#i dunno how else to describe what afk is

[arts-and-drafts]

AFK (Limited Life)

(A tiny little snippet I wrote after Martyn confirmed in his Lore that Grian's AFK session was the work of Watchers. Enjoy!)

CW: Death mentions, disassociation(?)

-

Joel fretted back and forth in front of Grian's rigid form.

He and Jimmy woke up to a sunny sky, a fresh harvest on Bread Bridge, and a very still Grian sat atop a llama in a boat. His arms were slack at his sides, and he stared straight ahead in a worryingly blank expression.

Every once in a while, his eyes had swirled with a purple magic that put Jimmy right on edge, though he wouldn't say why; he just told Joel "not to say their names". Whatever the bloody hell that meant.

He looked frozen in time, almost, if Joel hadn't confirmed that the clock was indeed still ticking down on Grian's inner forearm.

The Boogeyman thunderclap rang out above Joel's head as he was preoccupied keeping Tango and Impulse away from Grian's body (gods know what they would do if they realized what a state he was in) and a chill ran up Joel's spine.

There was a chance it could be Grian.

Joel frantically started theorizing how they would even do that. Grian could be moved, that Joel already figured out, and Joel highly doubted that his friend had just happened to fall asleep in a mob in a boat.

3.

Grian was probably expecting this to happen to him, whatever this was, which meant he was probably expecting his fellow Bad Boys to figure out what to do if he had in fact been selected Boogeyman.

2.

Okay, fine. Maybe Joel could make a sort of 'piggyback' arrangement where Grian's hands were wrapped around an axe and he was wrapped around Joel, and Joel could just puppet him around to kill people. Yeah, maybe that could work. Joel was pretty strong.

1.

You are...

NOT The Boogeyman.

Joel didn't feel any relief. He whipped around to Grian after seeing his own message, staring him in the eyes to see if there was any change. Maybe there's a flash of red that he'd never noticed until now. Something like that.

Grian moved.

Joel fell off the boat edge he was perched on in shock.

It was really more of a spasm, but it was more movement than Joel had seen out of his friend since they woke up.

"Grian, are you the Boogeyman?" Joel asked, his voice hitching with desperation. Could he hear him still? Nothing he'd tried before had illicit any response, but maybe that's because Grian couldn't respond.

Grian twitched again, a jerky motion that could vaguely be interpreted as a shake of the head.

Well, definitely more of a shake than a nod. It was good enough for Joel.

"Alright," Joel sighed, and prayed to whoever was left that he interpreted that right. Grian was not the Boogeyman, and Tango and Impulse weren't either, if their words could be trusted.

Which they couldn't. Joel ran them back through the portal.

-

Grian did the mental equivalent of an exhale of relief, his mind stinging from the lengths it went to to just move his head. Joel had thankfully correctly interpreted what little Grian was able to do with his body before he was once again forced out of it, and he at least put that worry to rest.

Grian had bigger problems to deal with now, he mused with annoyance, as he turned his attention back to the massive web of purple magic he was encased in.

This was going to take a while.

END.

[athela-3]

crushing defeat

1.7k words; gen/comedy; hints of shipping if you blink, look here, and look away again; if everyone gives aspec vibes that’s my bad, I have no idea how allos work; 3 am nonsense is practically its own genre; mild language (canon-typical); no content warnings.

Yuki’s never had a crush before. Normally that’s not a problem, but now that he really needs to know what it’s like, nobody else in Mankai can seem to give him a straight answer. And what does cake have to do with anything?

“You. Elite Swindler. What's it like to have a crush?”

Itaru looks up from his phone and finds himself face-to-face with Yuki's inquisitive eyes. “Um.” He blinks, stalling for time while he forces his brain to take a U-turn from his game. “Why do you ask?”

Yuki sighs, swatting aside a strand of hair and tucking it behind his ear. “My character's supposed to be in love, but no matter how many times I try saying my lines it never sounds right. The Director said I should try asking around to get an idea what it's supposed to feel like, and you're sitting right here. So are you going to tell me or not?”

“Huh.” Well, that sounds like something she would do, Itaru concedes. He sits up, placing his phone face down on the sofa next to him. “If I have to describe it, I'd say it's inconvenient. Just because you like someone doesn't mean you'd like liking them. It's kind of like pulling a gacha and getting an SSR. If it's your favourite character, cool, but if it's a character you don't like and you already have three other copies of the exact same card, and now you have to grind all over again… not cool.”

Yuki rolls his eyes, and for a second Itaru thinks he's about to be on the business end of his trademark sarcastic zingers again. “But what is it like? It can't be as sappy as it looks like in Muku's manga.” Beat. Slowly, with dread creeping into his voice: “Is it?”

Itaru opens his mouth to answer, only for a better idea to spring into mind. He cranes his head to look into the kitchen, where Homare is nursing a cup of some fragrant tea blend with a complicated, bougie name. “Hey, Homare? How would you describe the feeling of falling in love?”

There's a brief pause, filled only with Yuki's wide-eyed Oh-No-You-Didn't stare, which Itaru diligently avoids. Then Homare places his teacup on the saucer with a gentle plink and replies, with the absolute certainty of an astronomer looking at the night sky: “Devotion astride with every doki doki… a sugary somnambulism, nefelibata's mazurka of watchfulness, feather-light fingertips painting patient litanies!”

“Exactly.” Itaru grins. “See? It's not that hard.”

Yuki's expression is flat, but Itaru thinks he can see the gears turning inside his head. Eventually he sighs. “Fine. You've made your point.”

“Look, that's all I've got,” Itaru shrugs. “Besides, why don't you ask someone who definitely knows what it's like? Have you tried asking Muku?”

“Duh. He tried to hand me a bunch of romance manga for reference. But that's fiction. If I want my acting to be realistic, I need to look at real life examples.”

“Why not ask Masumi then?”

“And listen to him babble about the Director for the next three hours?”

“Mm. Kazunari?”

“I'm not an idiot. I already asked everyone in my troupe.”

“Tsumugi?”

“I would, but he's not home. Tasuku says he's out tutoring. And before you start, I already asked the Muscle Freak. He mumbled something about high expectations and ran off.”

“Citron?”

“You've got to be kidding me.”

“Taichi?”

“The Dumb Dog? That's… a good idea. Plus I needed to check on his sewing anyway, he's supposed to finish them this—”

“Yo, Taruchi, where are you? Don't just go AFK on me like that!”

They turn to see Banri emerging from the stairwell, phone in hand and an annoyed look in his face. Itaru waves him over at once, relieved to find a potential back-up partner. “Banri! You gotta help me out, man. I need you to describe what having a crush is like.”

Banri stares slack-jawed, caught totally off-guard. “A crush? It's distracting, that's what. I mean, they're all you can think about, right? No matter what you're doing or where you go, you just keep thinkin' about 'em.”

Itaru snaps his fingers. “Right! And you know you've got it bad when you keep finding excuses to be around them. Or when you do weird stuff to get their attention, like giving them things or teasing them or picking fights with them—”

“Why would you pick a fight with someone you like?” Yuki squints, thoroughly unimpressed. “You can't expect them to fight with you and then magically like you back afterwards. That's just stupid.”

“Well,” Itaru grins, “it is.”

“Ah, but such is love!” rejoins Homare, his sentence punctuated by a neat clink as he places his drained teacup in the sink. “Even the greatest of geniuses are fools when it comes to love. Perhaps I should write a poem about that… the overripe ache of tenderness, rotting one's mind even as it enriches the soul…”

Banri shakes his head sharply. “Yeah, whatever. Just get the interrogation done with so we can start the next match.” With that, he marches off into the kitchen, brushing past Homare without a word to fetch a glass of water.

As the poet leaves, still murmuring fancy thesaurus words under his breath, Itaru turns to Yuki and raises his eyebrows. “So? Think you got a better idea now?”

“A little,” Yuki admits. “You're not so useless after all.”

“Huh. I don't know what I expected. Guess I'll take what I can get.”

At that moment, the front door swings open, and in walks Juza, carrying a bag full of groceries in each hand. Behind him is the Director, bearing an identical bag in her arms and pulling the door shut behind her with her foot. “We're home!” she shouts.

“Welcome home, Director, Juza. Whoa, that's a lot of loot today.”

She laughs. “Turned out there was a sale, and since it's important that we save money I thought we might as well stock up ahead. I was lucky Juza came along to help, otherwise I couldn't have carried all of this back alone.”

While she stops by to talk, Juza keeps heading for the kitchen to unpack his groceries, only stopping when he realises his roommate is blocking the way. When it becomes apparent Banri has no intention to step aside, a scowl clouds over his face. “Move.”

A corner of Banri's mouth quirks upward. “Or what? You can't touch me, your hands are full.”

“Don't have to. You can stand there if you want, but the Director won't like it.”

Begrudgingly, Banri inches aside just enough for Juza to squeeze through. When he sees the topmost layer of groceries, he makes a small wolf-whistle. “Three bottles of strawberry milk? What d'you think this is, Hyodo, a damn onsen?”

“Ya gonna stand there babblin', or ya gonna make yourself useful?”

“Nah, I'm good.”

“Oh, Banri? Since you're already in the kitchen, and you're not doing anything,” the Director chimes in, industrial-grade cheerfulness dripping from her every word, “why don't you help me make dinner?”

Itaru snorts. “Curry duty? Ouch. I'll press F for you later.”

“Actually, tonight is sweet and sour pork. I got a deal on bell peppers, but they have to be eaten quickly,” she tells him, before calling out to Banri: “You can start by washing and chopping them, by the way.”

“The Currian chooses not to make curry?” If Yuki's eyebrows rose any higher, they'd completely disappear behind his fringe. “Did you hit your head on the door coming in?”

“I'm sorry, we can have curry tomorrow if that's what you want,” the Director smiles sweetly, and Itaru wonders if this is what she's like in the office. He tries picturing her giving instructions to her juniors and suggestions to her superiors, all in that inhumanly saccharine tone of voice. The mental image alone gives him the chills. “Oh! How's your role study, Yuki?”

“Eh, it's a work in progress.” He pauses, eyeing her with a slight squint. Oh, no, Itaru thinks, here we go again. “But now that you're here, why don't you tell me what you think a crush is like?”

“Me? I haven't had a crush since…” her voice trails off. She walks to the kitchen, places her groceries on the counter, and starts unpacking them alongside Juza. “I don't remember. What I do remember is that when you've fallen in love with someone, you want them to be happy. You remember the little things they like and don't like, because there's no feeling like seeing them smile and knowing it's because of you, or something you did. If they're happy, you're happy. But if they're upset about something, then you feel bad too, even if it wasn't your fault.”

Yuki hums a wordless acknowledgement, face scrunched in thought. “And you?”

Silence. After a few seconds, Juza looks up from the cabinet he is currently stuffing with raw pasta. “…Me?”

“Yeah, dumbass. Who else?” Banri snorts. “Oi, gimme the pineapple. I can't find it in this mess.”

“Didn't get any.”

“What, so we're making sweet and sour pork without pineapple? Who eats sweet and sour pork without—” Realisation dawns in his eyes. He blinks, as if startled, glances at the Director, and looks away again. “Oh. Huh. Well, that's interesting.”

“Whatcha talkin' 'bout, Settsu?”

“None of your business. Now answer the damn question already so we can cook in peace.”

“We ain't cooking, you are,” Juza points out. “An' I dunno.”

“You don't know?” Yuki presses impatiently. “Or you're not telling?”

“Dunno. Never had a crush.”

“Tch. Of course you've never liked anyone. All you like is cake.”

Itaru nods comprehendingly, shooting up in his seat. ”Banri's got a point, you know, the cake does kind of give it away. Bet you also like dragons.”

“Wait,” Yuki interjects, “what's cake got to do with anything?”

“You don't know?” Itaru twists to face the boy completely. “Aw, man. I thought you of all people would know. Do you like cake?”

“What does it matter?”

“C'mon, it's just a yes or no question!”

“They're OK? I'm not that big on sweets, but I like the really pretty cakes. Especially the ones with edible flowers on top.”

“The real question is,” Banri looks up from the cutting board and points the knife at Yuki, “would you rather fall in love or eat cake?”

“What kinda stupid question is that?” Juza mutters, still playing grocery Tetris with the cabinet and therefore completely missing the death glare Banri sends his way.

“Shut your cakehole, nobody asked you.”

Yuki's brows furrow, and Itaru notices his eyes flickering to Juza before he settles on a reply. “If I had to choose, I guess I'd choose cake. Having a crush sounds so exhausting. Besides, I know what cake's like, so I know what I'm getting myself into.”

Itaru claps his hands together, triumphant. “See? Congratulations, you're Team Cake! Don't worry about the dragons, we'll get there when you’re ready.”

“But what does any of it have to do with—you know what, forget it.” Yuki throws his hands into the air, mere millimetres away from clocking Itaru's head. “I should've asked someone who knows what they're talking about. You guys are hopeless.” With that, he turns on his heels and makes his exit, presumably off to interview the next hapless sap to cross his path.

“Good luck!” the Director calls out.

Itaru shakes his head. “And here I thought we'd get more affinity points than that,” he mutters. “Talk about being hard to please.”

“Don't blame him, it is a tough subject to crack,” she points out. “Oh, does that mean you're free right now? In that case, can you please make some rice while I get the pork ready?”

“Welp. Is this a mandatory quest?” She nods, and he sighs, slowly stretching to his feet and pocketing his phone. “All right. But you owe me cake. All this talk's got me craving a slice.”

“I'll grab you some tomorrow, how's that sound?”

Banri's head snaps up again. “Hey, if he gets cake for helping, then how come I don't?”

“You don't even like cake,” Juza grumbles.

“I’m just sayin’, it ain’t fair. And don’t pretend you don’t want some.”

She reaches past them to grab the packet of pork on the table and laughs. “All you had to do was ask. You know what? I'll get you cake. Both of you.” She pauses to scratch her chin. “Come to think about it, maybe I should just get a nice big cake for everyone to share. I've got a feeling we're all gonna need it come tomorrow.”

[deathishauntedbyhumans]

Younger

Jim is de-aged. Bones is Concerned. 

Stranger: I have a problem. I'm younger.-JK

You: You've always been younger than me, Jim. It's not exactly a new development. LM

Stranger: Yeah, hah hah, very funny, I mean I'm younger than I was when I went to bed.-JK

You: That's impossible. LM

Stranger: Yeah, and yet I'm looking in there mirror.-JK

You: Maybe the mirror's broken. LM In all actuality, given the weird, impossible shit that happens on a daily basis around here, I almost believe it could happen. Do you need me to come to your quarters? LM

Stranger: I mean I probably do, but I'm hesitant to ask because this is embarrassing and I'm ridiculously short because of it.-JK

You: I'll try not to hold it against you. LM Have you been in contact with anything out of the usual? Radioactive substances, weird fruits? LM

Stranger: I got hungry on the last planet we visited...-JK Berries?-JK

You: I swear to God, Jim... LM I'll comm. Spock. Hopefully they picked up a sample of whatever the hell it was you ate. LM

Stranger: I was hungry!!-JK

You: Then wait until you're back on the ship! Or pack a snack that you know is safe! LM

Stranger: ..Okay, point, true, I got myself into this. It can be reversed you think?-JK

You: If your XO can identify what caused it, then he can hopefully reverse it. Otherwise... I have no idea. LM

Stranger: Okay well..no, it /needs/ to be reversed. A) I can't command this way, and B) I refuse to re-enter puberty.-JK

You: They'll figure something out. They usually do. LM

Stranger: They had better.-JK Will you be able to tell how old I am?-JK

You: I can do my damnedest. I'll have a rough estimate, most likely. LM

You: How old do you feel? LM

Stranger: I dunno. Not old at all?-JK Nothing fits and I had to climb onto a chair to wash my hands.-JK

Stranger: Essentially a nightmare.-JK

You: Christ. LM Alright. I'm nearly there. LM

Stranger: Right.-JK ((shall I move to paragraphs?))

You: ((Sure!))

Stranger: Jim sat on his bed, deciding he didn't really care to move much during this whole ordeal. He'd showered and taken care of himself (to the best of his ability) and got dressed back in his now far too big pyjamas, and he was /not/ moving, not until doctors orders said otherwise. The last thing he wanted was to converse with anyone like this, not even Mr. Spock. But Bones couldn't be helped. If he wanted help, and he wanted it fast, he'd have to enlist his help to at least take a look at him, get an assessment and they'd go from there. But he felt like crap all the same. He could hear Bones approaching the door, which he'd left unlocked for him, and he straightened himself up in an attempt to look taller. "Come in," he said preemptively.

You: Leonard was only halfway convinced that Jim was telling him the truth. While strange, unorthadox things did tend to happen to them more often than expected or projected, Jim was... well, he was Jim. And Leonard wouldn't put it past him to fake some sort of strange happening just to drag him out of Medical and get him to do... /something/. Whatever Jim wanted him to do. Because Leonard did it, most of the time. He found Jim's quarters unlocked and simply hit the entrance key, letting the doors slide fully open before stepping inside. He watched them close before turning around, having caught the sound of Jim's voice. It sounded... higher. Younger. Oh, no. As soon as he caught sight of Jim, Leonard nearly wished he hadn't. It was certainly Jim sitting there on that bed, that much was obvious. The same sandy blond hair, the same bright blue eyes staring forlornly at him. But... this Jim was just a child. "What the hell did you do to yourself, kid?" he asked with a sigh, shaking his head and running a hand over his face before approaching him. "You couldn't've waited 'til you were back on the ship to have a snack?" He set his medkit down on the bed, opening it up to rummage through it as he spoke.

Stranger: "I really think that calling me 'kid' is ridiculously inappropriate at this time, and I'm prohibiting it for until after I've come back to my age again," he said, trying not to look directly at the other, for fear of dying from embarrassment alone. If it had ben a doctor he didn't know well that might have worked out fine. As it was, he was Bones. He was grumpy, and he was Jim's best friend and he was witnessing his lowest point in life. "Look, when you gotta eat, you gotta eat, and we didn't pack enough rations. I had fed mine to an adorable animal we came across, looked sort of like a cat and dog mix, but it was about as big as a bird, can you believe that?" he asked, face falling after a short laugh. "...I guess that doesn't really help my case here, does it?"

You: "No. It doesn't." Leonard let out a huff of a breath that might have been a laugh if he hadn't been so damn concerned. Honestly, Jim was difficult enough to take care of when he was an /adult/. He wasn't sure if the ship would survive having Jim as a /child/ for more than a few days. "/Kid/," he added pointedly, turning to Jim again and fixing him with a pointed look. He only held it a moment, though, more concerned with getting a read on the situation than he was with properly getting Jim to understand the gravity of doing stupid shit like eating unknown berries on a random-ass planet with no one else aware of the situation. Leonard supposed they were lucky Jim hadn't had some sort of immediate allergic reaction to it, although he wasn't sure if this was really any better. "Hold still," he instructed, running the tricorder along his body, letting it pick up whatever information it could.

Stranger: Jim stood as still as he could, but he wanted to chew Bones out for calling him a kid /again/ after being told not to. He stayed still for all of thirty seconds, but after that he cracked open his mouth to speak. "Am I gone die?" he asked. "How old am I? Can you tell?" He shifted his eyes to look at Bones and sighed impatiently through his nose. He hated having check ups, and he hated that it took this of all things to get him to actually go through with a check up. Having the doctor also be your buddy, with whom you'd occasionally have a drink with, only made it all the weirder, thus part of the reason Jim avoided going to check ups. That, and anything invasive. "Can I move yet?" he asked, sounding annoyed. "This is getting painful, standing still."

You: Ignoring Jim's barrage of questions was fairly simple, given the fact that he had a habit of talking whenever he was in a position where he had to be given any sort of physical. It was a bad habit, but it was also one that Leonard recognised as a coping device, and so he'd never shut it down. Jim and doctors had never gotten along very well, if his medical file was anything to go by. He was glad that Jim trusted him enough to be CMO. "Alright, you can move." Leonard finished the scan a little more than a minute after he'd began it, and he had to bite his lip to stop himself from laughing as Jim immediately shifted his weight, looking for all the world like a little kid who just didn't want to sit down and wait. He checked the screen, although the findings weren't really helpful. In fact, they were... just about the opposite. His brow furrowed as he took it in, and then he looked down at Jim. "You're perfectly healthy," he stated, well-aware that he hadn't managed to keep himself from sounding puzzled. "At least, you're perfectly healthy for an eight-year-old. It looks like your entire physiology has somehow... de-aged itself, which makes absolutely no sense, but here we are."

Stranger: "An /eight year old/?" He asked. "An /eight year old/??" He repeated, looking pale. He wasn't sure exactly how he was so surprised over this, after all he looked the part, but he also hadn't ben eight for a few decades so there was no reason why he should have know right off the get go. "So what you're saying is that everything's de-aged. But my mind is in tact, right? I mean, I still remember you, I sure as hell didn't know you when you were eight." He ran a hand down his face, clearly stressed out. "Do we have any uniforms in my size, do you know? I'm not going to stay in a bathrobe this entire time. And there's NO abnormalities in me? You're sure?" Well that just made things all the worse. "What am I going to do??" It wasn't so much that he expected Leonard to know, but he was a bit desperate at this point.

Stranger: ((Just making sure that went through!))

You: ((It did, yes! Sorry, I went afk for a sec))

Stranger: ((Yeah no problem!))

You: Full readings were hard to come by on a portable tricorder unit, but Leonard trusted this one. It had been trustworthy every time he needed it to, so he had no reason to think it was trying to fool him. Still, he understood Jim's confusion. How he could be mentally sound and physically eight years old was a little beyond him. "For the moment, your brain is just fine. There's nothing off the charts, barring your anxiety levels." Those had spiked, but that was to be expected, given the circumstances. "If you want to do a full physical, we can, but as far as I can tell..." Leonard shrugged. "You're as normal as you usually are." He set the tricorder down, watching Jim work himself into a panic. Slowly, gingerly, he lowered himself onto the bed beside Jim, reaching over to pat his shoulder. "Hey, look. First things first, we'll get you a uniform. If there isn't one, we can replicate one. Second, I'm gonna need you to describe the berries. Spock's searching the database for anything that causes... abnormalities to occur, but a better description would probably be helpful. I didn't tell him what's happening, either, but if he knows the circumstances, he may find something quicker." He left his hand there on Jim's shoulder, squeezing gently. "Dependin' on what he finds, we go from there."

Stranger: Jim sighed, but felt relieved at Bones' hand on his shoulder. It wasn't much, but it did help put him at ease substantially. It made him feel a bit more like things would be all right, even in the offhand chance that they weren't all right at all. He shifted nervously in his spot and nodded. "They were pink. Sort of looked like blueberries. Had a bit of a green fade by the stem," he explained. "You'll get the uniform for me?" he asked, and looked at Bones. "Bones, I had to push a chair just to get to the sink. I was /not/ a tall kid way back when. How am I supposed to get around the place without falling on my face at some point?" While it was all well and fine to leave this to Spock and his database, something that was absolutely to be trusted, it still did pose the problem being that if Jim were to live like this for several days (possibly), how was he supposed to just get through the day in the literal sense? "Do we tell the crew?"

You: "It depends." Leonard spoke slowly, as though he was weighing the options with his words as he said them. "If Spock is able to find something in the next few days, we can call it something else. You were sick, you had some sort of fever, which is why you aren't around. If it's more than a few days..." He shook his head. "I don't see a way past tellin' them. Your crew cares about you, Jim. If you go plain missing without informin' 'em, they're gonna ask questions." He offered Jim a hand, tugging him up so that he was sitting beside him on the bed instead of standing awkwardly beside it. "It's up to you how long you keep it a secret." Leonard pulled out his comm. unit, having let Spock know that there was trouble already. The updated information may or may not have been helpful, but it felt like a stupid move to keep anything that might assist this problem to himself. "McCoy to Commander Spock," he said into it, waiting for Spock to answer before continuing. "Updated description of the berries that the Captain ingested: pink, looked like blueberries." He glanced at Jim. "Green around the stem. Try subcategories under--" A slight hesitation. "Physical regression or age regression." There was a beat of silence, and then Spock simply uttered an "Affirmative, Doctor" before ending the communication. Leonard put the comm. down again, heaving a sigh. At least someone was trying to figure it out. Maybe they could enlist Sulu's help, too. The man had an odd obsession with plants.

[cheezlogerratum]

The Grand Slam

           Eddie Baxter is dreaming right about now, about what is up in the air. He's sleeping right now, 8PM, a little strange for a boy at 16. It's a Thursday night, too, on the eve of Christmas Eve, and his mother is even deeper in slumber than he, also kinda strange. At night the house becomes a decoy of something quiet. Everyone in this neighborhood is asleep. You could only describe this place in the night as a ghost town where the ghouls' mortal forms haven't passed on yet, so a neighborhood of lingering presence, and that's all we know.

           Christmas Eve! And it's a Friday, and school is still in session for some twisted reason. Cars line up the side of Golden Lantern, starting and stopping into kids and jaywalkers hustling to class. Eddie is taking the sidewalk, surrounded front and back by parties of twos and threes, and they're walking so, so mercilessly slow, and he can't brush past without the chance of falling into the street... but he's feeling reasonably groggy today, so he takes the chance with little regard. "...uled by an intergalactic government run by John Travol..." And now the pace picks up. The crossguard gives her usual double-take of the traffic and steps into the street with her whistle and reflective octagon with a handle, and with this comes the definitive feeling of death to kick off the day...

           Eddie catches himself dozing off in Gov and eyes the room he's in and swears he wasn't here a second ago. He spots Samir up in the front writing on the board and wonders, "what the fuck". Samir stops writing at the other end of the board, strikes a pose, and walks back to his desk buddied up beside Eddie. "What were we talking about?" Again with the what the fuck, and now Eddie's foot is bouncing.

           "I don't even know."

           "Why're you so tired? Didn't you go to bed at like 9?"

           "... I dunno."

           It's lunch now, and Eddie downs some mac 'n cheese as kids pour in from entrances and stairwells on all sides of the cafeteria. He's looking around at the noise and eventually makes off to the parking lot. He looks over at the front office to see ungodly amounts of kids faking stomach flus and parents faking scheduled dentist appointments to enjoy Xmas Eve how it ought to be enjoyed, and the quasi-nurses figure they don't get paid enough for this and play along with their schemes, almost in spite. Eddie does a 360 peering through windshields and fences and walks out the back gate, and the air feels crisp further down the hill.

           The score is 3-1 and Eddie's attention fades to the doorbell, followed by a rhythmic knock. Eddie goes AFK, opens the front door, and whaddya know... "I brought it over is that alright?" Samir plops his G3 in the kitchen before helping himself to a drink: OJ, extra pulp. Samir looks up from his glass and Eddie's gone. "... Eeeddiee!"

           "WAIT."

           Samir follows the voice upstairs and finds Eddie utterly glued. He reclines on Eddie's bed and watches... which turns out to be the worst seat in the house. He gets up and half-sits on the hamper. He's only getting an angular view of the screen, but he's tired of moving around and settles the best he can, and waits.

           Come night time as the cul-de-sac settles back into ghost-mode, Ms. Baxter, or as some still mistakenly refer to her as Mrs. Baxter, opens the garage door. Both the boys' stomachs sink with a shot of adrenaline, and the mechanical hum whizzes on for what might as well be days. Samir's body flips through fight or flight and, as always, chooses flight and unplugs his Mac mid-game, his player model disappears just as quickly as he does. He somehow miraculously escapes parental confrontation and lugs the computer and himself back home under the lights strung on trees on the sides of the streets. Eddie, bracing for impact, scrambles to shut down the system. Once it obeys, he rips open his backpack and finds some vague scholarly-looking notes he took half-lucid in class to give off the appearance of hardwork. The front door sounds up to Eddie's room at the same time visceral taps of high-heels walk into the house, shutting the door. Holy shit. Holy shit.

           It turns out, luck of the draw perhaps, that Ms. Baxter never checked in on Eddie. In fact, this was almost worse, not only because he couldn't sleep due to Xmas Eve jitters, but also in anticipation of a motherly barge-in that never ever came. Thank God? And his mind wouldn't shut up, so Eddie logs back on and sees what's new in the news. Not much else other than a church shooting in Oregon... "and a happy new year!" He thinks, followed by a tinge of shame. Eddie connects to a Quake III server, where he's "auto-balanced" onto Red Team, alone, against two players on Blue. He spawns and picks up a shotgun, and out of fucking nowhere gets fragged. Now he's just pissed, so he logs off and walks downstairs to the eerie serenity of the Christmas tree, fake mind you. It takes him a minute or two of rumination to realize there are no presents under the tree... Oh mother. Eddie, desperate for slumber at this point, nukes some milk in the microwave. He tries chugging but never succeeds, so he takes his time sipping his warm milk looking up at the gray sky out the window. A nimbus of gray parts and reveals what Eddie thinks is an airplane but is really venus twinkling through the smog, which he later realizes on the fence of consciousness and slumber.

           Feliz Navidad by Jose Feliciano blasts Eddie back into reality, a song he always seems to forget plays on repeat on the radio almost all Christmas Day every damn year... but he's not complaining, necessarily. Eddie's body gravitates to his Gateway and logs in almost by autopilot. His mind drifting off around his room and out the door while his fingers check his e-mail and clicks around some images he found online a while back... what the... when did this...? Eddie doesn't even wanna know and just goes downstairs for Christmas time and... jesus christ. No presents, no relatives, no mother. He peeks around some corners and employs some half-assed investigation tactics such as leaning in a little bit towards a mug in the sink and considering how ajar a door is than usual in hopes of a lead revealing itself, but his mind comes back to his mother once his body starts climbing the stairs towards her room. What is going on? Why can't I be somewhere else? He asks. The sheets on her side of the bed are dog-eared and the lamp is still on, not illuminating much now. Eddie gets that supernatural feeling of being in your parents' bedroom, which he finds exhilerating, actually. The closet's open, the bathroom's open, a drawer's open, and her purse isn't where it should be. Eddie's heart starts pounding, but it'll take him a few minutes to catch on to that.

           Eddie's out on the sidewalk again and it's something like 90 degrees outside. His legs just sorta follow the path and adjust to the divets as he attends to matters in his mind which seem to be foggy. He's thinking and doesn't even know it. There's not a single soul out on the street except the occasional sudan racing either to their family, the hospital, or worse, work. He looks up for a moment and notices the white, searing glare of the ocean, and if he looks long enough he sees tiny individual glares appearing and disappearing at once, and he's okay. He's looking off to his right as he passes houses with families post-gift exchange hanging out inside. After ten minutes or so, Eddie just so happens to witness the moment when a little kid unwraps a Dreamcast, nearly ripping apart the whole package itself. Eddie couldn't see the kid's parents, probably behind the tree, undoubtedly real mind you, but he imagined how happy they were. Eddie's now nearing an intersection and notices the absence of clouds aboveohshit... is that...? That's his Mom. She's at the light oh fuck. Is she on the phone? Eddie turns around and brisk-walks up the hill... he thinks he saw her crying... he doesn't know necessarily why he's walking back to the house but he can't help it. Why does this happen, Eddie thought. His Mom's car catches up to his periphery and vanishes over the hill, but it's like she's waiting there. Why do I do this, Eddie thought. I don't know, Eddie.

           Eddie's almost home now and he hasn't looked up the entire way. He knows what's about to come but can't calm down no matter how much he convinces himself he can do it. Only four houses away and he just wants to explode so his body can stop flipping out. Now he's three houses away and starts to breathe-in breathe-out, since he figures he's been walking for a good half-hour but probably because he can't keep it in any longer. Two houses left and he's feeling primal and lightheaded at this point. One house to go and a car skids past him. He looks behind him and around a truck parked on the street and sees his Mom heeding no speed bump in sight. Eddie doesn't know if he's releived or even more afraid. One thing's for sure, he's gotta take a shit.

           In Eddie's absence from cyberspace, he received an e-mail from jefferymbax62@firstcontact.com. It reads:

Merry Christmas ed man!!!! i'm missing you buddy.. i'd love to see you today if you can? i also need to give you your gift i think you'll like it! let me know where you want to eat and i'll be free around 11:30ish. love you eddie, we're so proud of you! :)

Jeffery M. Baxter Marketing, FirstContact Fax: (949) 555-1448

A new species of fear took over Eddie, but it was much less menacing than the kind he felt at home. It was subdued somewhere in his body, but he responded quickly and left for the Denny's down by Doheny Beach.

The place was literally overflowing, so much so you couldn't even see the framed print of Java Dreams on the wall nor hear Rockin' Around the Christmas Tree blasting throughout the joint. Luckily, using a combination of tippy-toes and craned neck to look above the line, Eddie spotted his father sitting over in the back corner of the restaurant by the kitchen. Making any progress down the aisle whilst dodging waiters balancing pounds of various slams and specials on their fingers was a feat worth mentioning, and mentioned it was, "Aaaand HE'S SAFE!" with the umpire pose and all. Eddie chuckled a little and sat in the booth holding off the eye contact for as long as he could, which ended up being barely two seconds. His Dad started, "... Well!? What's this? Doesn't look like Christmas to me!"

"Heh, I'm sorry."

"It's okay it's okay. Well how goes it? You walk?"

"Yeah."

"That's a nice walk. Good to see ya, buddy... OH! Why didn't you remind me?"

His father pulled out a gift from what seemed like thin air and gave it to Eddie. He didn't realize how weak his hands felt until he started unwrapping it. A few trembles later and there it was, a framed photograph of Eddie and Jeffery in a bowling alley two or so years ago. Eddie didn't know what he was feeling or even thinking, he just kept looking at it with the tape hanging off the sides of the frame.

"Remember that?"

"Uh huh."

"Found that one a few weeks ago in one of the boxes in storage and thought you'd get a kick out of it."

"Yeah yeah, for sure. Thank you."

"Yeah no problem!"

"I'm sorry I didn't get you anything."

"Nah I don't need anything, don't worry about it!"

"Okay, thanks Dad."

And everything was wrong. His father started up again, "I gotta use the can, but-"

"Hey there! What can I start you guys off with?"

"Well there you go! I'll have a Coke to drink and... can we order now?"

"Absolutely!"

"Okay I'll get the uhh Grand Slam, eggs overeasy, and how about you Eddie?"

"Uh I'll just get the same I think."

"Two Grand Slams and two Cokes, is that all for you guys?"

"That does it!"

"If you need anything else just holler!"

"Well, ma'am, if you don't mind I'd rather hoot!"

He laughs back and forth at Eddie and the waitress who's laughing along with him, Eddie smiles a bit. Jeffery's still laughing, "Alright I'll be right back." The noise in the place came back to Eddie as he realized they were playing Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer through the speakers. Eddie doesn't know what to do. All he can do is feel his fingers which are still holding onto the picture frame as his legs bring him out of the restaurant and onto the sidewalk.

Mom still isn't home, and Eddie supposes Samir's Xmas festivities are wrapping up right about now, so he heads on over. By the time he arrives the sky is orange and gently shining through windows and rooms of neighboring houses, which feels weirdly comforting. Samir's family has one of those fancy melodic doorbells, which was almost immediately answered by a tall man with a hell of a beard. He eyes Eddie for a second then turns to the mass of chatter coming from the entire house, "SAMIR!" Somehow Eddie heard Samir's footsteps stomping through the house and could make out exactly where he was. Eddie thanked the man and Samir took over door duty to sneak his buddy inside. Eddie took a look around and saw dozens of relatives talking around and watching movies and cooking dinner and playing cards and taking pictures and cracking jokes and... "Oh man". Samir's room upstairs was filled with six or seven cousins all chatting and drinking and paying no attention to Eddie much at all.

"So what do you wanna do?"

"Let's go down there!"

"Nononono we can't you'll get kicked out, we could play something up here if you want."

"No one would even notice me?"

"C'mon dude I don't wanna get in trouble."

"... I don't even have my computer."

"You can use my sister's probably."

"... Alright... alright. I gotta go to the bathroom though."

"NO I don't trust you, I'm coming with."

Eddie just wanted another look. Now there was music and dancing and kids running around and babies around their Mom's shoulders trying to process what's even happening, and he felt okay. Eddie bent over with elbows on knees while on the toilet and looked down at the tile floor and ruminated towards the indented corners. A knock on the door snatched Eddie from his head and got him wiping, washing, and proceeded to open the door to yet another tall man, wider this time. It wasn't until this man spoke that Eddie recognized this man was Samir's father, "What are you doing Eddie?"

"I just needed to-"

"You need to go."

"I didn't-"

"Please."

Eddie hesitated for a second then sprinted into Samir's closet spilling some beers in the process, "HEY WHAT THE oh" and Samir's father came in and grabbed Eddie from his hidey-hole and pulled him out of the room, leading him with an armpit grip down the stairs, and out the house, people staring and everything. Now the sky was really fading, and Eddie, feeling that fizzy bodily sort of sadness all around, picked himself up and walked home, never looking up.

The house was as it was except everything seemed to have a buzzing fog around it. Eddie logged onto his computer and booted up Quake to find servers full again, and he played through the night until he conked out drooling into the keys and kicked from the server. He woke up in his bed for a second all disgruntled and lost. Eddie's body shuffled around under the sheets until it hit the right spot then fell deeper into sleep, eventually noticing waves coming up ahead of him and the silhouette of Catalina blocking the last of the Sun.