto)~

Sora (Asorableisms):  ~Though we don't share the same blood. You're my brother and I love you thats the truth. (Sora)~

Sora (Soraofdestinyislands): ~When I’m awake I hide all the chains so you aren’t afraid I can’t stop I cant break I carry the weight for you (Sora)~

Yugi (Game-weaver):  ~I'm just the boy inside the man not exactly who you think I am trying to trace my steps back here again so many times (Yugi)~

Yugi (Mutogamingco): ~I wanted to be like you I wanted everything So I tried to be like you and i got swept away I didnt know that it was so cold (Yugi)~

Updated when new verses form!

[whorphydice]

Sad prompt: Orpheus refusing to let Eurydice use herself as a bargaining tool anymore. Him not expecting anything from her and just loving her for being her!

SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG BUT HERE IT IS. It accompanies my HC that she used herself as a ‘good’ to trade for food and shelter.

“Why are you just so nice?” Eurydice asks one night, her head on his chest, the sound of his heart drumming in his chest some of her favorite music of all. “How are you so..kind? Giving?”

The hand he has strumming on her lower back stops, as he lifts his head to look at her. “What are you talking about ‘Rydice..” Orpheus starts, bright eyes flicking over her in a near panic- what brought that on? 

“You just..you give. And you give. And you give. You give until you have nothing left and even then some. And you don’t expect anything? I have nothing to give you but-” Eurydice’s head stays firmly planted on his chest, nothing particular catching her eye as she speaks until he grabs her chin to make her look at him, brown eyes catching green. 

“I love you, isn’t that enough reason? You’re another person..isn’t that reason enough? If I can help someone I should-” His thumb runs over her jawline, a pure smile on his face. “That’s what people are supposed to do.”

“I have nothing to give in return, Orpheus. I never had. Do you know what I did to survive..do you know what a difference it would have made to run into people like you?” There is a blazing fire in her dark eyes as she props one elbow on his chest and supports her head with the accompanying hand. “The only thing I had was me. And sometimes that was enough for them-”

There is confusion then concern going over his face as the depth of what she says registers.  “Eurydice what do you mean it was enough..of course you’re enough.”

“You know what I mean. And sometimes sharing a bed with someone else was better than no bed at all. And when you’re young and you’re hungry.. Theres nothing, really, that sounds like too much for someone to ask of you in exchange for a warm meal, you know?” And maybe he didn’t know what that was like, she prayed to whatever god still cared that he never knew exactly it was like for her. “If I hadn’t met you that day, i’d probably still be doing it. That, or dead, I guess.” 

She’s too ashamed to admit she assumed he was the same when they first met. 

Come home with me.

I’ve met too many men like you. 

“Eurydice I..I wouldn’t..I never-” 

“Shh, I know. I know you never would have. I know that. I know that.” And she does. She knew within minutes of meeting him, with his childlike wonder and endless optimism and his gorgeous song. No, he was not like other men, and she knew this. “Still. Doesn’t explain what I did to deserve you. To deserve this.”

To deserve someone who walked to hell to find her, albeit if he doubted himself. But it didn’t matter. Eventually, at least, they found their way to each other again.

“Why wouldn’t you? You’re...you’re wonderful Eurydice. You’re all I ever wanted. You’re ore than that. You give me you. And not...not in the way you felt like you had to..you let me love you, and thats more than I could ever have asked for! You give me you and our family and- you’re you Eurydice. And thats more than enough. Thats more than I ever dared to ask for! I have you!” He’s so genuine in the way he sings her praises, as he kisses her without ever pulling his hand from her cheek. There is nothing more clear about Orpheus than the way he loves his wife. Everyone who meets him knows one thing- he is nothing but infatuated with Eurydice. 

When she smiles at him it reaches her eyes and her heart flutters a funny kind of way. She’s about to respond when he keeps speaking. 

“And you know you never have to do..that.. Again. You’re not going to. We’ll find other ways to survive, other ways to get by.. You’re more than a bargaining chip, Eurydice.” 

He may be the only person to ever treat her this way. To treat her like a person with inherent worth, worthy of love just for existing. 

She doesn’t tell him that, though. She doesn’t press or argue the point. She wouldn’t go back to that, not now. She has too much to live for to go back to that, to go back to seeing her body as a means to an end. 

“I love you, Orpheus.” Eurydice nearly whispers, burying her face in the crook of his neck. 

He pulls her closer, wrapping their legs together and wrapping her so tightly in his arms that she couldn’t escape their embrace even if she wanted to. There is nothing between them save for thin summer-time pajamas, and even that felt like too much in this moment. Still, he rested his head ontop of hers and wrapped gangly limbs around her. 

“Theres nothing in the world worth more to me than you, Eurydice.”

[proxylynn]

Lynchtale: File Name Game of Death #6

Chapter 6: Like any realm, there are many layers of unknowns.

WARNING: THIS IS A MATURE STORY THAT WILL HAVE BLOOD, GORE, PSYCHOLOGICAL SURVIVAL HORROR, HEAVY CURSING, AND LIKELY SEXUAL THEMES/BONING. I DO NOT OWN UNDERTALE, THAT BELONGS TO LORD TOBY FOX. I DO NOT OWN DEAD BY DAYLIGHT, THAT BELONGS TO BEHAVIOUR DIGITAL INC.. I DON'T OWN THE AU'S THAT SOME OF THE CHARACTERS COME FROM, THEY BELONG TO THEIR RESPECTIVE CREATORS. I NOW OWN THE IDEA FOR LYNCHTALE, WHICH USED TO BELONG TO PUNNYSIDEUP (AKA. SANSFULPUNS). I ALSO OWN MY SELF-INSERT OC ANOMALY LYNSIE AND A LOVE OF FAN PARODY. IF YOU'RE STILL READING THIS, THEN CONGRATULATIONS ON EITHER BEING ONE WITH STRONG DETERMINATION OR AN ENDLESS WILL TO OVERCOME THE CHALLENGE OF STOMACHING WHAT I HAVE IN MIND. EITHER WAY, IF YOU LIKE THIS AND/OR MY OTHER CONTENT. SIT BACK AND ENJOY THE ETERNAL PUNISHMENT. HAVE FUN SINNERS. ^_^

[SOMEWHERE IN THE ENTITY...THE ARCHIVES OF THE OBSERVER]

(Arcus 01)

I would start at the beginning, but I don't know when that was or how long ago I was banished to this prison. What I know is I've been observing and studying the inner workings of this Entity that had once been...well...an obsession. How ironic that I should be sentenced to live out the rest of my days in the very thing I sought to destroy. An obsession turned prison...as all obsessions are, I suppose.

(Arcus 54)

The atmosphere of the realms is dark and grim to say the least but also...ever changing. I've already remarked that the atmosphere is misty even foggy at times and that this fog feels alive. It seems to contain swirls and streams of memories or imprints of beings from multiple terra worlds. It is as if The Entity absorbs all the psychic energy and thoughts of beings it snatches as it journeys through the endless cosmos.

I've used the Auris to study the black fog and have come to three observations that will prove invaluable to finding a way home. First, the fog is rich in Auric particles leading me to believe this dimension is more conscious than it is material. Second, I should be able to manifest anything I am able to pull from rifts in the fog using techniques passed down from my family. Third…The Entity is far more ancient than we ever suspected back home and most of our theories and conjectures were wrong. The rich presence of Auric particles and cells suggests it is one of the Original Ones—an Ancient.

(Arcus 129)

A knock at the door and an invitation attached to a bottle of whiskey waiting for me at the foot of the door. I kneeled to inspect the invitation. "You are cordially invited to The Entity's Birthday". The Entity has a birthday? Am I losing my mind...my grip on reality...whatever that actually means here...Is this some kind of a prank by a marooned soul?

(Arcus 142)

The Entity is the cosmic embodiment of evil. Back home we witnessed how its very presence turns worlds inside out...how it seems to remove or extinguish any sense of empathy or compassion within communities...how it brings people to the brink of madness and...well...pushes them in. Now I understand it does all this in order to rip victims from their lives and have them play out an endless trial of terror that it presumably needs for its own survival. And there, perhaps, lies the key to its destruction...if an Ancient can be destroyed at all.

End the trials. Destroy its ability to sap dark nectar from victims like a cruel parasite feeding from a flower. At least the Archives affords me a better understanding of the Entity...why it moves from universe to universe, picking victims off and devouring worlds as though at a cosmic buffet. What I have yet to conclude is whether it is attracted to worlds that are brimming with darkness and madness or if it is in fact the catalyst of such darkness and madness.

(Arcus 182)

I have discovered structures within the realms of The Entity that remind me of home. It is possible others from Terra Primus have found themselves marooned within The Entity. These Survivors could have with them knowledge to free me from this tower and possibly ideas on how to escape this infernal dimension. As far as I know...we were one of the first of the many worlds to begin unraveling these great cosmic mysteries and proving that planets and solar systems were...well...alive. These discoveries led to entire paradigm shifts that unlocked for us our ability to travel from dimension to dimension. Where once we thought our knowledge was absolute...these discoveries showed us how little we actually knew about the world.

(Arcus 223)

I felt an uncanny and unseen presence in The Archives as I contemplated The Entity. I could hear the labored breathing of Killers standing outside my prison. I looked out into the dark, raging Fog and saw nothing...Either The Entity is aware of my presence and is preparing to send Killers to put an end to my plans...or the memories of Survivors are somehow merging with my personal memories and these sounds are mere side effects of overusing the Auris. In the end, it doesn't matter. If I could end The Entity I would even if it meant my own demise. My life is little to pay for the salvation of the worlds it will destroy.

(Arcus 293)

Things could have been worse. I could have been banished in a dimension without Auric Fog containing the memory imprints of countless victims, memories that keep me entertained and busy with my coin and spirit collections...and the music...the variations from parallel worlds...it helps pass the time. In a twisted way I think what I'm admitting is that I'm glad The Entity takes what it wants when it wants from the omniverse.

(Arcus 328)

There is a curiosity at the core of every thinking person. A need for knowledge from uncharted and unknowable territories, but what is discovered in those blank spaces of the abyss...of the cosmos are things far too immense to understand. Things better left unobserved lest they undermine our sanity. Better to embrace ignorance than face the truth of our insignificance in the grand scheme of it all. Against the vastness of the infinite we are mere microbes swirling in an endless, indifferent cosmic stew. I say stew...but The Entity is probably more of a blood pudding.

(Arcus 345)

I have recently wondered if Survivors realize the titanic significance of their thoughts and feelings, and of how The Entity uses them to furnish the trials. Thoughts and feelings that bring me glimpses of what it's like to have lived on a parallel world as someone else. It helps pass the time.

(Arcus 437)

I'm going to have a couple shots of whiskey from Terra 917, experience a few Memories, then head to bed. The warmth of spirits from 917 have always had a way of lulling me away. While it is true this is a cruel fate...an even crueler fate would have been to have been imprisoned here without the Auris...without the ability to manifest and create and enjoy. It feels strange as this may seem as the nexus of creation...able to travel Memories and cull from those Memories without restraint. Helps pass the time. Definitely helps pass the time.

(Arcus 557)

All planes of existence are a unique mix of conscious Auric particles and material particles. The Entity is almost certainly pure consciousness...The observable fact of existence is the material world responds to and changes with consciousness...collective consciousness is the key...The body, the home, the trial—all of it is an expression of The Entity's unconscious need for fear and terror.

The distinct observation in the specimens chosen by The Entity is that they all come from worlds that have failed to understand the metaphysical relationship between their thoughts and the world they live in. This is not by chance. It is, to my mind, self-preservation. Victims who know this truth and have honed their ability to manifest could be poisonous to The Entity. This leads me to believe The Entity is attracted to dark worlds because darkness and chaos are clear indicators that inhabitants have failed to connect the dots between the collective consciousness and the health of their world. The conclusion, then, might be that The Entity feeds off ignorance.

(Arcus 571)

Gut-wrenching shrieks echoing through the Fog disturbed my sleep. I woke up, put on some slacks, clambered to the roof with some whiskey, and hit golf balls into the abyss. There's something about hitting iron and wood into oblivion that's calming, even therapeutic. I must have hit a thousand golf balls before the yelling and screaming finally subsided and I called it a night.

(Arcus 572)

Someone left a bucket of golf balls at my door with a note: Best Balls Ever! Upon further inspection I realized they were hardened eyeballs. Fossilized eyeballs collected no doubt throughout the lost Realms. I didn't realize eyeballs could be fossilized or that they make, dare I say, decent golf balls. I actually wouldn't mind another bucket. This must be a gift from my mysterious friend.

(Arcus 632)

Through a rift I believe I culled another memory of Vigo manifesting reality within The Entity with something reminiscent of the Auris. How he came to understand the machinations of The Fog is both puzzling and inspiring. It suggests to me that perhaps this place enhances one's connections to our infinite selves throughout the omniverse.

(Arcus 723)

I pity Dwight. It's as though every action he takes brings the opposite of what he intends. Trying to help his fellow employees from an abuser he ends up shutting down the entire operation, leaving many in a far worse situation than they ever were in. Granted, spiking a narcissist's drink and watching him unravel was worth the price of admission. The many memories of Survivors struggling with narcissists have led me to the conclusion that there are only three possibilities when relating to a narcissist. Enable them. Run away from them. Or...destroy them. But beware, narcissists take everyone with them when they go down.

(Arcus 731)

Hard to tell when one day ends and another begins. The tower and the library help me cope, but it's hard to forget the truth of my situation even for a moment knowing everything I have is a lie. I have access to anything I want and yet I have nothing. The survivors continue to undergo the trials with the most brutal of killers. I continue to search the fog for the memories of those who found a way to escape. It sometimes feels like a futile search. But then again...I've got time on my hands...lots of time...

(Arcus 767)

The Auris was little understood back home, and to be fair I wasn't given the chance to explain its merits to the council. Had they taken the time to understand they would have realized that though I had no verifiable explanation for how the Auris works...I had theories, and the most reasonable was that the Auris works on the basis of the Trinitarian — the Trinitarian of Creation — a concept long held by our ancestors and forgotten throughout the ages. But the concept isn't complicated, isn't witchcraft, isn't a secret. It simply suggests that it takes two things to create a third. A father and a mother to create a child. An idea and passion to create something new, something real, something lasting and meaningful. A thought and feeling. Therein lies the best theory of the Auris and how it is able to create with Auric particles.

The failing of other pioneers back home is they believed thought alone was enough when in reality it is only half the equation...the other half is emotion, for it is feeling and passion that fuels the fires of creation. The Auris amplifies and manifests and forges something new using the mold of thought and the fires of passion. Or...I've been here too long and I'm grasping at theories to pass the time.

(Arcus 789)

Emotion. Passion. Interest. They are the spark, the undefinable force that enables creation. You cannot manifest anything if you are not filled with emotion about it. The Auris was ridiculed because the council lacked understanding. This might be the whiskey ruminating but...art is not created by thought alone but by thought and feeling working in harmony. Feeling is everything...Feeling is the most important aspect of bringing anything to life. It is the fuel that makes thought and intention reality.

(Arcus 893)

Several Survivors went mad trying to escape the trial. They had with them memories of previous incarnations so that one Survivor began dashing his head against a wall convinced he was reliving a nightmare he had just escaped. The other Survivors drowned him in mud to shut him up. It seems to me Survivors are torches growing dimmer and dimmer with every trial. Some stop to feel altogether and are doomed to The Void. Others go raving mad and need to be silenced by others.

(Arcus 968)

Strange, luminous markings left in the Trials for Survivors and Killers that help me navigate and study Rifts with greater ease. Someone is trying to reach out to me. Tampering with The Entity. Using tricks to secure my attention. To let me know I'm not alone. To let me know I'm not the only one able to manifest within The Entity. Yet the knowledge of living dimensions and Ancients is knowledge few have developed among the infinite Terra worlds within the known galaxies.

(Arcus 1032)

Jumbled experiences of brutal Killers and weird rituals of godless brutes from worlds too dark to care. I jerked myself straight out of one memory that pulled me into a cavern of bodies with an odor so repugnant I was retching for hours. I still have that horrible taste in my mouth and shudder at the thought of that smell, that horrible smell, rotting humanity. What foul creature of a man had made this festering hole his lair is beyond me.

(Arcus 1043)

I look and observe the realms of The Entity with eyes that see disharmony, chaos, fear, and terror... and yet I acknowledge I may be swayed by appearances and that there may be another truth beyond the veil and it feels futile if not absurd to try to put to words what I am seeing.

(Arcus 1118)

There's nothing like silence to drive you mad. I stared out into the endless ocean of Black Fog surrounding me and quickly realized how incredibly small and insignificant we are. Dread and despair soon overtook me and I began to realize how arrogant we were back home to try to define and describe these living cosmic entities. We thought we had figured most out. We barely scratched the surface.

(Arcus 1256)

Discovered new memories of Trapper which shed some light on his descent. The question I am asking myself is: Did The Entity begin to corrupt him before he was snatched for the Trials or was all that anger and bloodlust a result of his harsh upbringing? Either way I would not expect him to comply with another authority figure even if that figure was an Old One.

(Arcus 1513)

I have used the Auris to explore the memories of an unknown survivor who comes from a world where, from what I can gather, a cult for The Entity exists. It's not a surprise or the first time I've seen such a thing, but the memories suggest she was a detective of sorts trying to prevent a cult sacrifice before she was snatched for the trials. I'm not sure what happened to her and will have to explore the fog to unravel more.

(Arcus 1672)

I have culled imprints of a killer I have yet to observe. My best guess, judging by the nature of the crimes, is this brute is from Terra Dark. She lured men with love, robbed them of their savings, and fed them to her pigs. Lovely. Efficient. And resourceful. The impressions of the memory are as follows...

...He stands framed in the doorway with flowers. A stupid smile on his dumb face. He has no sense that his days are numbered. Lonely soul made the trip for a wife. He thinks he'll get everything for a ring. Her land. Her farm. Her savings. Won't happen. Won't go as planned. Not as he planned, anyway. It didn't for all the other lonely souls who answered her classified ad. She peers at his eyes and thrills at his ignorance. His long, dumb face. His false sense of superiority. He wrote her a poem. How sweet. She'll cram it down his throat when he's convulsing on the floor. She takes his poem and asks about his money. He has it with him. Packed his savings in a bag and made the journey for a new start. He'll get more than he bargained for. Way more. To the bank with his money. To the pigs with him.

(Arcus 2903)

I rose early to experience a few deaths in The Archives I recently captured from The Rift. I had some milk from Terra 728. I listened to a radio show from Terra 232. Horror stories and tales of terror. I read a new version of Dante's Inferno from... I'm not sure where...I thought of home, had some whiskey, and slept for what felt like an eternity.

(Arcus 3212)

From a window I see something moving with an uncanny light. Through the black fog it shines there, beckoning me. And yet, I cannot leave. I cannot move. I can only bring things to me through the Auris. What light is this? Is it a creature sent by The Entity? Is it a survivor? Or perhaps it's a marooned soul from back home searching like myself for a way back. An unnatural wind whines and I stare at the moving, hypnotic light, a hideous watching eye, trying to reach out to me, trying to tell me something, trying to convey something in its strange, rhythmic movement.

(Arcus 4902)

Life is not life in this prison, and death is not an escape. It is merely the start of a new trial and most survivors are aware they are caught in something they will never understand. Why this is all happening is no longer obvious to me. The truth is...I don't know what to believe anymore...The Entity is...not what it is...or what I thought it was...

(Arcus 7294)

I woke up soaked in blood with no recollection of what transpired the night before. The blood dripped off my nose and chin. I felt my forehead and scalp to discover a deep, stinging gash. Accident? Self-inflicted? Nightmares of The Fog? Creatures of the abyss? I didn't know. Later by the bed I discovered a purple mound of flesh and gore. I cleaned the slop and tossed it out the window into the abyss from which it had come.

(Arcus 7456)

I am taking notes under incredible mental strain. I have had flashes of Survivor memories overrun my senses all day, and I am trying to focus on home and gather myself. I haven't used the Auris for some time and yet I have been pulled in and out of these lives randomly. These records... these archives will, I imagine, help me remember myself, should the Auris nudge me into the abyss.

(Arcus 7547)

Whiskey deep into the night. A strange aftertaste...a flavor from a world which makes the best whiskey. Whiskey dreams are some of the most pleasurable. Dreams of home, with friends and family, enjoying time lost. When my senses returned, I realized I had turned my palace of a prison upside down. I remembered none of it. Everything, a drunken blur. So many paintings and statues I had created from memories from other worlds...shattered...I'm losing my grip on reality and maybe that's a good thing. One day merges into the next and I'm lost in a storm of whiskey, screams, and endless streams of broken memories.

(Arcus 8876)

It's always entertaining to watch a Survivor try to escape with a femoral artery lacerated. Some victims actually get quite far before shock and cardiac arrest overwhelm them. They fight and struggle for life as if death were final. Perhaps this is the reason The Entity wipes the slate clean with every resurrection. The unwavering belief that death is real gives weight and gravitas to the trial... to the experience. Otherwise Survivors won't care. Wouldn't run. Wouldn't feel. The fear of death is the pulse of life and believing death is real gives emotion to the experience. It, in other words, feeds The Entity.

(Arcus 9082)

Hillbilly has quite an arm. A farmer made his way out of a barn and with one well-aimed blow with a spade, his head was severed from his shoulders, and two spouts of hot blood burst from his body like geysers. Hillbilly watched the headless man stagger stupidly and collapse in a growing puddle of steaming blood. I have to admit I've gone through this memory more than once. It's one of my favorites. I find Hillbilly disturbingly amusing and the illusion of death fascinating...at a distance.

(Arcus 9873)

King has this way of doing things that are quite amusing. One of my favorite memories I return to time and time again whenever I need a lift is Memory 2332 - Gasoline Man: King grabs this man who skipped a few payments on a loan. He drags him by the hair and throws him in an alley. He grabs a metal gasoline container and douses the 'sod' with its contents and lights a match. He stares at him through the flickering flame as the man screams in terror. He watches him beg for his life. Then he flings the match. The man's eyes pop out of his head as the flame hits his chest and falls to the floor with a sizzle. King tells him to make his payment or next time he'll use real gasoline. Brilliant.

(Arcus ??????)

A new tome of memories has appeared in my library. This one full of blurred pages and faded images. It will take quite some work to clear the fog for these to make some semblance sense. The newer parts that are clear tell of a Survivor I hadn't seen before. Such a strange woman. The Entity is rather active with her unlike the others. Even going so far as to taint her into being a monster. I pity this woman. It is one thing to have always been a monster...it's entirely different being forced to be one. Still...I will admit to being intrigued by her situation. For this is the first time there is a soul stuck between the two sides. I should get started soon. I want to see how she ended up like this. I want to know how she handles it. How she manages to deal with the monsters...and with the Entity itself. I just pray that I can keep myself sane long enough to find these things out.

[ELSEWHERE IN THE FOG]

We've been walking for some time now.

After a less than jolly wake up I've been restrained by Chops' weapon's chain, my arms locked behind me with the safe end while the other stabby end is in his hand, and he's been dragging me into the fog ever since. Before, however, Legion reminded my dumbass what we were doing...going to visit the Doctor to check out my weird soul. Seeing that guy once, even while not in a trial, was enough to make me less than willing to go to him or his realm, hence the chaining. Chops having to be in control of the body to keep me on this makeshift leash means the others aren't around. The shades of the Bones, Boo, and Dead Eye lagged behind us the further away we went from the chalet until they faded altogether once we pasted the border of the realm.

Now we wonder about the fog. A killer leading a reluctant dog to a kennel of death. Needless to say, I don't make things easy for him.

"quit draggin' your feet!"

A hard yank has me trying to resist spinning to the ground like a drunken jackass.

"Or what? You'll kill me? Big freaking deal."

Being a smartass earns me some comeuppance in a speedy punch to the gut.

"disrespect me and i'll give ya one hell of a bad time. got that, meat?"

I want to vomit but there's nothing in me to puke up.

"now, come on..."

He starts walking and a small tug has me following on instinct.

"we're almost there."

"*coughs* Are guys even sure he'll be helpful? He could just take me and dick you over."

He growls.

"ya think we can't handle that quack?"

"I didn't say that. I'm just saying we shouldn't just show all the cards we're holding right away."

"it's not like we got much choice. ya don't wanna go to the void, do ya?"

I shiver.

"yeah, didn't think so."

"Still...I don't trust this."

"good..."

I look at him funny.

"keep on your toes. especially around the quack."

There's that odd tone like how Bones had when he mentioned the Doctor. I got a feeling they had a bad experience with him before. Our ceaseless wondering continues. My mind begins to make shapes in the swirls of fog, heh, reminds me of my youth seeing things in the smoke at church...Wow, I'm fucked up. Either way, imaging things keeps my brain steady. Helps me forget the reality I'm in for a while. It's been my coping mechanism for god knows how long. And once I'm in it for long it gets pretty hard to be drawn out. Though...I'm not far gone enough to not notice this faint sound. It's soft. Almost...Almost like humming? Looking around shows nothing. Nothing except me...and him. Can it be...?

Being a curious yet cautious punk, I move in close behind him and...music? A dark and depressing mix of power ballads and gloomy melodies.

"The hell...?"

With my hands not a usable option, I bite the end of his hoody's hood and pull it back. The exposure of his skull angrily surprises him yet not as much as I am to see earbuds in the acoustic meatus of his head. When did he do this? Was I that distracted?

"the fuck ya doin'?!"

"Dude, you have tunes?"

He takes one out to better hear me.

"what?"

"How long have you been holding out on me? Do you know how boring this silence is?"

He chuckles while putting the bud back in.

"why else ya think i've got this on?"

He attempts putting his hood back on but I annoyingly hit his shoulder with my head.

"bitch!"

"Share!"

"fuck you!"

"I'll leave you alone if you do."

He glares.

"or i can kick the shit out of ya and not."

I scoot in front of him.

"Dude, come on...Do you really think it'll be that easy?"

His glare intensifies. I give a hopeful smirk with a small shrug. His response is to yank the chain and grab my face while my body went on "keep steady in one place" mode like a moron. His distal phalanx tips dig into my cheeks like the claws of a pissed-off cat.

"*harsh* i ain't like bones. i ain't gonna treat ya with kid gloves. piss me off, i'll beat ya to an inch of your pathetic life. the only thing stoppin' me is how much i don't want to drag your half-dead ass to léry's."

Léry's Memorial Institute...another realm the Entity told me of.

A research facility should be a place where minds grow, where learning happens. But the Léry Memorial Institute is quite the opposite. It's a place where the human brain is turned into something unpleasant and broken. Nestled in a sleepy woods three miles south of Michaelstown, Illinois, the Léry Memorial Institute started its life out as a hospital specializing in the rehabilitation of GI's returning from the Korean War. The mansion built in the late 1800s and its massive lot were donated by the previous owner to be transformed into a medical facility. As an army hospital, it always fell under different laws and rules to other hospitals and in 1967, it effectively became a front for the CIA. Under the Stewardship of Otto Stamper, the old army patients were shipped out and a huge fence erected around the property. Around this time, the public was refused access to the patients and the whole place was shrouded in secrecy. By 1970, the Institute was fully transformed into a CIA black site with special requirements to develop cutting-edge interrogation techniques and they employed a wide range of different doctors and specialists to help them. The Institute thrived through the 70's growing to a staff of hundreds, filling the main hospital, and several out-buildings. Documents and evidence about the Institute are scarce as the government condemned the entire building in 1983, even razing most of the building to the ground in what seemed to be planned explosive demolition. Even now, the events that lead to the closing of the Institute and what happened to the staff and patients is shrouded in controversy and mystery. Snippets of information in heavily redacted documents tell the story of some kind of incident or event, but even the most tenacious reporters have failed to unearth any real evidence of conspiracy or wrongdoing. You can still see what remains of the shell of the main hospital facility, standing defiant against the ruins that surround it on what is still US Military land.

"now take this as your only warning. i ain't playin' games."

He sinks the digits in more, adding pain into the threat to drive the message home. The effect he wants from me is submission. My real reaction...A blank expression of indifference. Why give in to him? Fear? So what. Fear means nothing when death is nothing. Sure there's pain but whatever to that.

"Has anyone ever told you that you're kinda cute when being tough?"

Honestly, this was better than what my brain wanted to say. He, however, didn't take this as a compliment and promptly uses that weapon to cram it deep into my side at an angle to scrap down my hip. Needless to say this gets a better response for him to take and my roar of pain gets muffled by his tightening grip.

"don't fuck with me, bitch! unless...ya don't want me to let ya heal? ya do want to be able to do that...don't ya?"

The feel of steel on bone makes it hard not to whimper while nodding.

"then you're gonna behave...right?"

He twists the blade. Seriously, is that signature Legion move? My wincing is high and nodding fast.

"prove it."

This confuses me.

"let's play a game..."

He yanks the blade out. If it wasn't for his hold I would've jerked to the ground.

"if you can do one little thing...i'll let ya be free."

His smug slyness is too obnoxious to miss while he lets my face go. Giving me creepy feelings.

"And what might that be, sir nice guy all of a sudden?"

He stares off, either thinking or listening to the others in his head.

"first a set of rules...ya can only obey instructions and ya must do everything i say. ya can't do anything unless i give ya the okay. ya can't speak unless spoken to. and ya gotta keep eye contact unless i say."

Creep levels are growing.

"do ya have the balls to agree?"

I sigh. I'm slowly bleeding out, what choice do I have?

"Sure. If it makes things easier."

His sharp-toothed smirk is sending chills of regret through me.

"good...on your knees."

I can't help the "I fucking called it" face and groan.

"Dude...Really?"

He backhands me fairly hard.

"i said, on your knees!"

I spit some blood out and hate my life more than I already do as I slowly do as commanded.

"smart girl."

He puts the bloody blade in my face which is conveniently at hip level for him.

"ya made me dirty my blade. be a good kitten and clean it for me...slowly."

I grimace at the obvious pseudo-sex act he wants me to do. The only upside is I don't mind the taste of my own blood. So, with much resentment for everything, I slowly lick the weapon. Being mindful of the very sharp slightly nicked blade.

"slower. really give it a fine shine."

I huff through my nose while really dragging my tongue along the metal. It helps to think of it as a weird popsicle. At least this can't last much longer...I hope.

"not bad, kitten. looks very nice. but..."

He kneels, taking a harsh grip of my hair and taps the tip of the blade on my lips.

"i think it needs a final deep wash. open your mouth."

This can go horrible real fast, yet I hesitantly open up. The look he gives, lidded sockets and licking his teeth with a red gel-like tongue...The fuck? I have so many questions! Either way, my creepy meter is maxed out and broken.

"don't move. we wouldn't want to make it dirty again."

He seems to like this control as evident by the meticulous way he inserts the murder weapon and tests just how far he can get it to go before something happens then pulling it out methodically slow, only to repeat it all over again. Feeling all sorts of uncomfortable my ability to look at him reaches its limits. This turns his building desire into a rage and his pulling of my hair borders on scalp ripping.

"look at me!"

The snap makes me jump, nearly stabbing the back of my throat but I do as told. Like the bitch I am.

"don't ya fuckin' look away from me. got that?"

I nod very very very carefully. Seeing I've lost my dignity, which is understandable with this shit going on, his domination lust kicks back in to do some overly prolonged and humiliating oral knife play with awkward staring. The longer this goes on the more carnal he looks. His breathing, how the fuck a skeleton breathes I know not, is getting labored and a tinge shaky. The grip of my hair lessens to light kneading. And the sounds that leave him...It's so dirty. I want this to stop. I feel like just ending this by slamming myself on the damn thing! Until, thankfully, he finally gets his jollies and removes the weapon with a long drag across my tongue...only to then lick it himself much to my disgust.

All this over wanting to listen to his music?!

"mmmm...that was fun, kitten. good job."

Glad you're happy while I'm kneeling in the growing pool of my life juice...jackass.

"Mew."

His pleasure flips quickly to normal edgy jerk.

"ya had to ruin it."

"Sorry."

Why the fuck did I apologize?!

My automatic apology impulse does seem to do some good by not making him forget the reward for playing his game. A small bit of fiddling around my back ends with the chain going slack and my hands becoming free.

"i was gonna make ya sweat for a bit, but then ya would've probably bled out and ya know my feelin's about dealin' with ya like that."

Once more, a member of the Legion has upheld to their word to me instead of pulling that "I lied" bullshit most schmucks would do. And once more, this has an effect on me and how I look at Legion.

"Thank you."

I begin to rub the wound and seal the damage while he sets his weapon back into its normal state.

"don't thank me. just hurry up."

Even if that was a dick thing to say, it was a nice dick thing to say. I will remember that.

With my wound healed and blood no longer draining into the fog, I stand yet feel off. Probably the emotional scarring of him humiliating me. But there's no time for that. So I bottle it up like all my other negative shit. I'm sure it won't be affecting me in any way now. Most likely I'll cry about it later but for we have a mission to complete.

As if nothing has happened we walk once more, side by side. And again he listens to whatever music he has. He ignores me for the most part which makes listening to the faint tunes a bit easier. Suddenly...I recognize the song that kicks in...Nirvana: Heart-Shaped Box. Must resist...Would he even...Fuck it! Not like it matter.

"♪She eyes me like a Pisces when I am weak. I've been locked inside your heart-shaped box for weeks. I've been drawn into your magnet tar pit trap. I wish I could eat your cancer when you turn black. Hey! Wait! I've got a new complaint. Forever in debt to your priceless advice. Hey! Wait! I've got a new complaint. Forever in debt to your priceless advice. Hey! Wait! I've got a new complaint. Forever in debt to your priceless advice...your advice...♫"

I pause when I notice the beat is gone. I look out the corner of my eye and don't see him. Turning my head shows he stopped a bit back and is looking at me oddly.

"Uh..."

"ya know this song?"

I rub the back of my head.

"Only when the song plays. I'm not good at recalling lyrics alone."

He's slow to approach and I'm unsure when he messes with something in his pocket. But then I hear the song again.

"♪Meat-eating orchids forgive no one just yet. Cut myself on angel hair and baby's breath. Broken hymen of your Highness, I'm left back. Throw down your umbilical noose so I can climb right back. Hey! Wait! I've got a new complaint. Forever in debt to your priceless advice. Hey! Wait! I've got a new complaint. Forever in debt to your priceless advice. Hey! Wait! I've got a new complaint. Forever in debt to your priceless advice...your advice...♫"

As the music jams solo he smirks and returns to trekking the fog, grateful I'm not butchering the song. Not to be left alone I follow and keep enjoying the music.

"♪She eyes me like a Pisces when I am weak. I've been locked inside your heart-shaped box for weeks. I've been drawn into your magnet tar pit trap. I wish I could eat your cancer when you turn black. Hey! Wait! I've got a new complaint. Forever in debt to your priceless advice. Hey! Wait! I've got a new complaint. Forever in debt to your priceless advice. Hey! Wait! I've got a new complaint. Forever in debt to your priceless advice...your advice...your advice...your advice...♫"

I don't think he minds indulging my karaoke, not while the real thing blares in his skull and I maintain similar pitch to make it hard to distinguish. He probably likes that I'm not being such a pain in the ass while distracted like this. And distracted I am as we continue. The only thing that breaks me from my song and shameful weak dance is the random feel of something tapping my skin. The feel of cold accompanies the tingles. Slowly this oddity becomes clear...snow.

A large gate, the ones that humans must escape in, comes into view as the snow blows into the fog. This is the entrance leading to the building that is Léry's Memorial Institute. The cold is fitting here. Like an unseen bait. The cold lures you towards the false shelter where no good can be found.

The old building we find has it's doors open, inviting the foolish inside. A scientific center of some sort, full of discarded equipment. Some I recognized, other items are new to me. It does have that been abandoned feel to it, the kind that tricks you into letting your guard down. I don't question how the Entity manages to bring places like this here, there's no point to that kind of thought anymore. I have to put my curiosity on hold for now. There is danger in this place and I can't afford to be enchanted now. Inside are small areas like waiting rooms and resection desks, but also traces of something dark. As we tread the halls, beds that probably did not hold free people are scattered about. Corridors lack the warmth that comes from normal care facilities. I feel most uneased. Its maze-like features might trap me for good if Chops wasn't guiding me. What kind of shit went down here? Do I even want to know the reason why there are jail-like bars housing the area we're headed? Probably not.

This place hums with power. Electricity is everywhere and dirty tools are found laying around. This facility screams of a place where all methods are acceptable, go or bad. Whether the "subject" is alive after the procedure is not important. If these walls could talk all you would hear are screams and tearful waling. A passing glance of one room shines the smallest semblance of peace, some sort of library or study houses normal furniture along with numerous amounts of books. Nothing else remembers all those who lost their minds and their lives in there better than archives. Nothing...except the one who is called Doctor.

Pass the bars of no return leads to a noisy circled area. A medical viewing theater with massive electricity generators, holding chairs, tool cabinets, multiple large monitors playing random static images hang from the center, and viewing stations above. Every nerve I have is on alert. Get the fuck out of here, is what my brain tells me, but my body refuses to obey. Chops can feel my nervous deer energy and clutches my arm, it helps ground me better than trusting my legs to not book it.

"🕈☜☹☹ 🕈☜☹☹ 🕈☜☹☹📬📬📬" (WELL WELL WELL...)

I had forgotten the Doctors voice, it tends to happen with only one meeting, even if it's rumbling with dark authority. But his intimidating presence is something I'll never forget as he effortlessly strides into here. The fusion of sparking wires integrated into his bones, the painful contortion of his face to the point his skull is cracking, even his professional attire looks like he wants to bring pain not healing. He's creepy as creepy can be.

"✌☞❄☜☼ ❄☟☜ ❄☟☜✌❄✋👍💧 ✡⚐🕆 🏱🕆☹☹☜👎📪 ✋🕯💣 💧🕆☼🏱☼✋💧☜👎 ✡⚐🕆 🕈⚐🕆☹👎 ☺🕆💧❄ 🕈✌☹😐 ✋☠❄⚐ ❄☟☜ ☟☜✌☼❄ ⚐☞ 💣✡ ☼☜✌☹💣📬 ✌☠👎 🕈✋❄☟ ❄☟☜ ☟🕆💣✌☠ ☠⚐ ☹☜💧💧✍ ☜✞☜☼ ❄☟☜ ✋☠❄☼✋☝🕆✋☠☝ ⚐☠☜ ✡⚐🕆 👌⚐✡💧 ✌☼☜📬" (AFTER THE THEATICS YOU PULLED, I'M SURPRISED YOU WOULD JUST WALK INTO THE HEART OF MY REALM. AND WITH THE HUMAN NO LESS? EVER THE INTRIGUING ONE YOU BOYS ARE.)

Chops' grip on my arm tightens and for good reason. Be it a gift, or a curse...The Entity has ignited a corrupted and inexhaustible spark in The Doctor’s heart which allows him to generate electro-convulsive power at will. His insidious treatment corrupts the minds of those it touches. Victims shocked by the corrupt spark begin to lose their grip on reality and, with repeated exposure, inevitably succumb to madness. I have difficulty keeping my sanity as it is. This is a monster that toys with it for fun.

"we ain't here for your high and mighty bull, ya quack. so knock off the schtick."

Chops' take no shit attitude makes the Doctor sneer.

"❄✡🏱✋👍✌☹ ⚐☞ ✌ ✡⚐🕆❄☟ ❄☟✋☠😐✋☠☝ ❄☟☜✡ 👍✌☠ ☺🕆💧❄ 👎☜💣✌☠👎 ❄☟✋☠☝💧 ✌☠👎 ☝☜❄ ���❄ 👌☜👍✌🕆💧☜ ✋❄ ☞✋❄💧 ❄☟☜✋☼ ☠☜☜👎💧📬 ✡⚐🕆 👍⚐💣☜ ✋☠❄⚐ 💣✡ ☟⚐💣☜📪 🕆☠✋☠✞✋❄☜👎📪 ✌☠👎 👌☜☹✋☜✞☜ ✡⚐🕆 ✌☼☜ ☜☠❄✋❄☹☜👎📬📬📬🕈☟✡✍ 🏱☹☜✌💧☜📪 ☜☠☹✋☝☟❄☜☠ 💣☜📪 ✡⚐🕆 👍⚐👍😐✡ ☹✋❄❄☹☜ 💧☟✋❄📬" (TYPICAL OF A YOUTH THINKING THEY CAN JUST DEMAND THINGS AND GET IT BECAUSE IT FITS THEIR NEEDS. YOU COME INTO MY HOME, UNINVITED, AND BELIEVE YOU ARE ENTITLED...WHY? PLEASE, ENLIGHTEN ME, YOU COCKY LITTLE SHIT.)

Wow, this is awkwardly giving me TV high school drama flashbacks.

"this..."

I'm pulled more into view.

"ya said ya wanted to understand what makes her tick? well now's as good a time as any."

A look comes to the Doctor's eyes. A gleam I don't like.

"👎⚐ 🕆☠👎☜☼💧❄✌☠👎 ✋☞ ✋ 👎⚐🕆👌❄ ✡⚐🕆🕯☼☜ ⚐☞☞☜☼✋☠☝ 💣☜ ❄☟✋💧 ⚐🏱🏱⚐☼❄🕆☠✋❄✡ ☞⚐☼ ☼☜✌💧⚐☠💧 ❄☟✌❄ ✌☼☜☠🕯❄ ❄⚐ 💧✌❄✋💧☞✡ 💣✡ ⚐🕈☠ ☠☜☜👎💧📬" (DO UNDERSTAND IF I DOUBT YOU'RE OFFERING ME THIS OPPORTUNITY FOR REASONS THAT AREN'T TO SATISFY MY OWN NEEDS.)

Why did he have to word it like that?

"it's her soul. it's been touched by the entity. i'm sure a smart guy like you would love to check it out."

This resets the Doctor's mood into a more serious one.

"💧❄☼✌🏱 ☟☜☼ ✋☠📬 ✋ 🕈✋☹☹ ☼☜❄🕆☼☠ 💣⚐💣☜☠❄✌☼✋☹✡📬" (STRAP HER IN. I WILL RETURN MOMENTARILY.)

The Doctor leaves us and Chops pulls me to one of the five chairs.

"W-Wait a sec..."

"don't start actin' up now."

He shoves me into the seat and begins restraining my limbs...with oddly no effort from me to stop him.

"we don't need ya bein' a pain. not here."

"I'm not. I just want you to do something for me."

"i ain't doin'..."

"Promise you'll kill me if things get bad."

He pauses.

"don't be so dramatic."

"No, I mean it. I get the idea you know how bad things can get here. Just..."

"i don't make promises, meat."

"Then hold up to our deal! I have your back and you have mine."

He growls.

"I'll owe you for it. Nothing will be off the table. I promise."

"🏱✌❄☟☜❄✋👍📬📬📬" (PATHETIC...)

Fuck.

"☼☜💧⚐☼❄✋☠☝ ❄⚐ 👌☜☝☝✋☠☝ ☞⚐☼ 💣☜☼👍✡ 👌☜☞⚐☼☜ ❄☟☜ ☞🕆☠ ☟✌💧 ☜✞☜☠ 👌☜☝🕆☠✍ ☟🕆💣✌☠💧 ❄☼🕆☜☹✡ ✌☼☜ 🕈☜✌😐 👍☼☜✌❄🕆☼☜💧📬" (RESORTING TO BEGGING FOR MERCY BEFORE THE FUN HAS EVEN BEGUN? HUMANS TRUELY ARE WEAK CREATURES.)

Chops backs up as the Doctor returns wheeling in a worrisome looking cart, taking his time to set up some sort of equipment.

"👎⚐☠🕯❄ ❄☜☹☹ 💣☜ ✡⚐🕆🕯☼☜ ☞⚐⚐☹✋💧☟ ☜☠⚐🕆☝☟ ❄⚐ ☞✌☹☹ ☞⚐☼ 💧🕆👍☟ 🕈⚐☼👎💧📪 ☹☜☝✋⚐☠✍" (DON'T TELL ME YOU'RE FOOLISH ENOUGH TO FALL FOR SUCH WORDS, LEGION?)

Chops scoffs, dismissing and distancing himself from this.

"☟🕆💣✌☠📬📬📬" (HUMAN...)

And it begins.

"👌☼✋☠☝ ⚐🕆❄ ✡⚐🕆☼ 💧⚐🕆☹📬 ✋ 💣🕆💧❄ ☜✠✌💣✋☠☜ ❄☟☜ ☜✠❄☜☠❄ ⚐☞ 👍⚐☼☼🕆🏱❄✋⚐☠📬" (BRING OUT YOUR SOUL. I MUST EXAMINE THE EXTENT OF CORRUPTION.)

"I..."

"she don't know how."

Okay, it looks like I don't get to speak for myself.

"✡⚐🕆🕯☼☜ ☺⚐😐✋☠☝✍" (YOU'RE JOKING?)

Doctor looks at me and I shrug, making him rub his face with a long sigh.

"☹☜❄ 💣☜ ☝🕆☜💧💧📬📬📬☠⚐ ⚐☠☜ ☟✌💧 ☜✠🏱☹✌✋☠☜👎 ☟⚐🕈 ❄⚐ 👎⚐ 💧⚐📪 👍⚐☼☼☜👍❄✍" (LET ME GUESS...NO ONE HAS EXPLAINED HOW TO DO SO, CORRECT?)

I nod.

"pretty much it comes out when she is or believes to be near death."

He approaches and presses a single static charged bony digit to my chest.

"☞⚐👍🕆💧 ⚐☠ ❄☟✋💧 🏱⚐✋☠���📬 ✋💣✌☝✋☠ ❄☟☜ 💧⚐🕆☹📬 🏱✋👍❄🕆☼☜ ✋❄ ☹☜✌✞✋☠☝ ⚐🕆❄ ☞☼⚐💣 ❄☟✋💧 🏱⚐✋☠❄📬" (FOCUS ON THIS POINT. IMAGIN THE SOUL. PICTURE IT LEAVING OUT FROM THIS POINT.)

I feel like a child being talked down to while being told how to do something brand new yet expected to know already. I, resentfully, comply and close my eyes. Following the instructions as given. I feel his finger leave but the electric sting remains. In fact, it gets worse as time goes on. My fingers twitch and lock up trying to claw the armrests. A sudden flash gets my eyes to shoot open as pain strikes my exposed soul that is now being caught his is charged grasp.

"❄☟✌☠😐 ✡⚐🕆 ☞⚐☼ ✡⚐🕆☼ 👍⚐⚐🏱☜☼✌❄✋⚐☠📬" (THANK YOU FOR YOUR COOPERATION.)

I don't get to say anything before he removes it and my body goes limp in place. Great! Now all I can do is watch. Watch as he takes it over to that weird cart...and suffer in silence.

"☞✌💧👍✋☠✌❄✋☠☝📬 ✌ 💧⚐🕆☹ ❄☟✌❄ 🏱⚐💧💧☜💧💧☜💧 💣🕆☹❄✋🏱☹☜ ❄☼✌✋❄💧📬 ✋ 🕈⚐🕆☹👎☠🕯❄ ❄☟✋☠😐 ✋❄ 🕈✌💧 ☼☜✌☹ ✋☞ ✋ 🕈☜☼☜ ☠⚐❄ 💧☜☜✋☠☝ ✋❄ ☞⚐☼ 💣✡ 💧☜☹☞📬" (FASCINATING. A SOUL THAT POSSESSES MULTIPLE TRAITS. I WOULDN'T THINK IT WAS REAL IF I WERE NOT SEEING IT FOR MY SELF.)

Chops looks at me, earning him my weakened glance, and then moves to witness the Doctor's work.

"how bad is it?"

"👍⚐☠👍☜☼☠☜👎✍" (CONCERNED?)

"*scoff* if she hollows away than i don't get my rights."

"☞✌✋☼ ☜☠⚐🕆☝☟📬" (FAIR ENOUGH.)

I can feel pricking. Sharp pricking.

"❄☟☜ 💧👍✌☼💧 ✌☼☜☠🕯❄ 💣✌☠✡📪 👌🕆❄ ☼✌❄☟☜☼ 👎☜☜🏱📬 ✌ 👍⚐💣💣☜☠👎✌👌☹☜ ☜☞☞⚐☼❄ ✋☠ ☼☜💧✋💧❄✋☠☝ ❄☟☜ ☜☠❄✋❄✡ ☞⚐☼ 💧🕆☼☜📬 ❄☟⚐🕆☝☟ ✌ 💧❄🕆🏱✋👎 👍☟⚐✋👍☜ ❄⚐ 💣✌😐☜ ☠⚐☠☜ ❄☟☜ ☹☜💧💧📬" (THE SCARS AREN'T MANY, BUT RATHER DEEP. A COMMENDABLE EFFORT IN RESISTING THE ENTITY FOR SURE. THOUGH A STUPID CHOICE TO MAKE NONE THE LESS.)

Doctor moves over to a cabinet and collects a small kit, letting me see my soul strung up with tiny hooks to hover over a bowl. I don't like this.

"✋☞ 💧☟☜ 👍⚐☠❄✋☠🕆☜💧 ❄☟✋💧📪 ✋ ☝✋✞☜ ☟☜☼ ☹☜💧💧 ❄☟✌☠ ✌ ☟✌☠👎☞🕆☹ ⚐☞ ❄✋💣☜💧 👌☜☞⚐☼☜ 👌☜✋☠☝ 👍⚐💣🏱☹☜❄☜☹✡ 👍⚐☼☼🕆🏱❄☜👎📬" (IF SHE CONTINUES THIS, I GIVE HER LESS THAN A HANDFUL OF TIMES BEFORE BEING COMPLETELY CORRUPTED.)

"ya sure?"

"❄☟✋💧 ✋💧 ☠⚐❄ 💣✡ ☞✋☼💧❄ ☜☠👍⚐🕆☠❄☜☼ 👎☜✌☹✋☠☝ 🕈✋❄☟ ❄✌✋☠❄☜👎 💧⚐🕆☹💧📬 ❄☟☜☼☜ 🕈☜☼☜ ⚐❄☟☜☼ ☟🕆💣✌☠💧 ✌☠👎 ☜✞☜☠ 💣⚐☠💧❄☜☼💧 ❄☟✌❄ 🕈☜☼☜ ☹⚐💧❄ ❄⚐ ❄☟☜ ☜☠❄✋❄✡🕯💧 💧👍✌☼💧📬" (THIS IS NOT MY FIRST ENCOUNTER DEALING WITH TAINTED SOULS. THERE WERE OTHER HUMANS AND EVEN MONSTERS THAT WERE LOST TO THE ENTITY'S SCARS.)

"ya mean this shit happens even to us?"

"👌⚐✡📪 ✡⚐🕆 ✌☼☜ ✌ ☞⚐⚐☹ ❄⚐ ❄☟✋☠😐 🕈☜ ✌☼☜ ✌👌⚐✞☜ 💧🕆👍☟ ❄☟✋☠☝💧 🕈☟☜☠ ❄☟☜ ☜☠❄✋❄✡ ✋💧 ✋☠✞⚐☹✞☜👎📬 ✋❄ 🕈✌💧 💧⚐ ☹⚐☠☝ ✌☝⚐📬 👌✌👍😐 🕈☟☜☠ ❄☟☜ ☜☠❄✋❄✡ 🕈✌💧 💧❄✋☹☹ ☜💧❄✌👌☹✋💧☟✋☠☝ ☼🕆☹☜💧📬 ❄☟☜☼☜ 🕈✌💧 ✌ 💣⚐☠💧❄☜☼ 😐☠⚐🕈☠ ⚐☠☹✡ ✌💧 ❄☟☜ 💧💣✌💧☟☜☼📬 ❄☟☜ 💧💣✌💧☟☜☼ 🕈✌💧 ✌👌☹☜ ❄⚐ 👎☜💧❄☼⚐✡ ✌☹☹ ⚐👌💧❄✌👍☹☜💧 🕈✋❄☟✋☠ ✌ ❄☼✋✌☹📬 ✋☠👍☹🕆👎✋☠☝ ❄☼☜☜💧📪 🕈✌☹☹💧📪 👌🕆✋☹👎✋☠☝💧📪 ☜❄👍📬 ✋❄ 🕈✌💧 ✌ 👌☜✌💧❄ ☹✋😐☜ ☠⚐ ⚐❄☟☜☼ ✌☠👎 ☜💣👌☼✌👍☜👎 ❄☟☜ ☜☠❄✋❄✡ 💣⚐☼☜ ❄☟✌☠ ✋❄ 💧☟⚐🕆☹👎🕯✞☜📬 ❄⚐ ❄☟☜ 🏱⚐✋☠❄ ❄☟☜☼☜ 🕈✌💧 ☠⚐ 🕆☠👎⚐✋☠☝ ⚐☞ ❄☟☜ 👎✌💣✌☝☜📬 ✋❄ 💧🕆👍👍🕆💣☜👎 ☜✌☼☹✡ ⚐☠ 👎🕆☼✋☠☝ ❄☟✋💧 👎☜✞☜☹⚐🏱💣☜☠❄ 👍✡👍☹☜📬 ❄☟☜✋☼ ☼☜💣⚐✞✌☹ 🕈✌💧 ✌☹💧⚐ ☞⚐☼ ⚐❄☟☜☼ ☼☜✌💧⚐☠💧📬 ❄☟☜✡ ☟✌👎 👌☜👍⚐💣☜ ❄⚐⚐ 🕆☠☞✌✋☼📬 ❄☟☜ ❄☼✋✌☹💧 🕈☜☼☜ ✌❄ 🕆☠☜✞☜☠ ⚐👎👎💧 ✋☞ ✌ 😐✋☹☹☜☼ 🕈✌💧 ✌👌☹☜ ❄⚐ ☼☜💣⚐✞☜ ✌☹☹ ⚐☞ ❄☟☜ ☜☹☜💣☜☠❄💧 ✋☠ ✌ ☼☜✌☹💣📬 ❄☟✋💧 🕈✌💧 ✌☼⚐🕆☠👎 ❄☟☜ 💧✌💣☜ ❄✋💣☜ ❄☟☜ ☜☠❄✋❄✡ ☼☜💣⚐✞☜👎 ❄☟☜ ☟🕆💣✌☠🕯💧 ✌👌✋☹✋❄✡ ❄⚐ 👍☹✋💣👌📬" (BOY, YOU ARE A FOOL TO THINK WE ARE ABOVE SUCH THINGS WHEN THE ENTITY IS INVOLVED. IT WAS SO LONG AGO. BACK WHEN THE ENTITY WAS STILL ESTABLISHING RULES. THERE WAS A MONSTER KNOWN ONLY AS THE SMASHER. THE SMASHER WAS ABLE TO DESTROY ALL OBSTACLES WITHIN A TRIAL. INCLUDING TREES, WALLS, BUILDINGS, ETC. IT WAS A BEAST LIKE NO OTHER AND EMBRACED THE ENTITY MORE THAN IT SHOULD'VE. TO THE POINT THERE WAS NO UNDOING OF THE DAMAGE. IT SUCCUMED EARLY ON DURING THIS DEVELOPMENT CYCLE. THEIR REMOVAL WAS ALSO FOR OTHER REASONS. THEY HAD BECOME TOO UNFAIR. THE TRIALS WERE AT UNEVEN ODDS IF A KILLER WAS ABLE TO REMOVE ALL OF THE ELEMENTS IN A REALM. THIS WAS AROUND THE SAME TIME THE ENTITY REMOVED THE HUMAN'S ABILITY TO CLIMB.)

Wait...Didn't I climb a tree in my first trial as well as the watchtower? Such a memory has Chops look back at me. Not like I can answer him. I only hope he doesn't mention it. My breath suddenly hitches. Something is digging into me.

"whatcha doin'?"

"❄☟☜💧☜ 💧👍✌☼💧 ✌☼☜ ☹✋😐☜ ✋☠☞☜👍❄✋⚐🕆💧 💧⚐☼☜💧📬 ☞⚐☼ ✌☠✡ ☟☜✌☹✋☠☝ ❄⚐ ❄✌😐☜ ☜☞☞☜👍❄📪 ❄☟☜ ✋☠☞☜👍❄☜👎 ❄✋💧💧🕆☜ 💣🕆💧❄ 👌☜ ☼☜💣⚐✞☜👎📬 ✋ 💣🕆💧❄ 👍⚐☠💧☜☠❄☼✌✋❄ ❄⚐ ✌✞⚐✋👎 🕆☠✋❄☜☠❄✋☠✌☹✡ ☟✌☼💣✋☠☝ ❄☟☜ 💧🕆☼☼⚐🕆☠👎✋☠☝ ☟☜✌☹❄☟✡ ✌☼☜✌💧📬 ☠⚐🕈📬📬📬☹☜✌✞☜ 💣☜ ❄⚐ 💣✡ 👍☼✌☞❄ ✋☠ 🏱☜✌👍☜📬" (THESE SCARS ARE LIKE INFECTIOUS SORES. FOR ANY HEALING TO TAKE EFFECT, THE INFECTED TISSUE MUST BE REMOVED. I MUST CONSENTRAIT TO AVOID UNITENTINALY HARMING THE SURROUNDING HEALTHY AREAS. NOW...LEAVE ME TO MY CRAFT IN PEACE.)

The annoyed arrogant tone Doctor has pushes Chops aside. He grumbles and walks off out of sight.

"✡⚐🕆 ☟✌🏱🏱☜☠ ❄⚐ 👌☜ ✈🕆✋❄☜ ☹🕆👍😐✡📪 ☟🕆💣✌☠📬" (YOU HAPPEN TO BE QUITE LUCKY, HUMAN.)

Really? I'm paralyzed while you do fuck all with my soul. How am I lucky?

"✋☞ ✋❄ 🕈☜☼☜☠🕯❄ ☞⚐☼ ✡⚐🕆☼ ☼✌☼☜ 💧⚐🕆☹ ✌☠👎 🕆☠✋✈🕆☜ ☺⚐✋☠✋☠☝ ⚐☞ ⚐🕆☼ ☼✌☠😐💧📪 ✋ 🕈⚐🕆☹👎☠🕯❄ 👌☜ 👎⚐✋☠☝ ❄☟✋💧 ✌💧 ☝☜☠❄☹✡ ✌💧 ✋ ✌💣📬📬📬⚐☼ ✌❄ ✌☹☹📬" (IF IT WEREN'T FOR YOUR RARE SOUL AND UNIQUE JOINING OF OUR RANKS, I WOULDN'T BE DOING THIS AS GENTLY AS I AM...OR AT ALL.)

So not because of me. Just what I have and what you think I am. I hate it...I hate it when people do this. I am not something so basic. You can't label me with just word of mouth or a passing glance. That is how THEY handle me. The users. I won't be used. I won't be taken advantage of. I won't be hurt again!

"🕈☟✌❄ ❄☟☜ 👎☜✞✋☹📬📬📬✍" (WHAT THE DEVIL...?)

It seems my angsty angst is stirring my soul. Something the Doctor doesn't care for.

"👍☜✌💧☜ ✡⚐🕆☼ 💧❄☼🕆☝☝☹✋☠☝📬 ❄☼✌☠💧☞⚐☼💣✋☠☝ ☠⚐🕈 🕈✋☹☹ ⚐☠☹✡ ☟✌☼💣 ✡⚐🕆☼ 💧⚐🕆☹ ☞🕆☼❄☟☜☼ ✋☠ 💧🕆👍☟ ☞☼✌☝☹☜ 💧❄✌❄☜📬" (CEASE YOUR STRUGGLING. TRANSFORMING NOW WILL ONLY HARM YOUR SOUL FURTHER IN SUCH FRAGLE STATE.)

I am in less than a cooperative mood now and my wide-eyed leer at him is meant to make that clear. But the Doctor is in a zero-tolerance mood himself and comes at me with a glare that hurts to make.

"👎⚐ ☠⚐❄ ❄☜💧❄ 💣☜📪 ☟🕆💣✌☠📬 ✡⚐🕆 🕈✋☹☹ ☠⚐❄ ☹✋😐☜ ❄☟☜ ☼☜🕈✌☼👎 ☞⚐☼ ☜✌☼☠✋☠☝ 💣✡ ✋☼☜📬 💧⚐ ☟☜☜👎 💣✡ 🕈⚐☼👎💧📬 ☼☜☹☜☠❄ ✡⚐🕆☼ ✌☝✋❄✌❄✋⚐☠ ⚐☼ ☜☹💧☜📬" (DO NOT TEST ME, HUMAN. YOU WILL NOT LIKE THE REWARD FOR EARNING MY IRE. SO HEED MY WORDS. RELENT YOUR AGITATION OR ELSE.)

Dark rage. I can feel it building. Across the room, my soul flashes sporadically and the scars brighten their intensity. This displeases him and he rubs his hands together, building a surge of electricity.

"❄☟☜ 🕈☜✌😐 ✌☹🕈✌✡💧 ☟✌✞☜ ❄⚐ 👌☜ ☠☜☜👎☹☜💧💧☹✡ 💧❄🕆👌👌⚐☼☠📬" (THE WEAK ALWAYS HAVE TO BE NEEDLESSLY STUBBORN.)

With one hand, he palms my head and sends that charge through my system. My body jerks violently. Faint sounds escape my stiffened vocal cords. Tears begin to swell in my eyes and burn. He stops when the flickering of my soul ends and looks down upon my smoking form.

"✋ ☟✌✞☜ ☹☜✌☼☠☜👎 ✌ ☝☼☜✌❄ 👎☜✌☹ ✌👌⚐🕆❄ ☟🕆💣✌☠💧 ✋☠ 💣✡ ☹✋☞☜📬 ☟🕆💣✌☠💧 ☟✌✞☜ 👎✋☜👎 ✌❄ ✌💧 ☹⚐🕈 ✌💧 🗐📄 ✞⚐☹❄💧📬 ❄✋💣☜ ✋💧 ✌☹💧⚐ ✌ ☞✌👍❄⚐☼📬 ✌ 👍🕆☼☼☜☠❄ ⚐☞ 📁📬📂 ✌💣🏱☜☼☜💧 ☞⚐☼ ✌ 💣☜☼☜ 📄 💧☜👍⚐☠👎💧 👍✌☠ 👌☜ ☞✌❄✌☹📬 ✌💧 ✞⚐☹❄✌☝☜ 🖬 👍🕆☼☼☜☠❄ ✠ ☼☜💧✋💧❄✌☠👍☜ ❄☟☜ 👍🕆☼☼☜☠❄ 👎☜🏱☜☠👎💧 ⚐☠ 👌⚐👎✡ ☼☜💧✋💧❄✌☠👍☜📬 ❄☟☜ ✋☠❄☜☼☠✌☹ ☼☜💧✋💧❄✌☠👍☜ 👌☜❄🕈☜☜☠ ❄☟☜ ☜✌☼💧 ✋💧 ⚐☠☹✡ 📂📁📁 ⚐☟💣💧📪 🕈☟✋☹☜ ✋❄ ✋💧 ✌☼⚐🕆☠👎 🗄📁📁 ⚐☟💣💧 🕈☟☜☠ 💣☜✌💧🕆☼☜👎 ☞☼⚐💣 ☞✋☠☝☜☼ ❄⚐ ❄⚐☜📬" (I HAVE LEARNED A GREAT DEAL ABOUT HUMANS IN MY LIFE. HUMANS HAVE DIED AT AS LOW AS 42 VOLTS. TIME IS ALSO A FACTOR. A CURRENT OF 0.1 AMPERES FOR A MERE 2 SECONDS CAN BE FATAL. AS VOLTAGE = CURRENT X RESISTANCE THE CURRENT DEPENDS ON BODY RESISTANCE. THE INTERNAL RESISTANCE BETWEEN THE EARS IS ONLY 100 OHMS, WHILE IT IS AROUND 500 OHMS WHEN MEASURED FROM FINGER TO TOE.)

Is this bastard really lecturing me right now? Everything hurts. Everything burns. I'm moving but not of my own accord.

"✌ 👍🕆☼☼☜☠❄ ⚐☞ 📂📁 💣✌ ⚐☼ 📁📬📁📂 ✌💣🏱☜☼☜ 🏱☼⚐✞✋👎☜💧 ✌ 💧☜✞☜☼☜ 💧☟⚐👍😐📪 👌🕆❄ ✋❄ 🕈⚐🕆☹👎☠’❄ 👌☜ ☞✌❄✌☹📬 ✌💧 🕈☜ ✌🏱🏱☼⚐✌👍☟ 📂📁📁 💣✌ ⚐☼ 📁📬📂 ✌💣🏱☜☼☜💧📪 💣🕆💧👍🕆☹✌☼ 👍⚐☠❄☼✌👍❄✋⚐☠💧 👌☜☝✋☠📬 ✋❄ ✋💧 ✋💣🏱☜☼✌❄✋✞☜ ❄⚐ ☼☜✌☹✋☪☜ ❄☟✌❄ 👌☜👍✌🕆💧☜ ⚐☞ ❄☟☜ ☟☜✌☼❄’💧 ☹⚐🕈 ☼☜💧✋💧❄✌☠👍☜📪 ✌ 👍🕆☼☼☜☠❄ ⚐☞ 💣✌☝☠✋❄🕆👎☜ ✌💧 💧💣✌☹☹ ✌💧 📂📁 💣✌ ❄☟☼⚐🕆☝☟ ✋❄ ✋💧 ☜☠⚐🕆☝☟ ❄⚐ 😐✋☹☹ ✌ ☟🕆💣✌☠📬 ☟⚐🕈☜✞☜☼📪 ❄☟☜ 👍🕆☼☼☜☠❄ ☠☜✞☜☼ ☼☜✌👍☟☜💧 ❄☟☜ ☟☜✌☼❄📪 ✌💧 ❄☟☜ ☼☜💧✋💧❄✌☠👍☜ ⚐☞ ✡⚐🕆☼ 💧😐✋☠ ✋💧 ☟✋☝☟☜☼📪 ❄☟☜☼☜👌✡ ✌👌💧⚐☼👌✋☠☝ ❄☟✋💧 👍🕆☼☼☜☠❄ ☜☠❄✋☼☜☹✡📬 ✋☞ ❄☟✋💧 🏱✌☹❄☼✡ 👍🕆☼☼☜☠❄ 🕈☜☼☜ ❄⚐ ☼☜✌👍☟ ❄☟☜ ☟☜✌☼❄ 👌✡ ✌☠✡ 💣☜✌☠💧📪 ✋❄ 🕈⚐🕆☹👎 ✌☹💣⚐💧❄ 👍☜☼❄✌✋☠☹✡ 👌☜ ☞✌❄✌☹📬" (A CURRENT OF 10 MA OR 0.01 AMPERE PROVIDES A SEVERE SHOCK, BUT IT WOULDN’T BE FATAL. AS WE APPROACH 100 MA OR 0.1 AMPERES, MUSCULAR CONTRACTIONS BEGIN. IT IS IMPERATIVE TO REALIZE THAT BECAUSE OF THE HEART’S LOW RESISTANCE, A CURRENT OF MAGNITUDE AS SMALL AS 10 MA THROUGH IT IS ENOUGH TO KILL A HUMAN. HOWEVER, THE CURRENT NEVER REACHES THE HEART, AS THE RESISTANCE OF YOUR SKIN IS HIGHER, THEREBY ABSORBING THIS CURRENT ENTIRELY. IF THIS PALTRY CURRENT WERE TO REACH THE HEART BY ANY MEANS, IT WOULD ALMOST CERTAINLY BE FATAL.)

He takes hold of my shoulders, temporarily ending my harsh twitching so my head doesn't bash itself.

"🕈☟☜☠ ❄☟☜ 👍🕆☼☼☜☠❄ ✋☠👍☼☜✌💧☜💧 👌☜✡⚐☠👎 📂📁📁📁 💣✌ ⚐☼ 📂 ✌💣🏱☜☼☜📪 ❄☟☜ 💣🕆💧👍🕆☹✌☼ 👍⚐☠❄☼✌👍❄✋⚐☠💧 ✌🕆☝💣☜☠❄ ❄⚐ ✌☠ ☜✠❄☜☠❄ ❄☟✌❄ 👎⚐☜💧 ☠⚐❄ ✌☹☹⚐🕈 ☼☜☹☜✌💧☜ 💧✋☝☠✌☹💧 ❄⚐ ❄☟☜ ☹✋💣👌💧 ❄⚐ 👌☜ ☼☜👍☜✋✞☜👎📬 ❄☟✋💧 ❄☜☠✌👍✋❄✡ ✋💧 ✋☼⚐☠✋👍✌☹☹✡ ✌ 👍⚐☠💧☜✈🕆☜☠👍☜ ⚐☞ 💣🕆💧👍🕆☹✌☼ 🏱✌☼✌☹✡💧✋💧📬 ✌❄ ❄☟✋💧 🏱⚐✋☠❄📪 ❄☟☜ ☟☜✌☼❄ ☜✠🏱☜☼✋☜☠👍☜💧 ✞☜☠❄☼✋👍🕆☹✌☼ ☞✋👌☼✋☹☹✌❄✋⚐☠📪 ✌☠ 🕆☠👍⚐⚐☼👎✋☠✌❄☜👎 ✋☠❄☜☼💣✋❄❄☜☠❄ ❄🕈✋❄👍☟✋☠☝ ⚐☞ ❄☟☜ ☟☜✌☼❄’💧 ✞☜☠❄☼✋👍☹☜💧 ❄☟✌❄ 🏱☼⚐👎🕆👍☜💧 ✋☠☜☞☞☜👍❄✋✞☜ ☟☜✌☼❄👌☜✌❄💧📪 🕈☟✋👍☟ 👍⚐🕆☹👎 ☼☜💧🕆☹❄ ✋☠ 👎☜✌❄☟ ✋☞ ☟☜☹🏱 ✋💧 ☠⚐❄ 💧🕆���💣⚐☠☜👎 ✋💣💣☜👎✋✌❄☜☹✡📬 ☞🕆☼❄☟☜☼ ✋☠👍☼☜✌💧☜ ✋☠ 👍🕆☼☼☜☠❄ ❄⚐🕈✌☼👎💧 📄📁📁📁 💣✌ ⚐☼ 📄 ✌💣🏱☜☼☜ 🏱☼⚐👎🕆👍☜💧 👌🕆☼☠💧 ✌☠👎 🕆☠👍⚐☠💧👍✋⚐🕆💧☠☜💧💧📬 ❄☟☜ 💣🕆💧👍🕆☹✌☼ 👍⚐☠❄☼✌👍❄✋⚐☠ ✋☠👎🕆👍☜👎 👌✡ ❄☟☜ 💧☟⚐👍😐 🕈⚐🕆☹👎 ☠⚐🕈 💧⚐ 💧☜✞☜☼☜ ❄☟✌❄ ❄☟☜ ☟☜✌☼❄ 🏱☹🕆☠☝☜💧 ✋☠❄⚐ 👍☹✌💣🏱💧📬 ☜✠🏱⚐💧🕆☼☜ ❄⚐ 💧🕆👍☟ ✌☠ ✌💣⚐🕆☠❄ ⚐☞ 👍🕆☼☼☜☠❄ 👍⚐🕆☹👎 ☹☜✌👎 ❄⚐ 👎☼☜✌👎☞🕆☹ ✋☠❄☜☼☠✌☹ 👌🕆☼☠💧📪 ✌☠👎 ❄☟☜ 👍☹✌💣🏱💧 💣✌✡ ☹☜✌👎 ❄⚐ 👍✌☼👎✋✌👍 ✌☼☼☜💧❄📬 👎☜✌❄☟ ✋💧 🏱⚐💧💧✋👌☹☜📬 ☟⚐🕈☜✞☜☼📪 ❄☟☜ 👍☹✌💣🏱✋☠☝ 💣☜👍☟✌☠✋💧💣 ✋💧 👎☜✞✋💧☜👎 ✋☠ ✌ 🕈✌✡ ❄☟✌❄ ✋❄ ✋💧 💧🕆☼🏱☼✋💧✋☠☝☹✡ ☹🕆👍☼✌❄✋✞☜📪 ✌💧 ✋❄ 🏱☼⚐❄☜👍❄💧 ❄☟☜ ☟☜✌☼❄ ☞☼⚐💣 ✞☜☠❄☼✋👍🕆☹✌☼ ☞✋👌☼✋☹☹✌❄✋⚐☠📬 👍☟✌☠👍☜💧 ⚐☞ 💧🕆☼✞✋✞✌☹ ✌☼☜ 💧👍✌☠❄📪 👌🕆❄ ☼☜👎☜☜💣✌👌☹☜ ✋☞ ❄☟☜ ✞✋👍❄✋💣 ☼☜👍☜✋✞☜💧 ✋💣💣☜👎✋✌❄☜ ✌❄❄☜☠❄✋⚐☠📬 👎☜☞✋👌☼✋☹☹✌❄⚐☼💧 ✌☼☜ 🕆❄✋☹✋☪☜👎 ❄⚐ 💧✌✞☜ 💧🕆👍☟ 💧☟⚐👍😐📫✋💣🏱✋☠☝☜👎 ✞✋👍❄✋💣💧📬" (WHEN THE CURRENT INCREASES BEYOND 1000 MA OR 1 AMPERE, THE MUSCULAR CONTRACTIONS AUGMENT TO AN EXTENT THAT DOES NOT ALLOW RELEASE SIGNALS TO THE LIMBS TO BE RECEIVED. THIS TENACITY IS IRONICALLY A CONSEQUENCE OF MUSCULAR PARALYSIS. AT THIS POINT, THE HEART EXPERIENCES VENTRICULAR FIBRILLATION, AN UNCOORDINATED INTERMITTENT TWITCHING OF THE HEART’S VENTRICLES THAT PRODUCES INEFFECTIVE HEARTBEATS, WHICH COULD RESULT IN DEATH IF HELP IS NOT SUMMONED IMMEDIATELY. FURTHER INCREASE IN CURRENT TOWARDS 2000 MA OR 2 AMPERE PRODUCES BURNS AND UNCONSCIOUSNESS. THE MUSCULAR CONTRACTION INDUCED BY THE SHOCK WOULD NOW SO SEVERE THAT THE HEART PLUNGES INTO CLAMPS. EXPOSURE TO SUCH AN AMOUNT OF CURRENT COULD LEAD TO DREADFUL INTERNAL BURNS, AND THE CLAMPS MAY LEAD TO CARDIAC ARREST. DEATH IS POSSIBLE. HOWEVER, THE CLAMPING MECHANISM IS DEVISED IN A WAY THAT IT IS SURPRISINGLY LUCRATIVE, AS IT PROTECTS THE HEART FROM VENTRICULAR FIBRILLATION. CHANCES OF SURVIVAL ARE SCANT, BUT REDEEMABLE IF THE VICTIM RECEIVES IMMEDIATE ATTENTION. DEFIBRILLATORS ARE UTILIZED TO SAVE SUCH SHOCK-IMPINGED VICTIMS.)

Why couldn't I be fortunate enough to blackout? Why do I have to be aware of all this?

"❄☟☜ ☼☜🏱☜☼👍🕆💧💧✋⚐☠💧 ⚐☞ 💧🕆👍☟ ☟✌☼💣 👍✌☠ 👌☜ 💧🕆💣💣✌☼✋☪☜👎 ☹✋😐☜ ❄☟✋💧📬📬📬📂 💣✋☹☹✋✌💣🏱 ✋💧 ☜✈🕆✌☹ ❄⚐ ☺🕆💧❄ ✌ ☞✌✋☠❄ ❄✋☠☝☹☜📬 🗄 💣✋☹☹✋✌💣🏱💧 ✌☼☜ ☜✈🕆✌☹ ❄⚐ 💧☹✋☝☟❄ 💧☟⚐👍😐💧 👌☜✋☠☝ ☞☜☹❄📬 👎✋💧❄🕆☼👌✋☠☝📪 👌🕆❄ ☠⚐❄ 🏱✌✋☠☞🕆☹📬 ☟⚐🕈☜✞☜☼📪 💧❄☼⚐☠☝ ✋☠✞⚐☹🕆☠❄✌☼✡ 💣⚐✞☜💣☜☠❄💧 👍✌☠ 👍✌🕆💧☜ ✋☠☺🕆☼✋☜💧📬 ⌛📫📄🗄 💣✋☹☹✋✌💣🏱💧 ☞⚐☼ 🕈⚐💣☜☠ ✌☠👎 🖲📫🗏📁 💣✋☹☹✋✌💣🏱💧 ☞⚐☼ 💣☜☠ ✋💧 ☜✈🕆✌☹ ❄⚐ 🏱✌✋☠☞🕆☹ 💧☟⚐👍😐💧📬 💣🕆💧👍🕆☹✌☼ 👍⚐☠❄☼⚐☹ ✋💧 ☹⚐💧❄📬 ❄☟✋💧 ✋💧 ❄☟☜ ☼✌☠☝☜ 🕈☟☜☼☜ ☞☼☜☜☪✋☠☝ 👍🕆☼☼☜☠❄💧 💧❄✌☼❄ ✌☠👎 ❄☟☜ 💣🕆💧👍☹☜💧 ☹⚐👍😐🕆🏱📬 🗄📁📫📂🗄📁 💣✋☹☹✋✌💣🏱💧 ✌☼☜ ☜✈🕆✌☹ ❄⚐ ☜✠❄☼☜💣☜☹✡ 🏱✌✋☠☞🕆☹ 💧☟⚐👍😐💧📪 ☼☜💧🏱✋☼✌❄⚐☼✡ ✌☼☼☜💧❄📪 ✌☠👎 💧☜✞☜☼☜ 💣🕆💧👍☹☜ 👍⚐☠❄☼✌👍❄✋⚐☠💧📬 ☞☹☜✠⚐☼ 💣🕆💧👍☹☜💧 💣✌✡ 👍✌🕆💧☜ ☟⚐☹👎✋☠☝ ⚐☠🖴 ☜✠❄☜☠💧⚐☼ 💣🕆💧👍☹☜💧 💣✌✡ 👍✌🕆💧☜ ✋☠❄☜☠💧☜ 🏱🕆💧☟✋☠☝ ✌🕈✌✡📬 👎☜✌❄☟ ✋💧 🏱⚐💧💧✋👌☹☜📬 📂📪📁📁📁📫 🗐📪🗏📁📁 💣✋☹☹✋✌💣🏱💧 ⚐☼ 📂📫🗐📬🗏 ✌💣🏱💧 ✋💧 ☜✈🕆✌☹ ❄⚐ ✞☜☠❄☼✋👍🕆☹✌☼ ☞✋👌☼✋☹☹✌❄✋⚐☠ 👎✋💧❄🕆☼👌✌☠👍☜📬 💣🕆💧👍☹☜💧 👍⚐☠❄☼✌👍❄🖴 ☠☜☼✞☜ 👎✌💣✌☝☜ ⚐👍👍🕆☼💧📬 👎☜✌❄☟ ✋💧 ☹✋😐☜☹✡📬 📂📁📪📁📁📁 💣✋☹☹✋✌💣🏱💧 ⚐☼ 📂📁 ✌💣🏱💧 ✋💧 ☜✈🕆✌☹ ❄⚐ 👍✌☼👎✋✌👍 ✌☼☼☜💧❄ ✌☠👎 💧☜✞☜☼☜ 👌🕆☼☠💧 ⚐👍👍🕆☼📬 👎☜✌❄☟ ✋💧 🏱☼⚐👌✌👌☹☜📬 📂🗄📪📁📁📁 💣✋☹☹✋✌💣🏱💧 ⚐☼ 📂🗄 ✌💣🏱💧 ✋💧 ☜✈🕆✌☹ ❄⚐ ❄☟☜ ☹⚐🕈☜💧❄ ⚐✞☜☼👍🕆☼☼☜☠❄ ✌❄ 🕈☟✋👍☟ ✌ ❄✡🏱✋👍✌☹ ☞🕆💧☜ ⚐☼ 👍✋☼👍🕆✋❄ 👌☼☜✌😐☜☼ ⚐🏱☜☠💧 ✌ 👍✋☼👍🕆✋❄📬 👎☜✌❄☟ ✋💧 ☝🕆✌☼✌☠❄☜☜👎📬 ❄⚐ 🏱🕆❄ ❄☟✋💧 ✋☠ 🏱☜☼💧🏱☜👍❄✋✞☜📪 ☜☹☜👍❄☼✋👍 👍☟✌✋☼💧 🕆💧☜👎 ☞⚐☼ ☜✠☜👍🕆❄✋⚐☠ 🏱🕆☼🏱⚐💧☜💧 🕆💧☜ ✌ ✞⚐☹❄✌☝☜ 🕆💧🕆✌☹☹✡ 🕆💧☜ 📄📪📁📁📁 ❄⚐ 📄📪📄📁📁 ✞⚐☹❄💧 ✌❄ 🖮 ❄⚐ 📂📄 ✌💣🏱💧📬 ❄☟☜ ✞⚐☹❄✌☝☜ ✋ 🕆💧☜👎 ⚐☠ ✡⚐🕆 🕈✌💧 ☜✠✌👍❄☹✡ ⌛ ✌💣🏱💧📬" (THE REPERCUSSIONS OF SUCH HARM CAN BE SUMMARIZED LIKE THIS...1 MILLIAMP IS EQUAL TO JUST A FAINT TINGLE. 5 MILLIAMPS ARE EQUAL TO SLIGHT SHOCKS BEING FELT. DISTURBING, BUT NOT PAINFUL. HOWEVER, STRONG INVOLUNTARY MOVEMENTS CAN CAUSE INJURIES. 6-25 MILLIAMPS FOR WOMEN AND 9-30 MILLIAMPS FOR MEN IS EQUAL TO PAINFUL SHOCKS. MUSCULAR CONTROL IS LOST. THIS IS THE RANGE WHERE FREEZING CURRENTS START AND THE MUSCLES LOCKUP. 50-150 MILLIAMPS ARE EQUAL TO EXTREMELY PAINFUL SHOCKS, RESPIRATORY ARREST, AND SEVERE MUSCLE CONTRACTIONS. FLEXOR MUSCLES MAY CAUSE HOLDING ON; EXTENSOR MUSCLES MAY CAUSE INTENSE PUSHING AWAY. DEATH IS POSSIBLE. 1,000- 4,300 MILLIAMPS OR 1-4.3 AMPS IS EQUAL TO VENTRICULAR FIBRILLATION DISTURBANCE. MUSCLES CONTRACT; NERVE DAMAGE OCCURS. DEATH IS LIKELY. 10,000 MILLIAMPS OR 10 AMPS IS EQUAL TO CARDIAC ARREST AND SEVERE BURNS OCCUR. DEATH IS PROBABLE. 15,000 MILLIAMPS OR 15 AMPS IS EQUAL TO THE LOWEST OVERCURRENT AT WHICH A TYPICAL FUSE OR CIRCUIT BREAKER OPENS A CIRCUIT. DEATH IS GUARANTEED. TO PUT THIS IN PERSPECTIVE, ELECTRIC CHAIRS USED FOR EXECUTION PURPOSES USE A VOLTAGE USUALLY USE 2,000 TO 2,200 VOLTS AT 7 TO 12 AMPS. THE VOLTAGE I USED ON YOU WAS EXACTLY 6 AMPS.)

He lets go and looks down at me, my twitching is slightly less crazy.

"✋ 🕈✋☹☹ ☠⚐❄ 👌☜ 💧⚐ 😐✋☠👎 ☠☜✠❄ ❄✋💣☜📬 💧⚐ ☹☜✌☼☠ ☞☼⚐💣 ❄☟✋💧📬 👎⚐ ✌💧 ❄⚐☹👎 ✌☠👎 ☠⚐ 🕆💧☜☹☜💧💧 ☟✌☼💣 🕈✋☹☹ 👌☜ 👎⚐☠☜📬" (I WILL NOT BE SO KIND NEXT TIME. SO LEARN FROM THIS. DO AS TOLD AND NO USELESS HARM WILL BE DONE.)

He returns to his work on my soul, confident that he won't be needing to discipline me again. This is hell. I'm a drooling broken rag doll that feels pain all over. Even my tears are of little comfort, they feel like acid rolling off my skin. Chops returns sometime later, probably heard the loud crackling of Doctor's electrocution, drinking what looks like a can of pop. Did he find a vending machine? Lucky fucker! The Doctor doesn't pay him any mind, so he shuffles around and looks everywhere like a paranoid sheep. Why so jumpy, bonehead? You're not the one being operated on and fried. When his eyes land on me he seems to stare a bit more intently than expected, maybe seeing something I can't.

"the fuck happened here?"

"✋ ❄⚐☹👎 ✡⚐🕆 ❄⚐ ☹☜✌✞☜ 💣☜ ❄⚐ 💣✡ 🕈⚐☼😐📬" (I TOLD YOU TO LEAVE ME TO MY WORK.)

This ticks Chops off yet he avoids bugging the Doctor. Instead, he approaches me while chugging what's left of his soda. God, what I wouldn't give to have that right now.

"ya look like shit."

Really? I couldn't tell, dumbass.

"pissed him off, didn't ya? what is it with ya and doin' that?"

This coming from the guy that made me give his knife fellatio.

"wanna know somethin' messed up? whatever he did to ya was him goin' easy. if he really was pissed, you'd be fried like overcooked bacon."

And that is supposed to make me feel better?

Due to fucked up nerves and steaming tears I haven't moved my eyes or blinked in awhile. The lack of attention his way has him moving to be in my face and staring into my pained orbs.

"ya didn't go overboard and make her brain dead, did ya?"

He ponders aloud.

"carryin' her ass back isn't somethin' i wanna do."

The Doctor pauses.

"🕈☟⚐ 💧✌✋👎 ✡⚐🕆🕯☹☹ 👌☜ ☹☜✌✞✋☠☝ 🕈✋❄☟ ☟☜☼✍" (WHO SAID YOU'LL BE LEAVING WITH HER?)

I had warned him of something like this happening.

"and what? ya expect us to leave her here?"

"✡⚐🕆 💣✋💧🕆☠👎☜☼💧❄✌☠👎📬📬📬" (YOU MISUNDERSTAND...)

The sound of building charge hits our senses and before Chops can react it's cast across the room, sending Chops flying.

"💧☟☜ ✋💧☠🕯❄ ☹☜✌✞✋☠☝ ☟☜☼☜📬 🏱☜☼✋⚐👎📬" (SHE ISN'T LEAVING HERE. PERIOD.)

I so freaking called it.

Not one to take a hit and flee, Chops gets back up. Standing his ground and snarling like a mad dog.

"ya think ya can take what's mine? nah, motherfucker, that shit ain't happenin'."

Now that things have escalated, the Doctor fully faces Legion.

"🕈☟✌❄ 👎✋👎 ✡⚐🕆 ☼☜✌☹☹✡ ☜✠🏱☜👍❄ 🕈☟☜☠ ✡⚐🕆 👌☼⚐🕆☝☟❄ ☟☜☼ ☟☜☼☜✍ ❄☟✌❄ ✋ 🕈⚐🕆☹👎 ✌✋👎 ✡⚐🕆 💧☜☹☞☹☜💧💧☹✡ 🕈✋❄☟ ☠⚐ 💣⚐❄✋✞☜ ⚐☞ 💣✡ ⚐🕈☠✍ ✡⚐🕆 ☟✌👎 ❄⚐ ☟✌✞☜ 😐☠⚐🕈☠ ✡⚐🕆 🕈☜☼☜ 🕈✌☹😐✋☠☝ ✋☠❄⚐ ✌ ❄☼✌🏱📬 👌🕆❄ ✌ ❄☼✌🏱 ⚐☠☜ 💣🕆💧❄ 💧❄☜🏱 ✋☠ ❄⚐ ☝☜❄ 🕈☟✌❄ ✡⚐🕆 🕈✌☠❄☜👎📬 💧🕆👍☟ ✋☝☠⚐☼✌☠👍☜ ✋💧 👎☜💧☜☼✞✋☠☝ ⚐☞ 🏱🕆☠✋💧☟💣☜☠❄📬" (WHAT DID YOU REALLY EXPECT WHEN YOU BROUGHT HER HERE? THAT I WOULD AID YOU SELFLESSLY WITH NO MOTIVE OF MY OWN? YOU HAD TO HAVE KNOWN YOU WERE WALKING INTO A TRAP. BUT A TRAP ONE MUST STEP IN TO GET WHAT YOU WANTED. SUCH IGNORANCE IS DESERVING OF PUNISHMENT.)

"*growls* bastard!"

Rage has Chops throw his blade at the Doctor. But the mad man doesn't move. He simply catches the metal weapon and electrocutes it, causing great pain to Chops.

"☼☜💧🏱☜👍❄ ⚐☞ ⚐🕆☼ 🏱✌❄✋☜☠❄💧 ✋💧 ✌❄ ❄☟☜ 👍⚐☼☜ ⚐☞ ⚐🕆☼ 🏱☼✋☠👍✋🏱☹☜💧📬 ⚐☠👍☜ 🕈☜ ☟✌✞☜ ☜💧❄✌👌☹✋💧☟☜👎 ✌☠ ☜☞☞☜👍❄✋✞☜ 💣☜❄☟⚐👎 ⚐☞ ❄☼☜✌❄💣☜☠❄📪 🕈☜ 👍✌☠ ☞⚐👍🕆💧 ⚐☠ ✋❄💧 ☜☞☞✋👍✋☜☠❄ 💣☜✌☠💧 ⚐☞ 👎☜☹✋✞☜☼✡📬 ☟⚐🕈☜✞☜☼📬📬📬❄⚐ ✌✞⚐✋👎 ☼☜☹✌🏱💧☜ ☞☼⚐💣 ⚐🕆☼ 💣⚐💧❄ ❄☜☠✌👍✋⚐🕆💧 💧🕆👌☺☜👍❄💧📪 ✋ 🕈✋☹☹ 🕆💧☜ 💣✌✠✋💣🕆💣 ☹☜✞☜☹💧 🕈☟☜☠ 🏱☼⚐👍☜☜👎✋☠☝ 🕈✋❄☟ 👎✋💧👍✋🏱☹✋☠✌☼✡ ✌👍❄✋⚐☠💧📬" (RESPECT OF OUR PATIENTS IS AT THE CORE OF OUR PRINCIPLES. ONCE WE HAVE ESTABLISHED AN EFFECTIVE METHOD OF TREATMENT, WE CAN FOCUS ON ITS EFFICIENT MEANS OF DELIVERY. HOWEVER...TO AVOID RELAPSE FROM OUR MOST TENACIOUS SUBJECTS, I WILL USE MAXIMUM LEVELS WHEN PROCEEDING WITH DISCIPLINARY ACTIONS.)

Chops doesn't look so good and I'm helpless to aid him. Legion isn't built to deal with the Doctor, a killer that can work in short and mid-range. At best Chops has speed on his side especially if he goes into Feral Frenzy, but two things are against him. One is that Feral Frenzy only lasts a short while. And two, the electricity generators in the room might enhance the Doctor's power indirectly.

"❄☟☜ 💧❄✋💣🕆☹🕆💧 💣🕆💧❄ 👌☜ 😐☜🏱❄ ✌👍❄✋✞☜ ✌❄ ✌ 👍⚐☠✞🕆☹💧✋✞☜ ☹☜✞☜☹📬 💧✋👎☜ ☜☞☞☜👍❄💧 ✌☼☜ ✞☜☼✡ ☼✌☼☜📬" (THE STIMULUS MUST BE KEPT ACTIVE AT A CONVULSIVE LEVEL. SIDE EFFECTS ARE VERY RARE.)

"*huff* fuck you!"

Doctor charges to shock the weapon again but Chops yanks it harder than the Doctor expects, regaining

it. With the blade back in his hands Chops gets ready for the Doctor's next more. A smart play since he's at the home-field disadvantage.

"✋☞ ✡⚐🕆 ❄☟✋☠😐 ✡⚐🕆🕯☹☹ 👌☜ ✌👌☹☜ ❄⚐ ❄✌😐☜ 💧🕆👍☟ ✌ ☼✌☼☜ 💧🏱☜👍✋💣☜☠ ☞☼⚐💣 💣✡ ☝☼✌💧🏱📪 ✌☹☹⚐🕈 💣☜ ❄⚐ ☼☜📫☜👎🕆👍✌❄☜ ✡⚐🕆☼ 💧✋💣🏱☹☜ 💣✋☠👎📬" (IF YOU THINK YOU'LL BE ABLE TO TAKE SUCH A RARE SPECIMEN FROM MY GRASP, ALLOW ME TO RE-EDUCATE YOUR SIMPLE MIND.)

"if ya think you'll have a chance like that again, you're in for a hell of a bad time"

Wait...Again? Now I'm really sure these two have a bad history.

Doctor releases the charge across the ground in a wide blast. Lucky for Chops, he enters Feral Frenzy and the speed boost he gets allows him to miss the attack with a quick leap. Activating Feral Frenzy causes The Legion to enter a deadly rage...for ten whole seconds...unless he's got add-ons to increase the duration and shorten cooldown time but even then that's only by seconds.

"���❄🕯💧 ❄✋💣☜ ☞⚐☼ ✡⚐🕆☼ ☞⚐☹☹⚐🕈🕆🏱 ❄☼☜✌❄💣☜☠❄📪 👌⚐✡✏" (IT'S TIME FOR YOUR FOLLOWUP TREATMENT, BOY!)

The Doctor does have unlimited ammo with his electric powers however he does have to take a few seconds to charge up each time. Chops knows this and his knife doesn't have such a drawback. But if he swings while in frenzy and doesn't hit anyone he will lose frenzy, getting disoriented as the rage subsides. So Chops uses the cover of all the clutter in the room to his advantage to keep from being vulnerable as Doctor follows, trying to get decent shots. I can't move to see everything but I can see what Chops is doing, it's a very smart move. He's keeping the Doctor's attention on him, luring him around the room in a complete circle. The Doctor doesn't realize the plan till Chops is near it...My soul.

"👎⚐☠🕯❄ ✡⚐🕆 ☞🕆👍😐✋☠☝ 👎✌☼☜✏" (DON'T YOU FUCKING DARE!)

Doctor blasts Chops square on the back and he's slammed into a partition wall. By now frenzy has ended and needs a twenty-second cooldown, providing he doesn't have an add-on to shorten that. Monsters have fast recovery abilities and Doctor knows this. It's why he wastes no time to begin stomping on the smaller skeleton.

"✡⚐🕆 ✋☠💧✋☝☠✋☞✋👍✌☠❄ 🕈⚐☼💣✏ 👎⚐ ✡⚐🕆 ☟✌✞☜ ✌☠✡ ✋👎☜✌ ⚐☞ ❄☟☜ 💧✋☝☠✋☞✋👍✌☠👍☜ ❄☟✋💧 ☟🕆💣✌☠ ☟⚐☹👎💧✍ ✌ 💧⚐🕆☹ 🕈✋❄☟ 💣🕆☹❄✋🏱☹☜ ❄☼✌✋❄💧 👍✌☠ 🏱⚐💧💧☜💧💧 🕆☠❄⚐☹👎 🏱⚐❄☜☠❄✋✌☹✏ ✋❄ 👍⚐🕆☹👎 🏱⚐💧💧✋👌☹✡ ☟⚐☹👎 ❄☟☜ 😐☜✡ ❄⚐ ☜💧👍✌🏱✋☠☝ ❄☟✋💧 ☟☜☹☹✏ ✌☠👎 💧⚐ ☹⚐☠☝ ✌💧 ❄☟☜☼☜🕯💧 ☜✞☜☠ ✌ ☞☼✌👍❄✋⚐☠ ⚐☞ ✌ 👍☟✌☠👍☜ ✋☠ ❄☟✌❄ 🏱⚐💧💧✋👌✋☹✋❄✡📪 ✋ 🕈✋☹☹ 👎⚐ ✌☠✡❄☟✋☠☝ ✌☠👎 ☜✞☜☼✡❄☟✋☠☝ ❄⚐ 💣✌😐☜ ✋❄ ☟✌🏱🏱☜☠✏ ☠⚐ ⚐☠☜ 🕈✋☹☹ 💧❄✌☠👎 ✋☠ 💣✡ 🕈✌✡📪 ☠⚐❄ ✡⚐🕆📪 ❄☟☜ ⚐❄☟☜☼💧📪 ❄☟☜ ☟🕆💣✌☠💧📪 ⚐☼ ❄☟☜ ☜☠❄✋❄✡✏ ✋ 🕈✋☹☹ 👌☜ ☼✋👎 ⚐☞ ✡⚐🕆 ✌☹☹ ☹✋😐☜ 👎✋💧☝🕆💧❄✋☠☝ ✋☹☹☠☜💧💧☜💧✏ ✋ 🕈✋☹☹ ☠⚐❄ 👌☜ 👎☜☠✋☜👎 ⚐☼ 💣✡ ☠✌💣☜ ✋💧☠🕯❄ 🕈📬 👎📬 ☝✌💧❄☜☼✏" (YOU INSIGNIFICANT WORM! DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA OF THE SIGNIFICANCE THIS HUMAN HOLDS? A SOUL WITH MULTIPLE TRAITS CAN POSSESS UNTOLD POTENTIAL! IT COULD POSSIBLY HOLD THE KEY TO ESCAPING THIS HELL! AND SO LONG AS THERE'S EVEN A FRACTION OF A CHANCE IN THAT POSSIBILITY, I WILL DO ANYTHING AND EVERYTHING TO MAKE IT HAPPEN! NO ONE WILL STAND IN MY WAY, NOT YOU, THE OTHERS, THE HUMANS, OR THE ENTITY! I WILL BE RID OF YOU ALL LIKE DISGUSTING ILLNESSES! I WILL NOT BE DENIED OR MY NAME ISN'T W. D. GASTER!)

He has a proper name? I mean, it's dumb to think he didn't, but then why do the others just call themselves by the names the humans or the Entity gave them? Monsters make my brain hurt with the number of questions they stir up. But if that's the case, what's Legions' real names? It can't honestly be Bones, Chops, Boo, and Dead Eye...Can it?

Feeling his physical brutality was sufficient enough, the Gaster rubs his hands and charges up a large amount of electricity. Not sure they can actually kill each other but the power could be enough to incapacitate Chops for an unknown amount of time. However, Chops has the strength to throw his blade once more. The Doctor hardly moves to avoid the hit and is overwhelmed with smug superiority.

"✌ 🏱✋❄✋☞🕆☹ ✌❄❄☜💣🏱❄ 💣✌👎☜ 👌✡ ✌ 🏱✋❄✋☞🕆☹ ☞⚐⚐☹📬" (A PITIFUL ATTEMPT MADE BY A PITIFUL FOOL.)

"*strained* heh...wasn't aimin' for you."

Gaster turns with alarm to see the true target of Chops' attack.

"☠⚐⚐⚐⚐⚐⚐⚐⚐⚐⚐⚐✏✏" (NOOOOOOOOOOO!!)

The blade impaled itself in my soul, a sly move aided by my silence. Gaster attempts to keep it from shattering but such damage is beyond even his skill. Needless to say, he's not happy about it.

"🕈☟✌❄ ☟✌✞☜ ✡⚐🕆 👎⚐☠☜✍✏" (WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!)

Chops picks himself up as I feel the cold embrace of death taking me.

"*grunt* remember, meat...ya owe me."

My eyes roll into the back of my head and everything goes black.

[AT THE SURVIVOR'S CAMPSITE]

Another cycle of feeding comes for the Entity, thus a new day. Five trials. Seventeen of the eighteen Survivors are called out for the hunt, some sent out twice. Five Monsters are sent out to sacrifice the human meat. The Entity being hungrier than usual typically does two or three trails per day. Something must be coming. Something it is storing extra soul energy for. The eve of Hallows is approaching. Soon...Very soon. The flowers will bloom once more. But not yet.

By what they guess to be night time comes around, the humans at camp are frazzled from the frantic trials and lack of prep time given. Most are glad it's over and they were only sent once. Others wish the lucky ones would go jump off a cliff. Tough one has been more annoyed than ever. One that's gathered information from the others that his lady wasn't sent to the trials. David King sits and stares into the campfire, doing something some of the others would doubt him able to do...think. Something doesn't feel right. His instincts tell him so. Why wasn't she back by now? She had to be held somewhere. It made sense. He didn't know a lot about her but he knew her well enough to know she wouldn't join the monsters willingly. She's a tough girl, not a killer. Maybe it was the Entity. Damn thing seems to toy with her more than the rest. Maybe it was trying to keep her as a monster to make her a permanent Killer. Well nuts to that! He ain't letting that happen. Granted, he can't run off to look for her without the chance of being attacked by one or more of the monsters. Not like he can't handle them. But there are the rare few that even he can not power his way through. Like that one that got him in the woods...Shape...that thing is like a tank. You can punch a tank but it's only going to hurt you more. Or the Huntress. He's never taken on a woman before in a real fight yet that freaky fish is solid muscle wielding hatches and an ax. Yeah...fuck that fish bitch and her stupid humming. Still, there had to be something he could do other than look into the foggy woods while pacing like a dog waiting for someone to come home. He just didn't know what that something was, much to the unease of the group.

Suddenly there's a shift of the wind. The fog appears to pool within the safety of the camp. They knew what this was, a human was dead and coming back. The dead always returning in fog while the living run back on their own, except the ones that escape in the hatch. Either way, David was quick to rush to the form emerging from the darkness. She was still for a few moments once her body reformed. But when she gasped to life, it was obvious that something happened again to shake her to the core. As much as wanted to do something, a part of him told him to give her a moment, and yet the other part of him wanted to...

"D-David?"

Why did his name sound good in her voice?

"Welcome back, Luv. Miss me?"

He never really had friends. Not real ones, anyway. He had an entourage. A group of sods enjoying the high life with his credit card. If you were to ask them if he was good with women, they'd laugh and tell you he's too much of a shithead to keep one for long. They'd be eating those words if they saw this. him offering his hand to her like a gentleman and she sincerely smiling.

"Yeah...I did."

She takes his hand and he figures it's now or never to seal the deal before something else happens to take her away. He pulls her to her feet and away from camp...into the woods. Not that anyone seemed to stop this.

"David? What are you doing?"

"No worries, Luv. Trust me."

He leads her not too far from the camp. Just far enough to be hidden by the fog but close enough to make a quick retreat if something is wandering about.

"Dude, what is up? Because I'm not in a good mood for messed up shit right now."

So something did happen. Better go about this with the utmost caution, care, and respect. So what pray tell is the move he aims to use? Well he goes for the very sweet...Grab the face and smooch move. Because that never fails to sweep the ladies off their feet and let her know she's yours. This couldn't possibly bite him in the ass.

...She breaks the kiss and punches his shoulder rather hard, enough to make her knuckles pop.

"The fuck are you doing?!"

Is...Is she serious? Has she been blind to his past advances?

"Ya 'ave no idea 'ow much I've missed ya."

She gives him a funny look.

"David, my guy, gonna be real right now. I like you. You're a decent guy and I respect you. But I was just royally fucked up and I'd thank you kindly if you'd just not hit on me for the next couple minutes. Please?"

Damn it, how can he say no to her for being honest?

"Alright. I'll lay off for now."

She frowns slightly.

"Wanna...Hold me for a bit?"

Compromise? Accepted! He takes her into his arms and she snickers thinking him silly. Yet she nestles into him, enjoying the comfort.

"This good?"

"Yeah. This is nice. ...Did you really miss me that much?"

He strokes her hair.

"Is that 'ard to believe?"

"I wasn't gone that long."

"To me ya were."

"Heh...That was cheesy."

"It ain't easy bein' cheesy."

"*giggles* Oh my god..."

She gives his cheek a quick peck.

"You're such a dork."

She's being affectionate? Maybe she's become comfortable now. This deserves a test.

"Luv..."

"Hmmm?"

This time he goes for a less forceful approach. A gentle tilt of the head, a soft caress of the cheek, a slow lean in for the kiss, and say something as fancy as his name.

"I want ya."

Brilliant!

She exhales from her nose and slips out of his hold.

"Sorry. But I don't know you well enough or have the feelings to do what you want of me. Besides...I'm not here just for you or your needs."

Damn it! Why is this so hard?!

"Fine. Ya want to know me better? Ya know I come from money, right?"

"Yeah."

"Well, I was disowned."

"...Why?"

"I beat the shit out of my old man."

"The hell you did that for?"

"Because the bastard was goin' beat my mum."

Her expression looks like she was hit.

"It was one thin' when 'e'd go after me. But I'd be damned if that cocksucker touched 'er. I'll never understand why she stayed with 'im."

"David...I'm sorry."

"Don't be. It ain't worth feelin' bad about."

"But..."

He goes for a kiss and sticks the landing...on her forehead.

"It's sweet of ya to care, Luv. Really it is."

If at first you don't succeed, sway them using tragic personal information of a sympathetic nature.

"It's your turn. I told ya somethin' to better know me. Now ya tell me somethin' to better know ya."

Her face blanks.

"There's nothing to really know. I'm as basic and boring as you can get."

"Really? Ya can't think of just one thin' ya can trust me with? Ya know I'm not one to blather on to anybody but ya."

"There's not much to tell that I haven't already."

"Come on..."

"What do you want me to say?! How I was conceived to save a failing marriage? How in the seventh grade three boys tried to assault me and all the school gave me for compensation were museum tickets, which, I still have back home? That I've attempted to end myself multiple times? And as of recent, that I'm a pawn in a twisted game I can't figure out how to play. There! That good enough for you?"

The heck is she going off for?

"Oi! Don't get your nips in a twist."

"Then don't hound me!"

"Look, thin's ain't that bad once ya get used to them. the trials..."

"I wasn't talking about the trials!"

Her body began to tremble and she held her head in pain, eyes tearing up. Maybe now wasn't the best time to try moving things out of the friend-zone.

"Luv, I didn't mean to..."

"No...No, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to explode like that. Not on you. *sigh* I don't want to take things out on you. It's just...I'm so messed up right now."

Doing something smart, he lets her go. Better luck next time. For now she needs space and for him to be her buddy.

"Anythin' I can do to make ya feel better?"

She steps around a bit, fidgeting with uncertainty.

"Want me to leave ya be?"

She stops.

"Could we...stay here a bit longer? Maybe tell dumb stories for the hell of it?"

That made him smile.

"Sure."

He sits down and pats the spot beside him. Her attitude does a 180°, practically jumping to his side and getting all close. Maybe she was making it up to him for snapping. Because when he took the chance of putting his arm around her waist she didn't tell him off or move it.

"Sorry again for being a bitch."

"You're fine, Luv. I don't blame ya. Couldn't 'ave been easy out there with them monsters."

She rests her head on his shoulder.

"Can we not get into that, please?"

"Sure thin', Luv. Just relax and let me take care of ya."

A soft coo-like sigh leaves her.

"Thanks, David."

"Anytime."

"Can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"Did you, I don't know, bring me out here to fool around or some junk?"

David has a choice here, he can either lie to play it cool or be honest...He picks the latter.

"Not gonna lie...Was hopin' to get some snoggin' action with ya."

She slaps his knee playfully.

"I so called it."

"Heh, am I that easy to read?"

"I'd say like a book but you're more of a comic strip, complete with pictures and action bubbles."

"But can ya blame me?"

"Nah. You've made it clear that you like me. Wanting more isn't something to feel bad about. Just let me deal with my crap and then I'll be okay with thinking about normal stuff...like macking on tough Brits."

A playful smirk comes to him. This is a different kind of fight, yet one he believes he can still win. She wants time? Time is all any of them have. He can afford to wait. You can bet on that. Always bet on King.

[ELSEWHERE IN THE FOG]

Chops finally made it back to Mount Ormond Resort and relinquishes control of the body to Bones. This was more stressful than he was willing to deal with for a moment longer. So his ghostly ass makes its way for the second floor to unwind. Meanwhile the other three try to deal with what has happened.

"well that went about as well as expected."

{it is not like we did not get the things we wanted out of it.}

Dead Eye muses behind his leader much to Bones' disgust.

"are you referring to the doc treating her or that shit you got chops to do?"

Dead Eye's grin stretches wide.

{both.}

Bones groans.

"that's exactly the kind of shit that makes me not give you the body."

{you act as though i do not get results. she needed to be taught a lesson. pets need to know their place.}

Bones rubs his sockets as Dead Eye chuckles to himself, moving to another part of the room.

{denial does not suit you, bones. you were having just as much of a good time as we were.}

Bones slumps against his seat.

"*mumble* freaks..."

{um...bones?}

Boo fiddles with his hands timidly.

"what?"

{uh...so...did the doctor do anything we went there for?}

A good legitimate question.

"from what i could tell. he scraped a bunch of junk out of those scars. if they didn't refill when she died then she's probably got some more time than she did before. which is good for us."

{because she'll be cooperative in trials?}

"that and it gives us more time to train her..."

{i knew you were into it.}

Dead Eye mocks and Bones snarls.

"train her to use her power, you crazy bastard!"

Dead Eye laughs to himself. Bones goes back to ignoring he exists, thankful that Boo was so normal by comparison.

{are you sure we can do it?}

"ugh...we don't have much choice. if she corrupts completely before we get our rights than we look like idiots for trying. and then we'll never get respected by those assholes."

{when should we start?}

Bones pauses for thought.

"let's give it a go the feed cycle after next. meeting up again so soon after this shit won't be good for either of us."

{sounds good.}

"and you're teaching her."

This shocks Boo.

{w-what?}

"you know damn well why. if it helps, i'll switch with you if needed."

{okay...thanks.}

"don't thank me. we both know we can't trust those two to do it."

{i don't know. chops was doing okay till...yeah...nevermind.}

{you fear that which you do not understand...}

Dead Eye pops up behind Boo and the poor guy jumps across the room.

{fear is the path to acceptance. fear leads to anger, anger leads to hate, hate leads to denial, denial leads to bargaining, bargaining leads to depression, and depression leads to acceptance. so while you fear me now, i know that one day...you will be just like me!}

{no! i'll never be like you!}

{search your feelings; you know it to be true.}

{no!}

Bones cringes. He's surrounded by insane dorks.

{hey, fuck-face...}

Chops calls out from above.

"what, ass-clown?!"

{...why do ya think the quack was collecting that soul shit?}

To that Bones had no answer. Gaster is a crafty enigma. His twisted logic can lead to many paths, most of which are insane and convoluted. Though what he said is something to dwell on. Can her soul really be their ticket out of here? So many questions. So little answers.

[jackscnallen]

letter task – task number five. 

a compilation of unsent letters jackson allen has written dawn madden.

jackson’s first unsent letter to dawn madden, written at age fifteen. 

dear dawn,

i want to hold your hand in front of everyone, but i can’t. every time i see you, my knees go weak and my breath catches in my throat, but no one can know. i keep this crush to myself because i don’t want to hurt any of the friendships i have with you and your brother. i know he’s protective of you and i don’t want him to view me differently if i tried to make a move on you. so i’ll just admire you from afar. 

from, jackson

jackson’s second unsent letter to dawn madden, written at age sixteen.

dear dawn,

sometimes i just want to hear your voice and feel your heartbeat in the space between us, but i’m thinking i can’t let myself do that until i tell you how i feel. so i might be waiting forever. whenever i see you in person, i keep stuttering and stammering over all these things i have to say to you, but the fear of rejection always holds me back. sometimes i think it would be better to move on to someone new, but where would that leave me? so, i just keep my mouth shut and decide that it’s for the best if i don’t say anything yet.

love, jackson

jackson’s third unsent letter (parents thought it was junk mail, so they threw it away) to dawn madden, written at age seventeen.

dear dawn,

hi. wow, oh my god this is already a bad start to a love letter. i don’t even know what to write! why am i even writing this? i have no idea what to say. is this letter going to be given to you? i hope not. i can write letters for days, but honestly, i have no idea what to write to you. it’s late in the night and i decided to start this now since a lot of my thoughts come together at midnight. it’s weird. and you didn’t need to know that. let’s try this again, let me start over. 

hey there! okay, that was pretty shitty for an introduction, but i’m keeping it since this is   “the final copy”. i just wanted to write you something that show you how i truly feel about you, if that’s alright. from the first time i saw you, i was smitten. how can one person be so beautiful in so many different ways? you’ve got eyes so stunning that they can put the northern lights to shame, a heart so full of love it rivals all the love songs on every radio station. as i got to know you, i always wondered how could someone so beautiful actually exist and be friends with me? you’re someone who finds beauty in everyone and everything you come into contact with. i really need to thank you for being my friend. i mean, i know most people don’t really see it as a big deal, but you being my friend is a really big deal to me. i know, it’s probably weird that it’s such a big deal to me, but no matter how how long this friendship lasts ( and i genuinely hope it lasts ), i just need you to know it means a lot to me. and yes, i do consider you to be my friend, too. i know your brother’s my best friend and he is, don’t get me wrong, but i think we have a special friendship, too.

i realized that i’ve never felt more comfortable around anyone than when i’m with you. is that weird? that’s probably weird. ignore that. i don’t know. i just don’t feel the need to hide anything when we’re together and it’s weird because i’m so used to faking a smile, but around you i can be crying or something and you wouldn’t judge me or force me to talk about what’s wrong. i don’t need to hide anything. i can tell you things that i can’t tell anyone else and that genuinely scares me. i think it scares me just because i’ve never felt so vulnerable. i think it’s a good vulnerability, though? i’m so used to keeping all of my secrets under lock and key, and i’m sure if i didn’t have you in my life i would probably just combust one day from all the secrecy and thoughts running throughout my brain. this all makes it sound like i’m putting the weight of my world on your shoulders now, but i swear i’m not doing that! i just... i mean... we can carry the weight of our worlds together now, because you can trust me too. i will never judge you. ever.

i just... i just thought that this would be a good opportunity to tell you how much i love you. i'm moving to los angeles soon, so i thought i would leave you with something to remember me by. whenever you need someone, i’m really just a phone call, a facetime call, or a text away. you know that, right? i don’t mind sacrificing hours of sleep or anything for a friend, you know? i’m literally available 24/7 if you want to talk or whatever. i just need you to know you can depend on me. i think i’m pretty trustworthy. i hope i’m trustworthy. i know you have other people you could talk to, too, but you know. just for reference. just in case. i don’t know. see, you probably thought this whole rambling thing was just when i was actually speaking. sorry to disappoint. as you may have noticed by now, it’s not. anyways, i hope now that high school is over you have the chance to be everything you've always wanted to be. you are so unique, more than you maybe even realize. you are so funny and you make so many people smile on a daily basis. you are so, so loved by those around you. you are a well of incredible, endless creativity and enthusiasm. i adore your enthusiasm and i think you really do deserve the entire world, you are a true star that shines, even in a sea of darkness. your friendship does mean everything to me, it’s so hard to find someone who you just get along with so quickly and so beautifully. you have so much value, not only in your talents and your brilliant mind, but also in your heart. every day should really be filled with recognition of just how amazing you are.

so i guess my point of this letter is: do you love me, too? 

love, jackson 

jackson’s fourth unsent letter to dawn madden, written at age twenty.

dear dawn,

wow, i haven’t written to you in years. not since the last letter i wrote to you never got sent. maybe it was the sign from the universe that i should give up on my damn crush for you. but, it has been almost four years since we last talked. i mean, i still talk to your brother but i haven’t spoken to you since i left for the city of angels. i’m sorry i haven’t reached out to you myself, but i haven’t been in the best place here in los angeles. words will never be enough to explain how much i miss you. it doesn’t come often, but when it does, it overwhelms me. it’s like visiting the sea and the times i do visit, the waves are rather strong. and it amplifies the space you left in my heart. i miss you. 

ah, there it is, the familiar ache in my heart.

i miss you. maybe i believe in a world that will let us meet again through an instance that we both never expected. maybe, all throughout these years, the world has been planning for a funny reunion. i’d like that, something mundane yet funny. i can picture many scenarios of how it would unfold, but there’s one thing that is present in all of them, it would be our laughter followed by a tight hug. maybe. one day. someday. for the meantime, i send my well wishes through the stars. i hope the world has been giving you the happiness that you deserve.

love, jackson

jackson’s fifth unsent letter to dawn madden, written at age twenty one.

dear dawn,

how are you? 

the sky is clear tonight, unlike the clouded heart that has been accompanying me the past days. my days have been weary and dreary with the constant knocks of loneliness on my door. but it’s okay, i’m okay. i am slowly relearning how to take baby steps again, and reacquainting myself with the feeling of losing my sight, forcing me to feel myself out of the darkness. i’m alright. i’ll do better. 

how about you? is the world treating you well? did you see your favorite sunset or maybe had your favorite cup of coffee? you know, i always wonder about you and how this world works, or would work, for us to look at the same sunrise as we both untangle ourselves from a good night’s sleep. i don’t have the exact answer for that nor a vague idea on how everything would unfold, but know that i am here. waiting. making repairs in my humble home. i just wish to the stars that by the time our paths cross again, i have enough warmth to welcome you into my arms. for the meantime, i’ll continue to look at the night sky and wonder how your night is unfolding. 

love, jackson

jackson’s sixth unsent letter to dawn madden, written at age twenty two.

dear dawn,

wow, seeing you for the first time in years made me turn into a shy, sweaty palmed teenager all over again. you still look like the same dawn i remember. the one with the doe eyes and sweet smile. i couldn’t help but melt when you gave me a hug. even after all these years, you’re still someone with a heart i know like the back of my hand. i know we have a lot of catching up to do, but i know that when i’m in any conversation with you, no matter how we’re both feeling or where we’re at, i can let my walls down around you. and that just means so fucking much to me. you’ve had my back when i’m at my lowest, when i’m doubting myself and everything around me, and that’s something that i will never ever forget. we are not by any means easy people to get to know past all of the surface layers, but i am getting more comfortable with myself and expressing that to people i care about, and i think you’re getting there too. we can make it work because that’s how important and special and wonderful this friendship is. i will always wait for you, through the bad times and the awful times, when you struggle with yourself and when you struggle with me. i think we have a friendship, a connection, that is truly worth fighting for and keeping.

love, jackson

jackson’s seventh unsent letter to dawn madden, written at age twenty three.

dear dawn,

it’s been months since i last wrote to you. maybe because i have been pondering about the path i want to take. the kind of person i want to be. or maybe i have been trying my best to run away from vulnerability. and i know how the thought of writing to you makes me soft, and open, and emotional of some sort. but here i am, being a little more brave by each passing day. 

do you remember when i asked you what you wanted between sharp breaths, with my hands shaking on the train in mid-january? perhaps you didn’t hear, i’ve only ever said it in my head. only in the moments when nothing exists beyond being reckless and young with a passion that astonishes – only in those moments do i let myself realize what i want. and it’s you. it’s been you for as long as i can remember. and i consider that i would like it quite a bit if we were something real, rather than a fever dream fueled by my mind. 

love, jackson

jackson’s eighth unsent letter to dawn madden, written at age twenty four.

dear dawn,

i think it’s a cruel joke. the day i decide to admit to you that i’m in love with you, i realize that you’ve been pining over some guy all this time. that’s just brilliant. and it’s not just some guy, though, it’s ryder. one of my best friends and my band mate. i’m trying to play nice, trying to be kind, but sometimes jealousy flares up and i just want curse at myself for not telling you about my feelings sooner. i could make a scrapbook of all my memories with you, all the hours of phone calls and legions of texts and driving in the middle of the night when you needed to be with someone and your brother wasn’t available. but i can’t be mad or jealous at all because you’re not even mine nor are you a prize to be won. so instead of wallowing and having a huge fuckin’ pity party for myself, i’ll help you get the guy. ryder’s actually an incredible man and he’s pretty worthy of you. i mean, hell, i don’t blame you for falling for him. i would, too, probably. yeah, anyways, i can’t help but feel like we still have a chance to be something more than friends, but for now, i’ll let you go and allow you to get the man of your dreams. 

always yours, jackson

[dynamic-duo-deposit]

On the subject of The Caped Crusade, it’s probably worth sharing this article by Glen Weldon (The author of that book, and a gay man himself) on the subject of Batman/Robin subtext.

To be clear-- Glen Weldon is not arguing that Batman and Robin are gay or should be a couple. In fact, there’s an earlier section of the book which I have already posted, about the importance of Bruce as a father figure.

But while the article is fairly light and tongue-in-cheek, the book delves into the subject a little bit more deeply and I wanted to add a few passages from the book as supplementary material.   

The first excerpt I wanted to share is about Seduction of the Innocent by Fredric Wertham, the book that helped inspire the Comics Code Authority.

“In Seduction of the Innocent, Wertham tells of one “young homosexual” who showed him a copy of Detective Comics that featured ‘“a picture of ‘The Home of Bruce and Dick,’ a house so beautifully landscaped, warmly lighted and showing the devoted pair side by side, looking out of a picture window…. ‘At the age of ten or eleven,’ [the boy said,] ‘I found my liking, my sexual desires, in comic books.  I think I put myself in the position of Robin.  I did want to have relations with Batman…’ ’’

It’s safe to say that in this, he was an outlier.  It is only the rarest of precociously self-actualized gay kid who ever gets as far as imagining himself getting his freaky pubescent relations on with the Caped Crusader.  He may admire Batman’s arms, and his medicine-ball deltoids, the wide V of his torso, and the perfect quadrants of his abdominal muscles, drawn so square and even they look like the window on a Chiclets box.  But for most gay kids, especially in this era of American history, any confusing attraction they may have felt toward Batman stayed exactly that-- an interest that seemed to well up from some deep place below the stomach, a blunt, preverbal ache.

[...] There’s just one problem, and it’s a damning one: as Carol Tilley points out, that young man didn’t exist.  Wertham combined the case studies of two young men-- who, it turns out, were engaged in a relationship with one another.  He also deleted the boys’ statements that they were far more strongly aroused by Tarzan and the Sub-Mariner than they were by the Dynamic Duo as that notion didn’t fit his thesis.”

Here’s a bit about the tonal difference in camp,  RE: the Schumacher films vs 60’s Batman-

“Just as William Dozier ensured that the sixties television show addressed itself to both kids who lapped up the derring-do and adults who keyed into the humor, Batman forever also enjoyed a bifurcated appeal.  Schumacher’s two audiences, however, were split not by age but sensibility: 1) gay men and 2) everyone else.

In the years since the sixties television show had gone off the air, camp had come out of the closet.  It called itself irony now; the era of elaborately coded messages, shibboleths, and innuendo, of embracing the tawdry and tasteless with a fervid flamboyance, of relegating one-self to the role of grotesque, sexless clown, was over.  The Stonewall riots and the AIDS crisis had abraded those filigree edges away, leaving something harder, angrier, and more unambiguously and unapologetically sexual.

Thus the much-discussed “campiness” of Batman Forever feels fundamentally different than that of the old television show-- less quant and more defiant.  Queerer.”

On the history of gay men being drawn to Batman-

“Morrison understands the same essential truth that Wertham did-- the one that every ten-year-old gay kid worriedly understands as he gazes at a panel of Batman placing a friendly hand on Robin’s shoulder:  Intention doesn’t matter.  Imagery does.

Heterosexuals see themselves reflected in media so consistently and thoroughly that such representations cease to consciously register in their mind as representations.  To them, movies are just movies, comics just comics.  That’s because their innermost selves exist in a state of perpetual autonomic agreement with the outer world as it’s commonly depicted.  This cognitive equilibrium produces a closed, continuous circuit of reassurance, harmony, a sense of belonging.

But to gay readers, those same representations matter-of-factly assert a vision of the world not only in which they do not belong, but in which they do not exist.  Gays have always looked for their reflections in media, seeking the same sense of affinity and belonging, but until very recently, they’ve failed to see them: the circuit of reassurance is broken.  So they patch it in with whatever they can find, by looking more deeply.  Every exchange, every glance, every touch, is hungrily parsed for something they recognize, for fleeting glimpses of themselves, their desires, and the world they know.

This is an oblique, allusive process; it’s not like Batman comics are deliberately encrypted by their makers with coy messages-- ideas in which gay men historically find affinities: the constant threat of a secret self’s exposure, the cloak of night, a muscular physicality, a homosocial friendship-- and, yes, okay, fine, a flair for interior design that includes some pretty rocking velvet drapes that are actually, now that we’re looking at them under better light, not dusky emerald but more of a forest green.

Batman is an inkblot; we see in him what we want to-- even if we aren’t ready to admit it to ourselves.”

As a bonus, I would add this article by Andrew Wheeler, another gay Batman writer, who Glen Weldon actually quotes in the book-

THE GAYNESS OF BATMAN: A BRIEF HISTORY 

“The concept of Batman may be open to endless reinvention, but any effort to make him less gay only adds layers upon layers to his gayness. Make him light and you emphasize his campness; make him dark and you emphasize his repression; give him a girlfriend or a female sidekick and you reaffirm his bachelorhood. He is both camp and butch; repressed and sexualized; erotically fetishistic and homoerotically anti-feminine.

Batman is not gay. The writers will line up to tell you that. But when there were no explicitly gay characters to identify with 70 years ago, the bachelor hero with the boy sidekick stepped in to the vacuum, and gay readers were not the only ones who saw it, and now his gayness is indelible.

More than 70 years after his debut, Batman has emerged as the best known patient of Dr. Wertham's New York clinic for sexually maladjusted individuals, and also its most successful failure. Batman will always have his gayness, however straight they write him.”

[jastersmohnson]

Rewatching Masters of Sex: The End

Season 4 Episodes 6-10

My primary criticism of season four is how pretty much the entirety of the season is fictitious.  I truly don’t understand why Art and Nancy were characters.  I mean, I can understand the need for the writers to want to do something with swingers, but there had to be an easier way.  Part of the reason why Art and Nancy’s inclusion has kind of bothered me is because we never got to see the portrayal of Robert Kolodny, the third wheel to the Masters and Johnson bicycle... tricycle... whatever.

Well, folks, the Masters of Sex Redemption Express™ hits probably the only snag in this season: "Family Only".  I understand that there are a lot of people who like this episode.  It's currently one of the highest rated episodes of the show on IMDB, which immediately throws out any credibility IMDB users had at rating these episodes.

I like aspects of "Family Only".  I like Bill's yellow shirt in this episode!  I like how they introduced the studies on homosexuality.  I'd even go as far as to say that I enjoyed the entirety of the Bill/Virginia stuff in this episode. Bill's speech to Virginia about how she doesn't love him was one of the best moments of the season.

The problem I have with this episode has to do with Betty and Helen.  Killing off Helen was absolutely absurd, and may be the single worst plot thread the show has done (non-gorilla-wise).  I have no idea why they chose to do it.  Was it to foreshadow this lengthy trial process of Betty getting her daughter back?  Was it really going to be such a captivating storyline?

And why on Earth would the writers have introduced such a plot thread when they knew that Annaleigh Ashford was very pregnant, and hence may not be able to fulfill the duties of the rest of filming.  Apparently she gave birth in between the filming of episodes eight and nine.  Talk about cutting it close!

I even suspect that the inclusion of Virginia's parent's storyline in episodes nine and ten were to fill the runtime after maybe Betty's scenes weren't filmed for the episode due to Annaleigh Ashford's pregnancy.

I appreciate the irony that Masters of Sex’s fifth episode involved a delivery room nightmare that ended with the baby dead and the mother alive, and that in the fifth-to-last episode of Masters of Sex, a similar scenario occurs that ends with the mother dead and the baby surviving.

Watching these last episodes of Masters of Sex have led me to one particular revelation: I hate Lester!  There were moments across the past couple seasons where Lester got under my skin, namely him chastising Bill in the bathroom in "One for the Money...", but he'd been fairly tolerable for the most part.

But then in "The Pleasure Protocol", when he gave Nancy the ultimatum of telling Bill and Virginia she and Art are married, I just thought that was kind of dickish.  I didn't mention it because I didn't think it was worth getting into.  But then watching "Topeka", watching Lester act all high and mighty towards Austen about Austen selling his penis pumps.  And then going on to tell Guy not to participate in the study.  I really just can't stand Lester.

Another piece of irony I appreciate is that I started the series hating Ethan Haas, and I end the series hating Lester, who is arguably the polar opposite of Ethan Haas.  A man who is kind and respectful to a fault.  Ethan Haas is like the pretentious rich-kid bully, but then Lester is like the kid who reminds the teacher towards the end of class that there was an assignment due.

Family Only: B-

In To Me You See: B+

Topeka: A

Night and Day: A-

The Eyes of God: A

Season Ranking: 2 > 4 > 1 > 3

Well kids, that'll do it for my Masters of Sex rewatch.  A near-masterpiece of television (and season three).  The end result of all the hard work produced by these people was the network cancelling a show that still had the potential for one more season in it.  They inexplicably gave The Affair five seasons.  Why couldn't they have thrown one this way? But I'm satisfied where things ended.  I've said it before, but that final shot of Bill and Virginia at the end of "The Eyes of God" perfectly sums up the gist of what a fifth season would've been.  Heartbreak.  Sadness.  Rejection.  Dying alone and/or with your third lover.  It's sad, really.

And so in the end, what's the point of all of it?  That's what I've been asking myself after doing ten of these Rewatching Masters of Sex™ posts.  What is the point of the picking apart and endless analysis of this show?  I mean, yes, you can reduce a show down to tropes and character arcs and see everything spelled out, but a TV show was meant to be experienced, not read or listened to.

It's kind of what Bill was saying in "Matters of Gravity".  You can reduce sex down to numbers and graphs and all of that, but in the end, it's an experience of intimacy.  An experience of love.

Maybe that's what Masters of Sex needs to be.  An experience.  Maybe that's what all television is meant to be.  And reading reviews and constant analysis is somewhat pointless.  How does it resonate with YOU?  Maybe that's the key to all of this.  I did love Masters of Sex, but more than anything, I found the characters captivating, the sets beautiful, the music lovely, the era immersive, the acting impeccable, the writing fantastic, the direction great...

None of those things you can experience by reading a review.

Well my friends, now that I've disproved the necessity for my own existence as Jasters and Mohnson™, I think it's time to go.  It's getting dark outside and I'll leave you with these words.

Peace will come

With tranquility and splendor on the wheels of fire

But will bring us no reward when her false idols fall

And cruel death surrenders with its pale ghost retreating

Between the King and the Queen of Swords

[basicsofislam]

ISLAM 101: Creation: Part 8

Why does one creature’s life depend on the death of another?

Just as the day replaces night, spring follows winter, and autumn takes the place of summer, death follows life. The Creator, Who governs everything, does nothing in vain. He creates the most beautiful and intricate beings out of the lowest, seemingly unpromising, materials. Since it is the very nature of His creation to bestow freshness and novelty continually upon His creation, and since He sets on and motivates everything to mature and develop, risings and settings necessarily succeed each in this world.

Before going further into the subject, let’s define death.

Death is not final exhaustion of nature, an annihilation that operates of itself, or a total extinction into a void. Rather, it is a transformation, a change of place, state, and dimension; a completion of service, a release from its burden, to attain peace and ease. For every living thing, it is a sort of retreat or transition to its own essence and truth. For this reason, death is as desirable as life. It is as pleasing as meeting friends, and a blessing as great as acquiring immortality.

Materialists who do not grasp death’s meaning and truth always see it as horrifying and so compose gloomy odes to it. All such people have seen and felt the same things about death, and have made the same complaints about it.

Since death is a separation from life and living, it affects our minds and those sentiments that make us human. It is impossible to deny such an influence, to silence the heart in the face of death. Death arouses considerable tumult in our hearts and minds, though it may be short-lived. Belief in the Resurrection causes all such sorrows to be forgotten, for it is like presenting a kingdom to a person who has lost everything or assuring a person about to be hanged of eternal life and happiness.

According to those who understand the real meaning of death, death is no more than a release from service, a change of abode, and a journey to where most of one’s friends have already gone. Those who do not understand this see only its horrifying surface meaning: death as an executioner, a gallows, a bottomless pit, a dark passage into the void.

When believers begin to experience death, the beauties and rewards of Heaven begin to appear before them. When unbelievers, who are deprived of this pleasure of faith, think of death, they begin to feel the torment and fire of Hell that they nurture within their conscience. Their suffering is not just limited to their own feelings, for in their hearts they also feel the grief and suffering of all those with whom they share interests, pleasures, and concerns. Their suffering and loss of happiness increase the burden of grief for whoever regards death as a final end.

Believers consider death a release from service and life’s burdens and hardships and know that everything continues to exist in other realms (in its identity as form and idea). Thus, they view death as an advancement, a perfection, an acquisition of a higher essence and nature. Since death carries the fruit of eternal existence and bliss, it is also a great blessing and a Divine gift.

However, every advancement and perfecting, every blessing and acquisition of it, must pass through preparatory stages: close examination, molding and purifying. Spiritual progress and the subsequent advancement to higher levels come only through such trials and purifications. For example, crude ores perish in the purifying furnace before they yield the pure metal. Until the ores are processed in this way, they continue to exist in soil and rock, without the metal ever being tested and then presented in its true form.

If we accept this analogy, we can understand that while death appears to be a cessation, a passing into extinction or nothingness, in reality, it is passing into a higher, more elevated mode of being. When every non-sentient particle appears to move with an eager animation toward its apparent extinction, it actually is running toward the perfection prescribed for it. When oxygen and hydrogen atoms combine, they die in their separate identities only to be reborn as water, which is essential to the vitality of all living forms. Thus we can say that death is a changing of place and form, not an end or extinction. From the tiniest particles to the greatest compounds within the universe, all changes, transformations, and decompositions result in what is most beautiful, fresh, and excellent. That is why we define death as the movement of beings to a higher mode rather than as their extinction.

In another respect, death is the time when one being resigns and hands over its affairs to its successor(s). This is enacted in the sight of Him Who has sovereignty and dominion over all things. Each creature is charged with presenting itself in a unique parade before the presence of the One Who gave it existence. Just before its parade is over, and the picture or record of it made and stored, the parade of its successor(s) begins, which relieves the parade ground of sameness and refreshes the scene with new and active beings. Each being acted out its role and moves aside so that others may appear, act out their roles, and show their skills. The freshness, liveliness, beauty, and excellent diversity is seen in creation is the result of these comings and goings.

Death also may be understood as silent advice, in the sense that nothing is self-existent. In other words, nothing can survive by itself or has permanence. A fading and ultimately dead light indicates a source of light that is unfailing and eternal. For those who grieve and complain about the transience and perishing of all things, this is a good lesson on how to mature and attain true happiness. Whatever or whoever captivates our hearts will leave us one day, which causes us to yearn for an eternal being to love and to be loved by. In our transient world, such a yearning is the first stage of moving toward or attaining eternity. Death is the mysterious uplifter that raises people to that dignity.

Given this, we can liken death to a healing hand, one that nurses to full health, that hurts us only as a doctor would hurt us: by giving a necessary inoculation or lancing, rather than a grim sword or sickle laying everything to waste. Considering death as a merely utilitarian way of making room for new generations is mistaken, for death is not absolute annihilation or extinction. Rather, what disappears does so only from within the horizons of our limited understanding, for the identity of every particular (as form and idea) continues to exist in our memories, in the Preserved Record, and in God’s all-encompassing knowledge. They also exist in different dimensions and in realms beyond those dimensions, beyond corporeal understanding. For example, seeds and flowers bloom and die, but their identity as form and idea continues in the many seeds and flowers that will bloom after them.

Consider the subject from another angle. If there were no death, would we not live in a hell of unrelieved terror as we faced an endless existence without a break or relief? How could we measure the worth or value of anyone or anything, conserve or concentrate our energy, make or carry out an intention, if time was limitless? If such a situation existed, those who now mourn the fact of transience and death would mourn their absence. Moreover, we would not experience creation’s inexhaustible variety, with all the prompts and images it gives to the human mind of beauty, freshness, and loss with renewability. How, in the absence of such a panorama of novelty within stability, could the human mind be inspired to contemplate that which lies beyond and sustains the visible world? How could we seek and worship the One who creates and provides for the whole.

Let’s deal with the subject from a different angle. If everything depended on life instead of death if beings continued to live through calamities, and if all events and life followed one direction forever, what could have happened? What could happen mean?

Basing ourselves on what we said earlier, death contains blessing and wisdom. Life without death would be such an absurdity and horrible disaster that, if such a situation could be fully described, people would cry and mourn about staying alive instead of dying.

If nothing died, neither a fly nor a human being could have lived in the early ages of this world, for ants and varieties of ivy would have invaded and occupied the entire planet. Nothing else could have survived or thrived. And later on, if no ant or ivy ever died, there would have been thick layers of them covering the Earth. As such statements cannot be disputed, we can see what a great blessing death is, and the great wisdom in allowing dead things to decompose.

How much of the Earth’s enthralling beauty and splendor could be seen with such a huge number of ivy plants and ants? What would this world, created to exhibit the splendor and magnificence of His art, be if such a situation prevailed? How could we witness the power, might, knowledge, and grace of the Creator and Owner of this world?

The absence of death also would give rise to another problem: The magnificent wisdom and order in the rule of this universe show that nothing in it was created in vain. The Absolute Owner of the physical and spiritual domains creates the most worthwhile things out of what may appear to us the most worthless, making the valueless into the priceless. New and excellent creations are engendered from the cells serving as bodily forms for His servants, especially those making up the human souls that God has recalled and holds in His realms. If the bodies, which He valued so highly that He “breathed” human souls in them, were allowed to decompose into nothing, the Creator’s Omniscient Wisdom would be contradicted. Any such notion is absolutely contrary to His Divine Honor, and so cannot be entertained.

In conclusion, all of creation, its balance, and order, the control, and administration by which its complex harmonies are sustained, is so magnificent that it inspires all people whose hearts and minds are open to the beauty and pleasure around them. The dividing, combining, and moving of atoms; the growth of plants and trees; the gushing of rivers to the sea; the oceans’ expanse, grandeur, and incalculable power; the evaporation of saltwater and its return as life-giving rain—everything races ardently from one stage to another, higher and better.