#honey i shot the milkman

[anonymousbardd]

꒰ ☕ ꒱ ┊: Chance

↳ Francis Mosses x FemReader

FLUFF(?): Idk I decided to make a milkman one-shot because I was getting a bit brain rot from making Lookism fanfics, this is just a small break from lookism lol.

Don't worry though, I'll be back to finishing fanfics after a bit, I've been focusing on work stuff a bit lately, hehe.

I have no idea how this happened... I was just minding my own business, doing my job. How the hell did I end up being pinned against the wall, being held against my will by a doppelganger?!

"Please let me go..." I mumbled, the doppleganger is Francis Mosses', his breath brushed against my skin, "What do you want from me...?" The skinny man tightened his grip on my wrists, I couldn't help but whimper from it.

"I'm starving..." He muttered, his nose was close to my neck, his voice sent me shivers, "I just want a taste."

"But why me...? I cried out, "I don't even taste good!" The tall man chuckled, his left hand travelled down my body and pulled me closer, "Oh honey, I wasn't talking about your flesh..."

My eyes widen in shock, what did he mean by that? His lips formed a smirked, "I've been watching you... Day by day, I'd watch you get ready before your shift starts..." He paused and scanned my body, "I can't help myself but admire you from afar." I shivered from his breath, he got closed to my face and smiled, "When I found out that you liked the milkman, well... You know what I had to do.*

I looked at him with horror, concern ran through my brain, "What did you do to Francis?" I asked, he hummed and leaned closed to my neck, "Don't worry... I didn't do anything to him," he said, even though the doppleganger in front of me is dangerous, it felt like he was telling the truth.

He then looked at me in the eyes with his grin, "Just give me a little taste and I'll leave you alone~..." He murmured, I closed my eyes and tried to squirm my way out, "Please... I don't want to... I'm a virgin..." I mumbles.

He looked at me in surprise and chuckled, "Seriously?" He asked, he slightly pulled away and held my chin, "How old are you? Aren't you like, 23?" He chucked, I huffed and pouted my lips, "Shut up! Don't laugh at me!" I shouted, is a doppelganger seriously making fun of me for being a virgin?

"I haven't found the right person yet..."

He smiled and leaned closer to my face, he kissed my lips and pulled away, "How about you give me a chance? I'll take good care of you."

A/n: Y'all, currently working on three requests, 2 Headcanons and 2 one-shots, all the lookism stories were kinda making me feel a bit tired so I decided to make a small one-shot today for a bit of a change hehe.

Dw, I'll be making more lookism stuff, I'm just focusing a bit on my personal needs :3

༝༚༝༚𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚗𝚢𝚖𝚘𝚞𝚜𝚋𝚊𝚛𝚍𝚍

[austinplaysrpgs-blog]

Call of Cthulhu, Part 1

Part 2 here

Player Characters:

Lawrence Murray (yours truly)

Former police officer who has set up a business as a PI in Boston at the age of 32. He’s got a cynical outlook on life, very much a grouch. Works long hours alone in his office. He’s taken up photography in an attempt to improve his skills as a PI. No close family, just a handful of friends. Being in his office and seeing his name on the door gives him strength and resilience to keep going and make a name for himself.

Jasper Mason

31 year old librarian who lives a quiet life in an apartment with his cat Loki. Jasper is a die hard gambler but you wouldn’t know it just looking at him. He carries a bible on him at all times, so you may take him to be a religious man, but that bible is in fact hollowed out and holds his Derringer.

Maurice Rossini

Honorable judge Maurice Rossini lives a life of luxury, waited on hand and foot by his elderly butler, Reginald. Born and raised in a wealthy home in the Southeastern United States, he’s a stickler for etiquette and justice. Nearing his 50’s, he realizes his prime is waning and wants to ensure his legacy lives on.

October 8th, 1925, evening

Jasper is awoken by a rapping at his front door. He finds a crumpled letter from his uncle, Larry Croswell, on his front step. Larry has been staying in the Danvers State Asylum for several months, having checked in voluntarily. Larry had a history of spouting nonsense about the supernatural and conspiracies. In the letter, Larry expresses concern about a “wrongness” he feels at the asylum and asks that Jasper, along with two friends he mentions, come and retrieve him from the asylum because they will not let him leave.

Jasper leaves information with his neighbor regarding his whereabouts and tracks down the aforementioned friends, Lawrence Murray and Maurice Rossini. We gather in Maurice’s very nice home and discuss what to do. A courier shows up with a letter for Jasper, in clean asylum stationery. Larry recants his previous letter, dismissing his fears as an anxiety attack. We find this very suspicious and decide to visit Danvers personally.

Reginald drives us to Danvers and a sense of unease washes over us. The large, gothic structure has an odd sheen to it. It smells of antiseptic, and the windows are barred.

The receptionist Brenda is far from helpful. Larry is in J Block and is not allowed visitors. We ask to go over her head and speak with the manager. With some persuading she finally lets us see Doctor Berger. When she turns, Jasper notices that she has an odd scar on her neck. She ushers us rudely to Berger’s office and closes the door behind us. Berger is a clean cut, well dressed man. He barely pays us any mind. On the wall beside him is a picture of Berger shaking hands with an older gentleman. A large painting of a knight fighting a dragon hangs on the wall behind his desk. Upon further inspection, the dragon appears to be devouring the knight.

“Isn’t the knight supposed to win?”, Lawrence quips. It doesn’t draw a reaction from Berger like he had hoped. Berger, a professional and to the point, fields our questions about Larry’s situation. He tells us that Larry is not well, and has only seemed to get worse lately. Larry is in J Block and isolated from other patients. He tells us that we should go home. Of course we doesn’t give up that easily, and we ask to just see Larry for a few minutes. He relents, stressing the “few minutes” and instructs orderlies to escort us to J Block. Lawrence quickly studies the picture of Berger and the other man shaking hands. The inscription describes the picture as the handoff of management of the asylum from Doctor William Shine to Berger.

The orderlies, Phil and Rocko, lead us through several blocks of patients, heading towards J Block. The state of the patients deteriorates rapidly from block to block. The orderlies both seem to have some scarring, as do several of the patients. Upon reaching I Block, we’re stopped by a large steel door. Phil opens the door and apparently it’s sound proofed because we’re hit by a wall of sound. Wailing and screeching drones en masse from J Block.

We’re led to the padded cell that holds Larry. A surprising number of the cells we pass hold amputees. The door to Larry’s cell is unlocked by Phil and we see a man curled up in the fetal position in one corner. “5 minutes, no more,” Phil instructs, closing the door behind us. Larry is incoherent. Rambles on about a ritual performed when the sky prepares to welcome the new moon. Tells us to find Andrew McBride, says he knows everything. He’s been put in H Block for attempted suicide. We try to get more information out of him but Larry is simply too freaked out to give us anything else useful.

Our time is up and we’re escorted back to the lobby. We ask Brenda at the counter about McBride but as expected, she’s not forthcoming. After all, none of us are family. We sidebar, and formulate a plan to distract Brenda and get a look at that file cabinet behind the counter. The plan doesn’t go off how we planned. A patient approaches Jasper, grabbing him by the throat, choking him, screaming in his face, “WHAT DO YOU KNOW? WHAT DO YOU KNOW?” Brenda jumps up to get orderlies to restrain the patient, and Lawrence springs on this opportunity to look for a file on McBride. He only gets a quick glance but gets an address and place of employment, Frederickson’s Accounting. We take this opportunity to slip out the front door while orderlies wrestle the patient to the ground. Jasper is shaken and his throat is most assuredly going to bruise.

We decide to head to the library and do some research on Danvers, Berger, and Shine. First we check the almanac. The next new moon is in four days, October 12th. Not a lot of time. We find several newspaper clippings about Danvers. Doctor Shine had passed away 13 years ago, not long after retiring and handing control of the asylum to Berger. All of his papers were donated to the Salem Hospital. We also found record of a new amphitheatre that had been built on the asylum grounds, and the removal of a mysterious granite disk to make room for it. The disk had been there since before the Salem Witch Trials, and Shine seemed to believe it was a good omen for the asylum.

At this time, Lawrence notices that one of the orderlies, Rocko, is also at the library with another unidentified man, watching the group closely. Lawrence ushers the group out of the library and into the car, informing the others that they’re being followed by men from the asylum. Lawrence decides this is a smart time to stock up on weaponry for self defense in case things get hairy, and the driver Reginald is instructed to head towards Lawrence’s apartment. Lawrence can see that we’re being followed and tells Reginald to park a couple blocks further up the street. The pursuing vehicle parks further back and waits.

Lawrence and Jasper get out and dip into an alley, intending to double back to the apartment, while Maurice keeps watch. The two men hop out of their vehicle and pursue on foot, weapons in hand. Maurice gets out behind them and tells Reginald to fetch the police. The men yell at Lawrence and Jasper to stop, and when they don’t, open fire, missing the two of them. Lawrence ducks behind cover and returns fire, hitting one of the pursuers in the shoulder. The other man, Rocko, drops his gun when Maurice approaches from behind, revolver drawn. We hold them up until the police arrive.

After they were taken away, we headed up to Lawrence’s apartment. He grabbed his trusty 12 gauge and made a cork board web of clippings and strings with all the information we had gathered.

We headed to McBride’s residence. There we met his wife Judith. She seemed concerned for him, and told us he had been a laborer at the asylum, helping to build the amphitheatre but didn’t seem to know more than that. From there we headed back to Maurice’s gated home to sleep because it seemed like the most secure place.

October 9th, 1925

Lawrence dreams of blue-grey shifting water. He hears wet sounds, but can’t identify the source. He wakes with a start.

We gear up and head to Salem Hospital. Maurice makes a fake search warrant that Lawrence uses to get access to Doctor Shine’s papers. We find several personal papers of his. He traveled the world and found many interesting things. He spoke of a creature of some kind that lives in the reservoir outside the asylum. He believed that the granite disk and the symbols carved into it somehow kept it at bay, and instructed Berger to make sure it stays there.

A wave of unease crashes over us, and a shelf above us crashes to the floor, narrowly missing our heads. Spooked, we head to Frederickson’s Accounting. There doesn’t seem to be any useful information there, and we checked out McBride’s main account, McDonald’s Laundry. That too, seems to be a dead end. Maybe it’s just our imagination, but the vats of water there appear to be filled with a blue-grey liquid similar to the dreams we’ve had.

We head back to the library, hoping to find more leads and possibly find out what happened to the granite disk. We don’t get very far before Jasper suddenly vomits up blue-grey water all over the table. We are understandably shaken and call it a day early.

October 10th, 1925

Lawrence wakes in the night and goes to the restroom to wash his face. It’s been a long couple of days and he hasn’t gotten much sleep. He glances down at the toilet and recoils, seeing a large lizard retreating into the pipes. Lawrence sits up in bed, startled awake. It was just a dream. But what is it with these dreams lately?

We head out in the morning looking for leads, but this time, one comes to us. Maurice buys a newspaper from the paper boy. Flips through casually. A few pages back, he finds an article that chills his blood. Some time in the night, McBride apparently killed himself in the asylum. Suspiciously, the article says that McBride has no surviving family. Odd, didn’t we just talk to his wife yesterday? We hurry on over to his residence. No one answers the door, but it’s unlocked. The entire building is cleared out. Not one piece of furniture or rug remains. We get the landlord’s information, turns out he lives a few houses down. We visit him, and he tells us that he got notice from Judith that she was moving out and a moving service had spent several hours yesterday cleaning her place out. He hadn’t spoken to her face to face about it, but she’d paid the rest of her lease, so he didn’t ask questions.

The rest of the day proves uneventful and we can’t seem to make any progress, so we call it a day, hoping some rest in the relative safety of Maurice’s home can give us new ideas tomorrow.

October 11th, 1925

Jasper is awoken by a noise. His window is open. Cautiously, he gets up to investigate. He looks out to where the window opens onto the roof and doesn’t see anything. He looks down and notices blood on the inside of the window sill. He’s grabbed from behind and restrained. It’s Andrew McBride. He tells Jasper that Larry is going to be sacrificed by Doctor Berger in the amphitheatre tomorrow. Jasper asks him where the granite disk was moved. He doesn’t answer, saying “They’re going to kill me. I need to see my wife and kid,” and attempts to escape out the window. Jasper slows him down while Maurice attempts to intercept him on the way out. McBride drops to the ground and Maurice, shotgun brandished, tells him to freeze. He doesn’t, and Maurice opens fire, but misses. McBride disappears into the night.

We decide to head him off at his home since he’s on foot and stake it out. It’s about 4 AM. We drive out there. McBride doesn’t seem to be there. We post up: Lawrence in the back alley, Jasper inside the house, and Maurice out front in his car. After about an hour, a man dressed in all white approaches the front door carrying a package. He knocks several times and Jasper doesn’t answer. The man bends over and leaves the package in front of the door. Maurice panics. 

“I know exactly what’s going on here,” he says, and steps out of his car, opening fire on the man with his revolver. He misses the man, but hits the package, spilling white liquid on the front step. The milkman tears off in a panic down the street. Lawrence and Jasper come outside to see what’s going on, and so do several of the neighbors. Maurice tells them to get in the car and they peel out into the night. When they arrive home, he’s questioned about what happened. He thought that the man was planting a bomb out front. That line of thinking didn’t hold up to any scrutiny and Lawrence makes a snide comment about the irony of a judge opening fire on a man unprovoked.

We tried to get some sleep during what was left of the evening. Lawrence dreams of a beautiful woman. She turns, and the other side of her is scarred and disfigured.

[centipedall]

The Milkman Cometh

“Sorry baby, did I wake you up?”

“Hmm? No, I woke up a second ago. I had this nightmare… I can’t remember what it was about.”

“Me too. And they say marriage gets boring.” I shot her an invisible smile in the dark.

She got out of bed and said, “Well, I gotta get ready for work. Remember, milkman comes at twelve.”

My blood ran cold. “When did we get a milkman?”

“I- I don’t know.”

“I mean, I’m sure we have one but-”

“But you don’t remember when we got one. Yeah… same here.” She sounded shaken.

“Well, whatever. Gotta hit the daily grind, right? I’ll go see if Fee’s up yet. She’s taking Joey to school today, right?”

“Yep. Thank god she can drive now.”

“No thanks to you.” I winked and gave her a quick hug.

“Which one of us is the hot dog cart salesman?” she asked.

I chuckled and let go, “Cold.”

“Like your hot dogs, dad.” Fiona said from behind us.

“I see you got up especially early today. Is it, like, anti-Father’s Day or something?” There was an uncomfortable silence. “Y’know, where you insult and belittle-”

“We got it dad. Geez, you’re so lame.” She smiled and left the room.

“You’re driving Danny to school today, not Uncle Greg!” My wife called as she left the room.

There was a moan of frustration and I finished getting dressed. I walked down the stairs and went straight to the kitchen. My wife had beaten me there, unfortunately. She had the pantry door open and was rummaging around in there.

“Hey honey? Where’s the food?”

“Whaddaya mean? Shouldn’t it be in the pantry?” I checked with her, and sure enough it was empty. Well, except for some canned milk Greg had bought. Jackass. “Probably one of Greg’s pranks. I’ll see if he put them in the fridge.” I said.

I almost vomited when I opened up the fridge. There was only cheese, yogurt, butter, and milk. And all of it was spoiled. Jesus Christ, I could practically taste it. Like a tsunami of awful that wormed its way into your mouth. Good God, it felt like I was the one rotting.

I backpedaled away from the biohazard, into the other room and onto my favorite comfy chair. “Where are my hot dogs?” I whimpered.

“Oh my God- honey? You alright? Listen, it’s- fuck me it’s already eight? I gotta go. Can you deal with this today? Good God, the client’s gonna be pissed.” She started running towards the door.

“What the hell? Hey, Harry? Can you give me a hand? The door’s not opening.”

I jogged over to her, and sure enough, the door wouldn’t budge. It was like the damn thing was welded in there. I went over to the back and- no dice. If only we had windows, we could- why don’t we have windows?

“Hey honey? I’m gonna go get Greg. See if he’s-” The basement door was wedged shut, just like the others.

“Mom, Dad? I can’t open Danny’s door. I think he locked himself in again!” Fiona called from upstairs. I saw her legs as she started walking down the stairs. “Aw geez, it smells like bad milk down there? Milk… hey, did I mention my weird dream last night?”

Okay, what the fuck is going on?

“Wait, it’s nine already? Shit I’m late for school!” Fiona started rushing down, pinching her nose as she entered the awful ground floor.

“Language, young lady! And the doors don’t work.” She sighed. “Goddamnit, I can’t lose this promotion...” My wife muttered.

“What is it with you and this job? Why are you always chasing promotions? Our son is missing! Your shitty brother is missing!” I yelled at her. “Is it really more important than them?”

She wheeled on me, spitting venom. “You and I both know the only reason we live in this house is because of me. How much money does a hot dog salesman make, again? Is it less than a lawyer?”

“Not funny. When we got married, we said we wouldn’t have this conversation. It is my fucking dream, and it makes me happy. Why can’t you be happy with this? With us?”

“Goddamnit Harry, you know I love you guys! And that’s more than you can say! What about Greg, huh? I know you hate him.”

“Guy’s a slacker, Louise! He farts around in our house all day, pulling his stupid little pranks and costing us money. He’s rubbing off on Danny! Have you seen? The kid’s a wild child!”

“He’s only acting out because you are a shitty dad-”

“What the fuck did you just say? What the fuck did you just say?” I screamed.

“You don’t care about him! I get it, he’s not your biological kid! But that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t love him!”

“Shut the fuck up. I love Danny so much it hurts and you know it. Stop trying to hurt me. Just- just stop.” I sat back down on my chair. “I’m so hungry. I’m so tired.”

“I- me too. This is just such a bad situation I- I’m sorry, honey.”

“I’m sorry too. Do- do you think this has something to do with that dream?”

“I don’t know. God, I hope it doesn’t. I don’t remember much but-”

“Yeah.” I shivered. “Yeah.”

“Hey guys? Is the clock messed up? Because it says it’s ten o’clock already. And nine was like, five minutes ago.” Fiona said.

“I think we have two hours left.” I said. “Your mom said the ‘milkman comes at twelve’ this morning right after we woke up.”

“And what happens then?” Fiona said.

“You remember the dream?” Louise said.

“Only the feel of it. It was bad.”

A silence fell over the room.

“So what do we do now?” I asked.

“Can we break the door open? If we grab that old lamp in Fee’s room, I bet we can bash the back door down.”

“Aw man. I love that thing, I don’t want it to break.”

“Do you want the milkman to come? Because I don’t think we can get out any other way.” Louise said. Fiona nodded hesitantly.

In a flash, all three of us grabbed the heavy lamp and, with a great deal of pivoting, managed to squeeze it down the stairs. We lugged it over to the back door, and began swinging.

“On three!” My wife yelled. “One! Two! Three!”

The thing slammed against the door and there was a sharp crack. The door split right down the middle. A stench drifted out of the crack. More rotten milk. Oh my God. I would’ve barfed if I had anything in my stomach. As a family, we retreated into the living room.

I glanced at the clock. It was eleven. I sank down into the chair like my entire body was weighted. I was so tired. God, I was exhausted. And hungry.

“So what now?” Fiona asked.

“I don’t know. I- there’s nothing we can do.” Louise said.

I grabbed the remote and turned on the TV. A sitcom was on. The theme song played. It was about a family of five. A mom, a dad, a daughter, a son, and an uncle. The dad was dumb, but big-hearted. The mom was smart, but long-suffering. The daughter was a classic teen with too much sense. The son was a wild child. The uncle was the comic relief, a slacker with a love of pranks. I almost threw up.

They laughed and japed. The uncle had collaborated with the son. They had swapped the food in the refrigerator and the pantry and locked all the doors. The other three members of the family ran around like headless chickens. The mom made a joke about how she made all the money. The dad made a joke about how she didn’t love anyone. The mom made a joke about a milkman, and how the kid wasn’t his. I almost threw up.

The family decided that leaving wasn’t worth all the stress. They all sat together and watched TV, like they did at the end of every episode. There was a knock on the door, in the sitcom and in real life. Everyone, TV and real, threw up pure spoiled milk all at once.

I stood up. I walked over to the door. I opened it. The smell almost killed me. There was something out there. A massive, hulking thing. A humanoid, almost, covered in dry cracks and wet holes constantly leaking spoiled milk. The milk flowed both up into the sky and down onto the infinite white plains outside my house. It has no eyes, mouth, or ears, just wet holes that spurted milk like a ship full of leaks. It did have a tiny little paper hat though, perched askew on its head. Below that was a thick, foot long, flopping tongue that sprouted out of the mouthless face. The nostrils were massive too, leaking milk like snot. Jesus, the stuff was chunky. And hairy. I looked down. It had long arms with elbows that reached to its knees so that it could touch the ground standing up. Its hands were huge with no fingernails, just skin with wet holes at the tip of each finger. It had a massive penis, swinging like a pendulum. Spoiled milk leaked. And leaked. And leaked. I was up to my knees in the stuff.

It looked at me with those wet holes, and the tongue flopped wordlessly. I still knew what it was saying. The same thing as in my dream.

Lait, ici.

Fiona, Louise, and I replied.

L’epoux, il est dans la maison.

It screamed. We screamed back.

It nodded to us and left. The milk continued to flow. It sank into my throat. Into my lungs. My nostrils filled with clumps. I drowned in vomit and spoiled milk.

Not the worst way it could’ve gone.

[tyrantasaur]

g i l d e d ◇ s p i r i t s

It was well into the afternoon when Pritchard entered Wesley’s bedroom to begin his daily routine. It seemed to Wesley, awakened violently by the loud clacking of metal on metal as the valet tore open the curtains to let the sun stab Wesley right in his reddened eyes. It had been another extremely late night, and if he was honest he could not quite remember the latter part of it. He was pretty sure there was a certain sadistically gleeful bent to the silent valet’s smile this morning. 

“Do you know, I’m still quite half-under, man. Stop enjoying this.” He squinted at Pritchard, who was standing with the window just at his back. “Evil old goat,” Wesley grumbled to himself, cursing Pritchard under his breath. “Damnit man, hand me the potion.: He held his head as it felt like it was rattling about on his neck. Pritchard stood, not moving. “Please,” he ground out through gritted teeth, prompting his cold-hearted valet to hand him a small vial. He downed the shot of thin amber potion in one go, thankful that he didn’t have to live like the poor mortals who would have to just struggle through their day.

It took but a few moments before his head cleared, and he felt as though he’d been abed before 10 PM. He fluffed up his pillows and leaned back, awaiting the breakfast tray that Prichard placed over his lap. The sunlight falling on his face felt peaceful, now, and he directed his man to open the window and let in the cool breeze, the ambient sounds of the city, and the smell of smoke and freshly mown grass. It was a scent so particular to the city that it didn’t even phase him anymore. Luckily his own estate had enough greenery that it wasn’t filled with soot and smoke like other parts of the city. Just enough to remind one that they were in an oasis surrounded by metal and smoke. Some didn’t care much for it, but his life wasn’t half bad, and he lived for the hustle and bustle. Besides, it was really good for business.

After enjoying his bruncheon of toast, eggs, bacon, and coffee, Wesley was soon up and dressed for the rest of the day. It was not out of his regular routine for him to be up late, as the work of a supernatural investigator really was much more active at night. He was between cases at the moment, though that didn’t much matter to him.

He spent most of the afternoon and evening puttering around in his workshop; he had a project that he’d been working on for the better part of the past year, but he’d been having difficulty tracking down someone with the particular skills he needed to help him with the magical aspects. His powers were strong and his knowledge might be broad, but he wasn’t an expert in many fields. So far he’d been having trouble with anyone who was powerful or clever enough. Winnifred kept silent vigil, watching what he was working on and offering up rare bits of advice for new things to try. It was proving to be an extremely frustrating project, and finally he tossed down his tools with a shout, put everything into a box and shoved it onto the storage shelf, then swept out of the room. 

Winnifred trailed behind him, silent as ever, although she slammed the door behind him in empathetic commiseration. He wasn’t surprised by the small cold hand on his shoulder or the whisper as she faded off to wherever her ghostly sensibilities drew her. 

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

“Laurie!” Wesley stood, taking three long strides to meet his friend who had been led into the drawing room by Pritchard, who bowed himself off.

“Wes, old man, thank you for that vile potion you sent over yesterday. It always does wonders; what a blow, eh? Ah....Winnie,” he grinned unabashedly as though he hadn’t just spoken roughly in front of the young woman. “Forgive me, old gel?”

She graciously held out her hand, draped on the chaise longue in the same outfit she always wore, her hair always perfectly coiffed. Lawrence stepped forward and held his hand just under hers, going through the motions of kissing the ethereal hand. She smiled, her lips parting in a silent laugh at his dramatic expression of apology.

“You know, I’ve been thinking about that absolute mess we saw at the Montgomerys the other night,” Wesley stood by the writing desk at the window, fiddling with some papers. He picked them up but stared off into nothing and set them back down again. He was frowning out the window, his thoughts on what had occurred. 

“I’ve had a case I think is likely related to that fracas with the maidservant. Looks like a satyr getting a little too bold.” He drew a sharp breath. “I think I may need to find that woman and see if she knows anything. I’d like to know why it was drawn to that house in particular. It doesn’t seem to be targeting the wealthy manors,” he chewed absently on his lower lip. “What do you think?”

Lawrence sat down opposite Winnifred, and lit himself a cigarette, arm thrown over the back of the sofa. He leaned his head back to look up at the ceiling, watching the smoke blown out through his nose. “I think I was altogether a little too zozzed to really remember if I noticed anything in particular. I mean, Frakes was there and you know he’s a bit of the gift, so does that deb and her daddy, you know, the ah…” he glanced over at Winnifred. “Er, Jack and his girl Millie.”

“Well,” Wesley let the papers drop back down onto the desk. He walked over to the gilded cart filled with crystal decanters of various shapes filled with different colored liquids. Pouring out a glass for himself and Laurie, he dropped down onto the cushion beside his friend, and took up the same pose, staring at the ceiling.

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

Was it guilt or simply being thorough? Wesley wasn’t sure why he kept getting a nagging feeling that he should be tracking down the maid who had encountered the work of the satyr. It was not often that he felt any sort of overwhelming need to play the knight in shining armour, and he was fairly certain that wasn’t about to start now. Currently sitting in the parlor with Vivan Montgomery, he sipped at the tea she’d poured. 

The reason he’d dropped in was not, as Vivian clearly believed, because of her irresistible charms and their important place in society; he was hoping to begin tracking the satyr from this spot. The traces were all muddied; there’d clearly been a few people or beings in the area with at least a touch of magic about them, and their paths overlapped. After a time the trace dissipated much like a smell, becoming more vague and foggy as time wore on. He could’ve cursed himself for waiting as many days as he had, but as he made his excuses and took his leave, he stood for a moment in pretense of fixing his tie. 

Focusing on a magical trace was as innate a skill as sensing a taste or scent, but it was often harder to place, or to match up with what caused it. It was more of a concept, a feeling or emotion or a memory of a little slice in time and place that served as the magical signature. Different people sensed magic in different ways, but every persons’ trace was unique. He could tell his own trace from the rest, of course; and Laurie’s, though the man didn’t have an ounce of magical skill in him he was still a Sensitive and quite knowledgeable about the theory and history of magics.

There were at least three other distinct traces. Sorting out which pieces belonged to which trace were the trickier part, but you could piece them together like a puzzle as they just fit the scene they evoked. There was the feeling of lying in the tall grass, dappled sunlight warming your skin, the taste of honeyed wine on your lips; it had melted into the feeling of a familiar old chair and the particular scent of lignin, and the particular cozy feeling one gets when a rainy day lets you laze about without guilt; the scent of a crisp breeze, the childish satisfaction of milk and a plate of cookies, and the softly sad feeling of reliving a cherished memory. A summer’s day, reading in his library, and a stroll down memory lane. Out of the three of them, the summer’s day seemed the likeliest, given the satyr’s origins.

Walking along the sidewalk, he was glad for the bright sun, the light breeze, and the energy that a hearty breakfast had given him. He’d been up early today, unusually so for him, but he’d taken a potion the night before and had slept like the dead. Sometimes he wondered if mortals felt all the spirits that lived in his house; there certainly were a number. Those departed who could not yet move on, but who had become displaced when their homes were demolished, or the new occupants were a little too sensitive. Even in death people weren’t immune to homelessness. Sad, really. He wished there were more who studied the necromantic arts, but there was a certain distaste many had to speaking with the dead. It was hard work, and one of the more dangerous fields of magic. It took a lot of discipline, hard work, courage, and unfortunately a certain amount of empathy. It was not generally a lucrative line of work, given that most dead didn’t have any wealth lying about, but it was still important work. 

The trace that reminded him of autumn in his childhood kept coming up. He wondered if there was someone who had been at the party, or that lived nearby, who had caught the attention of the satyr. He pitied the person, as they were quite the nuisance, especially for women. Lusty capricious little beggars, they were not exceptionally violent but could turn aggressive. Magical creatures were not as they were often portrayed in stories; the Greeks had it most to right, some good some wicked and mostly a mix between the two. Temperamental and given to dramatic impulses, they could be difficult when cross and a hassle when they took a shine to you. 

The path took him more into the less posh parts of town, and he frowned at the small cluster of fairies following the milkman’s cart, but kept going. It looped through various neighborhoods until it hit a gentlemen’s club. Wesley had no compunctions about visiting the house of ill repute, but it had taken considerable work to calm down the inhabitants enough to get any information out of them. The madam had not known what to believe, but one of her girls had enough gifts to see the creature. It was getting bold, and it was about time to send it back to the plane to which it belonged.

A wave of nostalgia washed over him, and he realized that the neighborhoods through which he had been tramping were filled with the second trace at various stages of strength. It was getting to be clearer as he drew closer to the department store. Intrigued, he wondered who it could be and what role they played with the satyr. He followed the trace through the store, and he saw fairies flitting between the jewelry cases and home goods, attracted to everything that glittered. They cast wary looks at him as he passed, but resumed their ogling as he passed them by.

Pretending to examine a pair of leather gloves, he tried to focus on where the concentration of the magic was centered. Fairies liked transformative, air and water elemental, divinatory and combat magics, so it made sense that they would have followed this mage, as there was the flavor of some of those magicks to their trace. He felt it up ahead and looked up to see the perfume counter. He did a double take, staring keenly at the young woman at the counter. She wasn’t dressed like the usual middle and upper classes that shopped at the department store, nor was she dressed as one of the counter girls. A friend, perhaps, stealing a few moments with their friend? Window shopping? Extravagant purchase with hoarded savings?

No, there was something familiar, and he tried to put it in perspective. Someone who would have been near the Montgomerys. If she was in that part of uptown and wasn’t incredibly uptown herself, it was more likely that she’d be a servant at one of the houses. 

As he picked up a different pair and tried them on, he could have hit himself, and cursed himself for a blockhead. The maid that had been dismissed, that was obviously who she must be. A second glance couldn’t quite confirm it; she wasn’t wearing her uniform anymore, and he honestly could not recall what the woman had looked like, as he wasn’t generally in the practice of paying attention to the staff at a party. He was incredibly detail oriented, but only when it related to his work; otherwise, he was wholeheartedly occupied with himself.

Once she left, he purchased a pair of driving gloves and meandered over to the perfume counter. “I need a gift for an aunt of mine. Something matronly and a bit out of fashion, you know the type.” The woman asked him a few questions to help identify the best scent, and wrapped it up for him. “The girl that was just here a moment ago, do you know her?”

The woman behind the counter seemed confused and a bit reticent, but she acknowledged that she knew the person about whom he spoke. “Ah, she worked for the Montgomery’s, did she not? I hate to gossip,” he lied convincingly. “But the old biddy is in a desperate situation. My aunt, you see, not your friend. Anyway, if she can stand the tyrannical rule of a mistress again, give her my card? Berries,” he grinned as she took his card.

[o0yono0o]

Zombies, Run! chronological mission order

Have you ever wondered where the side missions fit into the season two story line? Or where all the supply missions, race missions, airdrops, etc. fit in? @abelrunners and I did, so we looked into it and finally composed this list. Last updated after the Spring VR 2017. We haven’t included the Audible production, “The Way Of All Flesh” (but it would fit in between Spring VR 2016 and S1M1).

Hope this’ll be helpful! :)

RMs (Radio Mode) should be listened to during the appropriate seasons after normal missions. Keep in mind that certain missions unlock RM clips.

Pre-Season One: • Spring VR (Virtual Race) 2017: Training Mission #1 • Spring VR 2017: Training Mission #2 • Spring VR 2017: 5K or 10K • Spring VR 2016: Training Mission #1 • Spring VR 2016: Training Mission #2 • Spring VR 2016: 5K or 10K • S1M1 (Season 1, Mission 1): Jolly Alpha Five Niner • ZR5K (Zombies, Run! 5K app): W1W1 (Week 1, Workout 1) • ZR5K: W1W2 • ZR5K: W1W3 • ZR5K: W2W1 • ZR5K: W2W2 • ZR5K: W2W3 • ZR5K: W3W1 • ZR5K: W3W2 • ZR5K: W3W3 • ZR5K: W4W1 • ZR5K: W4W2 • ZR5K: W4W3 • ZR5K: W5W1 • ZR5K: W5W2 • ZR5K: W5W3 • ZR5K: W6W1 • ZR5K: W6W2 • ZR5K: W6W3 • ZR5K: W7W1 • ZR5K: W7W2 • ZR5K: W7W3 • ZR5K: W8W1 • ZR5K: W8W2 • ZR5K: W8W3

Season One: • S1M2: Distraction • SUPPLY: Decoy Duty • S1M3: Lay of the Land • SUPPLY: Ammo Run • S1M4: A Lost Child • SUPPLY: Fuel Run • S1M5: Paul Revere • S1M6: Supply Run • S1M7: A Voice in the Dark • S1M8: The Old Milll • SUPPLY: Medicine Run • SUPPLY: Food Supply Run • S1M9: Recovery • SUPPLY: Tech Supply Run • S1M10: Tess • S1M11: Back to School • S1M12: Alternates • S1M13: A Regular Meds Run • S1M14: Patient 29 • RACE: ABEL 5K: Ultra-Violet • RACE: ABEL 10K: Visiting Van Ark • RACE: ABEL 20K: Jeffro Complex • RACE: CANTON 5K: Big Cheese • RACE: CANTON 10K: Etymology • RACE: CANTON 20K: Plasmapheresis • S1M15: Virtuous Circle • SUPPLY: Entertainment Run • AUTUMN VR 2016: Training mission #1 • AUTUMN VR 2016: Training Mission #2 • AUTUMN VR 2016: 5K or 10K • S1M16: Scouting Mission • S1M17: Information Exchange • AUTUMN VR 2015: 5K or 10K • S1M18: Eavesdropping • S1M19: An Unimportant Mission • S1M20: Listen In • S1M21: Siege • S1M22: Horde • S1M23: Aftermath • S1RM.

    Interval Training should be played during S1 after M3 and before M20.

Season Two: • S2M1: Back Once Again • S2M2: From the Ashes • Airdrop #1 • S2M3: Walking On Broken Glass • S2M4: We Used To Be Friends • Airdrop #2 • S2M5: Ghosts • S2M6: Let The Dogs Come out • S2M7: Mummy’s Hand • S2M8: Chicken Payback • Airdrop #3 • S2M9: All Together Now • S2S1 (Season 2, Side mission 1): Canada • S2M10: Holding Out For A Hero • S2S2: Headcount • S2M11: The Kids Are Alright • S2M12: Relight My Fire • Airdrop #4 • S2S3: Whack-A-Mole • S2S4: Times New Roaming • Airdrop #5 • S2M13: SOS • S2M14: You’re Rocking The Boat • S2M15: Hounds of Love • S2S5: Top 40 • S2S6: Trefoil • Airdrop #6 • S2M16: Electric Dreams • S2M17: The Object Is A Hungry Wolf • S2M18: Dark and Long • S2M19: Dare • S2M20: Toxic • S2S7: War Is The Answer • S2M21: Always Take The Weather • S2S8: Interview With a Girl Guide • S2M22: No Future • S2M23: Galvanize • S2M24: London Calling • S2S9: Zombies, Row! • S2M25: Con Te Partiro • S2M26: S-Express • S2M27: Banditos • S2S10: Zombies, Climb! • S2S11: Zombies, Stretch! • S2S12: Search And Rescue • S2S13: Actual Cannibal Rescue Mission • S2M28: Ghost Town • S2M29: The Lion Sleeps Tonight • S2M30: Panic • S2S14: Circuit Training • S2S15: Quartermaster • S2S16: Zombies, Bike! • S2M31: Hello • S2M32: Tightrope • S2M33: Athena • S2M34: Ready To Go • S2H1 (Halloween): Living Dead Girl • S2H2: Horse Play • S2H3: Wai Chu Xiao Xin • S2M35: Dog Days Are Over • S2M36: One Way Or Another • S2M37: Sweet Escape • S2M38: Jailbreak • S2M39: Psycho Killer • S2M40: Little Lies • S2M41: You Know My Name • S2M42: Road To Nowhere • S2M43: The Final Countdown • S2M44: Something Good, 08 • S2M45: Going Underground • S2RM

Season Three: • S3M1: Break Your Heart • S3M2: The Safety Dance • S3M3: Rescue Me • S3M4: Left To My Own Devices • S3M5: Walk of Life • S3M6: Career Day • S3M7: Life’s A Happy Song • S3M8: Believe • S3M9: I Don’t Want To Get Over You • S3M10: The Man Who Sold the World • S3M11: Stray Cat Strut • S3M12: Ready To Start • S3M13: Autopilot • S3M14: Keeper Of Secrets • S3M15: Veronica • S3M16: Battle Born • S3M17: Carry Me Home • S3M18: I’ve Got A Theory • S3M19: Descent • S3M20: Only Love Can Break Your Heart • S3M21: Sin In My Heart • S3M22: Your Cheatin’ Heart • S3M23: I’m With Stupid • S3M24: Return To The Forbidden Planet • S3M25: The Road Goes Ever On And On • S3M26: Brand New Start • S3M27: Blue • S3M28: A Little Night Music • S3M29: Where’s Your Head At • S3M30: Submission • S3M31: Scream And Shout • S3M32: Dynamite • S3M33: Upside Down • S3M34: I Crush Everything • S3M35: Leave My Brain Alone • S3M36: Old World • S3M37: Back In Your Head • S3M38: We’re Needed • S3M39: It’s Raining Again • S3M40: Addicted To Love • S3M41: Interiors • S3M42: Insane In The Brain • S3M43: Love Is A Stranger • S3M44: Welcome Home (Sanitarium) • S3M45: Aquarius • S3M46: Shoot The Runner • S3M47: Comfortably Numb • S3M48: Reunion Tour • S3M49: Sowing Season • S3M50: Listen All You People • S3M51: Bad Moon Rising • S3M52: Shiver Me Timbers • S3M53: There Is Power In A Union • S3M54: The Milkman Og Human Kindness • S3M55: Into The Light • S3M56: Natural Anthem • S3M57: Rollercoasters • S3M58: Up • S3M59: Mambo Number Five • S3M60: Sacrifice • S3RM

Season Four: • S4M1: Pound The Alarm • S4M2: We Built This City • S4M3: Post War Blues • S4M4: Super Bass • S4M5: Better The Devil You Know • S4M6: Brain Damage • S4S1: Life Day • S4M7: Does Your Mother Know • S4M8: With A Little Help From My Friends • S4M9: Wake Me Up Before You Go Go • S4M10: Futures • S4M11: Lullaby • S4M12: Strange Disease • S4M13: History Repeating • S4M14: Church of The Poison Mind • S4M15: Sweet Things • S4S2: Hierarchy Of Needs • S4M16: Old And Wise • S4M17: The Living Daylights • S4M18: Down Down • S4M19: There’s No I In Team • S4M20: Nitroglycerin • S4M21: In Da Club • S4M22: Runaway Baby • S4M23: Goodbye To You • S4M24: Livin’ On A Prayer • S4M25: Another Brick In The Wall • S4M26: Grown Ups • S4M27: Hit Me Baby One More Time • S4M28: Honey Honey • S4M29: Monster • S4M30: We Are Golden • S4M31: Got My Mind Set On You • S4M32: Tower Of Song • S4M33: One Of Us • S4M34: Who Are You • S4M35: You Win Again • S4M36: Back In Black • S4M37: Cherish • S4M38: The Game Has Changed • S4M39: Bed Of Lies • S4M40: Choice • S4RM

Season Five: • S5M1: You Spin Me Round • S5M2: Run To You • S5M3: Thorn In My Side • S5M4: Hanging On The Telephone • S5M5: Voodoo Child • S5M6: Changes • S5M7: Sail Away • S5M8: Liar Liar • S5M9: Brothers in Arms • S5M10: Wrong Song • S5M11: All About That Bass • S5M12: Everything Is Beautiful • S5M13: Drive My Car • S5M14: Step Into My Office, Baby • S5M15: Poker Face • S5M16: You’re Still The One • S5M17: Nothing’s Gonna Stop Us Now • S5M18: Here Comes The Rain Again • S5M19: Sweet Dreams • S5M20: Stay Alive • S5M21: Staying Alive • S5M22: Hit Me With Your Best Shot • S5M23: Hungry Like the Wolf • S5M24: Come Undone • S5M25: Village Green Preservation Society • S5M26:We Have All The Time In The World • S5M27: For Your Eyes Only • S5M28: Live And Let Die • S5M29: Renegade Master • S5M30: Lazarus • S5M31: Want You Gone • S5M32: Inspector Norse • S5M33: Ice Ice Baby • S5M34: Cold as Ice • S5M35: Break The Ice • S5M36: Let It Go • S5M37: Nothing But Love • S5M38: Get The Party Started • S5M39: Follow Me, Follow You • S5M40: The Room Where It Happens

[ecotone99]

[MF] Lizard

“This story spans 8000 years, not a second less and not a second more. It started on the 0th second and it ended on the 8000 x 365 x 24 x 60th second, which works out to the 4,204,800,000th second.

After the 4,204,800,000th second, precisely nothing happened concerning this story ever, ever, ever again.

The thing that happened on the 0th second is that somebody threw a rock at a lizard to scare it away because they thought it was ugly, and instead the rock caught the lizard square in the head and crushed its brain and pinned it to the warm patch of stone it had been sunning itself on, and it stayed there unburied for about a week until the rain washed it down onto the grass and nature reclaimed it.

The thing that happened on the 4,204,800,000th second is a little more complicated, but it started with me kissing you at church camp, and it continued with you falling in love with me, and it ended about 120 seconds from now with me throwing a rock at your head and pinning you to the linoleum. I’m going to dig up that part of the flooring and let nature reclaim you. But that happens outside of the story. The story ends when the rock hits your head.

Honey--the door’s locked. And so are the order of events. I’m fully aware you’re going to scream and yell anyway, but I tell you in my calmest and most reassuring voice that I’m as helpless to stop this as you are.

Please let me just tell my story. I haven’t gotten to what happened in the middle at all.

Basically what happened is that I was reincarnated many, many times. I’ve been a dove, I’ve been a plant, I’ve been a mailman, I’ve been a caveman, I’ve been one of the 12 disciples. I’ve been an ass, both in the animal sense and the human sense.

What’s beautiful is you have been, too. You just don’t realize it. The thing is--most people don’t. There’s only a few people who realize what’s happening and start remembering all their past lives and being able to weave a big picture out of them, even though everybody’s lived thousands and thousands of lives.

I’m a rare breed, see. I remember all of mine. After a while, I started to be able to recognize the people around me, too--I could tell when the milkman had been a blade of grass I met in a past life, et cetera. You start to recognize energies. You start to know the universe very well, the ebbs and flows of everything--you start to realize you’re just a piece of a giant machine--that everything that’s ever happened and is ever gonna happen is set in stone and if you look just right, you can see it all. Over time I learned all this. I’ve become very special over hundreds and hundreds of years.

There’s one person, though, who I started to recognize very, very early on in my learning. What was so unique about this person was that they didn’t just pop up in one of my lives. They were in every single one.

Do you know who that person was?

You. Yes.

You.

Every time I thought I had my life figured out, it was you--first with the rock 8,000 years ago, then countless other times--the Roman guard who hung me upside down on the cross, the saber-tooth tiger who sunk its teeth into my neck, the poison dart frog that climbed into my soup, the cheetah that grabbed my tail and dragged me up a tree, the sparrow that pulled me out of the ground and slurped me down--always you. Always. I know you don’t know what you’re doing--you’re just living your life and killing what you have to kill in that life, and once you pass to the next life the previous ones are forgotten--but it’s not that way for me.... and I’m not going to take it anymore.

Olivia, you have ended my earthly existence no fewer than 5,600 times. And now that I finally lived a life where I have had the luck to find you before you find me, I am going to return the favor. I have worked for years to woo you, to wed you, to give you a beautiful child, and to finally catch you with your guard completely down--and here we are.

I know that it’s stupid to kill someone when they’re only going to return in another form, probably to kill me again. Perhaps you’ll even be the one who ends this life for me, one of the few times I’ve been lucky enough to be a moderately attractive human...

But I’m going to get this one win. This one win. I’m going to show the universe that things can be reversed--that even the most intractable patterns can be destroyed by the will of man. I am going to show the universe that Steve Jameson is a force to be reckoned with!”

There was an awkward pause. Olivia did not move, or break her composure, or beg for mercy. Steve was breathing heavily. He had not paced his speech correctly and public speaking had always made his mouth dry out and his stomach hurt.

Finally Steve stumbled towards Olivia with the rock in his hand, raised up high. He seemed confused whether he was going to throw it or hit her with it, and so ended up sort of just being passively carried by the weight of the rock forwards. Their baby was crying in the next room and the sound of crickets outside floated in through the window. It was a beautiful California summer night.

Olivia took in how small of a man Steve was, and how pathetic and strange he had sounded throughout the whole story he told her. She thought about how sad it was to wait 8,000 years to deliver a speech and then for the whole thing to sound so stilted, so passionless. The delivery on the whole thing was a C- at best.

She had heard him reciting it before, in the mirror to himself before they went out to dinner. She had felt him thinking of this speech as a plant growing on her window sill, a plant she had fed rubbing alcohol for a few weeks before it withered away. She had known he was thinking of this speech when she was a hawk and he was a rabbit and she had swooped him up and dropped him into the river. She had heard him reciting the speech to himself when she had shot a flamethrower into his foxhole. She had heard.

Steve swung the rock after what felt like ages, and Olivia ducked and swept out his legs, and the rock skittered across the carpet. She grabbed a kitchen knife in a flash, pushed him backwards, and held it to his neck, him flat on the ground, her on top of him. They both breathed heavily and Steve tried very hard not to move.

“When’s the 4,204,800,000th second?”

Steve strained his eyes to look at the kitchen clock without moving his head. Olivia pressed the knife up into his chin harder and pinned his hand to the floor with her knee.

“20 seconds.”

For 20 seconds, Olivia pressed the knife to his neck and kept all her weight on him, and they both listened to the time pass.

“That’s it.”

Slowly, Olivia took the knife away from his throat, but stayed on top of him, pinning him there.

“Did you see that happening, with your “very special” vision of all events past and present?”

“I did. But I had to at least try to change it.”

Steve laughed a little bit to himself and wiped away a tear from under his eye with his free arm, careful to move as slow and un-threateningly as he could.

“8,000 years we’ve known each other now, in a sense.”

“8,000 years.”

“Did you know it was me when we got married?”

“Yeah. Of course.”

“Did you know you were doing it?”

“Killing you?”

“Yeah.”

“Not at first. But after a while, yeah.”

“Why?”

“I just kept being in a position to do it. And you always make it so easy.”

Steve thought about this for a second.

“I guess I would have done the same to you if I was in your place.”

Olivia listened for the baby for a second. He had calmed down. She moved her knee off Steve’s wrist.

“Are you gonna kill me again now?”

“I guess if you want me to. I need help around the house, though. And you just got promoted.”

Steve contemplated this for a second.

“How about in a couple decades, then. Once John’s grown and it won’t scar him. ”

Olivia smiled down at him. She kissed him on the cheek for the first time in a while.

“Deal.”

Steve laughed. It felt like finally saying his speech had unhooked several belts from around his chest. He had been practicing it for 400 years, ish, and he had had to update the language in it a ridiculous amount of times.

“And then I’ll find you in the next life and we’ll do it all again.”

“Don’t worry about finding me, Steve. I’ll handle it.”

He reached up and held her around the waist. She smiled, and he pulled her down to him and kissed her. In the darkness of the kiss, Steve looked out at the next 8,000 years and saw they were much the same, and he knew that was good. He turned from the future and returned to the kiss, and proceeded to lose himself completely in it.

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