#i think i should just stick to surface level stuff instead of trying to dig deeper

[burningcomputerpersona]

hey sorry for saying the wrong thing i wasn't socialized properly at the shelter. tbh i didn't even know there was a wrong dialogue option but apparantly there was and now you're all silently ignoring me and i'm here wondering what i should've said instead

[patriciavetinari]

And when we talk willpower and sticking with it and powering through in the context of 'building healthy habits' including diet and exercise, we never talk about how poor and marginalized people of all intersections burn through their willpower in day to day life.

Black people police themselves on every step to avoid being killed or at the very least assaulted or accused of assault, queer people deal with the accusations of being pedophiles and ruining their communities and reading news about yet another homophobic law being passed, disabled people come face to face with people spouting eugenics, fat people experience harassment and ridicule normalized by media, neurodiverget people live in a world not built for them, all of the above groups experience medical neglect, casual bigotry in day to day lives, plus all of us are bombarded with ads, all of us are priced out of housing, all of us have depressing love lives, all of us are struggling for rent and for adult milestones, climate change, wars, inflation, late stage capitalism, and we see our friends and comrades going through same fire and brimstone AND all that might be in addition to personal turbulence and abuse. Or loneliness. Or both.

For a lot of us that is daily life. And we see a thin white insta influencer in an interior of their owned LA apartment sip on a smoothie and tell us 'it's all about mindset and willpower'.

We show more willpower by not choking our bosses, by not yelling back at customers, by not breaking down every time we have to go to work we hate to be able to afford rent and groceries, every time we don't buy coffee because we want to save a couple of bucks for a rainy day or donate to a tumblr mutual in trouble. And on top of that we're supposed to pull more willpower out of our asses and load up a BORING exercise video made by a thin white person who has never experienced any of this and follow it every day for 30 minutes? Then get out of those clothes, jump into shower, wash those clothes (or own another set for next time). This is hell for any neurodivergent poor working person.

Look at fitness success stories. It's never a black amazon storehouse worker who was overworked, underpaid to the point of not being able to afford rent, yelled at for taking 6 minutes in the bathroom instead of 5, worked 12 hour shifts and was followed in grocery stores but then started doing yoga on top of all that and had that improve their life circumstances.

Same with weight loss successes. I guarantee none of those statistical outliers who keep saying how they 'reduced stress in their life' are working customer service. Or ever have. None of them are worried about rent or mortgage. None of them are paying student loans or medical debt or have to argue with doctors about their disability or are barred from work or housing due to their size or being an immigrant or a refugee or tansgender or poc. The most surface level dig will show that those people work jobs that allow them to go on a jog beforehand, can afford organic dragonfruit for their smoothie and go on vacation to Bali.

Yeah some people will find that exercise helps with all that depressing stuff. But most of the working class is exhausted. Burnt out. Most of us face a future so bleak it takes willpower to wake up in the morning. Building ANY habits with any neurodivergency is much much harder than for financially secure people. We face so much struggle in our daily life that adding more struggle by trying to follow a boring fitness video is just an unnecessarily cruel cherry on top that a lot of us are refusing to subject ourselves to. And I completely understand that. And I think anyone worth any salt in fitness industry should take all that into account.

[ddarker-dreams]

Malaise. Yan Fugo x Reader [Implied x Giorno]

word count: 6.3k warnings: implied sexual relations, angst later on notes: i wouldn’t say there’s super heavy yandereness going on here, but given the context i figured yandere would play out a bit differently. it’s more like slight yandere if anything ...

i.

Interacting with someone so close to your own age shouldn’t be this miserable. Bucciarati is far easier to converse with, it’s not even a close competition. He’s a pleasant conversationalist, humoring your ideas and offering valuable input. If you had it your way, you’d only be speaking to him and not… this bratty teenager who turned his nose up whenever you were around. As if your mere existence is the highest insult to his own. You’ll never forget how he looked from you to Bucciarati with a quirked eyebrow when you were introduced, the awkward encounter forever burned into your mind. 

You blow a strand of hair out of your face, nose scrunching up at the current dilemma. Bucciarati had asked, more like softly nudged you, to get along better with Fugo. You’ve been trying, ever since he introduced you two that fateful day. In the back of your head, you wonder if the same task was assigned to Fugo in private. Though seeing as he’s remaining nose deep into his book, sitting as far as humanly possible from you on this couch, you doubt it. The phrase “avoid like the plague”, doesn’t even scratch the surface of Fugo’s attitude towards you. He’d sooner embrace the Bubonic Plague than you, should prior encounters be recalled.

“Was there something you needed?” 

Speak of the devil. He must’ve seen fit to grace your presence with his most sacred articulation, filling the tense air with some much-needed conversation. The words aren’t malicious on a surface level, seemingly a reasonable inquiry considering you’ve been staring at him for a solid ten minutes. It’s how his voice is strained, knuckles whitening as he grips the book tighter, which gives him away. Fugo’s too easy to read at times, the same can’t be said when it comes to dealing with him. This might be the most difficult task Bucciarati ever assigned to you. 

“Need isn’t the word I’d use,” you decide to ignore the not-so-subtle irritation on his features, pushing your strained luck as far as it can go. Linguistics aside, you put your cards on the table. “But, I was hoping to get to know you better.” 

With the ball now on his side of the court, all you can do is wait, for whatever rebuttal Fugo decides to dish out. When Bucciarati isn’t around, Fugo’s preference is to act like you’re no more than a fly on the wall. Buzzing around his head and making it impossible to focus on anything that he does in his rare downtime. Honestly, he can’t comprehend why Bucciarati felt so desperate as to pluck you from whatever hole he found you in. You don’t even hold a candle to his own intellect, taking a naive, happy-go-lucky approach to life. Sure you’re a Stand user, and while it’s not a useless Stand, Fugo couldn’t picture you making the choices necessary in a fight to stay alive. The fact you haven’t been reduced to a bloodstain on the pavement is the only thing he finds impressive about you so far.

His eyebrow twitches at your pesky insistence, face settling into a grimace. “Am I right in assuming that if I don’t humor this pitiful attempt, you’ll continue to stare at me and disrupt my otherwise peaceful evening?” 

You place a finger to your cheek, considering the proposition, before nodding your head. “It looks like you’ve got a better understanding of things than I expected.” 

Fugo lets out a long sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. So be it. He’ll wait until you fall asleep to finish his book, mentally noting the page number and setting it by his side. The act of surrender takes you off guard. You were fully anticipating a snarky one-liner, or for him to disregard you in some other way. Instead, he looks at you with disinterest, arms crossed over his weird swiss cheese shirt. You learned never to mention your inner critiques of his fashion sense, as it once earned a plate of parmesan being narrowly dodged at Libecco. Scary stuff.

“Now that I have your undivided attention,” Fugo winces at this like he heard nails on a chalkboard, “What do you like to do? Y’know, hobbies and stuff.” 

It’s as good a start as any. Finding out a person’s interests unravels the essence of who they are, what they believe is worth their time and effort. Fugo gives your question an unexpected amount of thought, probably sensing you’ll call him out for a lackluster answer. Which you would, of course. For all his stubbornness, he’s gotten good at reading you. Maybe you should try shaking things up a bit to rattle him, keep him on the edge of his seat… 

“Honestly, you couldn’t pick something more original…? I don’t know. I read, and I can appreciate a good movie.” 

You let out a hum of acknowledgment, considering his words. A very safe, Fugo-like answer. It didn’t take a seasoned detective to assume Fugo liked to read, but the movie detail is a new bit of information that you will take full advantage of. He strikes you as the type to be snobby about his tastes in movies. Most likely only watching them if they’re popular with critics and saying the general population has no appreciation for the fine arts, too busy consuming braindead action flicks instead of true cinema. Not that you have any intention of voicing this conclusion to him, seeing as you’re trying to worm your way into a friendship.

Fugo snaps his fingers in front of your face, bringing you back into unfortunate reality. Maybe that statement earlier this morning about you zoning out too much holds some merit. Before he can berate you as he’s taken an apparent liking to, you speak up. “That’s good and all, but I need specifics.” 

“Care to elaborate?” 

“With pleasure,” you lean forward, waving your hands enthusiastically to emphasize your point. You get the sense that Fugo regrets asking for clarification, but neither of you are willing to back down now. “How about this. If you could only watch one movie for the rest of your life, which would you pick?” 

“Is this some kind of job interview?” Fugo murmurs to himself, massaging his temples. You shrug your shoulders and offer a bright smile, and he knows sarcasm isn’t gonna cut it. “It’d need to be something interesting… maybe The Silence of the Lambs.” 

He somewhat defied your expectations, not listing some obscure black and white flick filmed on a Blackberry. Maybe you jumped the gun on your initial assessment of Fugo Pannacotta, and he isn’t as grandiloquent after all. This confrontation is going better than you ever anticipated, and you almost feel guilty for selling him too short.

That is, until he sees fit to present an unnecessary addition to his previous statement. “Was that bit of English too much for you?” 

So much for that. Once an asshole, always as an asshole. Shakespeare may have said something similar, but your reimagining is far more of a pinnacle in literary achievement. You deflate back into the couch, huffing at his indignant comment. Well, might as well burst his bubble now. It may be the only bubble Fugo has that you’re capable of the aforementioned bursting, so you’re going to savor every second of it. The entire reason you’ve never mentioned this facet of yourself is that you never viewed it as imperative. Bucciarati knew, you knew, that’s all that mattered. Until Fugo decided to dig under your skin and rub salt on the wound in one fell swoop. Figures he’d do that.

“Fugo.” 

“[First].”

“You know English is my first language, right?” Your voice is more of a deadpan than anything, tilting your head to the side as if it is the most logical conclusion. The hypothetical cogs in Fugo’s head begin turning. There was that time you stumbled over a Naples exclusive dish, sfogliatella, Bucciarati kindly offering the proper pronunciation after you stumbled on it. Or how you have the slightest of accents, sometimes referencing pop culture that goes beyond him. He always wondered why muttering “cazzimma” to you only earned a light reprimanding from Bucciarati, and never offended you as more common insults would. He just thought you were some type of misfortune idiot. Whoops. 

Not willing to throw in the towel yet, Fugo takes a posture of defense. This is a hill he’s willing to die on, you have to be playing some kind of cheap trick. “I don’t buy it.” 

“Should I start reciting the entire Star-Spangled Banner by heart, or talk about how much I love fast food and baseball? Did you think my Stand would be a bald eagle that shot out apple pie? If that’s the case, you’re fresh outta luck. I’m living in Naples for a reason.” you respond in fluent English, flexing your hypothetical muscles. Fugo recalls his English classes from years prior to roughly translate some of your words, scowling at the realization you’ve proven him wrong. By god do you wish you had your phone with you to snap a picture, print it out, frame it in every room of this apartment, make it your lock screen, and send it to Bucciarati. 

You’ll settle for drinking in the moment instead, Fugo muttering curses underneath his breath. Much to your surprise, from this moment forward, Fugo earned just an ounce of respect for you. Not that it says a lot, seeing as the cup of [First] respect was drier than the Sahara desert until recent times. 

It’s still a step in the right direction.

ii.

Neither of you says a word.

Coming down from your individual highs, you feel how your hair sticks to the sides of your perspiring face. Your bare chest heaving with every labored breath, Fugo in a similar state of disarray next to you. Now that it’s all said and done, you’re unable to look at him out of embarrassment. Instead, you seek solace in staring at your ceiling, thoughts scrambling to rationalize the previous events. 

It all started innocent enough. The two of you had been growing closer, becoming more comfortable in each other's presence. Even Narancia, who could be notoriously poor at picking up on subtleties, could sense your connection and even pointed it out. Until Fugo told him to knock it off (in far more vulgar language), saving you the shame of saying it yourself. You felt content with the state of things with Fugo, after months of getting him to come out of his shell with you. His words were still pointed, but not full of ill will. Even when three more additions were brought to your little group, Fugo remained the person you prefer the most. It might be wishful thinking, but you think he feels the same towards you. 

Tonight had been like all the ones that came before. The two of you sitting on the couch, talking about pointless endeavors. Mista and Narancia were out at the time, leaving you all on your lonesome. For such a sizable couch, you didn’t realize how close Fugo was sitting next to you. Your thighs practically touching, occasionally brushing over one another. To combat the summer heat and mediocre air conditioning in your apartment, you were wearing short shorts and a tank top. Seeing as everyone else could walk around shirtless at their discretion, no one ever made a point to call you out on the less than modest choice. Even if they felt the itching, you’d shut them up without a second thought.

Fugo found himself focusing less on the words coming out of your mouth, and more on your glossy lips. He could smell your strawberry chapstick, the choice so tempting he found it offensive. Mixed with the chocolate gelato that you stole from Mista’s “hidden” stash, Fugo was bewitched on a level that shouldn’t be possible. Your skin, slightly glistening from the summer heat, eyes full of passion as you explained why you hated pretentious movies. At a certain point, you must’ve noticed how Fugo stopped responding to your impassioned rant. All he could think about was how much he wanted to kiss you, to feel every inch of your body.

So he did. 

It was far from suave, an amateurish clashing of teeth and tongue. You let out a surprised noise at the unexpected events but melted into it. While the kiss didn’t go as smoothly as he pictured in his head, you seemed to savor every second of it. He still remembers how eagerly you responded to his every desperate touch, how you wrapped your arms around his neck and brought him even closer. The scent of your floral perfume and the sweet noises that left your lips almost made him drool, prompting him to go even further. Fugo’s brain almost shut down when you lowly whispered into his ear to come to your room, bodies soon falling onto your bed in a heated embrace. 

You feel sore, but it’s not so bad. 

Fugo’s the first to speak up after some painstaking thought, breaking the silence that’s resonated ever since he climbed off of you. “Are you… are you okay?” 

It’s so unlike him to be this unsure, not knowing what to do or say. His heart still pounds in his chest, cheeks flushed and lips bruised. Suppressed emotions came crashing down over him like a tidal wave, drowning him before he could make sense of it all. You didn’t push him away or seem offended by his advances as he’d feared you’d be. Instead, you accepted all of him. Allowing him to carry out his pent-up yearning for you, in a state of bliss by how you called his name out. 

Shameful as it may be, Fugo had envisioned this scenario in his head numerous times. He’d always hated himself for it, thinking he’s no better than a common pervert for the way he thought of you. All the ways he pictured you, in all the lascivious situations, only to see you bright and early for breakfast the next day. When you smiled and told him good morning, all he could do is look away in disgrace. Not that you ever knew about this, or that you ever needed to find out. 

You let out a carefree, light giggle at his serious inquiry. Fugo’s eyebrows scrunch together into a scowl at your sudden laughter, finally working up the courage to look at you again. Any frustration melts away like winter snow in the spring at how breathtaking you look, your skin iridescent and eyes softening. They aren’t softening just for anyone, it’s for him and him alone. Does he deserve to be the one you look at with all this adoration? And should he even bother with the self-deprecating thoughts, when losing himself with you is so much better?

“S-sorry, I’m not laughing at you, it’s just,” you cover your mouth with the back of your hand, the skin underneath your eyes tightening from the wide smile. “I never took you for the sappy, pillow talk type.” 

Fugo’s nostrils flare, huffing without any malice at your teasing. He doesn’t have the slightest idea of what he’s doing, improvising as he goes. Everything that happened, every shared touched you shared, felt so surreal. Cheesy as it may sound, it was like a dream come true. What is there to say after a passionate encounter like that? He’s still rushing to get his bearings, hating the sensation of being this out of control. How you make his stomach erupt into a swarm of butterflies with every action, from the simple fluttering of your eyelashes to the cute way your nose scrunches up when you’re concentrating on a task. Fugo knows what this could be, in the back of his head. A quiet, hard to push down voice tells him what he’s been dreading to hear. That he’s a fool, deep in the throes of love. 

It takes a few minutes for you to calm yourself down. Fugo’s observant, much to your chagrin, having picked up on your nervous tick of laughing when you’re unsure of what to do. It’d make sense, seeing how you just slept with your teammate who frequently called you an idiot a few months ago. You prop yourself up, bedsheets covering your bare chest. “I’m fine, thank you.”

He looks away, despising how your revealed skin makes his face flush a bright red. Even without looking at you, he can picture the knowing smile on your angelic face at his embarrassment. It’s the same smile you have when Narancia tells a particularly funny joke, when Mista goes on a silly tangent about his latest concerns, when Bucciarati says you’ve done a good job, or when Abbacchio chooses to sit down next to you when everyone else is being too annoying. Most importantly, it’s how you always look at Fugo, even when he didn’t think he deserved it. 

You poke his cheek, murmuring his name. Fugo’s violet hues flicker back to you at the unprecedented action, perplexed countenance betraying his inner thoughts. He knows he shouldn’t be thinking like this. That the occupation you two are involved in is too dangerous to sustain a relationship, and that death is a possibility every day. It’s too late for him to nip these feelings in the bud -- that opportunity passed long ago, as he let it -- but he can’t allow it go past the point it already has.

Fugo lets out an inaudible gasp when you make yourself comfortable against his bare chest. Here he is, being torn on the inside between desire and duty, and you’re snuggling up without a care in the world. It’s the stark contrast that separates you, the same one that has him so hopelessly enamored. You have no intentions on making this easy for him, do you? He knows the answer when he sees your eyelids closing, threatening to fall asleep. 

All is comfortably quiet until he hears your muffled voice speak up. “You didn’t push me away.” 

“Huh?” 

Fugo’s own response isn't the schooled, thought-out string of words you’ve come to expect. It’s a kneejerk reaction to a confusing observation, that he’s having trouble rationalizing in his head. While never the most forthcoming with his emotions, he was essentially ravishing you like a man possessed a few minutes prior. You can’t be that dense, can you? Scratch that, the more he thinks about it, the more it makes sense. Even if not many got to see that side of you, there are still insecurities that weigh heavily on your heart. In the same way he struggles with self-worth, you fight a similar battle. The thought tugs on his heart, lips set into a deep frown. Everyone’s got something to deal with.

“I wouldn’t do that,” Fugo responds in a harsher tone than he intended. When he feels you tense against his chest, he curses himself, intentionally softening his next set of words. “But, uh, do you really want me to stay? The others might be back soon.” 

You let out a hum of acknowledgment at his concerns, promptly waving them off. It’s not like Narancia and Mista are capable of sneaking into your shared residence, it’s ridiculously loud when they come home. “Just a few more minutes.” 

He expected an answer like that and still has trouble relaxing. Truth be told, Fugo would prefer to lay here with you forever. To see what you look like when you sleep, to feel the gentle rise and fall of your chest in sync with his own, to kiss your forehead and whisper goodnight. In an ideal world, that’s how it would be. Reality is a lot less forgiving, and there’s too much on the line. Being this close to someone else is vulnerable, painfully so. To hurt and be hurt, the opportunity now having the room to manifest. He knows all this, and he still can’t bring himself to mention the full force of his anxieties. Would you hate him? Think he was using you and then ditching you? 

Fugo decides to be selfish, more so than usual. While there’s no way to push down all of these emotions, looking at you puts him at ease. His fingers ghost over an area on your neck he learned was sensitive, almost smiling when you lean into the touch. The way he feels with you is addicting. From your quick wit that matches his own, never being afraid to challenge his positions, it’s like he found his match. While he’s always found you begrudgingly cute, even when he was colder to you, it’s evolved into something greater. More serious and heartfelt. It’s horrifying and exhilarating all at once.

“Does this mean we’re dating?” you ask what’s been troubling you, hearing how Fugo’s heartbeat ramps up in speed. It’s a rational conclusion, seeing how comfortable you two are with one another. You don’t know if what you feel is love, not just yet, but you want to give whatever this is a shot. Fugo’s hesitation says all you need to know, though you wish it isn’t like this. 

“I… I don’t know if I’m ready for that just yet.” Fugo answers honestly, the words so quiet you struggle to pick them up. It’d be a lie to say you’re not disappointed, though you don’t want to push him into anything he’s not ready for. Fugo has his own emotions to work through, and the last thing you need to do is jump into a relationship and ruin everything. So you lift yourself up, looking him deep in the eyes, Fugo blinking at the abrupt movement. 

“Then I’ll wait.” 

He doesn’t notice how close to crying he’s been this entire time. The world through his view goes blurry, a lump forming in the back of his throat. Fugo takes deep breaths to steady himself, and instead of berating him, you wipe away his tears with the pad of your thumb. Whispering reassurances into his ear, combing through his tousled hair with your fingers. Fugo wipes at his eyes furiously, cursing himself for breaking down in front of you of all people. He’s overwhelmed with gratitude when you decide not to comment on it further, to save him the embarrassment. Your words echo within his head like a holy mantra, a promise that he’ll hold onto. 

If there were ever a reality where you looked down at him with disdainful eyes, he’d hate himself. 

iii.

Wandering aimlessly isn’t the worst part.

No, that’d be letting himself off too easy. It’s not the sleepless nights, tossing and turning while his stomach churns, or even the tear-stained pillowcases. When walking around Naples, all he can do is submerge himself to the shadows. There’s shame in the act of hiding, and it’s all he’s come to know. Seeing the light of day feels too good for someone like him, someone who had been abandoned by everyone he cared about and was too cowardly to prevent it. It’s a suitable punishment to wallow in his own self-pity and loneliness, cursing his entire existence for the mistakes that haunt him every day. 

It’s always a mistake to come to this café. This is your favorite café, and on days like this, all he can do is watch from afar. There are times he stares at the spot you frequent for hours, waiting to see if you decide to stop by that day or not. In a way, it’s almost better when you don’t. He doesn’t get a taste of what he’s missing out on, a forbidden fruit that he’s too ashamed to reach for. Most of the time you come here alone, with your favorite pastry and coffee, scrolling on your phone or laptop before leaving. He’s seen you meet with Mista a few times, even Trish once, but it’s mostly Giorno who accompanies you. 

Today you’re on your lonesome, speaking to someone over the phone and then hanging it up with a smile. Fugo can’t help but wonder, who is it that makes you smile like that? As he sits from afar, drowning in his anguish, it’s what plagues him the most. That used to be the smile he saw on a daily basis, the one that made him fall head over heels in love. Now he’s too afraid to approach you, in fear of what you may say, or do. Even what you wouldn’t do would hurt. Would you look at him in pity, or curse him for his cowardly actions? Condemn him for not joining you on that boat, or ignore him all together?

Is it possible… that you’ve simply forgotten all about him? It has been almost two years since the worst day of his life. While he’s caught up in the past, you’ve moved into a brighter future. He doesn’t know how he feels anymore. Surely you deserve any happiness you can get after all the suffering you went through, but the thought of you being happy without him stings. It digs talons into Fugo’s heart, ripping it out of his chest. One of these days, he tells himself, he’ll work up the strength to speak to you. Even if it’s but a moment. 

Though some part of him knows he’ll never be able to face you. Not anymore.

v.

It’s early in the afternoon. Chatter from other patrons reverberates off the tastefully decorated walls, in a restaurant that Fugo’s been to numerous times. This particular visit is different than the ones years ago. Instead of the bustling atmosphere he’d grown used to, there are only two people at the table. Where laughter and lighthearted conversations before work used to occur, there’s nothing but silence save for some polite discussion. Fugo’s throat feels persistently dry, no matter how much water he gulps down. 

Giorno sits across from him, legs folded and nursing a glass of iced tea the waiter brought seconds prior. Maintaining eye contact with the revered Don of Passione is no simple task. It’s a daunting experience, regardless of Giorno’s insistence on no formalities being necessary when interacting with one another. Fugo holds immense respect for him, otherwise, he wouldn’t be willingly sitting here right now. Still, his mouth is set in a straight line, leg bouncing underneath the table. Respect isn’t enough to snuff out the uncomfortable memories that appear up in this room, suffocating him from the inside out. 

“Is there a reason I’m here?” The words come out more forcefully than he intended, Fugo’s eyes darting around his familiar surroundings, looking for something he won’t find. Someone he won’t find. He’s grateful to Giorno for his benevolence, as speaking this way to someone who’s technically his boss isn’t advisable. Someone as sharp as Fugo knows this better than most, but he also knows Giorno. While not understanding him entirely, his actions make logical sense in the grand scheme of things. 

Being in Giorno’s position means being busy. Every second of the day has to be taken advantage of, whether it be discussing with other mafioso about recent happenings or plans, making multiple phone calls, and plenty of other headache-inducing tasks. So it doesn’t make much sense to Fugo why Giorno called him this morning, asking to meet him in person for lunch. While the two aren’t on bad terms, he doesn’t feel deserving of the specially allotted time. And in his gut, he feels there’s a hidden justification for the meeting that he’s yet to uncover. A few unpleasant theories come to mind, but they only serve to unnerve Fugo further, so he stuffs them down. 

“I wasn’t sure of the best way to deal with Purple Haze. Your Stand… you’re already aware of the potential consequences it could’ve posed, so I won’t rehash it more than necessary,” Giorno begins to offer his insight into the matter, finally revealing the true reason Fugo was called out here today. “There were a variety of methods that could’ve been used, with varying degrees of success, but I took a gamble. Ultimately, she didn’t want you to suffer anymore.”

Fugo feels his heart drop, jaw slackening despite his best efforts. “Who… who do you mean?” 

At this, Giorno quirks an eyebrow up. As if to wordlessly say, you know who. 

“It might not be my place to delve into your past,” Giorno continues with a serious air, contrasted by his closed-mouth smile. Fugo never knows for certain what Giorno’s plotting behind that smile, and a part of him wants to remain oblivious. “But for you to overcome it, and in turn gain total control over Purple Haze, it must be addressed.”

He can guess where this is going, and he doesn’t like it. Giorno gives him a moment to consider the words, briefly glancing at his buzzing phone and then returning his attention back to Fugo. It’s a subtle change in body language, how Giorno’s shoulders stiffen just slightly as if he’s anticipating something. Fugo loosens the tie around his neck, the pair returning to tense silence. While the Don made valiant attempts in loosening him up, it only served to make Fugo more suspicious. All of his fears are confirmed when he overhears two voices from the room over, one of them sending his heart racing.

That’s… that you and Mista speaking to one another. He knows your voice better than he knows any other sound on the planet, even if it’s been years since he’s heard it up this close. Fugo still dreams of you, the way you used to stumble over certain Neapolitan lingo, or how wonderful it sounded when you graced his ears with a laugh. Now, he’s unsure of what to feel when hearing the muffled conversation between you and Mista. The sound grows closer, and with it, his dread. After rejoining Passione at Giorno’s behest, Fugo knew this reunion couldn’t be avoided. Nothing could prepare him for it. 

There’s a telltale gasp when you turn the corner, spotting the back of someone you haven’t seen since you were a teenager. Someone who you used to hold in high esteem, who practically fell off the face of the earth after betraying the old boss. While Mista had hastily given you the details on the car ride over, it still felt too surreal, like a cruel joke. There’s a lot that weighs down on your heart, like stones wrapped around your ankles, dragging you into the depths. The details Giorno gave you about Fugo’s whereabouts were purposefully vague, most likely in consideration of your past feelings. 

“Fugo…?” 

You’re by his side before he can even process it, bending down and wrapping his stiff shoulders into a warm embrace. He doesn’t reciprocate it or stop you, his thoughts not capable of rationalizing what’s going on. Fugo can’t bring himself to look up at your countenance, in fear of what he’ll see staring back at him. That you’re even hugging him means you must pity him, viewing him as a scared little boy who was too weak to do what was necessary. It’s the only explanation that makes sense to him, and why he can’t return your affections. While it’s no longer his place to desire anything from you, not after all his shortcomings, he silently prays. That there may be some part of you that still cares for him, in the same way he has loved you from afar. 

“I’m so glad you’ve come back.” you sniffle, emotions swirling and enveloping you. You lift your hand, using your finger to swipe away forming tears. That’s when Fugo sees it. It doesn’t hit him at first as one would expect. No, it’s a prickling sensation that starts from his chest and spreads throughout his body like a virus. His body feels ice cold, like a corpse clinging onto shreds of life, consumed from the inside out by sorrow. Nausea comes in waves, tempting him to flee from this heart-wrenching scene and never look back. Your hand falls back to your side, and Fugo’s eyes follow it with precision, unable to look away.

There’s a rose gold band on your ring finger. 

Of course. Looking at you here, it makes sense why this would happen. Your body has filled out, beauty like that of an angel. The ability to draw people in and befriend them like a glowing aura has always been your strong suit, it was warm enough to thaw the ice around Fugo’s heart. It’d be a fool’s prayer to beg God to keep you for himself, and still, he had tried. Now that leaves the burning question, who? Who was the person that erased himself from your mind, taking the place that was carved out specifically for him? He looks at your beaming face, searching for answers he won’t find outright. 

Your perfume is the same as it was before. Light and floral, but mixed with a hint of something new. Of someone new. It sickens him, the scent dizzying as it taunts him. Where has he smelled this before? It’s on the tip of his tongue, fizzling out before coming into fruition. The words you speak next are drowned out by Fugo’s throbbing head, too absorbed with dark thoughts to process them. He needs to know. He has to know. Fugo looks over your shoulder to Mista in search of answers, the gunslinger holding an uncharacteristically grim expression. They hold eye contact, Fugo staring at him with potent intensity. 

Give me a hint. Anything, please.

Not everyone gives Mista the credit he deserves for being observant. Fugo must’ve looked like he’d seen a ghost, Mista swallowing at the pale complexion and vacant eyes. Believing that his intentions weren’t clear enough, Fugo almost looks away. Before he gets the opportunity, Mista offers a slight inclination of the head. Fugo closes his eyes, all his strength going into holding himself together. Picking up the shards of glass that maintain his emotions, hands growing bloody in the process. It’s a subtle movement, though there’s no denying in what direction it went, as much as Fugo wished otherwise.

Towards Giorno. 

You move towards your seat, realizing Fugo must be going through a lot of emotions of his own. The last thing you need to do is suffocate him when it’s clear he’s processing the unfolding events. “I don’t know the last time you came here, but they recently added more desserts. I’m partial to the zeppole… it’s so light and fluffy.” 

Mista walks over, taking a seat next to the befuddled Fugo, and speaking up to ease the uncomfortable silence that resonates in the room. “I’m starving, haven’t had anything to eat all day. Let’s get the waiter over here.”

While he flags down a passing employee, Fugo’s eyes follow your form. The table is different than how it used to be. Abbacchio would be sipping on wine, no matter the time of day. Bucciarati wouldn’t always be sitting down for long, seeing as he had lots of work to do, but he always made time for a good meal. Narancia loved conversing with you, seeing as you had lots of knowledge of the English music he was so partial to. You always sat next to Fugo, who’d lightly reprimand Narancia for being more passionate about rap than his studies, or telling Mista to knock it off with the unappetizing conversations he loved to start. 

Now, you take the chair next to Giorno, who had pulled it out in kind when you walked over.

You said you’d wait for him, and Fugo fooled himself into believing that statement would last a lifetime. He always had regrets about not joining his team on the boat that day, too many to count. A new one has sprouted up like a weed, strangling his heart. If he had joined you, would it have been him you’d have married? Would it be him that you’d look at with that dazzling expression instead, the one that he had grown used to seeing? Now that he knows the full extent of the truth, Fugo wonders how he could have ever been so blind. Even Giorno -- who often smiled just for show -- had unmistakably lightened up as soon as you entered the room. 

This… This is Fugo’s despair.

The rest of lunch goes as smoothly as it can. He forces himself to speak when spoken to, Mista kindly filling the room with conversation to prevent any awkwardness. This can’t end fast enough. He needs to get out of here, to excuse him before he does something truly stupid. A serpent whispers temptations of evil into his ear, and he doesn’t want to tune them out. Not anymore. Now isn’t the time to pull any idiotic stunts, so he remains still as a statue. When all is said and done, Fugo can’t get up from the table to dismiss himself any faster. He pays the necessary respects to his Don, swiftly offering his goodbyes. With his back turned, he hears your voice call out to him in the darkness.

“I’ll see you later, right?” you ask in between bites of your dessert, the words meaning more for him than you. He doesn’t know. He’s not certain of anything anymore, even after making up his mind on returning to Passione. The situation has taken a turn for the worst, in a way he couldn’t stomach any longer. So for now, he’ll offer up an unconvincing response, not capable of looking back at you. 

At the reminder of all his failures.

“... Of course.” 

[occult-castiel]

A thread with no end

Cool metal lighter in hand, he finally takes a glance at the reason for all of this. 

It's small, swallowed whole by the thick yellow clothes Sam has it in. It yawns, puppy-like, and fixes his wide eyes on Dean.

Blue. Big and impossibly blue. Its shades too light, closer to ice than ocean, but it pulls something loose in him. It's — it's almost like —

When Jack is born, he doesn't come out fully grown.

[Part One]

[Ao3]

Chapter 2

When the sharp edges of adrenaline settle, the last couple of days are a blur to think about. The absence of it is always its own kind of tired — aches become apparent again. His temples sting. All thoughts are filtered through sludge. His stomach gurgles out loud groans. The reminder is a desperate attempt to make bodily functions matter again, but the desire for food is numb. If anything it makes him sick.

He shakes his head, uses his free hand to blanket his face, pinch the bridge. Trapped under the rough pressure, his tear ducts throb. But it’s all right. It’s fine.

Fucking peachy. 

Sloppy and mechanical, as Dean pulls the two of them off the ground. He doesn't look at the embers. The ash. His joins cry against all movement, each jagged step a chore. What should be solid ground slips loose under his boots. He has to catch himself with each half-stumble towards the house. Little snivels turn to full body whines, and Dean doesn't blame the kid. It can't be fun to get jerked around by some idiot that forgot how to walk right. 

The door juts open with a creak, and whatever course of action he might've tried to take vanishes. 

Unfiltered sunlight glimmers in through the curtainless window. Dust particles dance in yellow above the table where it's — it’s just empty now. His last pitstop. The last place Dean would ever get to look. To touch. Legs on autopilot, he trudges over. 

Light glistens off the table's glossy finish. Glints against the discarded keyring Sam somehow remembered to salvage. Carefully, he skims the tips of his fingers over the cool surface, and dread sits like a rock in his stomach. It was warm, right after. But the air has long since leeched any heat Cas left behind. 

Throat tense, he cups the keyring under his palm. Tightens his fist around it until the metal digs in and his arm trembles. 

It's not fair. None of this is fair. They used to have more allies. Friends. Something they could fall back on after so long of having nothing, but none of it even lasts. Like the universe has decided The Sam and Dean Adventure just ain't multiplayer. 

"Dean?" 

He shoves the keys in his pocket. "Yeah. Down here." 

Sam clunks down the steps and gives Dean a tight smile. Grey bags under his eyes highlight the bloodshot tendrils. His whole body slumped in on itself, the exhaustion of the last however-the-fuck long hitting him like a brick. Maybe he looks that bad too. 

Over one shoulder Sam has the world's largest baby bag — lime green and burgeoning with diapers. The zippers stuck halfway around. It thunks when it hits the floor, and Sam shakes a bottle. "Made some formula. There's an extra in the side pocket." 

"Thanks." Dean takes it. "Gonna have to toss the other one. Stuff can only sit out an hour." 

Sam doesn't say anything to that, just scrapes a chair to the table, plops down, and buries his face in his hands. That's okay. Silence suits Dean just fine. 

He repositions the baby in his arms, cradles the head against his shoulder so he's more upright. The kid latches on to the plastic nipple with ease. 

The last time he fee a baby was a lifetime ago in some stranger’s home, babysitting with an ex-angel post attempted-murder. He and Cas had straightened out his not-dates house, and the baby started fussing. The bottle was already made. He didn’t think about it when he started feeding the kid. When Cas saw him, he gave Dean a pleased smile and said you're good at this. 

It jolted his pulse. Compliments had a way of hitting him funny, but right then? In the low light of a picture-perfect suburban home? Right from the very human Cas who has sex and goes on dates and looks at Dean like he’s worth something? 

Neck warm and mind blank, he offered to help Cas do it right without thinking. 

And it was good, the light touches, soft adjustments that weren't necessary. But Cas never dressed down that much, so it was better than good. Dean spent the whole time thinking about how thin his cotton shirt was. Cas was smaller without the layers, and the warmth of him unfiltered. He tried to peel his hands away, but it was like he couldn't stop. Angel or mud-monkey, Cas felt strong and whole. 

The comfort of the words stuck with him for days. The feel of Cas underneath him never left. 

God, he should be here now. 

The baby’s pudgy face grimaces, and Dean moves the bottle back until it evens out again. 

"We need to figure out what we're doing." Sam's palms muffle his voice. 

"We're going home. Welcome to the joys of parenthood. Here’s to hoping it doesn't kill us during puberty." 

"It has a name." Sam drops his arms to his sides. "Jack. Kelly made videos on her laptop for him." 

Dean rolls his eyes. "Well ain't that just lovely?" 

Sam's jaw drops. "Dean."  

He's two steps away from being the spitting image of some scandalized Victorian chick, and it crawls under Dean's skin. 

"What? Jack here is the son of Satan, Sam. Fucking pardon me for not caring about mommy’s little home videos," Dean says. The baby — Jack, whatever — whimpers. Body tense, Dean slowly slides the bottle from his mouth. 

"He's a baby, not a monster. And I'm just saying we don't have to — to tuck our tails and go home." 

White spit-like liquid dribbles from Jack's mouth. Dean sighs. 

"Fan-freakin'-tastic. I forgot babies did this crap." Dean sighs, storms over to the table, and places the bottle down with a hard clank. "I'm not seeing an array of options here. We can't exactly put a Nephilim up for adoption. Or hire a babysitter." Carefully, he brushes off Jack's mouth with the color of his onesie. It’s probably the cleanest thing they have to do it with.

"There's Mom. If the portal was opened once, there's gotta be a way to do it again. Maybe the Book of the Damned, or the Demon Tablet..." Sam perks up. "We could try and get Donatello to help —” 

"Okay, I'm gonna stop you there." Dean lays Jack flat against his shoulder and pats his back. "First of all, you really want a soulless dude and Lucifer's kid bumping shoulders? Don't think they could be, I dunno, a bad influence on each other?" Jack releases a puff of air and Dean adjusts him back down. He levels a hard stare at Sam. "Second of all: Moms dead. Nothings gonna help that." 

Sam doesn't miss a beat. "You don't know that." 

Buzzing vibrates from Dean's pocket. He yanks it from his pocket for it. "Pretty sure I do. Lucifer ganked her the minute the portal closed." 

"You can't —" 

Unknown. He sends the asshole to voicemail. 

Sam shakes his head. Sighs. "Whatever. Who was that?" 

"Not Donatello." Well, it could've been. But whatever. He grabs the baby bag, then slings the lime green wrecking ball of a bag over his shoulder. "You've got Baby's keys. I'm taking the truck." 

The coach squeaks. Before Dean can make it out the door, Sam grabs the strap. The force yanks him in place. Dean swivels around and glares. Sam drops his hand and gives Dean a weary look. 

"Can we just talk about this?" 

Dean swivels around. "I don't know what you want from me. Crowley's dead. Kelly's dead. Cas is —" Pain pangs his chest, a little twinge that sends pin-pricks through his torso, down his arms. His eyes dart away and land on the table. The discarded, half-finished bottle sits just outside of the sunlight’s path. "Mom’s gone. We even lost Rowena. So I'm gonna take the kid, find a motel the next state over, and put up whatever sigils I can to let the dick brigade know they aren't welcome. Rinse and repeat until we’re back home." 

Sam scoffs, but whatever energy he had left is burned out. "Whatever. We'll talk later." 

"Unlikely." 

By the time Dean walks over to the table and grabs the bottle, Sam's halfway up the stairs. 

Dean pushes past Sam and grabs the bottle. By the time he walks through the door, Sam's halfway up the stairs. 

Ash has blown around the yard, smeared it in grey. Eyes downcast, pointedly away from the remnants, he beeline for the truck. Wind whistles by and smears ash across the lawn. Dean stares at the mustard-colored wet spots on Jack's clothes instead. 

Cars are like a testament to the owner. The truck is immaculate. The burgundy shines — there’s not a spec of dirt marring the strips of pearl-white. 

Dean doesn't bat an eye at the car seat. It’s green. Of course it’s green. His breath doesn't catch at the stupid cartoon bee sticker smiling at him on the car seat’s side.  And he doesn't think about Cas. 

Not him stumbling through a Walmart visit to buy the thing. God, he bets the nerdy little guy compared brands, sifted through online reviews in the middle of the aisle. He doesn’t picture how pleased Cas must've been at finding a pack of sticks, of all things. How the rest of them are most likely sitting in the glovebox. How it was probably the last enjoyable moment he had. Dean doesn't think — he doesn't. Merely shrugs the baby bag off onto the floorboard, buckles Jack in, and clicks the door closed. 

Sweat slick forehead pressed against the doorframe, Dean squeezes his eyes shut. 

The last conversation he had with Cas is a blur. An actual conversation, not stress-filled bickering over the newest pile of shit dumped on their doorstep. 

Dean tries to swallow, but the motion stops halfway through, and there’s nothing there to force down. 

The last movie night he'd managed to drag Cas into was over a month ago. It might’ve been the last time where either of them were reasonably happy. The last time his lips would tilt up in that small way that knots Dean's stomach. It isn’t fair. It's all wrong, and there’s no way to fix it. No magic is strong enough to bring an angel back, The only witch that could’ve tried is dead too. And any power Heaven could spare wouldn’t be used to help him. There’s only one shot to take, and it's the same useless one everyone’s thought of trying at some point. 

Dean grabs the side of the truck bed and turns his head towards the sky. He sighs. Here goes nothing. "Okay, Chuck. Or God, whatever. We need your help. You said — you said the world would be fine with us. It isn't. We've lost everything." 

He takes a deep breath, rocks his head to the ground. "You left. And I've never asked you for anything. Never begged. But now you're gonna bring him back. Cas. Mom. Hell, even Crowley." His hand tightens. "You owe us, you son of a bitch." 

"Please." It's begging. He knows it is and doesn't care. He’d beg for weeks straight if it wasn’t useless. "Please help us." 

A beat passes. Nothing happens. He didn’t expect it to work. God's never really gave a shit before, has he? 

It's fine. All fine. 

Jack cries when Dean slams the door. He strangles the steering wheel between his hands, hands that itch to inflict. Hit. Destroy. Sure as fuck not to nurture, not to quell the newborn screams, because Cas was wrong. Dean isn’t good at this.

A handful of deep breaths later, he leans down and fishes out a pink pacifier from the bag. Jack latches onto it, his pudgy face relaxed. Blue eyes float up to Dean. Innocent, full. It stings, and Dean turns away before his body uses whatever scraps of water it has left to make him cry again. 

When he brings the engine to life, Zeppelin creeps through the speakers, one track after the next in an order he memorized long before Cas got the chance. 

He plays it front to back on repeat until hunger and exhaustion win out, and he finds a motel.

[septnautical]

Sketchy Meetings

Marvin was tossing and turning in their cave- his mind spinning from the images plaguing him. He panted and whined in his sleep, eyes shut tight. He was so warm the water felt unnaturally cold…

It was following him- he had to swim faster- faster! He tried to glance behind, thinking for a second he lost it...but then, he smashes head first into a body. He screeches, bubbles flying out of his mouth and almost stealing his breath away. Blue glowing claws shoot out through the froth and tries to grab Marvin. But, the merman shot backwards- his heart was pounding so loud in his ears.

Two pairs of glowing pink eyes stare down at its prey- a sickly white mask on its face, long flowing green hair floating around its head like a seaweed halo. It swam almost mechanically- but still too fast for Marvin to predict. It lashed out and drove Marvin into the ground, digging claws into his shoulders. Marvin screamed and tried to wrap one of his tails around the creature, then both his tails. It wouldn’t budge- if anything it pressed up against him harder. Its face leaned down and a broken mechanical noise like a ruined receiver whispered to him.

“How long will it be till you fall again?” Marvin shook and blinked tears out of his eyes as they floated away to join the dark water. Even though he can’t see the bottom of its face- he feels like its smiling, enjoying his pain. It laughs then gets right in Marvin’s face, so they are touching nose to nose.

“When will you become me again, Marvin?” His controlled self cackled- and Marvin was shaking his head, trying to find his voice. But- it was being stolen from him again- the ringing and static starting to fill his head. He sobs, feeling that numbness he despised so much-

“P-Please-” He pleades to the clone, “I… I’m not like you-! I..I won’t be a w-weapon for them! I… I’m not a machine!”

The twisted version of him shakes its head and laughs harder, before increasing the pain yet again. All that Marvin could see was its eyes and that horrible, horrible mask.

“We can’t change what we are- this is inevitable.”

Pink and static filled Marvin’s vision as he screams-

With a jolt, Marvin sprang up in the cave, hardly able to catch his breath. His eyes were wide and he gripped a hand over his chest, as if he could claw that horrible awful feeling out again.

He started to hear something close to ringing- sending him into further panic as he searched around desperately for his mask. Marvin sees it just a bit from him and he snatches it up, hurriedly putting it on- not caring if it snagged on his hair. With the mask on, he started to relax some, sinking into the sand and holding himself. That… was one of the worst nightmares he’d been getting… but it kept happening- and each time he panicked in the same way. He closed his eyes and gritted his teeth, frustrated- exhausted.

The warper mer looked back to his brothers- Anti and Jameson were curled around each other. Jameson had a peaceful smile on his face- and Anti’s posture was actually relaxed. He was finally starting to trust them again- knowing that he didn’t have to hide or reject touch from his family anymore. It was a big step… and yet, Marvin couldn’t help but feel a weight on his chest.

...Why wasn’t he getting better?

Marvin snorted quietly to himself, anxiously balling up his fists and feeling restless. He would wake up the others if he tried to join them… and he wasn’t sure he could handle it either. That’s why he’d been sleeping on his own anyways… Henrik had started doing it too. But- he couldn't just stay in the cave… he was too agitated. He looked back out the mouth of the cave then back to his brothers. He swallowed stiffly, took his ribbon off his wrist and tied up his hair messily- then quietly and swiftly took off into the night sea.

Marvin knew he could warp away- but… it was nice to do something more natural. Like… he wasn’t just some… He tried to steer away from that thought. He wasn’t… he knew he wasn’t. He placed a hand over his heart as he swam, the rhythm of it a small comfort.

The path Marvin took was random- but it had drawn him to the Ocean Arm’s base. It made sense… even if they were keeping their distance because of those new white suits… Before that they had spent so much time there. Learning all new things, talking to the blue suits, playing with equipment. The blue suits… really cared about them all it seemed. They never tried to pull his brothers or him into random dark rooms for answers to their questions- knocking them out or taking random samples. They… just simply asked. And- it was nice to answer... who knew it was possible? The boys had never really seen compassion or patience with the white suits… they took answers and asked questions after (if at all). And if neither the blue suits or them knew- they could go look or find stuff… and it didn’t have to be painful if the boys were uncomfortable. It was nice… and they even taught them to make their cool machines!

It really made Marvin… feel something different. That he wasn’t some lab freak- that he was more than just- something fake… some creation- a machine. Some days it would make Marvin think…

Was this what it was like? To be human?

But, Marvin couldn’t let himself think like that. He knew what he was- or... at least he thought he did. Now, he wasn’t so sure. And it scared him.

Marvin swam over the base and looked down. Most of the lights were off, only the machines’ lights flickering below the surface. That made sense… it was night. But- Marvin saw one of the bubble like structures that was lit up bright. He didn’t want to be in the dark… or wake anyone else up by going into the base. So, without really thinking, he swam over to the bright place and looped over it for a second before he settled on the glass. He pulled his tails to his chest and then wrapped his cape around himself- kinda like he saw the blue suits do. It was actually kinda nice… warm in a way he didn’t expect. He was ready to just lay over the bright glass and drift back to sleep- but then the sound of a hatch opening had him startling up.

Over the side of the bubble glass- a female face popped up, goggles over what… looked like a second pair of goggles? Short cropped hair flew up with her momentum as she curiously peeked out.

Marvin had never seen this one- it couldn’t be a blue suit then. He quickly swam up, tails shaking as he stared at the white suit with wide eyes. He’d warp away- but she could have a weapon! He was scared- he was really scared- and he could feel his warp powers wavering. That wasn’t good- was she doing something to him??

The girl fully popped up and quickly held out a hand to the merman. “Wait!” She called, sounding just as panicked as Marvin. “I- didn’t mean to scare you! You… just scared me when I was working is all!”

The warper gave her a look, a laugh coming from him before he can stop it. “I scared you? How is that possible?”

The girl seemed to flush but she fully swam up to be a eye level with the merman. She had a glowing PDA in her hands- but… it wasn’t filled with the stuff Marvin usually saw on them. Instead of diagrams and long blocks of words- it was.. Drawings? He thinks that’s what they’re called? She had a pointy looking stick stuck behind her ear- but it didn’t look sharp, it was blunt. That would make an awful weapon…

“Oh well- I was working in this observation pod because i was… uh- studying the nighttime creatures. I wanted to look at their bioluminescence.” Marvin gave her a confused look and she quickly responded, “Glowing! The.. fish that can glow in the dark-” She giggled then gestured to Marvin. “Kinda like you!”

Marvin knit his eyebrows together and looked down at his tails- he was giving off a soft blue and purple glow. But, her just sitting here and watching… that didn’t sound right.

“Why don’t you go and catch one?” Marvin asks, a bit of venom in his voice. The girl now looked confused- and she pushed back her hair to keep it out of her face as she held her PDA close.

“Oh, I’m no hunter. I like to study them naturally! I don’t want to make any of the fish scared- they’re so much prettier to look at when they’re swimming and free-”

“What would you know about swimming free, white suit?!” Marvin suddenly growled, baring his fangs.

“W-What?” She stammered, swimming back a bit.

“Were you just- sitting there studying things in- in their tanks! Watching the ‘pretty’ fishes and- and my brothers trapped in there! Doing nothing but watching?!” He started to shout, feeling his anger rising almost painfully.

The girl looked scared (which she should be) but… she didn’t run. She tried to get a bit closer and Marvin growled, curling his tails up towards him and getting into a defensive position. The girl kept her distance but didn’t back away- her voice was gentle. Like.. Dr. Danan when she wanted them to calm down.

“I.. I think you’re confused-” She said, expression concerned. “T-the people that I came with.. N-none of us were part of the... The hybrid experiments. I.. I didn’t even know we had anything like that- i… I just studied and drew out in nature! Out in the ocean and provided visuals- I.. I had no idea about you… a-and your brothers.” She seems genuine, which has Marvin pausing and starting to uncurl.

“That… blonde one… and the d-dark haired one with goggles.. They said the same thing…” He muttered, remembering the day the crash happened. The girl cocks her head at his descriptions, then speaks up.

“O-oh yeah- I bet Stacy scared you… she can get intense. Especially when someone is hurt- that’s why she was a nurse-” The girl adds quietly, a sheepish look on her face. “And Goog- oh um… Tillman- he’s kinda scary. He takes charge very well- but he has a voice that kinda reminds me of a robot.” She giggles, “D-Don’t tell him I said that! He’s actually very kind… and can be funny.”

Marvin turns to really study the girl now, just daring to get a bit closer. He sees- what looks like seaweed bandages wrapped over part of her head, and scratches on her cheeks and neck.

“...you were the one hurt… that day-” The merman mumbled.

The girl blinks and then laughs a bit, “Oh! You saw me then? I… guess I was-” She seems to nervously push back her hair to lightly massage the bandaged area. “I don’t remember much from the crash- I just remembered danger.. And scary lights- I remember seeing the kids and hurrying to do something… then it was black.” She giggles quietly, reserved, “I’m just glad they all got out alright… we may have only been neighbors… but I really like those kids.”

“...you talk a lot-” Marvin found himself saying. The girl’s face turned even redder.

“O-Oh? I.. I guess I do- I ramble.. I’m sorry- I didn’t mean to make you…”

Marvin got closer and shook his head. “No- it’s… okay. Just… weird.”

The girl cocks her head again, “Weird? Why is that?”

Marvin had trouble finding the words, “You.. don’t act like a white suit…”

The girl still looked confused. “Is that a compliment?” She laughs a bit nervously. Marvin nodded.

“Yeah… it is-” He found himself responding again without thinking. Then, he backs up a bit and messes with his mask- his hair.

“M-My brothers- w-we call… t-the people in HQ… they’re the white suits… because of-”

“-The white on the suits...!” They both end up saying, the girl realizing as Marvin spoke. She stopped and covered her mouth. She looks at her suit- it's the last intact one she had from home: white, orange and black.

“I.. I’m really sorry-” She warbled out, “I… I had no idea- If I knew there were creatures- …human-like things in our facility- I never would have stayed there!” She ends the sentence with a type of fire in her eyes, passion making her voice raise.

Marvin felt his chest tighten slightly. She- saw them- him… as human-like? That… used to scare him- but… right now it gives him some comfort. He gave the white suit a small timid smile. She paused then smiled back.

After a few seconds of silence, the girl seemed trouble by the quiet and quickly swam a bit closer and stuck out her hand. “I’m Lizzie! By the way- Elizabeth actually- but i don’t like Elizabeth… L-Lizzie Scott!” She still kept her distance but seemed to hold her hand out invitingly. Marvin hesitated, confused by the gesture… but then he remembered meeting Zara. This- is what Humans did when they meet someone. Slowly, the merman creeps a bit closer, the white yellow light from below lighting him up instead of the cold blues of his membrane. The girl seemed to suck in air in her mask at the sight, making Marvin’s stomach drop slightly. Did he scare her? Was it his mask?

She notices the hesitance and quickly bridges some of the distance again, “Oh no- I’m sorry! I… have just never gotten to see a Warper up close! Or… a-anything like you…” She sounds- starstruck. “You’re…like nothing I’ve ever seen before…” The phrasing of that almost has Marvin swimming back again. It reminds him too much of the white suits- they used to tell him how beautiful him and his brothers were…. But it was all a trick- used to placate them. But… coming from her- from Lizzie, it sounds different.

He finds himself repeating something she said earlier, a light but stressed laugh escaping him. “Is that supposed to be a compliment?”

Lizzie seems taken a back- but soon she’s laughing too, hiding her laugh behind her hand. “Y-Yes- it absolutely is!”

Marvin feels himself relax then and once again, he slowly advances. He offers his hand to her, a sheepish and unsure expression hidden behind his mask- showing in his eyes.

“...Marvin-” He whispers, feeling a rush of… some emotion he’s not sure of. “My name is Marvin.”

Lizzie is quickly smiling again, seeming overjoyed. She takes his hand then shakes it.

“It’s nice to meet you, Marvin!”

Marvin chuckles a bit uneasily, but he nods. “Um… s-same- .. i think.”

The refugee studies Marvin for a second before getting just a bit closer, hugging her pda to herself again.

“Hey… I know you’re probably anxious being around… people who are from the place you… got hurt from… but would you like to sit with me?” Her cheeks seem to flush again as she looks at the merman with a shy expression. “I… noticed you sitting on top of the bubble… and I figured it might have been just the light cuz its dark… but- you looked kinda lonely too…”

Marvin hesitated and looked away slightly. He… didn’t want to admit it. But he was a bit… he didn’t want to bother his brothers or wake anyone up. But.. he didn’t have a mama grim- or a scrap pile or favorite place to be. When he feels this way… He’s always so lost.

He finds himself nodding, “... y-yeah… i… think that could be nice…”

Lizzie’s eyes sparkled as she excitedly kicked up in the water with a grin. “G-Great! We can… just chill!”

Marvin knit his eyebrows together, “...like the cold boxes inside?” He asked with confusion. Lizzie erupted into bubbly laughter, bubbles flying up into her hair. “Kinda! Except we don’t have to be cold-” She gently took Marvin’s hand again and brought them back towards the glass bubble, settling on the top of it. As soon as she had sat she let his hand go then sat with her legs over each other, rocking slightly as she placed her pda in her lap. “We say chill to mean like… staying kinda still like something cold- but its just so we can stay in one place and chat!”

“Ohhh-” Marvin answered, settling next to Lizzie and folding one of his tails over the other. It.. felt kinda weird to be this close to someone, being friendly.. And not laying on top of each other. Guess he didn’t spend enough time away from his brothers.

Lizzie was still giggling to herself, “We have lots of silly words and phrases like that!”

Marvin nodded with a polite smile. Lizzie patted her legs kinda then pushed hair away from her face again. “I’m sorry! I’m talking too much again aren’t i?”

The warper shook his head, “No no… it’s okay-... it’s nice.” He looks out into the dark of the ocean around them. He whispered, almost to himself. “... it’s too quiet at night…”

“I think that too!” Lizzie exclaims, “Quiet is only good for sleeping- but I like staying up and… just listening to music or drawing.” She closes her eyes and smiles, “Night is peaceful- and its a cool kind of silence. Like the world is getting rest, and so you can too. Even if you’re not sleeping- it’s like rest for your soul-” She stops and bites her lip, “o-or heart, I should say.” Marvin hummed in thought.

“I… guess it is,” He mumbles, rubbing a hand over his own heart. It… wasn’t racing anymore… he was actually feeling calm even after that nightmare. He was almost feeling… better actually. He didn’t think he could feel like this when he wasn’t around his brothers…

Lizzie let the silence linger for a second, picking up that white stick and starting to push it to the pda’s surface. Lines followed after the point, creating lines that came together...and was forming into something. Marvin wasn’t sure what… but he was intrigued. He knelt a bit closer, watching Lizzie work. They sit there for a few, Lizzie’s eye flicking to look at Marvin every now and again. But, slowly she stops the stick and looks fully back up to the merman.

“Hey, Marvin? Can I ask you a question?” She inquires quietly.

Marvin tilts his head. Then, he smiles. “If I get to ask you one too-”

Lizzie giggles and nods- then pauses and adds back kinda nervously, “Oh- its kinda two! A-Actually…”

Marvin smirks, “Then that means two for me too, right?”

She chuckles and nods, “Yeah!” Then she hesitates before trying to ask. “I like your mask… why do you wear it?”

Marvin visibly flinches, and Lizzie almost immediately responds, “Y-You don’t have to say! I know there’s some things that people don’t like to talk about…”

Marvin touches a hand against his mask, “It’s okay… i-it’s a long story…” He digs some of his nails into the familiar grooves he’s made on its surface. “... it keeps me… as myself- in a way…” He shares just hardly above a whisper.

Lizzie looked confused, and a bit concerned. But, she didn’t push. And that made Marvin feel so much more at ease. “...second question?”

“Oh! Right!” She giggles a bit, then looks back at Marvin with gentle smile.

“Would you mind if I drew you?”

Marvin blinked and tilted his head, looking at the lines on her pda. They… kinda looked like how his cape looked… and his tails.

He looks back up to Lizzie. “...I think so- but can I ask first-?”

“Hm? Oh go ahead!

“...what’s drawing?”

Lizzie looked dumbfounded for a second- then she bursts into giggles and waves her hand. “Oh! Of course you guys don’t know- here! I can show you!”

She twists around then sits legs crossed in front of Marvin and fixes her gaze at him, picking up the white stick and going back to the surface, making marks a lot faster than she was before. Marvin watched in confusion and tried to tilt his head to look but, “hey! Stay still! I’m almost there-” Lizzie said. Marvin didn’t get it but he settles down and tries to watch from the opposite side.

After a few minutes, Lizzie perks up then grabs her PDA and turns it around so Marvin can see. “Ta-da”

On the blue surface of the PDA- the lines came together and made something that looked how Marvin looked. It wasn’t perfect like the cameras the white suits used… but somehow it was nicer. She… made that- without one of the fabricators or other weird gadgets they had. Just… her hands. That was amazing to Marvin.

He swims up closer and pokes at the PDA- expecting to feel the scratchy texture he sees. Lizzie is patient as he looks and traces his finger over the lines. “...that’s me- but… not a picture that your machine takes… right?”

Lizzie nods with a smile. “Yeah! I just take this stylus-” She holds up the stick, “And I use the lines on the surface to try to capture the likeness of things around me!”

“...don’t you have things that can already capture images like that?”

She hums in thought, “Yeah… we have lots of things for that. But. even if its long out of practice- art or well, drawing! Is an important skill- there’s always a need to communicate with drawings… and it’s a way of really understanding the things around us.” She finishes with a smile, but quickly blushes and hides behind the PDA again. “Or… at least I think so- I’m...kind of biased…”

Marvin’s face is looking at the drawing with a strange expression that Lizzie doesn’t know what to think of. Then, he meets her eyes, “...could you teach me?” He asks in a hushed whisper.

Lizzie looked so happy. “Oh! Of course! Ah… I’d have to see if they have extra PDAS like this! But- i’d love to teach you-!”

Marvin waits a second and swishes his tails against the glass before looking back up sheepishly. “...could we… tomorrow?”

Lizzie grins then points a finger at him, “oops! That’s another question!”

The merman’s face falls and he almost withdraws, but Lizzie quickly corrects herself. “Oh! I was teasing!! Of course I’m okay with that!”

He stares at her, then laughs a bit, nodding at Lizzie. She smiles in return. Marvin does still seem a bit nervous though- he looks like he wants to stay- but also like he wants to go.

Eventually he whispers out quietly, “I… should get back to my brothers…”

Lizzie nods and smiles gently, “That’s okay- I do need some sleep for tomorrow!” She giggles then rocks her PDA on her legs, blinking up at Marvin with soft green eyes. “I’m… excited to see you tomorrow…”

Marvin hesitates.. Then smiles. “I… think I am too.” He nods to her and then swims up into the open sea. “Tomorrow night- … I’ll- see you then.”

She giggles and returns the nod, “Okay- be careful getting home!”

The warper mer pauses at this, then gives Lizzie a lazy smirk. She hadn’t see a Warper before right? With a flick of his tail, a warp gate opens right behind him, the purple and blue making the water around them bright. Lizzie gasped then laughed in disbelief. Marvin grins at her, “I think I’ll get there just fine-” He then waves and slips through the gate. As it closes, Marvin sees the energetic white suit wave back.

[chain-unchained]

December 12 - Part 3

This one’s long and dramatic. And it’s still not over. Longest. Day. *Ever*.

The elevator continued its descent; the rocky surfaces all around them began to shift in color, going from light muddy browns to burnt umber and musty reds.

“Holy shit, Ashe, how far have you been digging in here?” Sebastian could hardly speak, Sam was so tightly wound around his neck.

The farmer anxiously rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet. “Not far enough, honestly. And I can’t take all the credit for this,” he fiddled with the scarf around his neck, contemplating whether or not to remove it for the time being, “Percy’s been coming down here a lot lately too.”

“I think it’s cool.” Abigail reached out and let her fingers brush against the moving rockfaces. “You get to actually fight real monsters and stuff. Like looking at you, no one would think that you’re actually a badass warrior.”

“I-I’m not though, really. I try to avoid the monsters as much as I can.”

“Whaaaat? Okay, that’s kinda lame.”

Sebastian flicked her forehead. “Not everyone is as bloodthirsty as you are, y’know.”

“I’m not bloodthirsty!” Her cheeks puffed out in a puff as she rubbed the red spot left behind. “I’m just so bored of the quiet country lifestyle. You have to be bored of it too, right Ashe? You used to live in the city after all.”

“Actually,” he smiled bashfully, “I really like how peaceful it is here. I wouldn’t trade it for anything.”

Her pout intensified. “Well—well, you’re just saying that cos you get to cheat and come kill monsters whenever you want. And your farm work keeps you super busy, too!” She pointed a finger at him. “You’re just a big cheater.”

“Uh—“ At a loss, he gave another awkward smile, “sorry?”

“Hmph.” She turned away and folded her arms across her chest. “Cheater.”

Sebastian rolled his eyes as the elevator came to a shuddering stop at the bottom of the mine shaft. “Okay Sam, we’ve stopped moving—you can stop suffocating me now.”

“We are? Oh thank Yoba—”

Both Sam and Abby fought to be the first ones off of the elevator. It was dark and warm where it let them off, dimly lit from the torches that Ashe had put up from his last visit.

“I’m never getting back on that death machine ever again,” Sam wheezed, knees buckling from the legitimate fear that had been gripping him.

“Well that sucks for you,” Sebastian jerked his thumb back towards the elevator, “cos that’s our only way out.”

“Noooooo…!” He dropped to the ground in a heap of despair. “I can’t, my heart can’t take anymore of that…!”

“It’ll be okay, Sam.” Ashe knelt down beside him and patted his shoulder gently. “We’ll distract you the whole time so you don’t have to think about it. Okay?”

“No, not okay,” he sniffed with a shake of his head, “but… okay.”

Ashe helped him back to his feet and brushed some of the dirt from his knees. “Alright. You guys all stay behind me, and stick close. There are some really nasty monsters roaming around down here.”

“Laaaame…” Abigail took her hand off of the hilt of her sword with a dramatic sigh. “You gotta at least let me get the first kill in. I need this.”

“Abby,” Sebastian put his hand on her shoulder, “you need to calm down.”

“More like you guys need to get more pumped up!” Despite what Ashe just said, she pushed her way to the front of the group. “C’mon, we’re exploring a real life monster-filled mine! And Ashe has been coming down here by himself all this time, why are we so freaked out when there’s four of us here?”

Ashe hesitated. “That’s… a good point, actually…”

“Right?” Abby fell back enough to walk beside him and flashed a wide grin. “We can take on anything that comes our way with the power of friendship! And anime! But not Yoba. That asshole can stay out of our way.”

“Pfft—” The last bit was enough to make Ashe dissolve into a fit of laughter. He didn’t realize just how badly he needed to laugh.

“There we go! That’s much more like it.” Her grin got even bigger as she began to walk backwards—it was easier to talk this way. “Seriously, you’ve been so down in the dumps lately that I thought you’d forgotten how to laugh.”

“Yeah, we noticed that too.” Sam wrapped an arm around the farmer’s shoulders. “What’s been on your mind?”

“N-Nothing—it’s nothing—oh no, I can’t breathe—” He had to stop walking, doubling over and hugging his stomach until the laughter began to subside. A few giggles lingered as he straightened up and wiped the tears from his eyes. “I-I don’t know why that got me so good… ahhh… I’m okay. I’m okay, really.”

“You sure about that, buddy?”

“Yeah.” He cleared his throat. “And really, nothing’s been on my mind lately. It’s just that winter’s a bad time for me.”

Abigail put her hand on her hip. “Because your mom died around this time, right?”

“Abby!” Sam and Sebastian were appalled. The smile faded from Ashe’s face.

“What?” She asked.

“You can’t just say that kind of shit.” Sebastian rubbed his face. “Have some goddamn tact or something.”

“Life’s too short and we could die down here, so what’s the point of beating around the bush?” She turned back to Ashe. “It’s not hard to put 2 and 2 together. Look, if you need someone to talk to about it, you can talk to us. Or Shane. That’s not the kind of shit that you should keep bottled up.”

“I-I don’t—”

“Like seriously, you should know this since you’re dating him and all. Isn’t this the kind of stuff that you had to beat into his head?”

“That’s not—”

“Just how long do you think you can keep going like this? You’re just going to get depressed next winter if you keep ignoring it like you have been—”

“Rrrr—CAN I PLEASE SAY SOMETHING?!”

Ashe didn’t mean to explode, but that was exactly what he did. His voice rose uncontrollably, bouncing off of the narrow corridor they stood in as his friends stared at him with wide eyes and slightly slack jaws.  

“Uh… y-yeah, sure, go ahead.”

With shaking hands Ashe rubbed at the lower part of his face. “I don’t want to talk about it,” he said simply, his voice and chin quivering with each word. “I don’t—it’s still too painful.” His voice broke, and his eyes stung with tears desperately fought back as he whispered, “I d-don’t want anyone to see me cry…”

“Aww, Ashe…” Sam pulled him into a hug, and Sebastian shot Abby a dirty look. “C’mon, it’s okay. This is what friends are for, y’know.”

“N-No—please, I don’t—want—”

It was too late. The floodgates had been opened, and just as he had dissolved into laughter not five minutes ago he dissolved into sobs that were muffled by Sam’s shoulder. It was embarrassing. There was nothing that felt good about breaking down like this in front of others. But there was nothing that he could do to stop the tears, or the emotions that brought them on.

“That’s it, just let it all out.” Sam patted his back with a faint smile. “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. Just know that we’re all here for you.”

It took everything Ashe had in him to eventually stop the tears, and a minute later he pulled back from Sam to rub at his reddened eyes with a sniff. “Sucks… S-Sorry, I tried so hard…”

“Hey, there’s nothing to apologize for.” Sebastian took a puff on the cigarette he’d lit. “Sometimes you just gotta cry.”

“Oh?” Abby elbowed him with a smirk. “That something you have a lot of experience with, Seb?”

“Fuck off.”

The exchange was enough to get a half-laugh, half sob from Ashe.

“Hey, there’s another laugh.” Abby’s smirk softened to a smile. “So do you feel any better now?”

“N-No, not really…” With a shuddering sigh, Ashe dried what was left of his tears on his sleeves and did his best to smile. “But I really don’t like to cry, so. I’m okay now.” He moved to the front of the group and unsheathed his trusty sword. “Besides, there’s no time to waste. We’ve got monsters to slay and loot to find! FOR THE G!”

“Hell yeah!” Abigail was right there beside him, her own sword drawn as they led the charge. Sam and Sebastian had to break into a brisk jog to keep up with them.

 ####

 It wasn’t long before they ran into trouble. A few red-tinted slimes, some magma bats, nothing too major. It was largely disappointing for Abby, who stood off to the side pouting as the others dug into a fat gold vein.

“This sucks,” she huffed, “I was promised monsters and all I’ve gotten are weak level 1 mobs.”

“Y’know,” Sebastian grunted with the swing of his pickaxe, “most people wouldn’t be complaining about that.”

She flicked her hair over her shoulder. “Yeah, well, I’m not like most people.”

“’I’m so quirky, I’m not like other girls’,” Sam teased.

“Hey, that subreddit doesn’t apply to me because I’m actually not like other girls.”

“That’s what they all say, you know.”

Having fallen largely quiet in his concentration on mining, Ashe just sort of listened to them playfully argue. It was fun to just be a party to the conversation, and it helped with keeping his mind occupied.

‘This should be enough to trade for some better tools, I think.’ He picked up a few chunks of mined ore and inspected them with a hopeful glint in his eyes. It was more cost-efficient to trade materials like this for upgrades instead of paying for them outright. ‘Would be nice if we could hit a gem vein while we’re here—’

The conversation lulled, and in the brief moment of silence Ashe heard a strange noise in the distance. It was a noise that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.

“Get down!”

Once more his voice reverberated around the space as he tackled his friends to the floor. Not a second later, a giant flaming fireball whizzed over their heads, ricocheting against the walls and bouncing all around before it exploded a few feet away.

“Holy—” Sam coughed as a thick smoke filled the air. “Where the hell did that come from?!”

“Keep your head down,” Ashe pushed him back down, straining his eyes to see through the smoke. He could faintly make out a round form hovering in the air at the far end of the tunnel. “Marlon calls them ‘squid kids’. It won’t notice us if we stay still.”

“Oh, to hell with that.”

Against his warnings, Abigail scrambled to her feet. With hand on the hilt of her sword again, she darted right towards the monster.

“Abby, don’t!!!”

Letting out a battle cry that would make any warrior proud, she drew the sword and cleanly cut the Squid Kid in two before it had a chance to get off another fireball. The three stared in stunned silence as she skidded to a stop, coolly sheathing her blade and turning to look back at them.

“C’mon, it was one mob. We’ve got the power of friendship and anime on our side, remember?”

Ashe let out the breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding—only for his heart to stop in his chest again as a shadow moved behind her. He was on his feet in the blink of an eye, racing towards where she stood triumphant. There wasn’t time for him to yell out a warning. The others did it for him.

“Shit—look out!”

Sebastian and Sam scrambled to follow in his footsteps as the shadow fell over Abigail. Realization dawned on her face, and she turned to find a pair of angry beady eyes glaring down at her from within the amorphous blob that was Slime EX.

After a second, she turned to look back at the boys racing towards her. “Really, guys?” She asked, wholly unimpressed. “You’re panicking over a slime? What’s it gonna do, squish me to death?”

Almost as if her words caused the Slime deep offense, its entire body jiggled with a gurgly roar—the sound was enough to send dust crumbling from the ceiling above. The color started to drain from her face as it jumped, much higher than she thought it could.

There wasn’t enough time. The slime came down on top of her before any of them could reach her, absorbing her into its gelatinous center as they came to a screeching stop just a short distance away. It was horrific, watching her clutch at her own throat as the Slime’s insides slowly suffocated her.

But the Slime wasn’t content with just one meal, and its sights shifted to the three still standing before it. It leaped again, and they began to backpedal as quickly as they could—but it wasn’t fast enough. There wasn’t time. Sam grabbed hold of Ashe by the back of his shirt and hurtled him backwards, a split second before the Slime squished down on him and Sebastian too.

The throw was enough to send Ashe through the air, and he hit the ground in an unceremonious heap. “Oh my Yoba—GUYS!” He screamed, picking himself up in time to see them swallowed up.

With each jump, the Slime’s massive size had sent tremors throughout the mine. The second time, the quaking didn’t stop, sending chunks of the walls and ceiling tumbling down all around. The entire mine was starting to collapse.

[ladyxgilex]

Relaxing Day.

The night had already fell over Monstrum City when the door of Galax family home opened with force, calling the attention of members of the Galax family that were present. Mars and Phoenix turned their heads ignoring the TV, while Juliet and Ivy stretched their necks from the kitchen to see who had entered so suddenly.

Luna was breathing heavily on the door, her usually well cared hair had mud and other strange-looking substances on it with some parts of it either cut or burn, her dress, once beautiful and immaculate, was now filled with holes, burn marks, broken and dirty, along with her skin that had several cuts, bruises and even lines of blood coming out here and there.

For a few seconds, the whole family stared in silence to their daughter/sister, unsure how she had end up in such a state if she had go out on the morning completely different.

-How…? - finally, Mars Galax was the first to ask.

-The girls- Luna answered quickly, cutting her father question.

-Ah-

Satisfied with her answer, the Galax family turned back to their respective activities.

Normally Luna would at the very least complaint about the fact her family did not seemed to mind her state or health anymore, but remembering who was she friends of, Luna realized that she would not ask neither.

Nova Butterfly was somehow bearable all things considered, but adding Lix Le-Shade to the equation, it became a vortex of chaotic energy that not even Luna could escape of.

-Are you gonna eat dinner sweetie? I prepared your favorite- Juliet said as Luna wearily stepped on the stairs.

-No, I ate half the core of a corrupted primordial elemental of ice that Lix invoked by accident while Nova tried to imitate one of her mom spells on a dimension I forget the name of- Luna stopped a moment after hearing herself.

-…. Ok, have a nice rest sweetie-

Luna resumed her track with an absent mind, each time she tried to look back at how her day had go she noticed that the more time she spend with both girls, the weirder and wilder it became, in fact she could not even find an ounce of sense or logic on the last 8 hours, and she was pretty sure that the dimension she had go was one of ice, in that case why was her hair and dress burned?!

The moment Luna reached her bed she was still trying to remember how her day had turned out to be so wild, but regardless of the reason, both her mind and body felt weary and tired.

Instead of trying to delve deeper on her memory, Luna decided for the second option and simply launched herself on her bed, the fluffy and comfortable surface received her without resistance, allowing her to cast aside her worries and problems for a well-deserved rest.

-tomorrow…. I am going have a relaxation day…no monster… no adventures… no magic…nothing… just a… well spend – Luna yawned strongly, closing her eyes and hugging the nearest pillow- rest…zzzzzzz-

Luna allowed her mind to drift towards the land of the dreams, with her objective already set for the next day.

 Luna opened her eyes once again with tiredness and annoyance, looking around she noticed the light of the sun coming of her window, indicating that another day have started, in the face of a productive and enjoyable day, Luna did what any other teenager with super-natural powers would have made.

She froze up her window, blocking the sunlight to allow herself to rest for more time. However the world have other plans.

Almost on the moment that Luna had tried to close her eyes, her phone ringed, loudly and ever so increasingly, forcing her to reach upon other of the high leveled tactics that the teenagers could choose from.

She took her pillow and wrapped her head with it at the same time that she turned around, blocking her ears and ignoring the sight of her phone at the same time. Unfortunately her phone had the vibration activated so Luna had to acknowledge it is existence, for a moment Luna desired to curse the person that had leave it like that before remember that she herself was the one that set her phone like that.

Unable to keep bearing said tactic, she extended her arm to grab her phone and glance at the person that was disturbing her completely productive (on terms of relaxation) day.

Luna eye twitched as she looked her phone, noticing the 3 missed calls of Lix and the 2 missed calls from Nova. On normal circumstances Luna would be a reliable friend and send a long message explaining her choice of not answering their calls.

However, this was her relaxing day, she was not going to stress herself out of her friends’ problems/Adventures/ideas/etc. or whatever they had on their minds at the moment.

And with that in mind, Luna decided to finally use the ultimate technique that the teenagers had developed in order to avoid/resolve their different problems.

She grabbed her blankets and wrapped them around her body like cocoon, ignoring everything and everyone that were outside of her blankets

She froze up her phone after the seventh call of Nova.

She make sure of freeze up the door so nobody could enter and purposely ignored the continuous small rocks hitting against her window.

Surely with all of those signs, her incredibly perceptive friends, that surely knew her even better than other people would understand the message that she was sending them and…

BOOM!!

Before Luna could even finish her train of thought, a crushing sound came from the side of her room that had a window, very slowly and barely opening an eye, Luna took a peek, only to discover that, on the place that her window should be, there was a rather big hole, and on the middle of her room, between broken wood and glass, there was a giant rock.

- HA! Told you that she was in home, she was just asleep-

- I told you I knew that, but you wanted to throw that rock anyway-

-You are welcome-

Luna did not even had to guess about who those voices belonged to, she turned her eye towards the now open hole on her room to notice Lix and Nova smiling innocently at her on the other side of said hole.

Luna had to remember herself several times that murdering her friends was illegal.

Yet, after some careful thinking process, Luna realized that this was also an opportunity to properly explain her friends that she desired to have a peaceful day for once in which they could do stuffs that normal teenagers did.

Not that Luna had any idea what normal teenagers did since she was practically just starting on it like her friends. Maybe for that reason Luna forgot about other of the very special traits that much teenagers have but are unable to control.

In the face of being capable of resolve her problems by expressing her emotions, Luna purposely ignored said emotions and tried to use the advanced avoiding technique of hiding between her blankets. With some luck her friends may not notice her.

-I think she is ignoring us, maybe we should leave her alone? - Nova voice still reached her ears, and for once Luna was glad of being her friend.

-Do not care, Luna get out of that bed or I swear I am dragging you all the way!- Lix shouted loudly, disregarding both Nova and Luna efforts.

Obviously Luna followed the technique steps and kept hiding between the blankets.

-I think we should ask other person- Nova suggested, lifting Luna hopes unconsciously.

-The only other person with “experience”, it is Star, you wanna ask her for help or tell her you managed to resolve a problem on your own?- Lix countered Nova suggestion sharply, and even Luna could hear the gears moving on Nova mind.

Not long afterwards, and somehow with Luna mother, Juliet, approval, Luna was being cowardly dragged around by her legs while valiantly holding onto an ice pillar she had made on a hurry on an attempt to frustrate their cowardly effort of made her go outside her room.

Obviously this was Luna perspective, but taking into count the fact that the trio had somehow reached dock of Monstrum City was commendable at the least.

The pretty obvious line of disaster left behind by Luna ice pillar was not to be taken into count of course.

Surprisingly enough the 3 friends managed to stay into relative silence, with Lix keeping to her word of dragging Luna around and Luna sticking to her tactic of ignore everything that was not related to her bed, pillows or blankets. Nova seemed to just go along the situation, but Luna did not knew and did not care enough on the moment to dig beyond that.

-Oof! What a great day It is not it Luna? - Lix spoke first to Luna surprise, commenting on the weather for some strange and unknown reason.

-Yeah, it is surely a great and amazing day! - Nova commented as well, smiling innocently.

On Luna experience, that meant that they messed something up together.

-… Ok, I am going to ask just once, what is the deal with you two today? - Luna asked, not out of curiosity but she figured that if they became distracted then she could sneak out of the docks with some luck.

-Do you remember Missy? Missy Lynn-Thomas? - Lix answered with a question.

-Who? – Luna asked once again, she knew a lot of people and she was still barely awake, they needed to be specific.

-Girl of our age, blonde with a red line of hair, intelligent, her mother it is Jackie, you know her, human, like very human- Nova explained while Luna nodded, vaguely remembering someone like that.

Still, Luna eyebrow got up when she noticed that Nova make sure of remark the fact that she was “very human”, when Nova make remarks that usually was a bad sign.

-Yes I remember her, why? - Luna decided to ignore it in hopes of finish things up quickly.

Instead of answering her, both girl suddenly looked behind her.

Luna noticed the sound of the water making waves behind her, like something was rising from under the water, followed by a shadow that covered a part of the docks with the form of a human being.

Already regretting her choice of not have run away when she had the chance, Luna turned around.

On a side of the dock was a giant mermaid with a pretty human-like appearance aside a slightly more blue skin tone. Looking at her face, she noticed that the mermaid had green-blue eyes, while her hair was blonde with a line of red.

-…Missy? - Luna asked slowly, almost wishing to be wrong. But the nod of the mermaid in front of her and both Nova and Lix destroyed her wishes.

-Yeah, accidentally we…Luna what are you doing?- Nova started to explain, but was stopped for the fact that Luna simply created an ice coffin and got inside on it in much less time than Nova would like to admit.

-NO! - Luna screamed inside the coffin.

Surely the story behind Missy turning onto a mermaid was full of twists and probably was the start of an epic adventure, but if Luna had to be completely honest with herself, if she had to hear again the phrase of “The true treasure it was the friendships you made along the way” after several dozens of life endangering situations, she was gonna murder someone.

-Luna…-

-Luna come on! We have tried everything and we still cannot turn her onto a human again!-

-… since it was a combinations of your spells, would not she have magic that she can use on herself to figure out how to turn herself onto a human? – Luna suggested still inside the coffin, mostly out of random more than anything else.

Luna did not heard anymore sounds a few seconds after making the suggestion, she almost became curious of what was happening outside until the sound of a couple of wet feet walking on the wood floor of the dock became audible, followed by some small cheers.

Luna smiled to herself, with the problem solved the girls did not needed her anymore so she could get back to her room and…

-Luna there is a giant Kraken coming out way to try to eat us, can we beat it? I mean, I am not familiar with the Monstrum city laws- Lix voice reached her ears, killing any of Luna dreams.

-…why…? - Luna tired voice came out, not really wanting to hear the answer.

-Sorry, I think it is my fault- a new voice joined the group, Luna assumed it was Missy voice, she apologized at the least.

-What, why? - Nova was the one that asked.

-When you girls went to search for Luna I dive a little and find a Giant Kraken that wanted to eat me- Missy explained calmly.

-Could not you have tried to talk to him? - Lix sounded curious- you are not one to fight head on-

- I did- said Missy- I also explained him a proper diet that he could follow that would be low risk and high reward on a certain part of the ocean-

-And he is coming our way because…? – questioned Lix.

-Because he still told me that he wanted to eat me- answered Missy- so I punched him on one of his brains, he may have also swear on his ancestors that he would eat me and all of my friends-

-… yeah, I think that is important info that you should have shared before- said Nova, after a few seconds of silence.

Luna was about to ask about how near was the Giant Kraken since the conversation had go a little away of the subject at hand. But when the sound of the wood breaking down, violent waves of water and a soul-piercing scream filled the atmosphere, she figured out that the question was not needed anymore.

Luna felt the movement of her ice coffin as the wood under it broke down, and for a few solid seconds Luna did not even think of opening it. But for once on the day, logic won the battle and she decided to open the coffin.

When Luna opened the coffin and seat up on the it, she was not on the place she had expected.

-Oh, hey Lun, we are inside the Kraken stomach but Missy used some of her new found magic to get rid of the acid, very cool uh? Anyway I think we should…-Lix spoke without hurry, more than used to those weird situations.

Lix, Nova and Missy were over a floating piece of wood, with Nova illuminating the Kraken Stomach with her wand, looking like they were somehow prepared to keep going with the day just like this.

Unfortunately, Luna was not up to it.

-NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!- Luna scream came from the deepest of her lungs, breaking part of the ice coffin and making the fluids of the Kraken stomach form small waves.

Luna jumped from her coffin to the girls’ piece of good quickly, standing in front of them.

-NO! - Luna remarked, breathing heavily- I said NO! I am not to go down this rabbit hole ALL OVER AGAIN! Yesterday we had a very VERY weird day! I did not even knew how we stole someone country! And then my hair and clothes got burn! Why my clothes got burn if we were on an ICE BASED dimension?! That have no sense!-

-Actually, I am pretty sure we faced an ice-zombie that was capable of fire breathing- Nova added innocently.

-WHY WOULD AN ICE-ZOMBIE….- Luna stopped her screams, knowing very well that if she screamed for every little thing that did not seemed to have sense on their lives she would probably never stop screaming- Look… I want… I NEED a relaxation so we are having one NOW!-

Lix, Nova and Missy had to blink several times, making sure that Luna would not explode on the next moment, but at the lack of more screams, they figured that she was done.

The other 3 girls looked between themselves, sharing looks.

Nova shrugged, not seeing any problem.

Lix seemed unsure, but at the danger of hearing more of Luna screams she gave up as well.

Missy was just going along the current so she actually had no problem.

-Are you sure that you want a relaxation day? I mean… - Lix asked to confirm, looking around the broken wood, the trash, the debris and other strange stuffs inside the Kraken stomach.

-Yes Lix! – Luna claimed with exhaustion - I just want a NORMAL relaxing day! Just CHILLING, and RELAXING, and talking about boys like NORMAL TEENAGERS!! It is much to ask?!-

-…. Ok-

-Fine by me-

-Sound reasonable-

Luna stared the girls down, seemingly expecting any weird sudden shenanigan that would pop up. Surprisingly, only the sound of small waves crashing against the wood filled the place, but even then Luna did not allowed herself to blink until she herself was sure that no craziness would happen on the second she was not paying attention.

-… nice to hear that, now that we are officially on MY relaxation day, do you know what we should do first? – Luna voice suddenly became gentle, smiling with high hopes.

-Think on a way to get out of the Kraken stomach? – suggested Missy.

-Use magic to create a boat so we do not have to stand on a floating piece of wood? - added Nova.

-Punch our way out with extreme violence? – said Lix.

Luna head moved on denial, making the other girls look at her with confusion.

-No, the first order of the day it is….. Talk about boys- Luna countered their suggestions with a clear smile.

An unconvinced Lix raised her index finger while opening her mouth, with obvious plans of give another kind of suggestion.

Luna stared down at her with a cold and unforgiving glare.

Lix could foresee her immediate future if she voiced out her original words, so with the use of her quick mind she changed her words to something that would surely save her of Luna fury.

-I know for a fact that Missy likes Connor- said Lix, making Luna attention change to Missy.

-Oh do not act like you do not like him as well- instead of trying to refute Lix comment, Missy decided to shoot it back, a small blush was visible on her cheeks even with the dim light.

-well that is four-eyes fault, like have you see the way that his eyes shine whenever he is having one of his ideas? – Nova joined the conversation with a weird combination of compliment and complaining.

Quickly finding a common ground, the 3 girls started to talk with great familiarity.

Luna wanted to say something about the fact that they were supposed to talk about boys not just one boy in order for the conversation to be carried out properly, but they did not seemed very willing to change the subject.

-But of course they like the same boy…-Luna complained, whispering to herself as she felt out of the conversation, secretly wondering if Connor had some kind of special ability to draw girls attention, but she was not going to investigate that right on the moment.

-You know, Wolf it is pretty cool too! – Luna joined the conversation with a smile, she had somehow accomplished her relaxation day and she was not gonna let it go to waste.

Now if they could make something about the whole “Stomach of a Giant Beast” Atmosphere, that would be incredible, but Luna decided to consciously ignore it until it became a problem.

 -Later that same Day-

 -Mars, could you check up if Luna it is ok? She is not answering my messages-

Mars Galax turned his head to look at his wife, Juliet Galax that was staring at her phone with a slightly worried face.

-Did not you let her friends take her away? – Mars inquired, clearly remembering Luna friends dragging her away of her room.

-Yes, but I thought that they would just need her for a moment, besides that girl needed to get some fresh air, she just shut herself on her room and did not even came out to take dinner- Juliet answered, still looking at her phone.

Before Mars could agree to look out for his daughter, the sound of something huge crashing outside made the whole house shake greatly, making Juliet, Mars and all the couches on the house jump a little.

Sharing a look, both parents looked outside only to find a Giant Kraken on the street outside of their home.

Even before any of them had the chance to even try to question what was a Giant Kraken making on the middle of a city, they looked at how a girl opened the maws of the Kraken and came out, followed by other 3 girls, one of which was Luna and the other 3 seemed to be her friends.

-… Oh look, I found Luna- Mars proclaimed with a proud smile, going back to see his TV show.

Juliet frowned lightly at her husband, but decided to pay attention to the outside, still curious of her daughter day.

Luna waved her hand at the girls as they separated on 2 groups, Lix, Nova and Missy on one and Luna on the other before she headed to her home. The Giant Kraken extended it is tentacles, slamming the ground to jump out of the city and into the sea like this had just been an everyday thing.

-So, how was your day sweetie? – Juliet Galax asked as soon as her daughter entered on the house, trying not to sound too anxious.

-Oh, hey mom, I think it was pretty cool, me and the girls had a pretty chilling day- Luna commented with a smile- what is for dinner anyway?-

Juliet blinked several times, wondering how “chilling” could explain the fact she had come out of a Monster mouth, but quickly gave up.

It was surely a teenager thing.

  EPILOGUE

-So… this was a normal thing or…? – Missy asked curiously as she, Nova and Lix made their way back to Echo Creek.

-Well, kinda? - Lix was the first to talk, yet her answer did not sounded very assuring.

-Kinda?-

-I mean, Luna it is the weirder of all of us, like way weirder than us- Nova said- I mean, chilling for a whole day inside a Kraken stomach? I had not thought onto that-

-True, but I guess that is part of her charm as a friend- added Lix.

Missy thoughts started to drift away, but she soon came to the realization that she would not mind spending part of her time with weird people like Luna.

She had to admit that despite her weirdness, she was fun to hang out with.

[amwritingmeta]

15x03: Oh hell yes!

I don’t even know what to say. Honestly, does anything have to be said? It was grand! It delivered on all the levels. And it set us up for a run toward the midseason finale that’s already making me sweat along the edges. 

I mean, here, three episodes in, we have, let’s see, what do we have? We have:

Sam shushing Dean with that epically impatient gesture, yeah? 

Yeah. Or more like... WHAAAAAAAAT?? He actually did that? *rewind* Yeah, no, yeah, he did. He put his hand up as Dean was doing his “We’re not just giving up that’s not who we are” infuriated rant at anything inevitable (I mean, yes faith in their abilities is good, just not how it’s delivered bulldozer style) and Sam SHUSHED his brother.

Leader!Sam. Tick-a-box.

We have, what else do we have, oh, yes, we have Dean SENDING CAS TO HELL.

Wow. Woooooooooooow. Like. w o w.

That was h a r s h. No, that was Harsh with a capital H and I knew it would come back and bite him on the ass, the damn stubborn dickhead. Because of course he knows Cas isn’t to blame, logically, for what happened to Mary. He’s just dead set on pushing Cas away for a myriad of reasons all tied to his skewed sense of self, which is still skewed, I believe, no matter how far he’s already come in his progression, and this slight skew-age is making him dig himself into this hole of self-punishment. 

Because, logically, he knows what Cas means to him and, perhaps, he’s starting to get to a point where he can actually see and believe what he means to Cas and he can’t have that. Why should he get to be happy? E v e r?? And, of course, this is mirrored in what Cas is going through with his shadow representative telling him that the moment he is feeling even a breath of happiness, he’s bound for the Empty and eternal oblivion. Alone.

I can’t.

Only CAS will NOT HAVE IT, Dean. *sorry for shouting* *it’s just so perfect*

Cas says: “Jack is dead. Chuck is gone. You and Sam have each other. I think it’s time for me to move on.”

I’m cry. I’m cry so hard. I’m not cry really but on the inside I’m cry and I’m hap. I’m so hap. (wtf stop that) (that’s not even language-ing) (it’s just confusing af) Sorry. Crying from goddamn happiness at the CHOICE Cas makes by the end of this episode to fucking move on from a situation where he’s getting no emotional support from this man with whom he’s been through so much, no benefit of the doubt this time around, because of Dean’s own internal hangups, and Cas is saying, for himself, that that’s enough now. 

Cas is saying, for himself, I’m clearly not wanted. 

Cas is looking at the situation before him as though soon he won't even be needed, because it seems his powers are failing and without them, what use is he to Sam and to Dean exactly? (coming off of what the abominable Belphegor said to him about being used and discarded, of course)

And so Cas is saying, for himself, time to move on from this. Time to let you go. Because I can’t continue on like this, being rejected and sent to my death as if I mean nothing to you, not being listened to, only here to be blamed for everything that’s going wrong. No. You’re not putting that on me. You’re not putting all of it on me. You do that - and you lose me.

Head. Fucking. Exploded.

Cas just drew a goddamn line. 

And look. Look at it. Look at the narrative as a whole. Look at what they represent to one another.

With Cas as representative of Dean’s Faith (in himself and in the future) 

Dean as representative of Cas’ Humanity (mildly dormant until Dean)

then what needs to happen narratively for these two to actually be truly GOOD for each other is a closing of the arc that has seen them standing in as representatives of these core traits for the other, and for these core traits to exist within either of them without the other’s direct influence.

See? See what is happening?? They are letting each other go. They are stepping away from needing the other to find their way into their true identity - which is the function they’ve both served in each other’s individual arc since 4x01 - and, instead, they are moving into the final lap of actually reaching insight and understanding and self-actualisation of their own accord.

I swear.

It is breathtaking. It’s taken my breath. My breath is gone. I’m suffocating. Send help. Send. Help. Now.

Okay, I’m good.

Letting each other go means letting go of need and making way for want, for choice, for invitations to stay and for actual proof that they know who they are whether they have the other in their life or not, yeah? 

Oh man I hope we get this. Whatever form it takes, however subtly they play it, I do hope we get the spirit of this!

Imagine Cas powering down and dealing with humanity on his own, no longer lost and alone and afraid, but choosing to hunt without a second thought. No more dressing himself up as Steve and trying to find purpose in human everyday activity, because his purpose - whether angel or man - was always and will always be to protect. 

And even his worry about dying, if it even comes up, might be dispelled if he realises that death means a 50/50 chance of Heaven and absolutely no chance of the Empty... Taking away Cas’ powers is the ultimate way of making him realise he can cheat that deal plus give us insight into what will make him truly happy! But. We shalleth see-eth!

And Dean? He needs to boost that good old faith in himself, and that faith, to me, is all to do with chilling the fuck out. With allowing Sam to take the lead (and boy is he starting to). With easing up on the need for control. With relaxing into himself, his true self, and letting his facade, his performance, fade away. I wonder if we’re bound for one final short deconstruction arc. 

I’m interested in the cheerleaders next ep. Would be nice to not get a single white straight male dudebro comment out of Dean, you know? It’d just be creepy at this point anyway. But yeah, seeing the underlining of how the kid full of bravado and faked self-confidence is now becoming a true adult would be wonderful. That said, part of the real Dean, I believe, is his giddiness at nerding out over stuff he truly loves and that childlike side of him should never ever go away. More of it, says I! :)

Dean needs to believe he deserves to be saved, but he’s the one doing the saving now, opening up to himself and, more importantly, to actual, real, raw vulnerability. Will he act as though Cas leaving means nothing to him? Most likely. But for how long? Sam will see right through it, right? It would be amazing if Dean’s not being defensive about it. You can tell the moment he says the damning words “And why does that something always seem to be you?” that, the moment the words are out, Dean’s questioning them like he can’t believe he actually said them out loud.

No faith. Stated. 

Dean’s faith in Cas - an expression of Cas being representative of faith to Dean - is gone. And it’s gone for a reason. Because it has to be. Because Cas isn’t representative of faith anymore. Because he shouldn’t be. Dean isn’t aware of it, of course, but narratively he’s being pushed into a position of letting go of Cas. So. It would be amazing if that’s what we get. Not Dean being defensive of Cas’ need to go, but rather Dean being quiet, accepting, perhaps a little defeated, because he literally drove Cas away, but thinking (erroneously but still) that this is for the best. Cas is moving on and so should they and all is well.

Except.

He’ll miss Cas. He’ll miss Cas for who Cas is, not what he represents. He’ll want Cas back, because he loves him. But he can’t want Cas back... maybe hopefully... before he feels deserving of it. Before he believes that what’s actually for the best is for Cas to come home.

The “Where are you going?” is enough to show that Dean cares, that Cas is not really dead to him and that he doesn’t want Cas to leave, no matter how much he’s pushing and pushing and pushing Cas away. And, yeah, the expression on Dean’s face as Cas walks out the door says more than a thousand words. *hot damn Jensen Ackles*

Cas is taking control and he is done being taken for granted. Glory Effing B.

Now I’ve gone into an absolute melting pot of fantabulous setting up for possible character progression for both Cas and Dean, I cannot leave Sam out of it, because I dance, you dance, we all dance under a pogo stick at how this was a fantastic ep for him!

Rowena and Ketch both dying in the same episode is interesting to me, but instead of looking at Dean mirrors (going from dark to light - shadow to integration) I’d like to look at Rowena as Sam mirror this episode.

Sam is at a point where he’s going to have to deal with some deeply buried memories of Hell and of Lucifer, as well as some deeply repressed fears of his idea of being tainted by the devil, if he’s to heal the wounds of his past.

In 13x12, Sam’s conversation with Rowena in Baby revealed that he’s scared all the time, pushing his fear down because it’s necessary, not talking about it because, basically, it’s private/he doesn’t know how to. How can anyone relate to the fear he carries around? Only someone who’s seen Lucifer’s true face would know. 

But Lucifer - for better or worse - is Sam’s dark mirror, his shadow manifested, and all the sides to himself that he’s tried for so long to pretend aren’t a part of him, out of fear that they are all that there truly is to him, should begin to surface so that he has to face them, only to look them in the eye and realise that they don’t hold sway over him, because he’s learned, throughout this journey he’s been on, what matters to him, deep down, what he stands for and what he believes in.

And, front and centre, Sam believes in saving innocent lives. Just as Dean and Cas, Sam is Protector and Shield first, Killer and Weapon second. 

I believe Sam needs to lose his so tightly held and finely tuned control over himself, his ability to push things down, in order to reach proper self-liberation and move into self-actualisation and inner balance. What better way for him to lose it than through a possession. Very intrigued to see what that flash of black eyes from the Godwound might bring us. And Sam is still wounded, lest we forget, so there is still some healing to be done here.

So the symbology of having to kill Rowena then becomes Sam killing someone mirroring his fear, his memories of Lucifer, and this mirror then falling into the Pit through a gaping wound in the ground, bringing back thoughts of Sam’s first sacrifice that brought him to the cage and started his entire journey into true self-repression. 

I see the symbology as calling out Sam’s need to stop pushing things down, to stop burying them, but also, through him being the only person who can kill Rowena (face and integrate his fears) the symbology becomes an underlining of how he, and he alone, holds the power to heal his wounds.

We shall see how it develops, but I have all the hope that it’s going someplace good, that we’re moving towards healing for all of them. And nope still not expecting rainbows and daffodils galore but... a few rainbows would be so nice.

Understated rainbows. In sort of washed out colours. On the wall of a lake house. Mayhaps?

(come back, Jack) (we miss you!)

[blooblooded]

High School Story Act 1

KASSIDY NGUYEN

Twelve years to the day had passed since Kassidy Nguyen’s mother had taken her own life, and things weren’t exactly getting any easier. The passage of time did not heal all wounds; how could it? It was like her other mother and her brother were like open wounds, just walking around tearing and re-tearing themselves open. Every year it was the same and every year she did the same thing: avoided thinking about it.

In the bathroom, she avoided making eye contact with herself in the mirror. This at least was not anything new. She never looked at herself in the mirror, or if she did she spared only the slightest of glances to make sure that she did not have anything stuck in between her teeth or that her masses of unmanageable kinky blonde hair was not sticking up everywhere. Not that it mattered, since no matter what she did she always looked like a clown. It didn’t bother her much any more, it just affected her in this small uncomfortable way whenever she was around mirrors.

Instead of fixating on this-- something that even on the worst of days, Kassidy was not prone to-- she washed her hands, wiped them haphazardly on her pants, and left.

At least it was still relatively early into the first semester of her 4th highschool year, so she wouldn’t be missing out on much homework if the night went poorly. Not that Kassidy cared much about school or grades either. She had a pretty clear idea of her trajectory and it looked something like following in her mother’s footsteps and joining Eden’s bevy of law enforcement. Didn’t need good grades to become a cop. Didn’t need much of anything. Kassidy didn’t have much of anything. 

She made her way into the kitchen of their small apartment and sat down at the table, pulling her legs up and crossing them. The table was round and made of synthetic wood, since the real stuff was too expensive for the majority of the people who inhabited the underground city. Various plates and used utensils covered the surface in a way that was more lived in than it was messy. Well, it was also messy. Kassidy shoved a couple of plates out of the way so that she could comfortably rest her elbows on the table. 

There was a hole in the wall next to the table. Kassidy looked at it. She looked away.

It was like this every year, but every year the severity of her family’s behavior worsened. Every year it felt like they lost their grip on each other a little bit more.

Her communicator buzzed from inside her pocket and she pulled it out to check for any messages. The device’s rectangular screen had a crack in it from all the times she had dropped it. Sometimes this annoyed her, but where was she supposed to dig up enough credits to pay for a new screen? It buzzed again as her brother kept messaging her.

>christopher.nguyen: tell ma i’m gonna be out late tonight

>christopher.nguyen: we’re making signs for the workers march tomorrow

Kassidy rolled her eyes. It was good that he had found something to do with his energy, good that he had found people to relate to and hang out with, but it was starting to get annoying.

>kassidy.nguyen: don’t leave me with her she thinks all 3 of us are gonna hang out here

>christopher.nguyen: you didn’t hear her screaming at me last night?

>christopher.nguyen: just because i made one comment about police brutality in eden????

>christopher.nguyen:  didn’t even say anything offensive

>kassidy.nguyen: i heard you punching the wall and screaming at her right back you idiot

Kip sent a hybrid laughing-crying emoji, which was what he usually sent when he couldn’t think of something reasonable or normal to say. Kassidy replied with a long string of skull emojis. She shifted her position in the chair so that she was more comfortable. 

>kassidy.nguyen: iits fine. You shouldn’t have to torture yourself thinking about mom.

>christopher.nguyen: neither should you though.

>kassidy.nguyen: i don’t even remember her

>kassidy.nguyen: i mean like not as much as you

Kip sent her about 50 laughing-crying emojis in a row, which was just...impossible to discern. She decided to ignore him since he was being his usual self and opened up the internet so that she could watch videos of people slipping while waiting for the metro and nearly having fatal accidents.

This was where she was supposed to start on her homework, but nothing could motivate her to do so. She didn’t have anything that needed to be done immediately, or at least, she didn’t have anything that she couldn’t procrastinate on. It wasn’t like Kassidy was on the AP track; the only classes she was taking were the ones she absolutely had to for graduation--- the basic 4th level courses. If she absolutely needed to, she could always just cheat off of her best friend Esther Bellamy, who was generally the type to complete her homework.

Half an hour passed and her mother let herself into the apartment, struggling slightly with the keycard as she did so. She walked through the living room and into the kitchen and looked disoriented as she did so due to the novelty of getting home before 10:30. Before saying anything to her daughter, Dana Nguyen put her briefcase down on the floor and slumped down into the 2nd of their 3 chairs.

Kassidy looked a lot like her mother. They both had the same small and slouching way about them. Of course, her mother wore glasses and had straight black hair that was already peppered with grays. And of course, Kassidy was more prone to smiling and laughing and the light in her eyes hadn’t yet been dulled. They were blood related, which was something that her brother could not say. At least he could reach things in high places for them.

“I thought that I wouldn’t be able to get home at all,” her mother complained. “It’s like shit gets piled on top of me on purpose. Practically had to sneak out of my own office because if Anderson or Middleton had remembered I was there they would have jumped down my throat with this Mena Olowe fiasco. Jesus, I could pass out.”

“Did you pick up food?” asked Kassidy.

“Did you?” snapped her mother, pulling at her tie and unbuttoning her top buttons.

Kassidy scrolled boredly through a scary story message board. She knew better than to roll her eyes. 

Dana Nguyen rubbed her temples like she was getting a headache. “Sorry. Long day Where’s Christopher?” Whenever she used Kip’s full name, it meant that her anger was still simmering underneath the surface. “If he’s still out he could bring back pizza.”

“Uhhhh.” Kassidy scrolled more intently through her communicator so that she appeared busy. “Huh?”

While pretending to be hyper-focused on the story of someone claiming that the Red Religion was driving people mad, she watched her mother unwind. She watched as she slid her little shoes from her feet and unclasped the lanyard from around her neck. Her mother took an elastic from her wrist and tied her hair back with it, the greys at the sides springing out to frame her face. She rubbed her face again then stood up, went to the refrigerator, and grabbed a beer can. Without bothering to pour it into a glass, she opened it and took a sip, her shoulders relaxing.

Kassidy looked at her mother. She looked at the hole in the wall. 

Sometimes it felt like her family was crazy and she was the only one who didn’t blow up or freak out. Except that wasn’t true at all. Kassidy still blew up, just not over stupid shit. 

The story she was reading was actually pretty interesting, not that she believed it. Religious people were messed up and deluded, but not deluded enough to start brainwashing people and draining all the blood out of their bodies. Eden had a long history of fervent state atheism which meant that anyone with a more complicated belief system didn’t completely mesh well. It was difficult to be understanding; none of them believed in Science. They were the sorts who liked to hold onto the intangible and somehow that gave them comfort, instead of being comforted by the material world around them. Kassidy always shivered when she walked too close to their Churches. But their whole thing was that they were caring and compassionate, surely not the sort who would engage in blood sacrifices.

Well. From time to time, Kassidy enjoyed a good shiver.

Time passed. Her mother opened another beer and the skin of her cheeks started to flush. It was good that lately she had switched from liquor to beer. A couple years ago when Kip was in the Youth  Detention Center, she had drunk so much that Kassidy was always worried about her. The scary thing was that back then, her mother wouldn’t even cry despite the crushing waves of unhappiness that radiated from her. She would just stare at nothing, drink, then stare at nothing some more. As unsettling as that was it was better than crying. Kassidy had never seen her mother cry.

“Where’s your brother?” asked Dana Nguyen. Already she was looking rumpled, like the part of herself that was well put together immediately fell apart when she was home. “He’s not-- do you know where he is?”

“Uhhh,” said Kassidy awkwardly. “Yeah. Kind of.”

“And that is?”

She clicked out of the forums and pulled up her messages. “EWP meeting. Again, I think. Uh. I think he wanted to stay busy tonight, you know? He wanted to be with his friends.” How terrible it was that she could say that Kip had friends and she didn’t. All she had was Esther. If joining a stupid club was the way that one made friends in Eden, Kassidy did not want friends. The loneliness that she had known all her life was at least familiar.

The thin metal beer can crinkled as her mother gripped it, then threw it into the recycling bin. Her face grew redder. “EWP,” she said, bitterly. “EWP. You know, he is exactly like his mother was. Harry never shut up about the Workers’ Party, she never stopped trying to get us to unionize, never could be quiet about how she thought the Central Committee was corrupt. And look where it got her. Look where it’s getting him.” 

“The EWP isn’t that bad.” It was true. They weren’t. The Eden Workers Party was a popular organization for working class leftists who were averse to the organized crime connections that all the other labour-parties had. While it was considered fringe-- after all, Eden was a one-party system on paper and had been for over two hundred years-- it was accepted as something that passionate yet overly idealistic people involved themselves with. Mostly they protested things like low wages and prohibitive housing costs and were either ignored or laughed at. 

But Kip was not a part of the Eden Workers Party anymore. He had found something even more niche, more anti-capitalist, more extreme. Kassidy didn’t entirely understand it, but the thing that she understood well was how much her mother would flip her shit if she ever found out.

“So he’s out, what, painting posters or something?” asked her mother.

“I guess,” said Kassidy, who did not actually know. She pulled up her contact information for Esther.  

“Unbelievable.” Standing up once again from the kitchen table, her mother got a 3rd beer from the fridge, then went to the beat up couch that was the centerpiece of their living room. When she sat, she didn’t curl her legs up like Kassidy did, rather, she seemed to deflate and slouch even more. “He is unbelievable.”

For a moment, Kassidy wondered if she should join her mother in the living room. How was she supposed to shoulder all that misery? She didn’t want to, but she knew that she couldn’t just leave her by herself, not today. She began to message Esther.

>kassidy.nguyen: can you call me so i can escape?

>kassidy.nguyen: my moms in a weird mood again

No answer.

“Unbelievable,” Dana Nguyen repeated, staring at the hole in the wall. “I don’t know what to do with him, I can’t get him to listen to me. I don’t know what to do. He’s-- he’s practically a grown man. He’s going to get in trouble someday.”

Kip had already been in a lot of trouble.

“I have people breathing down my throat all day, I can’t have my kid out there screaming about, I don’t know, stupid politics. Do you know what it’s gonna look like if he gets himself arrested? We arrested 3 of those socialist nutcases today for vandalizing a train station, can you imagine what would happen if Kip gets wound up in all that? The media gangfucks me hard enough already.”

“Ugh, gross Ma, don’t say gangfuck,” Kassidy glued her eyes to her screen. “That freaks me out.”

“The media gangfucks me during every press conference, Kassidy,” said her mother, who finished off her 3rd beer of the night. “I’m the Central Committee’s whipping boy, something goes wrong in Eden, I’m the one who gets the fucking blame. It’s nonstop, if it’s not one thing, it’s another. I don’t want this. I didn’t want this. If he gets arrested for I don’t know, destroying something, I can’t just bail him out.”

>kassidy.nguyen: she’s getting all crazy again i can’t deal with her by myself.

Her mother looked like she was melting on the inside. Kassidy cleared her throat to try and make a joke.

“It’s fine if you don’t bail him out, Vega will just do it for you.” She tried to arrange her face into something that resembled a smile. Why did she feel so awkward all of the time? “She’s done it be--”

“Is that supposed to be funny?” Dana Nguyen put her hands over her face. “Fucking Vega.”

This did not seem exactly fair. Eden’s Chief Personnel Officer Vega Pelenato had been a part of Kassidy and Kip’s lives as long as she could remember. Vega was the kind of person who picked up garbage that wasn’t her’s, she was a comfortable and trustworthy presence. Back when their mother wasn’t doing well and Kip was in the Youth Detention Center, she would check in on Kassidy a couple nights a week and bring her food. She had always figured that if she got in trouble, she’d call Vega first.

Defending Vega was the right thing to do.

“What’s wrong with Vega?”

“Shady. She’s shady. She wants my job.”

“Thought you didn’t want your job, Ma.”

Dana Nguyen just closed her eyes and slumped over on the couch so that she was lying down. 

(I DON’T KNOW WHERE TO GO WITH THIS)

AJAX GUTTIEREZ

It wasn’t usual for AJ to have enough time to grab a coffee and enjoy it before class. Generally he ran late. Not just in the morning either. It seemed as if he never had any time for himself, as if he was always doing things for other people and shoving his own needs down so deep that they could not be reached.

That morning however, as if through some miracle, everything was running smoothly. The metro eran without any weird delays or hiccups. The kids he babysat did not drag their feet for once as he got them ready for school. He didn’t have to run or wheeze or neglect to feed himself just because he was doing his job; he actually had time to enjoy the morning.

It was a novel experience. He was usually so busy.

The cafe which he frequented was located on the university floors of the Education District. It was one of the cheaper ones, despite its proximity to the sprawling section of classrooms which students who were enrolled in the Business and Marketing programs went to. Not that being on the Business track meant someone had money necessarily, but as a generalization, it did.

AJ did not have any money. It wasn’t like he was not being payed; his employer was the 2nd wealthiest individual in Eden— directly behind West Agapama’s shipping (and smuggling) empire. He got paid enough to pay the exorbitant tuition fees for a degree that did not guarantee a career in the future, but that was it. Sometimes he had money for coffee. Usually he did not. When he did have the money to treat himself, he ended up not having enough time due to having to drag the kids out of bed and making them get ready for school in the morning. 

One of the baristas at this particular cafe was his acquaintance, he had briefly dated her about a year previously and while the two of them had not remained close, they would still talk or hook up from time to time. When she noticed him, he nodded at her. Girls liked him, most of the time they would blush or giggle when he flirted with them. It was more difficult for him to hook up with guys. 

“Whaddya want, Gutierrez?” asked the barista, who was tall and slim and had an aura of bored disinterest about her. She had been in one of his Marketing classes, before she had been forced to drop out of school because her financial aid stopped coming through. “Haven’t seen you in a hot minute.”

AJ shrugged as he studied the iridescent signs that exhibited the various drinks available. “Haven’t had time.”

“Still working the same gig?” The name tag that she wore on her green apron read ‘Qian’, which was her surname— not many people had the privilege to call her Jenny. AJ had, back when he was sleeping with her, but it hadn’t worked out. “Still a miserable bastard, huh? You should come sling drinks with me.”

“You know I can’t do that,” said AJ. “Can I just get a coffee with cream and a shot of caramel?”

Qian nodded and got to work.There were no other customers waiting in line; either they populated the more popular coffee shops that were around the STEM classrooms or it was simply a slow day. Things like that were impossible to discern. He watched her work and envied the simplicity of a job where tasks were straightforward. All she had to do was follow the recipe and smile at the customers. There was no room for fear and speculation, she didn’t have to feel anxious about losing a couple of children or fucking up so monumentally that she got hung up by her toes in a meat packing plant. Customer service sucked too, but it came with less dangers.

AJ hadn’t considered his babysitting job personally dangerous until recently. Now he was brainstorming ways to get out of it but came up blank every time.

Compulsively, he checked his communication device for messages, but saw nothing. 

“Aren’t you graduating this year?” asked the barista. Steam from the latte machines made her straight dark hair stick to the sides of her face. AJ remembered how pretty she was and remembered how lonely he was now. “Marketing, right?”

“Business and Marketing,” said AJ. He took his cup of coffee when she handed it to him, it was too hot for him to drink immediately so he lingered. “Actually I just have 10 credits left. The end is in sight, haha.”

“You gonna work for Prosperity?”

“I mean, I sort of am already if you think about it.” He watched as she shook her head in kind disbelief. Nobody took him seriously. “I’m going to talk to Mr. Prospas about it later on in the semester, after I’ve started working on my thesis. Market research analyst, right? There’s always room for that kind of work in a huge company like Prosperity. I’ve been working for him on the books for almost 5 years, off the books for much longer. That’s gotta mean something, am I right?”

“Working as a babysitter,” said Qian. She wiped her dark hair back from her face. AJ didn’t correct her.

What was he supposed to say, that he had been forced to watch out for a known crime lord’s kids since he was 12 years old? That kind of thing was completely unbelievable. Even when he said it to himself, it sounded unbelievable. For nearly half his life, AJ had taken care of people who were not himself, had been left with minimal time for himself and his interests. Had he cultivated compassion for others during that time? Who was to say. All he knew was that he never had any time for himself, that he never had any time to do what he wanted to do. It was one of the reasons all of his relationships fell apart in the first place. 

(EDIT THIS SHE ALREADY GAVE IT TO HIM)Qian pumped a couple of squirts of caramel flavoring into AJ’s cup and handed it to him. The cup was warm in his hands. “You need to get out of there, man,” she said, and a cautious tone lent itself to her voice. “You know it’s not safe, right? I read about how EPD found some guy with his eyes sliced out of his head and his throat cut the other night, they’re trying to tie it back to Prosperity.”

“Could have been anyone,” said AJ, who knew exactly who she was talking about and exactly what had happened. Even those treacherous thoughts made his heart palpate. “What about AGA? What about the Reds? Or those socialist whack jobs, I heard that last week a couple of them beat the shit out of some guy just because he had an expensive communicator. This Colony is a shithole, Jenny, no wonder the Central Committee has been panicking. Every time something violent happens— so every day-- the cops try to pin the blame on one of the five families because they’re too stupid to figure it out for themselves.”

“Uh huh,” said the barista. She smiled at him a little like she didn’t believe him. “Sure. You need to get out of there. That shit ain’t safe for people like us.”

He already knew what she meant by ‘people like us’. People who didn’t have the means to post bail or people who didn’t have the flashy names to become media darlings. She meant people like him. People who might someday be found slashed to pieces in a warehouse, people who the police wouldn’t care about. AJ took a sip of his coffee. It was too sweet but bearable, he just wanted to sit down and not have to talk to his ex.

Come to think about it, AJ had a lot of exes.

He retreated to the relative privacy of one of the back corners and sat down. Not many students were currently occupying the small room; an accounting professor who he recognized was meeting with a mentee nearby and a couple shared a breakfast of bagels in the opposite corner next to the door. In theory the lack of distraction would lend itself to him being able to get more work accomplished before class, but AJ knew that he would inevitably start scrolling through the feeds on his communicator and waste all his time.

He took his tablet out of his tote bag and activated its keyboard function. One of his professors had assigned a short analysis of product proliferation, or what occurs when an organization markets endless variations of the same products. Take for instance Prosperity Inc, which made its money feeding the people of Eden. The majority of Prosperity's sales came from cellular agriculture— the in vitro cultivation of animal cells on a massive scale, then marketed towards the lower and middle class as an accessible alternative to traditional animal protein. But the company also raised cattle in the flat fields on the surface above Eden, and slaughtered them in the traditional way, then marketed them to the elite who could afford it. In this way, Prosperity sold the exact same product— animal protein— and almost entirely cornered the market.

Although AJ understood this concept of diversification and monopolization well from having grown up around it, he couldn’t bring himself to write about his own experiences. It just didn’t seem right. Instead he stared blankly at the screen of his tablet, his mind drifting every now and then to the conversations around him. He typed one sentence, then deleted it. He typed another one and deleted that one as well.

What was the point of going to college? The pit of fear opened up in that dark place in his chest and he struggled to swallow it down. Whenever he was still and quiet for too long, the terrible thoughts about how he was never going to be able to provide for himself and for his mother swirled up from that dark place. Even if he was able to graduate, he had no relevant job experience in his field. His only hope was to beg for the job he wanted and pray for the best.

To distract himself, AJ pulled up a crossword app. The clue that he got stuck at was 53 Across: ‘Pass (off) as genuine.’ Muddling over it took him a good 5 minutes until he recalled the word ‘foists’. 

In the reflective glass of his tablet’s screen, he could see his own face and he looked away, unable to stand making prolonged eye contact with himself. A few strands of hair were escaping from his short ponytail and he slicked them back with one hand, drinking his coffee with the other. What was it about his own image that caused him such internal disgust? It had never been like this before, it had slowly crept up on him seemingly without cause. The strange thing was that his self esteem was not low, he often felt proud of himself and his self-efficacy. To his knowledge, he was not overcome with shame or guilt. This was different. AJ did not want to watch himself slowly sink into the thick mud of his life.

He pulled up his textbook, read a sentence, and found himself unable to focus. But looking back at the crossword he was working on also could not hold his focus.

Vibrations in his pants pocket alerted him to a message on his communication device and he pulled it out and checked it. The youngest kid who he babysat, a 9 year old, had left him a string of smiley-face emojis. Not just a string, like 25 of them. Valentine was an excitable and loving child, but he never could leave anyone alone. AJ had tried to explain that he had to go to school too, but it just didn’t get through.

Without anything of importance to say to the kid, AJ put his phone face down on the table. What is someone supposed to say to a bunch of random emojis sent with no context? The kids were supposed to be in class anyway. At least the older one never messaged AJ or reached out to him. It was hard enough to deal with one needy child.

Unable to focus on what he was supposed to be doing, he pulled up his newsfeed. In 6 months Eden would have its first serious Mayoral election in over 10 years. Or perhaps, the first serious Mayoral election in 57 years? On paper, Eden did not have political dynasties, but for nearly 6 decades, somebody with the last name ‘Malena’ had been head of the Central Committee. The current Mayor, Jay Malena, had been elected when AJ was 12, after his father Jack Malena had stepped down from office. And when AJ’s mother had been young, Awhina Malena had been in power. It wasn’t something that bothered him, at least not that much. AJ wasn’t interested in politics because he couldn’t see how they materially affected his life.

No matter who had control of Eden, things weren’t going to get any better, at least not for him. Nothing ever changed. 

Anyway, the Mayor was only one part of the Central Committee. There was of course also a Commissar for each of the 10 Districts who supposedly had the best interests of their constituents in mind. Then there was the worthless Police Commissioner, the Minister of Science, the Comptroller, and the Chief Prosecutor. All in all 15 people who held Eden in their hands. They were the people who got payed to sit around on their asses all day while the five families— owners of the megacorporations which actually influenced Eden— did whatever they wanted.

The current newsfeed had a picture of Mayor Malena sweating in front of the cameras during his latest interview. He was a sharp, good looking man with big square teeth like chunks of marble. Moderately likeable, shiny and stupid. The shitshow that would rise up if he lost to his challenger, the flashy and dangerous idiot West Agapama, was unthinkable. Not just for the Colony. AJ’s boss would finally lose his mind. 

At least AJ knew who he’d be voting for. He didn’t know much, but he knew that. 

The youngest kid he babysat sent him another string of smiley face emojis. The corners of AJ’s mouth tightened and he tapped out his own message.

>ajax.guttierez: stop playing on your comm

>ajax.guttierez: you’re going to get in trouble

Valentine replied with yet another incoherent bunch of emojis and gifs. AJ turned his device off vibrate, unable to engage in any more emotional labor.

It wasn’t that he didn’t care about the Prospas kids. They were just a lot to deal with. The basic expectations of his job was that he made sure that they were safe, that he made sure they went to school, and that he entertained them briefly after school and took them where they needed to go. It was not part of his job to be their friend or act as...as some kind of surrogate older brother. AJ knew from terrible experience just how badly that could go and how much he could lose if he let himself get too attached to one of them. He kept himself closed off for the most part, he tried to keep himself professional.

Professional. He did not want his profession to be watching out for his boss’s kids for the rest of his life. He could not let that happen to himself, he needed to move on for his own sake as well as his mother’s sake.

His poor mother…

AJ took another sip of coffee and dialed his mother’s number on VidChat. Usually she slept in, she had always been a night owl, even when his father was still alive. Now she had good reason to sleep the mornings away. On the 3rd ring, she picked up her communication device.

“Ajax?” she said, her voice still sleepy. She was still in bed, her long brown hair uncovered. AJ took after his father more than he took after her, but he could still see his own traits in her long curled eyelashes and her slight overbite. “Are you getting breakfast before class?”

“Yeah,” AJ answered, even though he wasn’t. He didn’t want to waste his money on an expensive bagel or something when he had food back in the apartment. Well, technically there was also food in the kitchens of the Prospas family home which he and his mother shared, but he didn’t want to be accused of stealing. “Just checking on you. You weren’t up when I left.”

His mother rubbed her eyes. “I was up until 3, I think. I get caught up, you know. I keep praying that things will get better for us, I know God is listening. He’s always listening.”

“Uh-huh.” His mother had only started getting into religion a couple of years ago, when the Red religion gained popularity due to some scriptures getting spread online. AJ didn’t care for it or understand, but it was good for her. It gave her something to do, people to talk to, and faith to hold on to. It was better to think that the God from beyond the Rift existed and was listening to her when she was sad or in pain, better than not having anything at all. He had tried to get into it at her behest, but the bloodletting aspect of it made him queasy.

“Someday we won’t have to struggle or suffer anymore, you know? God is coming back someday, He’s coming back soon. Nobody will put us down anymore, nobody will hurt us anymore because you and me, we’re God’s children. He loves us, someday He’s going to come down from the Rift and protect us.”

“Yeah, I know he’s gonna do that, Ma. I know.” AJ turned his head to eye Jenny Qian up behind the counter and watched her bend over to pick something up. Seeing the thin slip of pink underwear show above her pants reminded him that it had been over a month since he last had sex. Probably not the best thing to contemplate while calling one’s mother.

“He’ll get rid of all the evil here. We won’t have to hide underground anymore because He’s going to purify the world.” Helen Guttierez’s face, tan and lovely, was so full of devotion towards her son that once again he wondered if he should go to one of the Red Churches, if only to give her peace. “Everyone will be happy the way that they were in the old days, before the Rift opened.”

Whenever AJ looked up while on the Surface Levels, he could see the impossibly dark red Rift pulsating far above the Dome. It made him sick to look at it for too long, so alien and unnatural. Nobody understood it, other than it had appeared suddenly 873 years ago and had ended almost all human life on Earth. It was a miracle that the few who survived the physical changes of that time were able to band together and form the 11 Colonies.

Then again, history and science had never been AJ’s strong suits.

“If God listens to anyone, it’s gonna be you,” he told her, just so that he could see her smile, that smile that was both like and unlike his own. 

And his mother did smile at him. She sat up a little straighter in her bed, which was covered in pillows and extra blankets for her comfort. She was a good mom, she had always given AJ the love and emotional support he needed to grow. None of this was her fault.

“Do you want to get dinner tonight?” she asked. She fumbled around on her bedside table to find her glasses and AJ wondered if he would also need glasses by the time he was 40.

“I’ll try to figure out something to do with the kids. Yeah, yeah of course.” AJ watched the little screen as his mother’s upper lip curled in disgust ever so slightly. “I’ve been so busy lately. You know.”

“You’re getting older. That’s what happens. You can’t— you aren’t that little boy you used to be. I loved you then and I love you now, just like I’m going to love the man you’re going to be. Growing older and more responsible isn’t going to change that, I pray for you every single day. Every day.”

A handful of students walked into the cafe, laughing and joking amongst themselves. More business and marketing majors, nobody overtly from the upper class.  AJ recognized most of them but wasn’t close to any. It was so easy for him to have fleeting relationships, romantic or otherwise. Even committing to a platonic friendship was difficult and growing more difficult by the day. It was hard for normal people to trust him once they found out who he worked for, and the people who were interested in him despite that? They were not the kind of people he wanted to associate with. 

The only person he actually wanted to associate with was his mom. It was fine to have short flings with people so that he could have casual sex, but anything beyond that? No. It was not worth it to drag out his history in the process of bonding with another human.

But the sound of a group of friends laughing together made something sharp and hungry twist deep in his gut.

His mother was still talking. “We could go to that restaurant in the 7th District that my friend Nneka owns. Their food is so good, cheap too. I think you’d like it.” 

“Vegetarian?”

“Yes. Of course. Of course it is.” She stretched, then rolled her shoulders back and in doing so, the collar of the oversized pajama shirt she slept in slipped down just enough to reveal a bite mark on her neck. It looked new.

It only took that to make AJ’s legs begin to shake. He pressed the hand that was not holding the communicator down on one thigh to try and control himself. “You OK, Ma?”

If she realized that he was upset, she did not show it. After all this time she minimized and brushed things off so that AJ wouldn’t get upset and do something stupid. The one time she slipped up and admitted to how scared she was, he’d flown into a rage and the aftereffects had not been pretty. That had been when he was 16 and he had ended up in the hospital. If he tried to stand up to the person who was hurting his mother now, as an adult? He’d end up like the guy Qian had told him about, the one who had been tortured before getting his throat slit.

Sometimes the best thing to do was not fight back. 

“I’m OK, baby,” she told him, and her smile took on an aspect that his never could: understanding. “It’s like I told you, God’s taking care of me. He never puts anything on our plate that we can’t handle.”

The nearby group of students were still laughing as they waited for their coffee orders and suddenly AJ couldn’t stand it. It made him want to lash out at them and he knew he couldn’t. He continued to press his fist into his leg as hard as he could and hoped that it would keep him calm. How could they be laughing? How could they have friends? When other people in Eden were so...stuck.

“Would you tell me if you’re not OK?” he asked his mother. 

“Of course I would,” she said, and he knew that she was lying. It showed itself in the way she did not look him in the eyes. Even without looking at her he could tell. “I know. You take care of me too.”

What was he supposed to say in response to something like that? When he knew that he did not. When he knew that he was about as effective an influence in her life as God was. If he kept pressing, if he kept asking her if she was OK, she would get upset with him, something which he could not bear. All he could do was grit his teeth and watch, pretend that he was not watching. All he could do was remain passive in hopes that he did not make anything worse. It was like that. She was not the only person who he wanted to protect, as loathe as he was to admit it.

AJ pressed his fist even harder into his leg— as hard as he could-- but it didn’t hurt; he didn’t feel it at all.

KIP NGUYEN

“You have the 16th highest GPA in your cohort,” said Ekala, one of the many Special Education counselors in the Ed. District. “That’s amazing, Christopher. That’s unprecedented. You can do anything you want to, if you put your mind to it. You can get scholarships, grants, all kinds of things with grades like that. Don’t you feel proud of yourself?”

Kip Nguyen, leaning back in his chair inside of the drab little office in which he had been meeting Ekala weekly for the last 4 years, looked up at the ceiling. The white plaster made him feel trapped. The tiny room with only enough space for a desk and an extra chair also made him feel trapped. He jiggled his leg. “No. Nope. Why should I?”

His SpEd counselor’s face was kind. She was kind. He knew that she actually cared about him and that she wouldn’t have chosen to go into the career path that she had if she didn’t have empathy. It was just that empathy and compassion didn’t matter in Eden, not really. Those weren’t traits that changed things on a large scale. “You’ve overcome a lot in your life. You’ve accomplished a lot. You should feel proud of yourself.”

“Why?” Kip asked again. He kept jiggling his leg.

“Because— because you should. //I// feel proud of you, you know.”

At a different point in his life, that kind of validation might have meant a lot. Now it was just sort of useless. Kip hated sitting in a chair in front of her for an hour every week. It was increasingly difficult for him to restrain himself, since he wanted to jump up and move around and talk. Whenever he was in meetings with teachers or his SpEd counselor, he could talk, he just couldn’t say the things that he wanted to say. In order to keep himself safe, he had to make himself...less than he was. Less energetic, less noisy. If he acted in accordance with his nature, the people who were in positions of power over him might get mad.

“I’m glad that //you// feel proud of me,” Kip told her. “But I don't think that really matters. Why does that matter? You know? For my future?”

Ekala looked at him flatly. She was young, less than 30 anyway, and kept her hair in short cornrows. The black uniform that every teacher, counselor, and professor wore in the Education District did not serve to make her prettier, it served as a reminder of who was really in charge. It served as a reminder that when it came down to brass tax, she held power over him that he could never contest. “You don’t feel proud of yourself for your hard work? You’ve come a long way in just two years.”

“It doesn’t //matter// if I’m proud of myself. Materially, I mean. It does not matter. The system doesn’t care about my self esteem, it doesn’t care about anyone.” As those words were coming out of his mouth, he realized that he needed to shut up. His Special Ed counselor wrote something down on her tablet, then looked back up at him like she expected him to say something else crazy. As usual, he could not help himself. “How does being proud of myself help pay 25,000 credits a year for college? It doesn’t.”

“Your grades mean you’ll qualify for scholarships.”

“They don’t give out scholarships to people like me.” It was true. She would try to dispute it but Kip knew it was true; he had talked to other people who had been arrested, other people who had been locked up either in the Youth Detention Center or the Prison District itself. His new friends were in the most part college students majoring in law, economics, or journalism, and all of them were being crushed by mountains of debt that they would never be able to pay off, no matter how hard they worked. Their backgrounds meant that the sprawling college administration hesitated to grant them any money, and their interests only solidified this. Eden did not reward those who were interested in social services or public works, Eden only rewarded those who could contribute to concrete betterment. In the Colony, STEM was everything. “They don’t give scholarships to anyone like me.”

That was not to say that he did not want to go to college. The idea of going into a career where he did something that changed things, a career where he was actually able to help people was like a far off dream to him. It just wasn’t feasible.

“You say that like you’ve already decided that you’re not going to try,” said Ekala. She rested her chin on the palm of her hand. “Is that why you don’t feel proud of yourself?”

Kip exhaled heavily and vigorously rubbed his head with his left hand, his uninjured hand, messing up his hair. “You’re not listening to me.”

“I’m listening to you.”

“//No//, you’re not. I’m //trying// to explain that it doesn’t //matter// because I either have to be in debt for the rest of my life or beg for scholarships I’ll never qualify for because I was in the YDC for 8 months. It doesn’t matter how I //feel// unless somebody does something to actually change things.”

Nobody listened, nobody ever listened. It was why he always had to make a scene to get his needs met or to get his points across. It was easier to be quiet and just take things, but Kip couldn’t do it. He couldn’t ever shut up and act passively, he couldn’t ever roll over. It made things harder for him and it made people dislike him, but it was better than acting like a doormat. He would not let people walk all over him.

When he was agitated he could not stop jiggling his legs or picking at himself, which was to say that he was always jiggling his legs or picking at himself. It took all his self control not to start scratching at one of the zits on his jawline.

Ekala’s face was very kind and understanding. She was a good person, he could see it in her eyes. He could see how much she wanted to help him, she just didn’t understand and would never be able to. “I’ve told you before that having to be detained as a minor doesn’t necessarily mean anything; you can even petition to have your record expunged. Do you want to fill out some scholarship forms with me? I could--”

Kip stood up without warning and realized that he had clenched his fists. WIth great difficulty he unclenched them. He knew that his eyes, which were already too big, were probably bulging out of his head. Due to the lack of space and the forcefulness of his movement, his chair scooted back toward the door when he stood. Aware of his capacity to make other people feel frightened because of his demeanor or his actions, his heart rate increased at the thought that he might frighten his counselor and make her press her panic button and throw him back in the Youth Detention Center.

He could not go back there. He could not be trapped like that again.

But his counselor did not react with fear. She smiled at him kindly. There was a big gap between her front teeth. “OK. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Do you need space?”

He grabbed up his bag which had been sitting at his feet and shouldered it. Everything he wanted to say to her swirled up from his heart and he had to keep his mouth clamped shut so that he did not start yelling again. Kip wanted to yell at her. It wouldn’t make him feel better, just like punching walls didn’t make him feel better. The only purpose yelling would serve would be to expel an iota of the endless energy his mind and body produced.

Ekala had given him an out though. That was more than most teachers did for him.

“Yeah. Space,” he said, not looking at her.

“Can you check in with me tomorrow then?”

Kip nodded. What other choice did he have? His heart pounding, he left the miserable little office. Even though he had recently turned 18 and was legally an adult in the eyes of the state, he was still being controlled by others.

The floors that he attended most of his classes on were similar to the floors of the normal high school. It wasn’t like the Prison District or anything, there was just a smaller teacher to student ratio. Supposedly the extra teachers were there to give students who needed more support the help that they needed, but Kip didn’t believe that for a second.

(I DONT KNOW WHAT TO WRITE. KIP BEING ANNOYING)

“What’s wrong with your hair?” he asked Esther. Usually her limp orange hair fell flatly to her shoulders, but now it had some volume to it.“Why did you fuck with your hair? Haha, did you curl it? You look like a, a, I don’t know. You look bad.”

Esther didn’t answer him, she just fluffed up her hair. Kip attempted to put his hands in it and mess it up and she smacked him in the face. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Ow!” He tried harder to mess up her hair and she smacked him again. Kip tried to hit her back but missed because she was slightly taller than he was. “What’s wrong with me?? What’s wrong with you??” They swatted at each other furiously for a couple more seconds before separating, breathing hard.

It had been like this with Esther ever since they were kids. Kip had met her when he was 8 and she was 7 and they had been squabbling ever since. Something about their personalities did not mesh, maybe because of certain similarities that they shared. Both of them were eldest children with high intensity and a list of diagnoses. They loved each other very much, they just didn’t like each other.

“Nothing’s wrong with me,” said Esther. She was already beet-red.

“Nothing’s wrong with me either!” responded Kip. 

There was absolutely something wrong with both of them. 

“Take some deep breaths then or something, you look manic. Are you off your meds?”

“Oh, that is so patronizing coming from you. You really are nuts, Esther. You take some deep breaths.”

“No, YOU take some deep breaths! Goddammit. I hate you.”

Kip laughed, feeling his body grow light with his fondness for his friend. She was a good match for him. Even fighting with her was fun, he liked to fight. Sometimes it was easy to forget his loneliness, that void filled with distractions such as politics or arguments online. Those distractions were destructive and he knew it. Being around people who cared about him was the truest form of distraction.

“How are the twins?” he asked her

“Oh my God, so annoying. They both have a crush on the same boy and they won’t shut up about him, I want to shove them both out of a window.”

“How would that even work? What happens if the guy actually likes one of them back?”

“The other one would kill that twin and act as a replacement, I guess.”

Kip tried to mess with Esther’s hair again and she widened her candy-apple green eyes at him as a threat. At her feet, the Creature which was her constant companion wound itself between her legs, rubbing itself at her ankles and making a curious sound, something in between a growl and a purr. It was a lethargic beast and only really seemed to be slightly cognizant, only really becoming active when Esther’s emotions ran high. Most of the time, Kip tried not to look at it so that he didn’t look like he was crazy. He wasn’t crazy, not the way that Esther was. He didn’t see things that weren’t really there. But it seemed as though she and him were the only people who could see it.

It was not the only black and gelatinous creature in Eden, but it was the only one that Kip had actually been close to. The others oozed around in the cover of the alleys in the Lower Districts, or scurried chattering into the pipes when he walked by. A few times he had seen them following people around. Some of them had legs like Esther’s did but most of them wriggled unnaturally like cat-sized mounds of black jello. To his knowledge they were harmless, bycatch that had fallen out of the Rift centuries ago. 

Esther’s monster raised it’s skull-like head to gaze at him out of its empty eye sockets. He quickly looked away. Not real not real not real.

“Is your hand OK?” said Esther, noticing the injury for the first time. 

He opened his fingers and made a fist a couple of times, wincing. The wounds on his knuckles had not yet scabbed over and it was painful to move it. It was bad, but it wasn’t broken; he knew from experience what it felt like to break the bones in his hand from punching something.

“Did you punch a wall again?” Esther asked him. Kip glared at her and felt his face grow hot. He didn’t need to answer. “Why do you keep doing that? Did you go to a doctor?”

This was starting to feel like an interrogation. “Doctor? No way I’m going to a doctor for this. I’m not like you people. I’m fine, you should see the wall in my kitchen.”

“‘You people’? If you were like me, you wouldn’t have hit the wall in the first place. You would be able to stay in control.”

He cared about Esther and her awful little siblings and loved them with his whole heart, but sometimes they really got on his nerves. They thought that they were better than he was and he tried not to hold that against them. His friends in the revolutionary socialist group he had recently joined talked a lot about how Artificials were a physical manifestation of how the bourgeoisie wanted to separate from the proletariat-- the rich had practically invented a new species of human. Posthumans. Genetic engineering and biotechnology operated to keep the wealthy in control, then allowed them to say it is in their nature.

Kip knew what people like Esther really thought about him. They thought he was a bug.

It was a struggle. He cared a lot about individuals, but if he started to think about what that meant in the context of the big picture, he started to get upset. 

Kip tugged the sleeve of his heavy old police jacket down over his injured hand to hide it. He’d gotten a lot of questions about his jacket when he started going to EWP meetings-- and he had gotten straight up hostility when he graduated to going to United People’s Liberation Org meetings. UPLO was strongly against Eden’s police state, which was fair since police misconduct was a hot topic in leftist circles. But the jacket had belonged to his birth mother. It was one of the only things that he had of hers.

It was also black, so it went with everything he wore, which meant that he wore it every day. Even though he had hit his growth spurt a few years ago and was reaching 5’10”, it was still too large for him. Whenever he could not find it, or whenever it got dirty or caught on something, he felt scared that he would lose it. And he would lose her again.

He didn’t remember the day that she had killed herself but he knew that he had been there. They had found him in a closet. One time Ma had gotten so drunk that she had told him when she found him, she had picked him up and there had been blood all over his clothes. So that meant-- so that meant he must have touched...

It was a good thing that he didn’t remember. Kip didn’t remember a lot of things. 

“What’s your girlfriend’s name again?” he asked Esther, trying to change the subject and take his focus away from his dead mother.

“Rosie. Rosaline Church. I wouldn’t have met her if she hadn’t been changed to my cohort this year.”

It took a lot for Kip to keep the look of judgement from his face, he always felt a twinge of disgust when he heard that relatively common surname. It was hard to not feel biased. His healthy mistrust of organized religion led him to be wary when it came to people who were raised in any of the Church-run residential group homes in the Lower Levels. In his opinion, organizations such as that needed to be eradicated by the State. “Still going good, huh?”

Esther shrugged. “It hasn’t been a month yet but yeah, I like her. She’s...solid? I don’t know how to describe her. She doesn’t get freaked out by things.”

“Of course she doesn’t get freaked out, she probably deals with fucked up shit all the time. You know those religious people dunk babies underwater, right? Did you know they practice circumcision? Ugh, I mean, right? Isn’t that insane? That’s like, that’s just so--”

“I don’t know anything about it,” Esther cut him off before he could start ranting about all the crimes of religion. “When she talks about her gods it sounds like it makes her feel safe. I don’t think that’s that bad, you know? It’s just something people start thinking when they don’t want to accept that nothing happens after you die. At least she’s not one of the Rift worshippers. I think you’d like her.” She took out her communicator and pulled up a picture so that she could show him.

In the picture, Esther looked genuinely happy. It was not often that her eyes lit up when she smiled; usually she was so glazed over and vacant. She had her head resting on the broad shoulder of the other girl, Rosaline Church. Rosaline’s smile was also completely genuine. She had a handsome butch look about her, and the picture froze her gazing at Esther in the same way that she would gaze at an angel.

Still, Kip did not trust this new union. 

He raised his eyebrows. “OK. I see why you like her. Her arms are the same size as your waist.”

“Sometimes I really want to kill you.” Esther put her communicator back into her purse. 

“Just staying.”

“Right, like I’m just saying that sometimes I want to blow your brains out. You know that my mother raised her voice at Eddie last night because he tried to karate chop the kitchen table? That was all you.”

It was funny but it was also very much his fault. He and Kassidy always got into fights and the Bellamys had learned it from them. It was not the kind of behavior their mother would approve of. Back in middle school Esther had been in a fight with another kid and her mom got so angry that she made sure that kid would be in the Youth Detention Center until he turned 18. People like Esther and her siblings weren’t allowed to be physically violent, they could only express their rage in more acceptable, more insidious ways.

“Your mom’s gonna kill you if she finds out that you’re dating someone like a Church kid,” Kip told Esther. “She wants you to settle down with another Artificial, not some religious orphan pleb.”

“//If// she finds out.” Esther said glumly. “That’s not going to happen.”

“You know about class consciousness, right? My friend Lee told me about it. It’s the beliefs a person has about their social class. Your mom has strong class consciousness, it’s been like a decade and she still thinks I’m going to steal your shit. ”

“I don’t care.” She rolled her eyes.

The 5 minute bell rang. Kip sighed. He did not want to run back down to the Special Education floors. They were more controlled than the normal floors of the high school. He could not stand it. Even though he loved learning and enjoyed his classes, he could not stand being so watched and confined. The student-teacher ratio was higher on those floors.

“Just prepare yourself for when your mom does find out.” Kip checked his communicator for messages. “You’re gonna eventually slip up or get snitched on. And it isn’t cool to hide that you’re dating her, she’s gonna start thinking you’re ashamed of her eventually.”

He watched as Esther’s skin flushed and hated how easy it was for him to pick up on people’s sore spots. 

“Sorry,” he said. “Have you seen Kassidy today? I haven’t been able to get a hold of her. We were going to do something last night but I kind of dipped out because my mom was pissing me off.”

“She’s been weird lately,” said Esther, taking a step back to signal that she was ready to get back to class. “I think she’s mad at me, I kind of ignored her messages last night but I was with Rosie.”

“Kassidy wouldn’t care about getting ignored, people ignore her all the time.”

“I don’t know then.” Esther shrugged. “I’ll see you later. Want to get together tonight?”

Kip shook his head. “Nah I’m going to meet with some UPLO people and paint some signs. A couple of them are protesting AGA’s union busting practices.” He heard his friend make a scoffing little ‘ugh’ noise under her breath, but she was too far away for him to react to it. His heart twinged. “It’s actually really imp--”

But she was already gone.

Kip checked his messages again only to be met with nothing. He walked back to the elevator and pressed the button that would take him down to his floors, using his injured hand. He pressed a little too hard and winced, then leaned back against the rail and waited.

At times it was frustrating to feel like there was nobody else who shared his values. For a long time it had felt like he was alone, even when he was around his friends and his family who cared about him. Now he was finally starting to feel less alone, he had found people who truly understood him and who had shown him that it was OK to be passionate and sensitive. It was OK to care so deeply about things.

The thing that was hardest to accept was that he could not make others care as deeply as he did. No matter how much he yelled or screamed or fought, other people would not be able to see his point of view unless they were willing to.

It...hurt.

It hurt badly. And over the years, Kip had dealt with a lot of pain.

He looked down at his injured hand, with its scabbed over and cracked knuckles.

He made a fist. In the secrecy of that elevator, a translucent blue bubble of energy formed around his closed hand, protecting it completely from everything outside. When he unclenched his fist, that bubble disappeared and he was left vulnerable again. Sometimes Kip wished that he could create a bubble big enough to protect his whole body, so that at least physically he would never be hurt again-- but he did not know how to control this strange thing that he could do and he knew that it was not safe for anyone to see.

KASSIDY NGUYEN

Since waking up at 6:00, Kassidy had burned herself with her new straightening iron no less than 5 times. The contraption was difficult to use and it took forever since the texture of her curls was so coarse and because her hair was so thick. She had separated it all into sections to make it easier on herself like the tutorial online had instructed, but in her mind it was tedious and next to impossible. The air in the bathroom smelled like burning hair and she had reddish burn marks on her neck from accidentally touching herself with the iron.

Still, she was determined to look less ugly. 

She had bought some make-up after school the day before as well and began to clumsily apply it. The cosmetics aisle had been overwhelming, there were simply too many choices. Who needed that many choices when it came to make-up? It seemed like the cosmetics aisle was better stocked than the cereal aisle. Kassidy hadn’t known the first place to start. She had grabbed some foundation that may or may not have been a match for her medium skin tone. Really she just had to hope for the best. She had bought a tube of mascara and a little stick of plum lipstick as well, paying for it with money that her estranged grandparents had sent her for her 17th birthday.

Kassidy leaned close to the mirror so that she could apply the mascara without blinding herself. Her hand was shaky as she held it and dragged the wand across her stubby blonde lashes. Because she didn’t have eyelid creases she was unable to produce the effect that she wanted and the mascara ended up clumping despite her efforts.

She looked at her reflection and saw a different person. Usually her hair curled up to about shoulder length, but straightened, it fell down to the middle of her chest. The makeup didn’t quite match her skin tone, but it covered up the dark circles under her eyes. For the first time in as long as she could remember, she didn’t hate looking at herself. She did not immediately want to look away. Kassidy practiced smiling with her plum painted lips.

Her heart beat faster. This wasn’t terrible. She had been afraid that she would look like an embarrassment but she looked nice, especially when she smiled. She looked like somebody who she would want to be friends with.

Somehow this prospect frightened her more than being ugly.

Somebody banged on the bathroom door. “Hey, let me in,” said her brother. “Why is the door locked? What are you doing?” He rattled the doorknob, unable to help himself.

Kassidy looked at herself one more time in the mirror and wondered when the last time that she had made eye contact with herself for so long had been. Then she opened the door and let her brother into the bathroom, which was more or less a narrow hallway with a shower, toilet, and sink crammed into it.

“Why are you up so--” Kip began, then froze, staring at her. His face, at first bleary from sleep, grew shocked and his big brown eyes strained in his eye sockets. For a second he appeared to be uncharacteristically at a loss for words.

She crossed her arms and hunched her shoulders. Instead of the baggy jeans and t-shirt she usually wore, she had put on black leggings and a green tunic she had purchased from one of the Church charity bins. It was strange and new and she waited for him to react or say something, say anything.

Kip started to laugh. He shook his head. “What are you dressed as?” he asked her. “What did you do to your hair? It looks so-- so stupid! Oh my god, oh my god, what’s going on? Are you wearing make-up? What is this? What are you dressed as?” He kept laughing.

Kassidy punched him in the arm and Kip laughed harder. She punched him again. “I’m trying something new, asshole.”

“You look like a clown. Why’d you put that shit around your eyes, it’s totally uneven.”

Hot anger rose from her chest to her face. She could feel it roiling beneath her skin, even though she knew that she never blushed. Her skin was already a dark tan with warm undertones, if she blushed it was hard to see it. “Shut up,” she said, pushing past him and stomping out to the kitchen. He continued to laugh at her as she went, it was never a normal laugh, always a braying belly laugh. 

Was it that bad? Were they going to laugh at her too? She would rather die. It wasn’t anything new to get made fun of but after she had tried so hard to make herself more presentable, Kassidy knew that getting laughed at would be unbearable. 

In the kitchen, Dana Nguyen was already awake and ready for work. She had her head down on the kitchen table, wallowing in whatever depressive thoughts had overcome her that day. Her job was important so Kassidy didn’t understand why her mother acted like she hated going in every day. As Eden’s Police Commissioner, she was one of the most powerful people in the Colony after the Mayor and the Central Committee. 

“What are you two yelling about now?” she asked Kassidy without moving.

“Kip is a fucking prick.”

“I’ve known that since he was 13.”

“I’m going to push him down the stairs.”

Her mother lifted herself up, her glasses crooked on her face. She did not appear to have slept well the night before. When she saw Kassidy, she squinted at her and frowned like she smelled something bad.

“What?” Kassidy asked, angry and hot with blood. She crossed her arms. “What do you wanna say, Ma?”

P.C. Dana Nguyen vaguely gestured at her daughter. “Is this some kind of... of scheme that you’re pulling, or should I be worried about you?”

Scheme? Kassidy didn’t pull schemes. She didn’t say anything, she just smoothed down her hair and skulked around behind the table to get into the fridge. The inside of it was empty except for mustard, a couple of nutritional shakes, and a 12 pack of beer. Something about seeing her family’s lack of food made her grit her teeth and swallow down her hateful words. Where did her mother get off on judging her when she didn’t ever go to the store to buy things to feed her family?

She shut the fridge and poured herself a cup of coffee, took a sip, then almost had to spit it out. Sludge. It was so thick that it was no good to her either.

Kip came out of the bathroom and pulled up a chair at the table, still laughing.He didn’t have any space to laugh at her! He wore the same stupid old police jacket he wore every day, still had acne on the sides of his face, and the only reason he didn’t have a unibrow anymore was because he had begged for laser hair removal for his 16th birthday. For some reason he thought the sight of his sister actually making an effort was hilarious. She made an obscene gesture at him and drank her undrinkable coffee.

“She’s dressed like a clown,” Kip repeated to their mother in a wheezing, high pitched voice intending to mock. Kassidy’s fingers tightened around her mug because she wanted to throw it. “Ma, ma, look. Look!”

Their mother smacked him. “Will you shut up? Kassidy, what’s going on? You going on a date or something?” Her brother cackled.

It was better not to say anything. After all, it wasn’t like she could tell them the truth! If her mother learned the truth of who she had been hanging out with lately, she would freak out and ruin everything. That couldn’t happen.

Very carefully, she set the mug on the counter next to the sink. She didn’t wash it out. Dishes rarely got done in their household, they just rinsed things off and re-used them. It was easier that way. For some reason, Esther’s little siblings always whined and complained when they came over and had to eat off of their dishes. 

As calmly as she could, Kassidy turned to face her family. She shrugged like it wasn’t a big deal. “I just wanted to look pretty today, that’s literally it. I just wanted to look nice.”

For a moment, her mother and brother stared at her like she was an animal in the zoo, as if they could not comprehend this simple desire. And then Kip started to laugh at her again.

“Why would you try to look pretty?” he asked her. “You’re never gonna be pretty!”

Kassidy knocked her mug off the counter, sending it to the floor where it shattered. She turned and stormed out without another look at her family, grabbing her bookbag on the way. As she left, she could hear her mother start to scream at Kip.

They couldn’t help being the way that they were. They had known her her whole life so it was hard for them to be nice to her.

As she made her way to a cafe she had never been in, Kassidy thought about the person who had only ever been nice to her.

She thought about the person who she had been focused on for days.

Her name was Cassiopeia Agapama, but she liked to be called Casey, and Kassidy had never met anyone so dynamic. Casey was always in motion, but not in the same way that Kip was; she was graceful and had complete control over her body in the way that a dancer has. Even though she was an Artificial, she hadn’t been tweaked in that way that made all of them look unnatural. Her black eyes were turned up at the corners which made it look like she was always smiling-- and she was always smiling with those straight white teeth that contrasted perfectly against her dark, clear skin. It was difficult to look at her, not because she was so beautiful-- and she was beautiful, just not obviously so-- but because something about her was impossibly compelling. It was like looking at the heart of a star.

Casey waved Kassidy over. She and her sister were already seated at a booth. “Hiiii,” said Casey, and when Kassidy sat down beside her, she immediately touched her hair. “Wow. You straightened your hair? That’s so crazy.” Casey’s own hair was dyed pink and fell right below her ears in countless micro-braids. 

Whenever Casey touched her, Kassidy felt afraid. She knew that Casey was dangerous, she knew who her father was and what Casey had probably been exposed to her entire life. Simply being close to Casey filled her with adrenaline and every smart part of her brain told her that she needed to run away. But she could not. That same fear also compelled her to be close to her.

“I wanted to try something new.”

“Aw, I like it.” Casey hid her smile behind a hand bedecked with silver rings. “You look tiny without it all poofy. You’re itty bitty. Teeny tiny.”

“You missed a spot in the back,” said Casey’s sister, whose name was Ayda. Unlike Casey, Ayda was obviously beautiful, but not at all compelling. She was tall and heavy, with soft feminine features. While Casey was energizing, Ayda was languid and slow. It was impossible for them to be blood related; Ayda was certainly adopted seeing as she wasn’t black, but Kassidy was too uncomfortable around her to ask. “It’s like, sticking up. In the back.”

Kassidy flattened her hair down with one hand. Any moisture in the air would just make it poof up again. Casey laughed but it didn’t seem like she was laughing at her, at least not on purpose. It was more like she was laughing at the situation.

“You didn’t get it…” said Ayda, who cut her eyes up briefly at Kassidy before returning to her communication device, which she never seemed to stop typing on.

“Your hair looks fine,” laughed Casey.

“It doesn’t. It really doesn’t,” said Ayda. 

It was hard to understand what was going on between the two of them. That was not because they were wealthy. After all, Kassidy had been friends with Esther for years and she wasn’t weird in the way that Casey and Ayda were weird. It was like there was a joke they knew about that Kassidy was not privy to. Even so, she wanted to be in on the joke.

Being around Casey felt like someone was always paying attention to her. She had never felt that way. So even if she was strange and frightening, the attentiveness made Kassidy want to spend time with her.

It had been a long time since she had made a new friend. It had been years, since the only real friend she had ever made was Esther. Ever since Casey had introduced herself to her in class several days previously, the icy ball of loneliness inside of Kassidy had started to melt.

“Don’t tell me that you did that to yourself just because you started hanging out with us,” snickered Ayda. She wound a strand of her own long dark hair around one finger as if she was bored. When she smiled, only one corner of her mouth turned up. “Aw. That’s sad. Peeeeer Pressurrre...”

That made Casey laugh as well, but it was short, more of a reaction than anything else. Laughing. Always laughing. Again, Kassidy swallowed the urge to laugh with her, whatever joy Casey felt was contagious.

It wasn’t that Kassidy was unhappy, but she wasn’t happy either. She wasn’t exposed to people who were happy all the time. Her mother never laughed and rarely smiled. Kip laughed and smiled a lot, but lately that laughter and those smiles were more angry than happy.

The small moments where she did feel happy were ones she wanted to cling to. It was why she had made up her mind to hang out with Cassiopeia after the other girl first seemed to extend her friendship to her. It was nice to feel...light.

The funny thing was that over the handful of times they had hung out, Casey didn’t seem to talk to anyone else or even message anyone else. Well, everyone knew her-- how could they not, with who her dad was. All kinds of rumours went around school about the kind of person Casey was. All kinds of rumours about how she hurt people. Kassidy couldn’t see any of that. She saw someone who gave her her full attention and was always laughing.

Maybe she really was stupid. A small part of herself believed that, it was the part that told her that she could never ever tell her brother about her new friends because if he found out, his eyeballs would burst from all the screaming.

“What do you want for breakfast?” Casey asked her. Casey had already ordered a mug with a latte in it, and her sister was sipping on orange juice. 

Kassidy, who had a total of 12 credits left in her account, had no intention of wasting any more money. This was not the kind of place that people who were like her went to get breakfast before school. She shrugged. “I ate at home.”

“Really?”

“Uh.” It was hard to lie when Casey was looking at her. Kassidy lied all the time but her brain felt frozen then. She glanced to the side to break the intense eye contact with this strange girl. “Well.”

Ayda snickered.

“Do you drink coffee?” asked Casey. “It’s good here, I promise. Can I buy you a coffee? I bet I could pick something for you that you’ll fucking love, it’s one of my talents.”

This was how people ended up selling their souls but Casey’s little pink braids circled her head like a halo. Again, Kassidy had to swallow the strong instinct to run which interfered with the hysterical feelings of happiness. She would rather feel happy.

“Yeah, OK,” she said, too stupid to think up anything clever. “Thanks.” She watched Casey get up and walk to the cafe’s counter, where the other girl proceeded to give her complete focus to the barista who was working.

This was really scary. Kassidy wondered if her makeup was melting off her face because of how hot and sweaty she was. That was the last thing she needed.

“Oh my goddd,” said Ayda as she typed into her comm without looking up. 

Unfortunately, with Casey out of the way, Kassidy was comfortable enough to be a bitch right back to her. She scowled, which wasn’t helpful when a person wasn’t paying attention. “Hey,” she snapped. It must have surprised Ayda because her whole big body flinched at the aggressive tone of voice directed towards her. “You gotta problem? What’s so funny?” Ayda’s size relative to hers didn’t scare her, she had squared off with a bully three times her size as a middle schooler. This was the kind of person she got the distinct impression could not fight even a person who weighed 93 pounds.

You can always tell when a person isn’t used to being talked to in a certain way.

Blood rushed to Ayda’s face and turned her light olive complexion pink. Kassidy felt herself blush as well, although there was no reason for it. “Funny?” asked Ayda in a high pitched little bitch voice of a person who acts tough but is scared of direct confrontation. She kept typing but was now looking at Kassidy.

“You keep laughing.”

“No I don’t.”

“Yeah you do. Why the fuck are you laughing at me?” Kassidy made a jerky aggressive gesture with her chin.

Suddenly it felt like her body was covered in something thick and sticky, like honey. Heavy. Alarmed, she touched her own face as if to see if something had dripped on her from the ceiling, but there was nothing. The sensation was so alarming that for a moment, she forgot to breathe. Stupid. She was so stupid, what was wrong with her? Why was she even trying to make new friends? She was so unlikable and ugly, Casey was probably only pretending to be nice to her so that she could make fun of her. Unbidden, these negative thoughts about herself were more concerning than the sticky heaviness that seemed to crush her.

The strange feelings left as quickly as they had come. Kassidy gasped.

Something was wrong but the pieces of the puzzle were not all available to her. They never were. She usually just assumed that she was going insane.

Ayda stopped typing. A call beeped on her communication device and she swiped to ignore it. She glanced at her Casey, who was still chatting with the barista up front as she waited for coffee, like she was checking to see if she was looking back. “My sister is funny, that’s all.”

The tone in Ayda’s voice was not explicitly hostile, but there was still hostility in her. Kassidy knew when she was getting fucked with or bullied, and as genuine as Casey seemed to her, her sister seemed superficial. Like every other mean girl bully. The best way to ward someone like that off was to hit them right back.

The kid who had bullied her back when she was in middle school had been named Ben. Why was she thinking about him? She never thought about him anymore. He had been big and mean too, and when Kassidy finally got tired of him shoving her around, she and Esther had figured out a way to hurt him worse than he could hurt them.

But Kassidy wasn’t 12 anymore. She couldn’t just hit people and make them leave her alone. That stops being an option when you grow up.

“I didn’t even know that Casey had a sister,” she said, proud of herself for the way she was about to twist the knife in. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you on TV when your dad does something, even though he doesn’t shut up about her in his interviews. I’ve seen him say ‘Casey this, Casey that’ but he’s never talked about you. I’ve never even heard anyone say your name. You shy or something? You awkward? To me it looks like your dad is hiding you.”

The sounds of the other people in the cafe were loud in comparison to their own table. Ayda’s eyes were so large and placid that Kassidy could see her own distorted reflection within them. And beyond them was...nothingness. That was not to say that she got the impression that Ayda’s mind was empty. It was more like there was a...blankness inside of her that, like her eyes were dark pools of water that were impossibly deep. She grew more uncomfortable and was unable to keep making eye contact.

Again, a call beeped on Ayda’s comm, and this time she answered it.

“What’s going on?” The voice on the other line was a boy’s, funny and round sounding like he had some kind of speech impediment, but not any speech impediment Kassidy had ever heard. “Who’s bothering you, eh? Tell him to fuck off.”

If she craned her neck, Kassidy could see the little screen that was strapped to Ayda’s wrist, but didn’t feel like it. Very briefly she could see a blur of black and pink. In Eden, it was considered very rude to VidChat with someone without earbuds in, especially in a public place like a cafe. It certainly wasn’t normal.

“If he’s hurting your feelings, tell him your dad is going to break his fingers with a sledgehammer,” said the boy with the funny voice. “Quit crying and bitching and whining to me about it if you aren’t gonna do anything about it.”

Kassidy picked up her own portable device and pretended to message someone so that if other people were staring, they’d think that she was normal. 

Usually she would be hanging out with Esther and Kip right now. They’d be doing the same things they always did, talking about stupid stuff and arguing. All of their lives were changing. She was happy that Esther had a girlfriend now, just like she was happy that Kip had found some kind of purpose in his life, but she missed them.

“It’s not a boy, it’s one of my sister’s creepy new projects,” said Ayda into her communicator.

“I’m right here,” said Kassidy. “I can hear you.”

Before things could continue to escalate, Casey returned with a mug full of liquid and whipped cream.Before she sat down, she put the mug into Kassidy’s hands. She glanced at Ayda, who rudely had her communicator on, and her face lit up. “Mart-o!” she exclaimed, and grabbed at Ayda’s wrist so that she could get a good look. “Heyyy, my fav-o-rite greasy boy!”

The mug was warm in Kassidy’s hands. She looked down at it and saw that there was a star drawn in chocolate syrup floating on top of the whipped cream. When she lifted it to take a sip, the liquid was too hot to drink. For a second she wondered if Casey had just handed her poison because her fucked up evil dad wanted to do something that would hurt her mother, the Police Commissioner. She would probably drink it anyway though.

Casey pulled Ayda’s communicator off and fiddled with the settings so that the little screen expanded, then set it propped up in the middle of the table so that everyone could see it. Now that Kassidy could get a better look, she saw that the person who had called Ayda was a boy with pink cheeks and fluffy black hair. He looked a bit younger than she was and the room he was sitting in was strangely decorated in earth tones and rough furniture. He gave Kassidy a sneer.

“Have you met Marty?” Casey asked her. “He plays Candle Quest with Ayda. Marty, this is my new friend Kassidy. Doesn’t her hair look cute?”

“I didn't think you were capable of desiring friendship,” said the boy, Marty. He messed with a handheld game console, his image being captured by a desktop computer that he was sitting in front of. “I thought you didn’t have feelings. Like a reptile.”

Casey laughed. “What are you talking about? That is so funny!”

Kassidy blew on the mug of coffee and took a careful sip. The taste was something that she could not place, sweet and grassy. It wasn’t bad. She looked at the little star drawn in the whipped cream.

“We’re skipping class anyway,” Casey told the boy in the communicator. “We have to run back home because there’s a package coming that Yura and Emily can’t sign for.”

“I can’t skip class,” said Kassidy.

“Nobody said that you’re included in this…” said Ayda. “What makes you think you’re included? You can’t ever come to our house. Our dad has like, a picture of your mom on the wall that he throws knives at. You will never step foot inside of our house.”

“Haha, well maybe someday!” Casey patted Kassidy on the back and it was hard for her not to stiffen at the touch. “We’re all getting along so well right now anyway, you guys. What are you doing today, Marty? What are you up to at the unwashed freakshow?”

Marty didn’t answer or even look back up. He typed something on his handheld device. On the wall behind him hung a strange looking long-gun that resembled the ones in videos about the time before the Rift split open. It looked like it was made out of wood, a commodity that was next to impossible to procure in Eden. Kassidy squinted to get a better look at it.

The gun didn’t have a visible magazine and appeared to have two barrels. The sling that it hung on had been decorated with shiny circles that could have been badges, but were too far away to recognize. Even if one of Marty’s family members was a cop-- as legally, the State did not allow private citizens to own firearms-- a cop would not own a gun that looked like that, much less display it. It looked like it belonged in a museum.

She wanted to ask him about it. Instead, she drank the strange drink that Cassiopeia Agapama had bought her. 

They-- well, mostly Ayda and Marty-- continued to talk and bicker about things and people that only confused Kassidy. She felt like such an outsider, she didn’t know anyone who they knew. Sometimes Marty used words that she had never heard before, which lost her even more. When she checked her own communicator for messages, Esther hadn’t sent her anything and Kip had sent her a single laughing-crying emoji which reminded her that she wanted to kill him.

“Are you 18 yet, Kassidy?” Casey asked her. She rested her chin on one hand; her fingernails were long and sharp and painted pink.

“I will be in January.”

“Oh, my birthday is in November. That’s exciting, you’ll be able to vote on Foundation Day in May. Aren’t you excited to vote in our first real election in decades?”

To disguise her confusion, Kassidy took another long sip of her drink. “Uh. I mean. I guess? I’m not really into politics. I think things are basically fine.”

Casey leaned closer to her. “Don’t you think that the government should have less control, though? Especially when it comes to the free market. I think the state needs to get out of people’s business.”

“I don’t really care,” said Kassidy, who already knew she would be voting for Jay Malena in May. Voting for West Agapama, the guy who consistently terrorized the police and made jokes about her mother in his television interviews was not going to cut it for her. Even Kip was going to vote for Malena, and Kip’s whole life revolved around politics. Malena was OK. Whenever she saw him on TV, he was always smiling, and one time she had met him when she was in the Capitol column with her mother. He had even shaken her hand. “I don’t understand any of it.”

It wasn’t the answer that Casey wanted to hear and she could tell. She chewed on her lower lip.

From Ayda’s communicator, Marty exhaled loudly. “Voting is the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard of, I don’t understand why you people vote. Why do you think you know as much as the people who are already in charge.”

“Oh, shut up freak,” snapped Casey. Anger flashed across her face like a thunderclap, blinding and awful, and it vanished as quickly as it had arrived. When it came down to it, she was capable of being terrible.

“Ugh.” Ayda rolled her eyes. “Dumb!”

“It’s stupid,” he continued. “Everything you’ve told me about your dad running for king or whatever is stupid. How is some random person supposed to become a ruler? How are random people supposed to make a choice about that? The way we do things up here now makes more sense, we’ve fought for years for one powerful leader. You people are the dumb ones for voting.”

Whatever secret joke Marty shared with Casey and Ayda was incomprehensible to Kassidy. To her it sounded like he lived somewhere that people did not vote, but as far as she knew it was mandatory across all of Eden’s Districts. And outside of Eden and her equally democratic sister Colonies of Serenity and Green River, there was nothing. There was poisoned air and twisted mutants, transformed by the Rift.

The thoughts she was having were illogical.

Still, Kassidy stared at the strange gun behind Marty. What use did firearms have…She finished her drink.

“Your life is terrible, Marty,” said Casey. She poked the screen with her finger like she wanted to poke him and he stared at her nonplussed. “You have the worst life. Your life is actually tragic. You wish you were sitting here with us, talking about voting.”

“I am sitting with you and talking about voting.”

 Casey jabbed the little screen with her sharp manicured nail. She was...she was a lot like Kip in some ways, which was disturbing. They were both creatures of pure impulse, but what was annoying in her brother was fascinating in Casey. It was hard to look away. “Why are you so sassy today, huh? You think we don’t outnumber you just because you see Kassidy here?”

“Don’t break my comm again,” Ayda whined. “Case…”

Marty’s face was soft but his big black eyes were mean. He glanced briefly at Kassidy, who was still watching him intently. “What is sassy?”

“Bitchy. It means bitchy.”

“You’re the bitch.”

And Kassidy couldn’t take it any longer. She cleared her throat awkwardly, which surprised the sisters and reminded them of her presence. “Marty, what class are you in?” she asked him, but in her heart she already knew the answer. “Are you a 1st year? You might know my friend Esther Bellamy’s younger siblings.”

Ayda’s cheeks flushed and she grabbed her communication device like she had been doing something wrong. Casey laughed, shaking her head. “What? You don’t need to talk to him. That’s crazy. Hey, did you like the drink I picked out for you? Didn’t I tell you that I have a special gift when it comes to knowing what people like to eat? I did good, right?” She reached out like she wanted to touch Kassidy’s hair again but pulled back her hand.

“It’s fine I guess.” When she said that, Casey’s eyes went wide like nobody had ever given her a lukewarm reaction. Kassidy pressed on, the inexorable curiosity propelling her. “Do you not go to school, Marty?”

“Obviously I don’t go to school.” He was playing with his handheld device again and unlike his friends, did not seem to be bothered by the question. “School is stupid and a waste of time, why would I go to school? I couldn’t go to school even if I wanted to. Not that I would. I don’t.”

The state intranet was closed to other colonies. Even if someone from Green River or Serenity wanted to communicate with Eden, they could not unless they accessed one of the specific channels only intended for trade. Over the decades there had been dozens of hacking incidents directed from other Colonies and such communication was illegal.

Considering the type of man West Agapama was though, and considering that his fortune had been made shipping goods to and from the sister Colonies, this was not that surprising.

So Marty didn’t have a speech impediment, he had an accent. Accents in Eden were divided primarily between the Upper and Lower Levels-- anyone talking to Kassidy could easily figure out where she was from. Maybe everyone who lived where Marty lived spoke round little words like he did and didn’t understand what ‘sassy’ meant.

“I didn’t realize you were smart,” said Casey in a voice that could have been kind or cruel. “That’s nice.”

“I’m not smart,” said Kassidy, who believed that she wasn’t. “I saw the rifle behind him. Nobody in Eden has firearms like that, not even in a museum. Marty, is that yours? What do you need that for in Serenity? I always heard that they don’t have weapons at all there, at least that’s what my brother told me, but he’s always talking out of his ass.”

“I’m not from Serenity.”

Ayda groaned but did not make a move to turn off her communicator and banish Marty.

“Green River?”

“Nope.” Marty looked up from his game. “But my friends Wera and Seth are from Green River, we all play Candle Quest together. I wouldn’t want to be from there either, no way. That’s what I’m saying, everything I hear about the Colonies sounds so stupid.”

Poison air. Mutated flesh. The Rift, red and hungry across the sky.

Kassidy looked at the very normal and fluffy haired boy on Ayda’s screen like he was an exotic animal. Her heart beat faster. “So,” she said slowly. “So...so you mean that you’re not…”

The game that he was playing made a series of beeps and chimes and Marty smiled. He still had a lot of baby fat in his cheeks so smiling made him appear chunkier.. He put his handheld device down, quite proud of himself. “Can you really not beat that level, Ayda?” he asked, mockingly. “Yeah. No. I’m not from Serenity or Green River or Eden or any of the stupid Colonies. I’m from the Northern Territories.”

AJAX GUTTIEREZ

As usual, it had been an ordeal to get the kids up and ready for school. There was always some excuse they pulled out to avoid getting out of bed or to avoid getting ready. The two of them weren’t bad kids, they were both well behaved compared to what AJ was like at their ages. But for very different reasons, they did not want to go to school.

AJ sat on the metro with his elbows resting on his knees. He was exhausted, since he had put off writing a paper for too long and it was due that morning. Luckily he was still young enough to be able to pull all nighters, but whenever he blinked it felt like his eyelids stuck together. He rubbed his eyes but it didn’t help. Since the Prospas family home was located in District 1, the uppermost and wealthiest residential area and the only one located on the Surface, there weren’t many commuters going down to the Education District in the Mid Levels.

“I’m hungry,” whined Valentine, who was the youngest one at 9 years old, and who had undoubtedly had about 12 hours of sleep that night. “Can we go to the cafe to get doughnuts? I didn’t like my cereal, I want doughnuts.”

“You should have thought about that when you didn’t eat all your cereal,” said AJ. The kid was sitting next to him and kept trying to hold his hand, which he was getting a little too old for. AJ kept pulling his hand away. 

“I told you that I didn’t like it!” The only reason Valentine got away with acting the way that he did was because he was cute. His hair stuck up from his head in a loose afro and he had huge eyes, genetically modified to be yellow. His teeth were genetically modified as well; canines and incisors just large and sharp enough to give him a lisp. Because of this, and because of his genuinely happy and loving nature, he was never punished for misbehaving. “Can you get me doughnuts so I won’t get hungry at school?”

“No. You can’t have sugar for breakfast, it isn’t healthy.”

“I’m gonna be hungry though. I’m hungry now. Rome’s gonna be hungry too, he didn’t eat anything, right Rome?”

Rome, who was 14 and sitting on the other side of Valentine, briefly glanced over before re-focusing his own yellow eyes on his hands in his lap. “My stomach hurts. I think I’m sick.” Rome was the kind of kid who got scared whenever he had to get on public transportation, which was every day. 

“You’re not sick,” said AJ.

“I think I’m sick.”

“You’re making yourself sick because you’re thinking too hard about it.”

“Can I stay home from school?” Rome glanced back over at AJ. He looked scared and unhappy, but he always looked scared and unhappy. Rome kept his hair very short and neat, he buttoned his shirts all the way up to the top, and constantly worked himself up over nothing. “I feel like I’m going to throw up, I don’t want to go to school if I’m going to throw up. I’m nauseous. I don’t feel good, I’m sick. My stomach hurts.”

“If he gets to skip school, I get to skip school,” said Valentine. When he smiled he showed off incisors. The appearance of the Prospas children, with their glowing yellow eyes and sharp teeth, really revealed the values of their father. After all, he had paid ridiculous amounts of money 3 separate times to get his sons to appear predatory. Most Artificials just ended up appearing luminously beautiful in a way that was offsetting.

“Nobody is skipping school,” he said, shaking off his negativity. He pulled out his communicator to distract himself. “Your dad will get mad at me if I let you do that, he wants you guys to have a good education, it’s really important. Don’t you want to go to school and learn stuff? Just quit thinking about how you feel sick, Rome, I thought you were going to meet up with your new friends and go to class together.”

Rome looked back down at his hands. “I don’t think they’re really my friends. It’s only been two weeks. How long does it take?”

“They’re nice.” Valentine attempted to stick a hand into his brother’s bookbag and take something out of it, but Rome pulled the bag away and set it on his other side. “I like them. I like their hair. I want somebody to be my friend. Why does nobody in my class like me? Did you know that there’s something living in our shower drain, AJ? It’s like, it’s like blah blah blah, I think it talks to me more than people in my own class. AJ. Hey, AJ!”

The two Prospas children were difficult for AJ to take care of because they were unlike normal children in many ways. He cared about them and wanted them to be happy, but it was easy for him to feel irritated by the burden of his responsibility. Luckily he didn’t have to worry about them getting into fights or becoming violent with other children like Ben ---well. He didn’t have to worry about that aspect of their safety.

The metro lurched to its final stop before it started making its way down to the Mid Levels. A few more people walked in, probably professors. AJ briefly assessed them to determine whether they might be people who would do harm to the kids out of hatred for their father, then went back to his communicator.

He had been messaging a guy on a hook-up app for the last 24 hours. Talking with Jenny Qian really reminded him of how long it had been since he had gotten laid. It was going well, the two of them were planning on meeting up soon. It would be some much needed stress relief.

The guy, whose name was Harlan, seemed nice enough. Not that AJ cared about personality in this context. The important thing about this guy was that he was attractive-- thin, with a cheeky face which he hid behind a neat little beard. That was all AJ wanted when he was looking for a guy to hook up with: somebody cute and fun. His profile said that he was into some seriously stupid stuff though, but that was best not to dwell on. Whatever Harlan did in his free time, politics or whatever, AJ didn’t care about it  too much.

AJ accidentally opened his DMs to reveal a nude picture that Harlan had sent him the previous night. Panicking, he clicked out of the page and shoved his communicator back into his pocket before one of the kids glanced at it. Even as an accident, if he exposed them to something like that, their dad would absolutely beat him to death with something imaginative and then leave his body somewhere public. 

He sent Harlan a quick message about getting together that night or the night after but didn’t expect him to get back to him any time soon. The guy didn’t seem like an early riser, the ones who are simultaneously lazy and clever never were.

It would be nice if he was able to spend more of his time doing what he liked to do instead of worrying about dragging kids around.

“I hate sitting by myself at lunch, but I bet you like doing that, don’t you Rome?” said Valentine. “I bet you like sitting by yourself, don’t you? Don’t you? Hey! AJ! Didn’t you hear me say there’s something that talks in the shower? You didn’t laugh!”

AJ pinched the bridge of his nose. 

A few of the other passengers were talking amongst themselves but AJ was not listening to them. For all he knew they could be AGA goons who were there to kill him and kidnap the kids so that West Agapama could blackmail their father. Richard Prospas constantly worried over scenarios such as this, but to AJ’s knowledge it was not something that would ever happen. Agapama didn’t mess with other people’s kids, nobody who belonged to the Four Families did. Even in organized crime one had to have standards which expressed a code of honor. 

The real threat that AJ had to worry over was ordinary people. People like him. People who were poor and angry and had been wronged in some way by Prosperity, either through job lay-offs or through violence. It was those kinds of people who were desperate enough to act drastically and it was those kinds of people who posed the greatest threat.

Over the years, AJ had never had to protect the kids from anything. There was nobody who wanted to hurt them; how could anyone ever want to hurt a couple of sweet but stupid kids? He wasn’t really needed. He was not a bodyguard, he was a baby-sitter and he was tired of it.

The metro stopped at the first station of the enormous Education District and the people in their car started to get off. AJ pocketed his communicator, grabbed Valentine’s hand, and jerked his head toward the door to indicate to Rome that there was no wiggle room for truancy that day. Their stop was never crowded because they got there early and because the only people who rode in their car were from the 1st Residential District too. Rich people. Rich kids. It was easy to get on and off; some metro stops in the Lower Levels could take the better part of half an hour to navigate.

The best part about the Education District was how safe it was. You had to scan your ID in order to access each floor, which meant that nobody from the University floors could wander down to the elementary school floors, and vice versa. This could become an irritating problem when one needed to get to one’s child or sibling in an emergency, but it meant that unauthorized adults were unable to interact with kids at any time. Apart from the Capitol, it was the District with the highest level of security. AJ never felt anxiety when he was dropping the kids off for the school day.

Sure, kids could be violent too. He had learned that lesson when the eldest Prospas brother got himself sent to the Youth Detention Center indefinitely after he attacked a middle-school girl. At least that was one problem he didn’t have to worry about anymore. But the younger two were not anything like Ben: neither one of them had an aggressive bone in their bodies, so AJ didn’t worry.

He thought about the paper that he had due that morning and sighed. He’d get a B on it, a C at worse. AJ took his hair out of its ponytail and finger-combed it. Sleep. Rest. When was he going to just rest?

“Are you sure I can’t get a snack?” asked Valentine.

AJ adjusted the child’s shirt collar with practiced firmness. “Yeah. When you get home.” At this point in his life he was immune to the high pitched whining that followed saying ‘no’. With a gentle push, he let him know that there was no room for discussion there. The 9 year old made his way toward the elevators that would take him down to the elementary school floors. AJ watched to make sure he didn’t try to sneak off.

Without asking, he already knew that Rome wanted him to stay with him until his friends showed up. As quiet and aloof as he was, it was harder to understand Rome and his needs than it was with his brothers. It would be easy for AJ to leave him by himself and go write his paper, nothing would come of it and nobody would even know because Rome was not the kind of kid who was always running to his dad. AJ had left him alone when he was distressed before, multiple times. Despite that, he figured he would wait around with him until 7:45 at the latest.

In the meantime, he mindlessly checked his comm. Nothing on the news feeds was new. More election stuff. Every time he saw a picture of Agapama’s face smirking or winking, he felt irritated because he suspected that he was only running to boost his company’s power-- and it was working. AGA was more profitable than ever, which was amazing seeing as it had been all but bankrupt less than 20 years ago. People could say what they wanted about the guy, but he was a savvy businessman, much savvier than AJ’s current employer.

How was it even possible to not turn a quarterly profit when you had a stranglehold on the markets due to a monopoly on one industry? People needed to eat. What kind of idiot manages a company like that but still manages to have costs greater than its revenue?

Those kinds of thoughts were treacherous but as time passed, he had more and more like them. All he really wanted was to be an asset to Richard Prospas. He wanted to be useful and help manage the numbers side of things, wanted to see the other pieces of the puzzle. 

Better to keep his hopes realistic. AJ opened up a picture of some leather shoes he wanted to buy for when he had to present his thesis next semester.

Rome wasn't looking at him. “I forgot my tablet at home,” he said.

“Hm?” AJ opened up a different option for shoes that were cheaper but looked about the same quality. Suspicious. Why would they be a whole 100 credits cheaper? Unless they were actually made of plastic or something that he didn’t want on his feet.

“I didn’t do my geometry assignment last night.”

“OK.”

“I was-- I don’t know. I didn’t even forget it, I just didn’t do it and I don’t know why. I don’t know why. I can’t get a bad grade on it though, it’s making me feel sick. I feel nauseous.”

“Right.”

“Do you think I should just copy someone--”

AJ put away his communicator suddenly. “You know, if you start doing stuff like cheating and copying other people’s work, you’ll get caught eventually. That will be way worse than getting one bad grade on something. Think about it.” He watched Rome hunch his thin shoulders and look at the ground. “You’re better than that, OK? You’re way better than that. Don’t cheat, you’re too smart.”

The kid snuck a glance at him and AJ had to try not to grimace; the yellow eyeshine was the worst when lighting was poor enough to produce a glow effect. “Can I tell you something?”

“Shoot.”

“I think there’s something really wrong with me. I feel--”

Whatever it was exactly that Romeo believed was wrong with him (AJ could think of a great many things off the top of his head as all of his psychosomatic issues changed from day to day) it was interrupted by a sudden excited shriek. In a split second, AJ dug his hands into his pockets to grasp his knuckledusters and had them over his fingers. His fists were clenched before he even turned around and adrenaline coursed through his body. This was it. This was it, this was it, this was it.

It wasn’t it.

Turning, AJ saw that it was only a couple of kids waving at Rome. He unclenched his teeth, forced his shoulders to relax. As carefully as he could, he slipped the harsh pieces of metal from his hands and back down into his pockets. While not illegal per se, if any authority figure saw him with weapons in the School District they would have him arrested. If that happened, his mother would have to bail him out and he couldn’t handle the thought of it.

His heart pounded in his chest. What was he so scared of? Throughout all the years, nothing bad had ever happened.

He passed a hand over his eyes. “Your friends?” he asked Rome.

Rome just scratched anxiously at his face.

The kids were twins, a boy and a girl, who were so eerily identical that it was clear that they were Artificals. They were white, with orange hair and long gangly limbs that gave them coltish gaits. They hurried up to Rome and AJ noticed the fine quality of their clothing and all-around cleanliness. When they got close to Rome, the two of them blushed prettily.

“Hey,” said the girl one.

“Hi!” said the boy one. “Hi, how are you?”

“I’m fine,” said Rome who appeared to have stopped breathing. He tried to smile at the other children without showing his sharp incisors and it came off as insincere. He had not been made with a face good for smiling so this was not entirely his fault. “How-- how are you guys?”

“Kip taught me new karate moves the other night,” said the boy, arranging his arms into an awkward fighting stance. His form was all wrong but his bright green eyes and lazy smile showed that he wasn't serious about it. “It’s pretty cool, do you wanna fight?” Without warning he faked a punch at Rome, then playfully got him into a loose chokehold. Passive as ever, Rome tried to cringe away but was at a disadvantage due to being shorter; his terrible yellow eyes started to glaze over with tears and he looked to AJ for help. Oblivious to the fear, the other boy tightened his grip like he was going to try to disastrously flip him.

AJ grabbed the gangly kid by the back of his sweater and peeled him away from his charge. “Uh-uh,” he said sternly. “Nope. No fighting.”

The kid tried to twist away and kicked ineffectively at AJ’s shin. “Heyyyy!”

“What’s your problem?” demanded the girl. She had her arms crossed and her pointy face screwed up in an unpleasant expression. “He’s just playing around.”

“I don’t care, don’t let me see you touch him like that again.”

At this point Rome’s skin glistened with perspiration. He hunched his shoulders and pulled at his collar, unable to pull his gaze away from his own feet because he was so mortifyingly embarrassed.

Playing or not, AJ couldn’t let either of the kids he watched over get hurt. More importantly, in his mind, he could not permit them to be exposed to violence. There would be enough time for that in their lives later.

He released the boy and watched him dart back to his sister’s side. “Are you going to introduce me to your friends, Rome?” he asked.

“I feel nauseous.” 

AJ took a deep, calming breath.

The girl opened up her purse, took out a stick of gum, and handed it to Rome. “Here, it’s mint, if you chew this you won’t feel as sick, even though it’s all made up in your head. I’m Evangeline Bellamy. My brother is Eddie. Who are you?”

Bellamy was a common enough name in Eden. They were probably harmless. AJ looked at Rome and the way he was chewing the gum and not flinching away when the boy twin, Eddie, patted him on the back. This was not so bad. He overreacted, he often did. All this was was something new.

“I’m Ajax.”

“Yeah, OK, who are you?”

“I watch after Rome and his brother.”

“A babysitter? That’s very very sad and depressing, what are you, like 30?”

There was nothing he could do about kids being snotty towards him. He supposed that he should be more thankful that Rome and Valentine were so well-mannered and would never dream of mouthing off to an adult they didn’t know. AJ grimaced a smile and checked his communication device. The guy he had been talking to had messaged him back.

“Why do you need a babysitter, Rome?” asked Eddie. It seemed as though the greatest physical difference between him and his twin was that she stood straight and rigid, while his posture was hunched over and droopy. He kept his arms crossed over his chest like he was insecure. “That’s weird. We’re the same age, we’ve never needed someone to ride the train with us.”

“We’ve been riding the metro by ourselves since we were like, 9,” said Evangeline.

“My dad is overprotective,” lied Rome, a person who had hyperventilated and cried the last time he had tried to get on a train by himself. “He’s worried I might get hurt.”

>lee.harlan: How’s it going?

>lee.harlan: Come over to my place tonight?

His comm buzzed a 3rd time. Harlan had sent him a picture of himself with an obvious erection, only wearing underwear. The guy was clearly exaggerating about a couple things in his profile. AJ fumbled to swipe the picture away again.

It was better than nothing. A distraction from his life would make him happy, for a while. For a while he wouldn’t have to think about his mediocre grades, or worry about his mom.

>ajax.guttierez: Is 8 OK?

Harlan sent back a winky face and for the first time that day, AJ felt himself smile. Just a little. There was something silly about another adult man using emojis-- every other man in AJ’s life was so serious. He couldn’t imagine Mr. Prospas sending something like that, nor Ib or Scotty who were his own bodyguards. This was good. This guy was going to be good for him, just a shallow funny distraction.

Beside him, the Bellamy twins were talking excitedly to Rome about something or other and Rome didn’t look like he was about to stress-vomit for once-- but he wasn’t laughing or smiling either. Uncomfortable perhaps, but not scared. It was probably not great that the other kids moved so quickly and awkwardly, but at least they weren’t trying out more stupid karate moves. 

AJ cleared his throat. “You good, Rome? I gotta get going.”

“Why wouldn’t he be good?” demanded Evangeline Bellamy as she rummaged through her purse for a yellow scrunchie, with which she tied her hair out of her face. “Of course he’s good. Do you not think everything is good?” AJ smiled at her tightly.

Instead of using his words, Rome just gave a little shrug, which AJ took as a yes. He turned and left, heading for the elevators that would take him up towards the University floors. 

He just wanted to be done with college, with OK enough grades to get an OK job. Hopefully he would work for Prosperity. With all the ass-kissing he had done lately, he figured he deserved it.

On that thought, he dialed his boss’s number as he got on one of the elevators.

Richard Prospas picked up on the first ring. “Is everything OK?” he asked immediately without so much as a hello. He was intense and high-strung and plagued by migraines, which wasn’t the best temperament for a CEO of a large company to have. Ever since what had happened to Ben, he had been intensely concerned about the development of his younger two sons-- who were, as far as he was concerned, his only sons.

“Just checking in,” said AJ. “Rome just told me he hasn’t been doing his homework, do you know what’s up with that?” For a moment he felt guilty about betraying the confidence of a child who trusted him, especially since he knew Rome would get in trouble over it later. What were his priorities though? AJ cared about Rome’s wellbeing, he just cared about his own well-being and the well-being of his mother more. It was important that he continued to ingratiate himself with his boss so that he could move up in the company, so that he could make more money and receive more respect.

“Goddammit,” swore Prospas. “What is wrong with him? That means he lied to my face, you know. He told me he had finished everything this morning. What is wrong with him?”

“Maybe he needs to see a therapist. He makes himself freak out by overthinking and then--”

“He doesn’t need a fucking therapist, he needs to grow up and start being responsible. At this rate Valentine is more responsible than he is.”

“Oh, absolutely,” agreed AJ, groveling as usual. Valentine was not responsible at all, with his clinginess and his imaginary friends. “Absolutely.”

“He knows that he’s going to be in charge of the company when I retire. He needs to be working hard and making connections, not hiding in his room all day. I don’t understand him, I don’t understand him at all. That-- that funny wheezy breathing thing he does is going to drive me up a wall.  At this rate he’s going to be a piss-poor leader, if he runs my company into the ground I swear to God that I’ll force the Board to make his brother CEO.”

“I don’t think anyone is going to be good enough to fill your shoes, sir.”

“Thanks, AJ.” For a long minute, Prospas paused. Then he cleared his throat. “You know, your mother is really starting to freak me out with her religious shit. Last night she-- she has these fuckin’ cuts on her stomach. Is she doing alright? She’s not going to try to kill herself again, is she? I can’t deal with that any more, I just can’t. It was awful the last time. I couldn’t sleep at all, you gotta picture it, I would lie awake all night just terrified that she would slit her wrists or something.”

Air suddenly would not fill AJ’s lungs and images he had tried to forget flooded his mind. His left hand clenched into a fist.

“You there?” 

The elevator was not moving fast enough. AJ forced himself to suck in a breath. “She’s fine,” he said, keeping the anger and fear out of his voice. “That’s how-- you know about the Rift religion? They do that. Something about blood, I don’t know. It’s how they worship. She’s fine. She’s happy, I think the church gives her a sense of community. She keeps telling me about how happy she is.”

“Oh, good,” Prospas said absently. “Thanks.”

“Of course,” said AJ, thinking about how his mother had tried to overdose the day after that Prospas sent his father into an Agapama storehouse to get shot. AJ had been 16 years old, and so angry that he pulled a knife on him. Prospas had his own bodyguard Scotty hold AJ’s arms behind his back and then beat him with his blackthorn walking stick. The severity of the beating left him with a concussion that he had to go to the hospital for. The memories served as a reminder to never fight back. “Anything.”

“Remind me to give you some different work one of these days. You’re too good a worker to keep wasting on the kids.”

AJ’s heart fluttered and the bad memories were pushed to the back of his mind. The past didn’t matter. All that mattered was the future. His future.  “I-- I would really enjoy that,” he said.

“Really?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Great. Maybe you can help with some numbers that aren’t adding up, I’ll tell the guys. Look-- I have to go. I have a meeting with one of our suppliers. Great talking to you, Ajax.” And he hung up.

AJ realized that his hand was still clenched into a fist. The elevator dinged and he walked out into the University floors, absentmindedly scanning the ID chip in his wrist as he went.

When he did not know how to feel, he generally busied himself and pushed the emotional aspects of his mind to the side. He had things to study. He had a paper to finish. The things in his life were not all bad. The things that hurt him, the fears that always crept in could be put into boxes for him to deal with later. He didn’t know anything else.

What he did know was that he was going to go to town on Harlan that night. A welcome distraction.

KIP NGUYEN

(I DONT KNOW WHAT TO WRITE HERE. KIP IN THE LIBRARY, SPACING OUT)

“Who are you?” he demanded, preemptively defensive. It wasn’t fun to get caught spacing out, it always made him feel like he had done something wrong. “Do you need something?”

The girl didn’t jump back or flinch the way that people usually did when he moved too fast or talked too loud. There was something gently familiar about her, with her solid build and her broad face. She wore a faded sweatshirt and a pendant with a deity on it around her neck. She looked at him in a way he wasn’t used to and he couldn’t put his finger on what it was. “You OK?” she asked in the low, coarse tone of the Lower Levels.

The question was so preposterous that he was unable to contain his reaction and tried to make himself a threat by looming over her. The girl still didn’t flinch, she gazed calmly up at him.

“What?” exclaimed Kip, puffing out his chest. “What the fuck, man, don’t just ask strangers how they’re feeling. It’s not normal. What’s wrong with you?”

She put her hands up to placate him but didn’t appear to be mocking. Her brown eyes were unremarkable except for their steady kindness. “Sorry, you just don’t look so good. What’s so wrong with checking in?”

Kip glanced down at the girl’s religious necklace, then glared at her. He knew what those people were like. They could sense weakness and used that to their advantage when proselytizing people. The way that they had formed religious branches of social services sickened him-- didn’t they understand that nonreligious mutual aid programs already existed? A firm believer in Eden’s state atheism, he took pride in never having been inside of a church. 

“Do you need something from me?” he demanded. He took a step back to give her some space, disturbed that she had not been flustered by his posturing. People didn’t just come up and talk to him, and when they did they never stayed calm for long. “What do you want, huh?”

“Seriously? You don’t know who I am?”

“How would I know that?!”

“I’ve been going out with Esther Bellamy for two months. I know who you are, I know all about you.”

The ghost of a memory attempted to move through Kip’s synapses and failed. In a vague way, he knew about Esther’s girlfriend. He knew she had talked to him about her and he knew that she had shown him pictures of her on more than one occasion. But the fogginess that had been filling his brain since he woke up that morning prevented him from accessing this information.

He shook his head and then slapped his own face hard.

The girl finally flinched when she saw him hit himself. “Don’t do that, what’s wrong with you?”

Kip snapped his fingers. “No. Yes. Church. Rosie Church. Rosaline Church, yep, I got it. Shit. I know about you, my brain just doesn’t kick in until I get my morning, uh, coffee…”

Rosaline stared at him without saying anything. Her thick eyebrows were knitted together in an expression that was either confusion or worry. This was the same expression that well-meaning adults got, not other kids.

Anger flared in him. Who was this stranger to judge him, to worry about him? He was sick and tired of being worried for and over. There was nothing wrong with him. There had never been anything wrong with him. He was-- he was simply in an environment that was not conducive to his health. “Whatever. What do you want from me? Are you looking for Esther? She has therapy this morning, she’s not coming back to school until noon.”

“I know Esther is at therapy,” said Rosaline. “I talk to her. She’s my girlfriend. No-- look, I’m not trying to get into your business…”

“But clearly you’re about to anyway.”

Rosaline shrugged. “Esther cares about you and your sister a lot, I care about her. I think it’s pretty simple. Anyways, I was just wondering, do you know who your sister has been hanging out with over the last couple weeks?”

“Nobody. She doesn’t have friends.”

“Wow. That’s-- no.” Rosaline pushed her shaggy hair away from her forehead. “So, OK. There’s this girl named Ayda Jay in my cohort and she’s pretty much the worst person I’ve met in my life, I don’t know, it’s like she wants people to feel bad about themselves. She’s quiet but she’s always talking to this guy on her comm and lately she’s been talking about your sister. Like making fun of her and stuff.”

Unfortunately, this wasn’t anything new. Bullying wasn’t anything new. There had always been bullies. Kassidy was small and ugly and over-reacted to things, she was an easy target. When he could, Kip tried to protect her, especially when the bullying became physical. Hell, he had gone to Juvie because he had protected her in middle school back when Ben Prospas was picking on her. When he had seen that huge Artificial take his fat hand and shove his tiny sister down to the floor, something broke in Kip’s brain. He couldn’t even remember attacking Ben, it was like he had gone to sleep and then woke up in the Principal’s office getting screamed at by his mother. Compared to that, some girl making fun of Kassidy was nothing.

“Thanks,” said Kip in as mocking a voice as he could manage. Religious people were really too sensitive. “Really. I think Kassidy is tough enough to deal with some mean words.”

“You don’t get it. Ayda Jay is related to Casey Agapama somehow, I think they’re sisters or cousins. They live together, they hang out together. Your sister has been hanging out with Casey Agapama, man. I’d be worried if I were you.”

In his shock, Kip grabbed Rosaline by the shoulders with both hands and brought his face close to hers. Rosaline’s eyes widened, she grabbed one of his wrists and twisted it so hard that she flipped him around and wrenched his arm up behind his back. It hurt but Kip could not even think of the pain.

Casey Agapama.

He knew about Casey Agapama. Everyone did. Her rat bastard venture capitalist father was unspeakably wealthy due to the labor he exploited from his workers. People were terrified of Casey, they said that she was a sociopath. She didn’t so much get into fights as she did beat the crap out of other kids for no reason. People said that she had stabbed a teacher and gotten away with it. When she walked down the halls, everyone else got out of her way.

In 4 years of secondary education, Kip had only seen her once. She had shoved him out of his chair in the library while walking past him when he was 15. She hadn’t even looked at him, it was like she had done it out of pure boredom.

What was Kassidy doing around a girl like that? Surely even she wasn’t that stupid.

Rosaline released her grip on his arm. “Don’t just grab people like that. You scared me.”

“What the fuck?!” groaned Kip, rubbing his arm where Rosaline had twisted it. He was used to scuffling with people who were 30+ pounds lighter than him, not people who were sturdy like she was. “Jesus, fuck my tits, my sister is gonna get fucking killed!! That’s why she’s been messing with her hair and shit, like all that make-up shit, she’s trying to impress that freak!”

“Wow, you cuss more than anyone I’ve ever met,” said Rosaline. “ Maybe you should--”

“My sister is associating with someone who could rip her arms off and you’re telling me not to fucking cuss?!”

“No, I’m just making a comment, calm down.” Rosaline put her hands up, as if that was going to calm him. She was looking at Kip like she expected him to attack her now, and that was a look he was used to, a look that was worse than pity or concern. Dangerous. Bad. When people like Rosaline Church saw Kip, they did not see a well functioning member of society, they saw a dangerous individual who might hurt them. Kip did not want to hurt anyone, he knew his heart was gentle, but he could not help the way he talked or reacted to things. 

(I DONT KNOW HOW TO WRITE THE KIP/CASEY FIGHT THAT BRINGS EVERYONE TOGETHER)

[thesynthesist]

Put 2000 words into a reasonable second part last night. I wanted to get it finished but there are more words... Take part one in the mean time. If you don’t want to click through, read below the cut

Earth was not a place for impatience. It had been three days since Silas had made landfall after replying to the message he had received from what he assumed to be the only living relative of Dr. Hull, father of androids. Violet still had not contacted him again. What’s more, she wasn’t on the planetary network so there was nothing Silas could do but wait. He didn’t mind that. Earth was the cradle of human and AI civilization, and even so many years after humanity left for the stars, it was still considered a hub of culture for the solar system, if not the wider universe. Colourful buildings of stained glass solar panels and rugged biodegradable plastics sprouted from the ground wherever he looked. Wrapped in plant life that had evolved to tolerate co-habitation, it was beautiful. Here and there if you knew the right places to look, you could find houses from the old prefab subdivisions, with their brick walls and plastic sidings. Buildings older than that were rare and practically on the other side of the planet from where Silas had landed. It was a small thing to bridge that distance these days but he didn’t want to be far from his ship. Instead he was content to explore the immediate area and he was deciding whether or not he should sample some of the regions cuisine despite the fact it would force him to clean out his calorimeter, when a message popped up in the lower right of his vision.   Heard you were planet side, little bro. Let’s meet up. I’d rather not. Silas shot back the message with barely a thought, adding after a moment of consideration. I’m strictly here on business. And as if to back up his claim, he turned and went back to his ship. Suddenly, he had no desire to ingest anything at all. Sid showed up the next day while Silas was watching his mechanical fish. “Woah, you make these?” Silas sighed, “You know it’s rude to come onto someone’s ship without asking.” Sid slung an arm over Silas’s shoulder and Silas got a glimpse of his face int the reflection from the fish tank. The family relationship was strong by human standards. They had the same broad jaw, the same fine black hair -- though Sid’s was wild, and causally styled with gel while Silas kept his cropped to something a little more practical. As model mates they were based off the same base specs. There were plenty of members from their fabrication group, but Sid and Silas had been finished at around the same time near the end, and Sid had decided, not even an hour after he was operational, that Silas was his little brother and that nothing could break the bonds of family. Silas found it all very tiresome. “Well you weren’t coming to see me,” said Sid as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “So I had to come see you.” “I told you, I’m strictly here on business,” replied Silas. “It’s always business with you,” said Sid. “It wouldn’t kill you to loosen up. We’re series one, we’re practically human. Live a little! Even Series 4 get out more than you and they don’t have a social drive.” Silas set his mouth in a firm line and met Sid’s gaze in the glass, but he said nothing. Between his anxiety to make progress on his investigation to justify the time off, and Sid’s sudden appearance, his patience was wearing thin. They stared at each other like that, fish swimming behind their faces, until Sid raised his hands and took a step back. “Alright, I get it, I get it. It’s important stuff you’re working on. Big time shit. But I don’t want to hear about you burning out your circuits and having to be hauled off to a repair satellite ahead of schedule because you refuse to take some time off.” He closed his eyes, the pupils darting back rapidly beneath the surface. Silas found the display amateurish, with a little practice it was possible to run functional societal programming and searches at the same time. When Sid opened his eyes again he said, “Let’s try this. There’s a culture festival tomorrow in the next city over. I know you like that sort of thing so we should go. I’ll meet you outside at 10 in the morning, in case you decide to go. If you’re not out by 11, don’t worry I’ll see myself out.” Sid waved with forced cheer, and left. Silas watched his fashionably distressed clothing disappear in the reflection. He stared at the fish for a while before burying himself in auxiliary work for the rest of the day. Fielding small requests, connecting missed messages, digging up archival information. Most of it a faxi could have done without the help of a proper AI but it felt good to be busy. At midnight local time, his faxi politely reminded him that it would be beneficial to spend at least an hour at the recharging station. It wasn’t that he needed to sleep as such, but it was common practice for Series One to spend at least a few hours inactive to reduce wear on their joints and back up their memories. Begrudgingly, Silas agreed and plugging himself in, lowering his awareness to the most basic levels. He opted not to spend his time on the net or the local chat serves, and instead spent the time drifting. As usual, since his encounter, Silas found himself thinking about Ayoura. It had been shocking to learn that she had children, had a family. It had sent a thrill through Silas’s central processes. What Sid wanted was just make believe wasn’t it? Playing house like children, what Ayoura had was real, truly, painfully real. Sid hadn’t been far off when he said that they were practically human. All humans wanted a group to belong to, it only followed that the first series did too. Many of the same urges, the same feelings flowed through them, and so they had adopted the human model without a second thought, or when that was impossible just resigned themselves to having nothing. After all, everything else about Series One mimicked humans. Perhaps Sid was onto something. Despite all Silas’s companionship work, despite all the time he had spent with humans, he had never once considered how human concepts might related to himself. He had always held himself apart from them, but considered himself to be under the same psychological directives. He was Series One. Not quite human, but not quite robotic either. Series 4 were a complete mystery, and the other series only slightly less so. There was no place where he fit and understood so he had just adopted the best model that came along. The rage and bitterness that coloured many of Ayoura’s memories were beginning to make sense. He searched his personal database for the memories of Ayoura’s family. Not the one’s of her father, but the ones of her husband, and her children, loved with a fierceness that put a red super giant star to shame, even as they were stripped from her. Silas dwelled on that memory trying to understand. She hadn’t known her children, not really. They had been born as humans were, small and read and squalling.  That was the only way she had known them, hardly alive, hardly aware. In some sense what Sid had endeavored to create between the two of them was more real than that. There was no reason, Silas realized, he had to oust himself from things he could not emulate perfectly. Sometimes things had to be changed to make sense. At 10 AM local time, Silas stepped outside of his ship. Sid was already there waiting, dressed in what Silas assumed were his best clothes; if ripped red jeans and a sleeveless black turtleneck could be considered best. “You look like you’re dressed for a funeral,” he said. Silas looked down at his white suit. “Not appropriate?” “Dude. No.” Side Ushered Silas back into the ship and made a beeline for his room. “Don’t you have something a little more casual?” Silas watched helplessly as Sid ransacked his wall closet, flipping through the clothes with practiced ease. He pulled out a pair of grey cargo pants and an olive drab tank top from the back triumphantly and held them up. “That’s just for ship wear,” Silas protested. “Hush, it’s very casual military chic, I like it,” said Sid, completely ignoring the look Silas was giving him. “Not quite as bright as most people will be wearing but it’ll do.” He draped the clothes over Silas’s shoulder and clapped him on the back. “Well, get dressed.” “You are incredibly meddlesome,” said Silas, loosening his tie. “And you’re a stick in the mud in public,” Sid replied fondly as he left the room. Silas changed quickly, slipping on the clothing with practiced ease. The fabric was soft from use, but thankfully unstained and therefore met the very minimum requirements of presentation. He tried to ease the tension in his shoulders as he made final adjustments. It seemed despite his revelation in the early hours of the morning, the adjustment wasn’t going to be as easy as he thought. Sid made it look easy. The crowd practically parted as he led the way off the ship, down the street, onto the train and to the festival. He smiled at everyone, and seemed completely at ease, introducing Silas to strangers that he admitted he didn’t know. Silas was tired by the time they arrived, but the air of the festival soon revitalized him. It was already in full swing and everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves. It wasn’t a human only affair either. They passed the brightly coloured and patterned chassis of the second and third series. There were even a few multi-limbed inhuman planned, series four in the throng. The miniserver for the neighborhood was awash with talk of events and merchandise. The excitement was palpable. “There are so many people here,” remarked Silas when they stopped for a moment to watch someone swallow a sword. He claimed to be all organic, and Silas knew it was possible, but it was still a sight verging on miraculous. Sid laughed, “It’s nice to have your boots on the ground eh? You spend so much time on those corporate ships and security tours of yours. Come on, we’ve got more to see.” Silas let Sid lead him through the blur of novelty. There were street musicians, contact jugglers, dancing and the smells of food Silas couldn’t name. It was overwhelming. It was amazing. They stopped at anything that caught Silas’s eye, Sid offering a running commentary. It wasn’t particularly illuminating but it was still, somehow, nice. “Consider,” said Sid, handing Silas an iced treat made of what seemed to be seaweed and avocado, “you would have let all this pass you by holed up in that ship of yours.” “Consider,” replied Silas, “you’d get more work done if you let a little bit more pass you by.” “Touche.” Silas tried a spoonful of his treat. The flavor and the chill sat heavily on his tongue but not unpleasantly. Belayed by the creamy texture it tasted the way reentering orbit felt. It left an earthy taste on his tongue when it was gone, and a surprisingly empty feeling feeling in his mouth. He had some more. “What’s this?” “Ocean ice,” said Sid. “most humans don’t like it. Says it tastes like the ass end of a fishing trawler but some like it, and it’s popular among the first and second series.” “Not Series three?” asked Silas. He didn’t know much about the other series besides the basics. In the small microcosms he inhabited they were usually far away from him or perpetually busy. Sid stirred his Ocean ice contemplatively, turning it into a thick slurry. “They’re wired to detect chemicals so they don’t tend to eat a lot of human food.” “We go more for galactic ice, it tastes like cyanide and motor oil.” Silas looked over and found that they’d been joined by a stocky unit with patchwork synth skin in reds, yellows and oranges. Her hair was short, and so red it was almost brown. “Lee!” Sid swept her into a hug, which she endured patiently. When he finally released her, he turned. “Silas, this is my friend Auralie. Auralie, this is my brother Silas.” “Charmed,” said Silas, holding out his hand. Auralie looked at it for a moment before shaking it firmly. “You can just call me Lee,” she said. “Figured I’d just tell you now, since I can tell you’re one of the corporate types, not like this idiot.” She elbowed Sid, who beamed at the casual abuse. “He’s a walking disaster no matter where he is.” “Ouch! That hurt more than the elbow.” “Tough,” Lee grinned. “Anyways, someone said they saw Sid wandering around with his model mate who’s never been planet side proper before, so I came out as sort of a welcome committee.” “That’s very kind of you,” said Silas. “Don’t thank me yet, Proxy. By this time tomorrow you’re going to know what a hangover is.” Lee winked and spun around threading her way through the crowd with practiced ease. What’s a proxy? Silas asked, as he and Sid followed the rapidly disappearing bob cut into the crowd. Best not think to hard about it. Silas glanced over sharply at Sid but he wasn’t paying attention. Instead he looked like the proverbial cat, and Silas hoped, all things considered, this did not make him the proverbial canary. But no matter what happened Silas had the sinking feeling he was in for an experience.

[imaginetonyandbucky]

And Still, You’re Next To Me - Chapter 4/4

Once Bucky stopped freaking out about his relapse, he noticed the only one freaking out was him. No shrieks of horror from the civilians, no glares from the Avengers…Wanda was even smiling at him for fuck’s sake! He knew the Soldier wouldn’t listen to that agent, no matter how many trigger words he had in store for them. Murder’s just not in his nature anymore. He knew, but still freaked about it because in all honesty, he expected Clint to riddle him with arrows the second he snapped into the Soldier.

And then there was Tony, who witnessed the Soldier in his new element many times by now and wasn’t fazed by him coming to the surface at all.

So it took a failed HYDRA attack for Bucky to realize a lot of…interesting things. Concerning Tony. He can’t sleep through the entire night after the attack, mulling over the revelation and devising his next move.

The Avengers beat him to it during breakfast.

Steve approaches him first, apologizing for not supporting him more in the past few months.

Being half-way through his sandwich, he doesn’t really know what to say, completely caught off guard by his absolutely devastated looking best friend so he just nods and waves him off.

“S’not a big deal.”

“Yes it is!” he widens his eyes and keeps apologizing for the remainder of his meal until Bucky finally persuades him it’s fine and forgiven.

Because it is. Since Tony subtly inserted himself in between him and the Avengers’ bullshit – quite literally like a knight in the shining armor – Bucky decided not to dwell too much on it anymore. Of course it hurt. And it was so unfair on so many levels. But with Tony in charge of damage control, the Avengers were slowly coming around and he also shifted his demeanor onto the positive side as a result.

Natasha whips around the corner at one point, giving him a challenging look. “I was a real bitch to you. Wanna spar after lunch and kick my ass for it?”

“Uh…,” he frowns and her look intensifies a hundred fold which is just damn scary. “Yeah, sure.

“Cool,” she nods in approval and disappears again.

One by one, the other members approach him to say sorry – each in their own specific way. Except for Wanda, who is probably not in the apologizing stage quite yet, but at least she’s not all up in his business anymore.

And then there’s Clint, who mandrops on him from the vent in the hallway leading to the elevator some time later.

“Yo, Barnes!”

He’s lucky Bucky doesn’t scare easily these days. No need to let him know that he caught him completely by surprise though. God forbid he’d grow an ego. “Lemme guess. You wanna say sorry by…challenging me to a cook off. Oh wait, no. That was Vision. So, what are we gon’ do?”

Clint’s the surprised one now. He takes a step back and squints. “Guess I’m the last one, huh? Well, I was thinking I’d take you on a tour de Compound, show you all the secret paths and hideaways so we could do some serious spy off later…while profusely apologizing.”

“Sounds like a plan,” he grins at the archer and takes a step forward, but Clint blocks his way.

“Great! So in the spirit of apologizing, you might wanna know that Tony is in the workshop…as usual.”

“O…kay? Why are you - ”

“He’s in the lockdown mode…meaning that he won’t be coming up anytime soon and nobody’s making it past the doors inside either. Unless you know the supersecret password of course,” he smirks. “Which I can tell you.”

“Becaaause…?”

“Because you were heading there anyway? And because he only ever goes into lockdown mode if he’s either in the middle of a scientific breakthrough, or in the middle of a personal crises. My money’s on the second one this time. So you might wanna go…lift his spirits.”

Oh. Who knew Birdbrain - as Tony so loves to call him - was this insightful? He actually thought Hawkeye doesn’t even like Tony very much, and yet…

“Dinner would…lift his spirits. Or a movie night. He likes movies. Especially bad sci-fi ones, those entertain him to no end.”

“Uh, a’right? Why would I - ”

“Because I’m not blind? And only half-deaf, so make a move, Snowflake, before he either drowns in self-doubt, again, or someone else will. Make a move. If you know what I mean.”

Maybe too insightful, for Bucky’s liking. “Okay, fine, give me the damn password, Birdbrain.”

Clint’s shit-eating grin as he tells him the password is probably going to stick for days, that’s how strong it is. But Bucky can wipe if off for him later when he totally owns him in the spy off.

He’s got a date to plan and a man to dig out of a workshop first.

(read-more ahead!)

“This doesn’t look right, DUM-E,” Tony inspects the bot’s handy work. How hard can it be to sort the tools in alphabetical order?! In DUM-E’s case real damn hard apparently, otherwise the welding stuff wouldn’t be put first and the hammer wouldn’t be all the way over there with the screwdrivers. “Wh…why is U and Butterfingers in here too?!”

DUM-E, the little shit that he is, just beeps happily and considers his work done, rolling away from the scene. 

“We’ll be talking about that later young man! You can’t think of your brothers as t - ” he yells after him, but cuts himself off as soon as he spots one very much present Bucky Barnes sitting on the table opposite of the workbench. “Tools. And we’ll be going over your alphabet! You little…should have left you in the Tower,” he mumbles when the only reply he gets is another happy beep that seems to be aimed at Bucky anyway. “How did you get in here?” he looks between the definitely password protected entrance and the…grinning supersoldier. Nope, he’s beaming. He’s been smiling more lately but this is…a suspicious increase by a ton.

He looks happy. And hell if that sight doesn’t do weird things to Tony’s brain.

“Through the door,” he answers, grin widening.

Tony glares at him, folding his hands. “It’s password protected!”

“Yeah,” he nods, still smiling. “One, two, three, four, five is a real good password.”

Son of a…okay, the password is the worst but he didn’t expect the tech illiterates here to crack it and anyone with any tech knowledge would never guess his password to be this shitty.

“Clint gave it to me. I bet he’s spied it off from the AC vent over there.”

“Son of a bitch!” he grumbles out loud this time. Usually, he would go inspect the vent…and rig it with deadly explosives, and then have Fry change the password to something more formidable this time around, but he can’t tear his eyes off of the man in front of him. “What’s with the…,” he waves a hand at the whole of him, realizing he doesn’t know how to describe what he’s seeing. It’s a bit weird to ask ‘oh hey, why are you looking so damn happy?!’. And what the hell is he wearing?! A beige shirt?! Since when does he own colors other than black?! And those jeans he totally got from whoever Steve stole his pair of the all too fitting ones years ago. What’s with supersoldiers never wearing their actual clothing size?!

He’s dressed to kill. Not the assassin kinda killing.

“All the…what?” he smirks and that’s it.

That’s the end of Tony, right there. “The uh…you’re…smiling. Like…a lot,” he stutters out, willing his thoughts to behave.

“Had a good day. A really good day,” he adds.

“Yeah?”

“Uh huh,” he hums an octave lower than should be legal and continues to just stare at Tony. “Had five club sandwiches for breakfast along with seven heartfelt apologies from the team and then Wanda took me shoppin’. And didn’t kill me on the way there or back so yeah, that’s my definition of a really good day.”

Tony’s brain takes a minute to stop conjuring dirty thoughts and then processes what he’s just said. “Wait…apologies? They apologized? The team?” he shakes his head, holding a finger up. “No no no, never mind that, but Wanda took you shopping?!” he blurts out and Bucky nods. “Wanda…are we talking about the same Wanda? Are you sure? You’re not hallucinating or anything?” he asks but the man only gives him more nods and wider damn smirks. “Am I hallucinating? Or drunk?”

“Your haven’t drunk anything, boss,” FRIDAY reassures him. “Including water, by the way. And I can confirm that Sergeant Barnes did actually go shopping with Ms. Maximoff. Without any incidents.”

So if he’s not drunk or losing his mind…that means the Avengers really did apologize to Bucky and Wanda took him shopping…what?!

He decides solving the mystery behind those actions is not the priority right now and focuses on the result instead. The happy, grinning result standing just over there and looking at Tony like he’s the Sun and Bucky’s the Winter and he can’t get enough of the warmth.

Yep, his brain is so done for. 

He relaxes his tense posture and slowly cracks a smile of his own. “Wow…was about time they got their heads out of their asses. You better not be letting them off too easily, especially the SHIELD twins.”

“Nah,” he shakes his head. “I’m happy with the way it turned out…no vengeful thoughts in mind. Yet,” he shrugs. “Besides, I’m gonna be too busy anyway.”

“Busy?” he tilts his head to the side, eyebrows raised. Busy doing what, looking like a new deadly sin?

“Yeah. Busy inviting a guy to dinner to thank him…for a lotta things.”

“Oh?” Oh…okay, sure. A thank-you dinner. Awesome. Very…friendly. And appropriate. And is it too late to fly into a black hole in the sky and disappear forever? He hopes not.

“And when the thank you’s part is done, I’m thinkin’ we forget the food and just…make out. Hoping the Soldier won’t go berserk because of the spaghetti he’s made are going cold in the background,” he says with a flare of confidence Tony didn’t think he possessed.

“Oh really? S’what you’re thinking?” he asks, trying to look and sound uninterested but failing miserably. He can’t stop the excitement and he can’t stop the smile.

“Unless I got this all wrong…me and the whole team, by the way…then yeah. That’s what I’m thinkin’.”

Tony’s brain snaps back into action and with one swift motion to the side of the workbench, he shuts down the project he’s been pretending to work on through the night. “Why don’t we forget the thank you part and just make out on the way up to the kitchen and eat? Wouldn’t wanna make the Soldier angry, would we?”

“That’s a great idea,” he chuckles, leaning away from the table.

Tony walks up to him with a smirk and winks. “Been full of great ideas lately.”

“Yeah, you have,” Bucky’s grin eases into a gentle smile and it’s the final thing that wipes all the fears and doubts away from Tony’s mind.

They move in for the kiss and Tony has to quickly forget about the damn Birdbrain, who he’s gonna have to thank for all this later. And then promptly kill him for spying on people from the vents.

But for now, he’ll enjoy the moment, the kiss, the dinner and the man whose smile is definitely gonna be the death of him.

~Fin

[composereggwrites]

Featherfall

Fandom: Twewy

Rating: T

Word count: 1405

Characters: Joshua, Neku

Additional: Hurt/comfort, panic attacks, molting, immature jokes, let friends be sensual gdi

Feathers drift through the air, suspended in space, some fluttering their way to the ground.

The apartment is filled with them, scattered everywhere. Opening the door kicks them up, and they resume their lazy drifting.

“Okay, what’s up? It looks like you killed a dozen swans for their feathers in here.”

Joshua glances at Neku, and in the most petulant voice, says, “Save me, I’m molting.”

AO3 or below!

(Come hang out in my TWEWY discord!)

Feathers drift through the air, suspended in space, some fluttering their way to the ground.

The apartment is filled with them, scattered everywhere. Opening the door kicks them up, and they resume their lazy drifting.

Neku steps into Joshua’s place, tiptoeing around the mess.

“Josh, where are you?” he calls out, to receive a grunt in reply from the bedroom.

Unease settles in his stomach like a wad of cotton drenched in mucus.

Feathers are part of Joshua’s wings. His wings contain the essence of his Soul. Neku doesn’t know much, but he figures losing this much of your Soul isn’t good for anyone. He imagines it feels strained and pulled apart and incomplete, like if he lost his headphones, or his dominant hand.

Opening the door to Joshua’s room, he expects to find disaster, an injured friend, blood and guts or static bleeding from a wound.

Instead, he finds Joshua curled up in bed on his stomach, wings splayed out and hands clenching at his head, but otherwise fine.

“Okay, what’s up? It looks like you killed a dozen swans for their feathers in here.”

Joshua glances at Neku, and in the most petulant voice, says, “Save me, I’m molting.”

Neku snorts. “So you didn’t kill any birds then?”

A pillow hits him in the head. “I’m serious, this is awful. It’s itchy and painful and I can’t even scratch it because it’s metaphysical. Have you ever had your Soul itch? It’s not fun!”

Minding the wings, Neku plops down on the edge of the bed, expression softening. “Is there any way I can help?”

Silence falls, and for a moment Neku thinks he’s made a misstep, but before he can panic and apologize, Joshua sighs. “If you want, you can brush through my wings. Pluck the loose feathers.”

Neku swings himself up onto the bed further, settling with one wing over his lap as he starts to comb through it with his fingers. A cut-off whimper almost makes him stop when he plucks the first feather, but Josh waves him on.

“It hurts, but it’s like pulling a loose tooth. Stops the prolonged pain.”

He’s not sure what he was expecting under the white fluff, but when he sees the same black iron-wrought wings Reapers have, it’s unsurprising. What does surprise him is the thin, shimmering coating encasing the entire wing, a filmy skin, translucent creamy-white and humming.

It’s Joshua’s Music. The realization strikes him, but he keeps himself from recoiling at the thought. The hum vibrating throughout is his Music, and the translucent material is his Soul.

With steady hands, he runs his fingers through again, and presses down deeper at a bald spot. It’s digging into silly putty, surface unbreaking but moldable, and while the current buzzes under his fingers, Joshua melts.

The groan he makes freezes him, before he realizes it wasn’t out of pain, but relief. Aloe on a sunburn relief.

“Do that again. That felt good.”

Neku laughs, but complies, taking his time as he gives the wing a light massage. “You’re so needy.”

“You try molting sometime. Get a taste of this horrific pain, if you think it’s not that bad.”

“Nah, I’m good. I can see how grouchy it makes you. Mr. Grinch levels of grouch over here, no happiness allowed, huh?”

“You know, you shouldn’t be rude to someone who’s--” Joshua’s voice cuts off as Neku scratches near the base of the wing, sticking in his throat.

“Mm, there. That’s good.”

Neku scratches again, rolling his eyes as Josh moans. “Do you have to make those noises?”

“Embarrassed, dear? Nobody can hear us, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“Dude, no!” He swats Josh’s head as they both laugh. “You just had to go there, didn’t you?”

“Where else am I supposed to go? I mean, you’re clearly helping me out with my problem.”

“I could stop, you know. I could stop and leave you itchy and miserable,” he says. The menace he’s aiming for is broken by his stifled chuckling.

“Rude. It’s always less satisfying to take care of such things by yourself,” Joshua says, deadpan, with no cracks in his facade.

“Oh my god, fuck you!” he says, realizing his mistake a second too late.

“I wasn’t aware you were into necrophilia, dear,” comes the lilting reply.

“I’m getting a divorce. I’m divorcing you over that joke.”

“We aren’t even dating.”

“A friend divorce, because you’re awful.”

Josh bursts, laughing hard enough to shake the bed, and Neku yelps when he suddenly flops over, draping his other wing over Neku’s lap.

He gets back to work as Josh’s laughter dies down, giving attention to the new wing.

“If I’m really that awful, you should’ve shot me when you had the chance.”

The wire snaps. Ice shards slice through his veins, cutting through his skin, cutting to the core. Time is fake and it burns at his brain. A gun is in his hands and the metal bites, the bullet bites, the countdown pounds against his skull. There’s red and dull violet eyes and cold concrete beneath his head and red, red, so much red--

A shriek stabs his ears, piercing through the liquid clog of fear. There’s a voice speaking to him, he realizes.

“--ku, Neku, breathe. Deep breathes, in and out, breathe.Yeah, yeah good--Like that. Slow, in through your nose. I’m sorry, shouldn’t have made that joke. Breathe out now. Everything’s fine, we’re at my place, not back in the Room of Reckoning. Deep breathe in, maybe unclench your hands? Good, thanks. Okay, breathe out. I’m going to count for you, five in eight out, okay? One, two, three, four, five...”

He listens to Josh’s commands, and the fuzz starts to clear, sight sharpening into solid pictures. Brain static fades as his hands relax. He lets Josh’s voice wash over him, quelling the panic, stormy waters turning calm. Simple numbers, simple instructions.

The eyes in front of him are brilliant, sparkling, nothing like the dead ones in his memory.

He doesn’t know how much time passes before Josh breaks from the counting, but when he does, it’s to say, “Okay, feeling better?”

Neku nods. His head is still stuffed with cotton, but there’s less, thought processing is back online, and with that-- “Did you just Imprint me?”

“You were having a panic attack, what else was I supposed to do? Let you freak out forever?”

Which, okay, fair. “You could’ve not made that joke,” he hisses, but there’s no venom in his bite. Josh is Josh, he says stuff like this, Neku thought he was used to it. He’s joked like that before himself, it shouldn’t bother him anymore. It shouldn’t freak him out like that.

“Yeah, I didn’t think before I spoke, sorry.”

“It’s… I’ll be fine. Thanks for talking me through it.” The tunnel vision hasn’t  gone away yet, but sensation is trickling back. He doesn’t mention Joshua’s hand in his hair, doesn’t know how to put it into words yet.

“Least I could do. You should… You should rest, though, you’re probably tired.” He is, and once Josh says it, it hits him with the force of a tidal wave, crashing down on him until he collapses, laying sideways.

“I’ll still be here when you wake up, so sleep.”

Neku listens.

The pain in Joshua’s wings has faded, but an ache still pulses.

The fact that Neku is asleep, head in his lap, soothes his Soul, ruffled feathers healing back to normal. He should’ve known better than to make that joke, with Neku’s hand in his wing.

Around Neku, Joshua forgets that he’s dangerous. Forgets that normal people shouldn’t be able to touch his wings at all. Shouldn’t be able to hold up against the pure, unfiltered power of his Soul.

Neku is special, but even he can’t withstand everything. A seawall can only withstand so much, a tall enough wave can overwhelm it. Negative reminders, with his Music amplifying the related emotions? Joshua is lucky he only ended up with a few broken feathers, and not a dead friend.

Joshua trusts Neku with his Soul, trusts that he can put himself at Neku’s complete mercy, but even if Neku makes him feel alive, he needs to remember that he isn’t.

He can play pretend, breath and warm his skin and eat, but at the end of the day, the falling feathers are the proof of his consequences.

[lukerhill]

How to stop {almost everything} from sliding around

Easy fixes to prevent (almost anything!) from sliding around in drawers, on the wall or on the floor! 

I have a thing with things that don't stay put. Containers sliding around in drawers, rugs that don't stay put, pictures that don't stay leaning like they should. 

At the least, it's just annoying. At the worst, like with rugs, it can be dangerous!

I have a few solutions that have worked SO well for us over the years. These work for items that lay flat and slide around, like in a kitchen drawer, and decorative items that you want to stay where they are on a shelf or leaning against a wall. 

My first item is one I just recently discovered...

Museum gel/putty to prevent sliding

If you live in an area that is more prone to earthquakes, you've probably heard of this one. 

I LOVE having our new cabinet drawers in the mud room for tons of storage. They are one of the best additions I've made to our house. 

But it was driving me a little crazy that these plastic organizing bins would slide around EVERY time we opened a drawer: 

This post may contain affiliate links for your convenience. 

See my policies and disclosure page for more information. 

I added a drawer liner thinking that would help. Nope. The drawer liner and the bins would still slide around every time we pulled out a drawer. 

Then I added little dabs of hot glue under the liner thinking that would help. NOPE. That stopped the liner from sliding but the bins didn't. 😂

It's not a big thing, obviously. I mean...this is small in the scheme of life. But it drove me batty. 

This cool museum gel came to the rescue: 

I got the clear because of our (mostly) clear bins for the drawers. It also comes in a putty color as well. 

It's actually quite cool -- it levels out on it's own and is SO clear, it looks like water: 

You'll need to dig some of the gel out and roll it up into smaller parts: 

My lighter bins didn't take much, the bigger ones need a few more or bigger pieces of this gel.

It's not super sticky, so you'll have to do your best to get it under your item because it doesn't really attach at first, at least to the plastic bins. Press down and wiggle a bit to make sure the gel sticks well.

After it is touching the two surfaces it really grabs on. Helloooo...no sliding! I love it!: 

This museum gel is so interesting to me...it helps to secure breakables in areas that experience earthquakes.

I love the ingenuity!

It isn't oily at all and doesn't leave marks on your furniture. 

It's washable and reusable! 

It can't be used for vertical items, as it would just start to slide down. (More on that solution in a minute!) 

What a GREAT idea to secure decor if you have rambunctious cats! If you know you know! ;) 

I also hear it's great for items in RVs. So smart.

We have soft close drawers in the kitchen and bathrooms, but the items inside would still slide back every time we used a drawer. 

This museum gel works great on smaller/lighter weight items: 

And heavier containers like our utensil organizer in the kitchen:  

Rug grippers for hard floors

If you have rugs on any kind of hard floor, you know the terrifying feeling when you catch one just right and start sliding. 😂

I used to only use rug pads, but found over the years that they didn't really secure the rugs like I wanted. They would still slide all over, especially on tile. And those pads are not cheap! 

I tried this rug tape, and it always worked well at the beginning, but would start to fail the longer we had it down. 

I decided to give these corner rug grippers a try a year or so ago and they work SO well: 

They are the best solution I've found to keep rugs in place on hard floors. They're shaped with angled ends to fit right into the corner -- one on each side. Keep in mind that you'll want two for each corner if you plan to try these!

Because they are made for the corners, the rug won't curl up there, which is always the most annoying part. 

Pros and cons of these sticky rug grippers: 

These grippers are reusable -- you're supposed to be able to rinse them and reapply. (We haven't done that yet.)

If you need to clean your rug or the floor underneath, it's best to remove them slowly from both your rugs and flooring. 

These are definitely best for hard floors like tile, vinyl or hardwoods. I don't think they would work well on carpet. (Maybe a very low pile.)

I've used them for both thick rugs and very thin ones like the family room rug I have pictured here. They work great on both!

If you wash your rugs often I don't think these would be the best option, it just depends on how often you'd pull them up. (I clean our rugs a couple times a year and can do most without pulling them up.) 

Art putty for securing frames and art

Looking for a vertical solution? Our leaning frames on my DIY picture ledges stay put just fine if they aren't touched. ;) But we've had a couple fall when someone runs by or hits the wall.

This solution is as easy as the clear gel, but this one works on walls instead. I used to use this same stuff for my posters back in college!

This mounting putty is strong stuff -- you hardly need any: 

I just put a little dab behind the frame and lightly press it into the wall. They won't budge unless you make them! It's super simple to remove though. 

This putty is also great to "permanently" straighten art that won't stay level. 

When I used this on posters years ago, sometimes it would leave an oily mark on the walls, Now I don't notice that at all. I think if there were going to be issues with that, it would be on a flat finish paint. 

Also, make sure your wall paint has cured before using this mounting putty!

How to prevent sliding couch cushions

Man, this one used to drive me especially crazy! If your sofa or chair cushions constantly slide out, the solution is SO simple!: 

Yes, I use rug pads for the couch instead of under the rugs. ;) We're all messed up over here. 

But it works! And you don't need a huge piece -- you can easily cut them to the size you need. It's an easy fix and instantly keeps your cushions from sliding all over. 

Have you tried any of these tricks to keep things from sliding all over? I hope these help if you're bugged as much as I am by things moving around. 😀 They're all affordable and only take a few minutes to apply or install. 

By the way, sometimes you want things to slide easier...our rattan baskets used to scratch up the shelves and built ins until I starting to cover the bottoms of the baskets: 

They slide like buttah now. :) 

I also shared this easy trick that allows us to slide our DIY shoe bins in and out from underneath our mud room cubbies: 

See more of our home and shop items in each room here.

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[hidehidehideho]

Everything About Botanica

So, if it isn’t obvious, I haven’t been keeping up to date with my blog. I guess that I felt I was more focussed on my studio class and how that has affected me. With the Grad show, the works I’m trying to make and the personal developments and reflections I have been doing that have stemmed from deep and heavy conversations from that particular class, I haven’t really been considering this project. A lot has happened this semester, its been crazy and at this point, I just want to finish. 

But I want to talk about everything that has occurred with this project, my personal feelings, the good and the bad and how things have been resolved-- just everything. The previous posts were just details about our work and where different ideas came from, the artists that we have looked out an dhow our idea has taken form. But this post will dive into the nitty gritty. 

The idea of having an interesting and though provoking work in a highly engaged festival really excited me!! I was keen on the idea of creating something that challenged my current practice and help me grow. As well as that, it would be pretty cool to have this festival attached to my CV as I feel that i am lacking in my artistic endeavours currently. Just something to keep me going and allow for me to attain new skills. I was keen to collaborate with out people genuinely. However, I feel that i was drawn such a short stick. 

The first group I had, during the first 3-4 weeks when we ere doing readings was okay I liked the other visual artist and we’ve become good friends now. The other two in my group were dancers and although they were okay, I didn't like their superficialness. I know it’s unfair to say i don’t like something abut a person when we are brought together to collaborate on a work, and have to navigate ourselves to create something together, but I felt that things were so surface level and that there was a clash of personalities. I guess basically, there were comments made that I didn’t like. They were unfair things. It was really petty stuff and I had hoped form there I could be transferred into another group that would be better streamlined. But it just got worse. I really don’t and didn’t like the current group I am in. Environmentalism was my last or second last option and yet this was the group i was put in. I felt that the splitting up was redundant and that there was no consideration at all. I get the encouragement of cross disciplinary connections and ideas however there was a level of unfairness. 

I truly have no idea on how we came to the current idea that we have. I don’t really like the idea that much and I feel that it was born through our divergence of ideas and lack of communication. I really don’t remember the idea ever being discussed until it was pushed to the point it was something we had to settle on. 

I felt that there was no streamlining in the group at all. And there was no willingness to try new things. There were clashes int eh group. There seemed ot be an elitism within my group and I felt that i was on the bottom of it. Why? Maybe because of my degree, maybe its because of our privileges but it was just because of our different ideas. It felt a lot different than that. My parts got cut out, i was ignored for quite a while and because of that, i immediately checked out half way through this project. If I am honest with you, I absolutely hated this project and felt that there was no support whatsoever. i can’t deny that also falls on my lack of reaching out for help, but I don’t want to be reduced to overthinking or making things into something that aren’t. i remember when I had to make time to back to my hometown and telling my mother about my internals tress about the project and how i felt so sick and anxious. I talked through how things were going and she said “Darcy you should tell you project manager, it’s real what you’re feeling, say something!” and i just couldn’t. I felt that I had no support. I felt that what i was feeling wasn’t real or didn’t matter. I felt constantly invalidated. “Oh you’re just making it into something its not. Oaky then. Its fine. it doesn’t matter. 

I dreaded coming to class every week. i didn’t like the way it was managed. One week I had (for lack of better word) a panic attack and didn’t go, just went to the city instead to have some time for myself. I haven’t had one of those kinds of days since high school. I acknowledge that it could’ve been other things and i could’ve said something but  i will not go through finding the courage to say something to then be invalidated. I guess an answer to that is “well this is how collaborative work normally is” and I disagree with that in . the creative field. I can choose who i want to collaborate with and what were going to collaborate on. Its different in a business setting and sure, its something that you just have to deal with but feel that the response is lazy and weak. If there is no balance then there is no positive outcome. 

Whilst I didn’t mind one of my the members, I felt that there was a lack of work ethic. I genuinely think that two members did a really good job on staying on top of things and Im thankful that they picked up in areas I did not. My work ethic slacked too with this class. I was more concerned about my studio class. But as much as I hated it, I at least tried to sort myself out so that the others could manage what they had to as well. The other two members didn’t have  much that they had to do but were quite lazy and left things very last minute. Myself and the first two members didn’t appreciate that as it was a group effort .This is a small gripe, but I will admit that. But it is important to note it as a part of the overall process i guess. 

We tolerated each other. Barely sometimes. There was a lack of communication in our group. I came to a point where I did not care at all and just did what I had to do. Personalities clashed. There were many passive aggressive message sin our group chat. Even in person. There were times where I, or another member, had to become stern to keep us on track with out idea, to try and keep it simple and not overcomplicate our final product. A particular member was adamant on having a dance performance included so we had to work around them. I know nothing about dance, so you know, it was a learning point. What I couldn’t stand was the unwillingness to learn new things, to integrate themselves into something that is out of their comfort zone. That we, as a group, had to make space for her because she couldn’t have a dance showcase. that she tried to leverage her privilege with complaining about minuscule things that have no effect on er life whatsoever but to come across as someone that was struggling. is this a personal dig? yeah, it looks like it is. But it’s so infuriating to be talked down to. 

This sounds like it’s getting personal, doesn’t it? To be completely honest with you, I think it was. That we all knew that we didn't really like each other but we had to make something to pass. There was the collaborative work, but here was the underlining intolerance. 

So how was all this resolved on my end? Well, I just took a step back and did what i needed to do. The ignorance and invalidation irritated me, so i just focussed on my efforts with the work. Did what I could when l could. if there was anything I did enjoy was the feedback that our idea had received during the first and second presentation since it was something that made me consider art again. I didn’t feel like I was making art anymore, it felt like I had to just bite my tongue and hope that the weeks fly by. And that was something I hated, that I didn’t enjoy this as much as I wanted to because it felt more personal. Something was not sitting with me right.

But what have i learned from this? Aside from the personal stuff, there were many things that i had learned, especially about the gardens. I was really interested in hearing about the meticulous management of the gardens, its history, the Indigenous connection to land (wish there was more of an emphasis on this), and even learning about spatial works too. It’s always really exciting daydreaming about making a work to be interacted with by the public in a way that is completely different than white-cube space interaction. I think even working through the technical trials and tribulations and having points that we didn’t think of being brought up was something that i enjoyed too. Much like how in a previous post, an audience member brought up the visual readings of our proposed idea. That was something that always excites me because it’s a point of reconfiguring a smaller aspect to make sure the idea as a whole is strong and clear. The art process taught me a lot in that large projects require a lot planning and fine-tuning so that the work is refined. We didn’t go through many issues with our proposed idea, it was pretty steady and straightforward. We knew to donate the clothes after we used them for our work and repurpose the frames or give them way to be recycled. The idea was straightforward, even with the tweaks and critique that was brought up. It’s hard with clothes since they’re complicated materials however, the research expands our options on keeping with our environmental theme. It was a simple fix, really. It went smoothly with the work, but underneath it didn’t feel so smooth at all. 

I guess personally, I resented this class because of the lack of support. I wasn’t being heard or acknowledged. The collaboration, on the surface, looked fine. But underneath it was all just a tension in the room that we quietly overlooked. At the time I checked out, it just became a waiting game. I can understand that it’s difficult managing a project like this under the constraints that we, as a whole, were going through. Working with other is always an interesting experience but this felt like btichfest that I didn’t want to be a part of. In the end, whilst there were smalls things that i enjoyed, I’m more glad it’s over. 

[sceawere]

another time pt. 8 | alfie solomons

[PART ONE] [PART TWO] [PART THREE] [PART FOUR] [PART FIVE] [PART SIX] [PART SEVEN] 

The curtain rings screeched along the rail as they were flung apart.

“Up and at ‘em, there’s a good girl!”

You moaned and mumbled a garbled message into the pillow, scrunching yourself up in the bed.

“What was that?”

You sighed and pushed yourself up from the bed, rising to your knees.

“I said – ‘stop calling me girl’, Alfie!” you turned your head over your shoulder to where he was leaning on the doorframe. He lifted his arm, resting his forearm against the wood and staring back at you blankly.

“Would you like breakfast before work?” the chain on his wrist jangled as he flicked his hand in the air.

You scowled and crawled to the edge of the bed. The quilt tangled around your ankle and you flopped to your side in your sleepy state.

“Yes…I would. Thank you”

“Alright, what would you like?”

“I would like…toast. Please” you mumbled back, wiping at your eye, confused at what was happening.

“Toast. Right” he reached out for the door handle and pulled it closed behind him, leaving you squinting on the bed.

-

“Well, good morning”

“Toby, piss off. There’s a good lad. Aaron!” Alfie bellowed, making you drop your head and laugh. Toby immediately turned back to the group of men he’d been talking with. You kept stride with Alfie, heels clacking on the damp floor as you progressed through the warehouse. Your hands were deep in the pockets of the coat you’d been re-united with, keeping the swirling chill at bay.

“You really work in a shadowy bad-guy dungeon? Really, Alfred?” you lifted your head as he paused to unlock a door, turning his head to you slightly. He stepped in without replying.

“I hope I’m not going to be stuck down here” you snarked after him, hovering in the doorway.

Aaron gave you a side glance as he passed, following Alfie into the office.

“You need me boss?” he pulled one hand from his pocket, throwing a thumb over his shoulder “or should I go fetch one of the other dungeon men?”

You rolled your eyes, moving into the office as well.

“Don’t be bitter, Aaron. You’re still my favourite” you patted his arm, turning to Alfie. He was digging in a drawer, his eyes still on the two of you.

“You done?” he asked sarcastically and you turned to Aaron with a flair.

“He stormed into my bedroom this morning, can you believe that, Aaron? I could have been indecent”

“My bedroom, you mean” Alfie emphasised “you’ve kicked me out”

“You offered! I said you could have it back and you started off with a whole thing about your dead mother of all things”

Aaron looked between the two of you, expression blank.

“Should I come back, boss?”

Alfie pushed the drawer back with a slam and stood, eyeing Aaron.

“You’re in charge today. I’m taking this one over to the club. Showing her the ropes”

“Wh-’this one’? Am I a chicken or something?” you repeated but both men ignored you. You let your eyes drift over as Aaron asked him a question you didn’t understand. It went on for a while and finally you sighed.

“If you’re going to switch languages to talk about a person, maybe try not to look and point at them throughout it, yeah?”

Both men turned to you.

“Don’t worry, sweet” Aaron winked as he walked backwards towards the door “you’re still my favourite”

“I don’t like him anymore. I want Toby back” you said to Alfie and you heard Aaron laugh as he walked away.

-

“What were you talking to Aaron about?” you asked Alfie as you got out of the car in front of the club. It looked different in the day light and your chest tightened a little. Your blood started buzzing. Was it right to come back here? What if you suddenly disappeared back into the future? A blip that was here then gone.

“He was asking whether you were alright”

“He couldn’t have asked me that?” you lowered your head from where you were staring up at the sign, stepping up onto the pavement after him.

“Not if you were doing well, love. If you were legit” he replied, unlocking the door.

“Oh. Well, am I?” he spanned the door with his arm, stepping back to let you in.

“I told him you were” he said as he locked the doors behind you both.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah” he moved away from the entrance but you stayed hovering. He turned back after a moment “Well, you’ve had a couple chances to strangle me in my sleep and you ain’t done it yet, have you?”

“I might be biding my time” you shrugged, almost annoyed at the accusation that you weren’t going to murder him. You needed more sleep.

“Nah, you’re not patient enough for that”

“You know nothing about me”

“I know what your knickers look like” he threw over his shoulder as he opened the inner doors. Your mouth dropped open and you surged after him, batting the door away as it tried to close itself after him.

“How dare you!”

“Yeah, yeah” he moved off towards a door behind the bar that you knew led up to the staff entrance to the upper level. It was the one you’d come down two nights before. Across the room was the fancy staircase that you’d gone up, in the other world. Alfie noticed you moving your eyes around them, stood stock still. Eyes to the door. Eyes to the staircase. Eyes to the balcony. Repeat.

“Hey” you broke out of your trance to meet his eyes “come on. It’s alright. You won’t disappear”

He held his hand out and you eyed it warily.

“Esther said her girl tried to come back. It didn’t work. You won’t disappear”

“One-way street?” your voice was small, betraying your apprehension.

“Seems that way”

You sighed, teeth biting into the fragile inner edge of your lip. There were little tears there, the skin showing the stress of the last few days. Rips marked onto a map.

“Ok” you reached out and took his hand, weaving the fingers together tightly. He guided you to the doorway, all the way up the stairs, across the balcony. Like you had vertigo. Like someone afraid of heights trying to breath deep and lock their eyes ahead. His fingers held yours tight, keeping you anchored. You won’t disappear.

-

“You’re good at this”

“Filling out half-done paperwork? Does it take enormous skill?”

Alfie placed a cup to the side of your paper and you smiled, trying to finish off the column a little quicker. The steam rose from it, dancing over to you. It swirled around the pencil as it turned and made your smile spread a little wider.

“You’ve done this before” he added, an accusation.

“Summer job in a publishers. Internships for uni. Time adds up”

He hummed, and you could hear jangling. You thought it was just the chain on his wrist, grating against itself as it twisted around.

“Thought you might want this back”

Alfie dropped the locket onto the table before you and you raised your head as it clinked against the surface. Your sore fingers reached out, pencil forgotten, as you turned it over. Inspecting.

“It’s not really mine”

“No? So I was right then, you were thieving?”

You smiled up at him as he dragged a chair closer to the desk you’d been working at.

“It’s what- I think it brought me here. I was researching my book and-“you paused, frantically re-writing the story in your head. You couldn’t tell him about the marriage certificate. Or the photograph. Not yet.

“And what?”

“I uh…” you cleared your throat, finalising your draft. Stick to the truth, Alfie had said. As close as possible “got a lead to this place. There was a mini-museum kind of thing, up here. One of the offices. Not yours. They’d found things in the re-model. Newspapers used to line the floors and stuff, you know? Coins that had dropped into places. Some of them they thought you’d left in the walls for them to find, like a time capsule”

He shook his head, taking a drink.

“Not me”

“No, well some of them were from later” not technically a lie. That kept scrolling through your mind, more and more. No matter who you were talking to – everything was ‘not technically a lie’. It was exhausting. It didn’t feel right, either. Not to Alfie. Not to him. It was for his…protection though. It was for him.

“When?”

You shrugged.

“Later. About a year or so I think, that was one of the papers. Anniversary of this place opening”

“Ah” he lifted a finger from the glass, pointing it to you “so we last the year then. That’s good. Nice to know. Can you tell a friend of mine that because he don’t seem convinced?”

You smiled back at him, lowering your head to turn the locket over again.

“I picked this up, it cut my hand. I dropped it, bled on the floor. Went to pick it up, clean it up. I was here”

“Just like that?”

“Just…like that. Lifted my head and the world had spun around me”

“Fuck me. That’s…” he took another drink.

“Yeah”

“Seems a bit anti-climactic, don’t it?” he replied, licking at his lips, barely done swallowing. You tilted your head at him, squinting.

“Wha-“

“I don’t mean – don’t look at me like that. I just meant-“

“That I should have gone arse over tit into a swirling chasm? Alice in Wonderland style?”

“Little bit, yeah”

You scoffed at him, fingers messing with the mechanism on the locket. It sprung open again and you noticed something you hadn’t before. There was a seam between the inner and outer layer. Probably loosened when you’d dropped it, or from the opening and closing so many times in a short period. You frowned, flicking at it with your nail.

“What is it?”

“I think…I think there’s something in here”

“Nah, it’s empty. I looked. When you were out cold”

“No, Alfie, look” you stood and went to lean over the table, ending up changing course and hurrying around to sit on his armrest instead “Look”

Alfie covered his hands with yours, taking the locket from you gently.

“Oh, yeah. There’s a box in my office cabinet, blue one. Bring it here”

“Please” you reminded him “Esther taught you manners”

You slid off the rest and strode out of the room. Alfie’s office was only next door so it was a short journey.

“Which one?!” You shouted through the wall as you surveyed the shelves.

“Blue one”

“Yeah, I…there are about six?”

“It’s got a…seal on the top” you could see him motioning with his hand and then realising you couldn’t see him in your head. It took a few seconds to flick each one up so you could see the lid, pushing onto your toes. You picked up a smaller box and carried it back through to him. He opened it up, taking a little scope out of it and trapping it in his eye. You covered your laugh with your hand, shaking your head at him when he scowled up at you.

“Sorry, it just looks…go on”

He inspected the seam, clicking at you to pass him the box after a few moment. He took out a little pick and started digging at it.

“You’re right. There’s a little compartment back here” he dropped the scope, catching it at his chest. He passed it over to you and you put it back carefully as he carried on his work.

“Ah, here” he pried it off slowly, tipping the locket over on the table beside your hip. You turned, sitting back a little further on the edge of the desk. A small piece of metal came tumbling out, trying to escape across the desk. You caught it, pinching it up between your fingers.

“That’s not for…what’s that for? It’s tiny!?”

“Safety deposit box” Alfie sniffed, settling back in the chair. He caught the thin chain at his neck with a finger, dragging it out from under his shirt. He fumbled through the pendants for a second, lifting one above the other “I’ve got one just like it. Bank up by the library. They have ‘em special made, look at the top there”

You moved your arm over, lining them up together.

“They’re the same”

“You din’t put that there?” he questioned.

“No. Got no idea what’s in it – if anything” you shook your head at him, dropping it into the palm of your other hand and inspecting it again.

“Hmm” he leaned forward onto his knees, clapping his hands together. He linked his fingers, nodding his hands in the space between his knees “well then. Shall we find out?”

-

“God, this place is fancy”

Alfie walked you through the thick wooden doors into the lobby, light pouring in from the high stained windows.

“Should be. I don’t go small, sweetheart” he sniffed and you smiled across to him. He brought his hand out of his pocket and lay it across the small of your back, guiding you over to a desk.

“This is my guy. He’s good, knows not to ask any questions” you nodded back at him, steeling yourself as you approached the counter. Something about speaking to new people here made you more nervous than it ever had at home. The threat of stepping into the unknown loomed over you a little heavier.

“Good afternoon, Mr Solomons” Alfie nodded to him.

“Bailey. I’m gonna need to go downstairs” the man nodded, waving someone over to cover his station. He lifted his arm to indicate the way and you stuttered your gaze up to Alfie. That easy? He lifted his hand to guide you again and you followed after the man.

Bailey led you down a corridor, and then a set of stairs. He unlocked doors and re-locked them as you went, making you feel like you were getting deeper and deeper into a snare. Alfie wasn’t fussed though and you brought your hand up to wrap around his arm. Anchoring.

“Hang on, Bailey. It’s not my box today, it’s hers” Alfie said as he turned to you. Bailey was about to unlock a door off to the side but stalled at Alfie’s words. He motioned to your hand where you had a little envelope clutched, the key inside “What numbers on it?”

You opened it up, tipping it out onto your hand. You squinted down at the little number engraved into the metal.

“Uhh, 224”

“No, that’s just below yours, Mr Solomons” Alfie turned his head to Bailey as he carried on unlocking the door, then back to you. You shrugged, shaking your head. You moved into the room behind him, waiting as he retrieved the box. He nodded to Alfie and stepped out of the room, shutting the door behind him.

“He’ll wait in the hall until we’re done. They’re big on privacy around here” Alfie told you, noticing your confused look. He turned the box and pushed it over to where you were stood on the opposite side of the table stuck in the middle of the room “Here we are then”

He leant forward, crossing his arms on the table. You looked down at him, then to the box.

“I don’t…give me a minute”

“Want me to do it?”

“No, no. I just need a minute. What if…there’s…I can’t even think what’ll be in there” a sudden thought struck you “What if it’s the way home?”

He stood, moving around the table and standing next to you. Right next to you. Almost pushed into your side. You both stared down at the box, key clutched in your hand before you.

“What if the thing that takes you home is hidden in the thing that brings you here? Like a complete circle” you continued.

“Better say goodbye now then” he nudged you and you turned to him. He was joking but his eyes weren’t. He stared down at you, rolling his jaw slightly. After a moment he snapped out of it, wiping at his jaw with his hand “go on, get on with it. I need time to come up with a story for Bailey in case you disappear”

You settled the key in the lock, turning it but not opening it. Alfie brought his hand up to rest on the back of your neck, running his thumb over your skin. Another bite to your lip. You turned the lock, flung the lid up, inhaled deep in one fluid movement. Both of you stalled for a moment, waiting for the box to…suck you in or send your flying or something?

Alfie cleared his throat and removed his hand as though your skin had started burning him. He stepped off, hands in his pockets, and did a lap of the table.

“Right, well. It’s just papers and stuff isn’t it? That’s boring. What am I going to do with that?” you noted his tone, his pacing.

“Alfie, were you worried about me?”

“I was not”

“Alfie, were you going to miss me?”

“I was not. Just…worried about what I was gonna tell Esther is all. Look through your papers, come on. Haven’t got all afternoon” he motioned to the box, turning to rest against the table. You ran your eyes over his back, a smile pulling at the edge of your mouth. You dipped your eyes, flicking them up once last time as he rolled his shoulders, as though a shiver ran through him.

“It’s…oh my God, there’s money in here, Alfie!” you lifted the notes, flicking through them. Not the useless tenners you’d stuff into a gap between the skirting in Alfie’s bedroom. Old money, or rather modern money, you reminded yourself. He turned his head over his shoulder.

“It’s a bank box, love”

“I know but…It’s one I’ve got a key to and I don’t know why. Who put this here?”

“Your guess is as good as mine”

You flicked through the money.

“There’s a lot here, Alfie. Here, check” he turned around properly, taking the stack from you and unwrapping it. He started counting it out on the table and you dived back into the box.

“What else is in there?” he asked, not looking up from his work. It took you a while to realise what you were looking at, digging out sheet after sheet.

“My life” your replied, eyes rolling over the words, then back up to him. He paused in counting, eyes flicking to yours.

“Your life?”

“Backstory. Look, my name’s at the top” you turned the page to him. He reached out and took the sheet you were holding and you stuttered through the rest, laying them out before him.

“It’s got my name, date of birth, where I was born. My school. My parents…my parents’ information. No legal documents, nothing that could get me done for fraud but…no wait…” you lifted a sheet and turned it to him “house deed. Signed and stamped. Apparently I grew up there, according to that other sheet”

He frowned, face scrunching up as he moved around the table and started shifting through the papers with you.

“I didn’t put any of these here. Alfie, I swear I’ve never seen any of this shit before” you started whispering as you realised you could hear Bailey speaking to someone else outside the door. Alfie carried on, not responding to you. He flicked through a few more sheets, turning some of the others he’d already checked around and cross-referencing names, dates.

“None of this is…you’re right. Anything legal is in your parents’ name. You’ve got plausible deniability should they be found”

“They’re not my parents though. It says ‘mother’, “fa-”

“Obviously. I bet they’re real people here though. Dead. Yeah, look” he turned a sheet over into your shaking fingers. This was the weird night at the library again. You had to remind yourself that was this week. This was all happening in the space of a week.

“Death certificates” you confirmed.

“Real ones. I know fake documents. No matter how good they are – but they’re legit” he tapped the back of the paper and you dropped it to the table. You were breathless, sighing over and over again. Every few seconds, drawing in new breath, collapsing in on yourself. Wordless.

“I didn’t put these here” you turned to Alfie, as if you were being accused.

“I know. I believe you”

“You shouldn’t. Why are you…why do you keep trusting me? You should be…dragging me into the street. I don’t know!”

“Once I accepted the original premise, everything after kind of comes with it, doesn’t it? You fell through time. Couple of dodgy documents springing up out of nowhere isn’t gonna shake my faith, love. In fact, it re-affirms that this shit show’s real. The more dodgy stuff appears, the more I believe you” he laughed to himself.

You kept your eyes to his, wiping away the tear that fell with the back of your hand.

“You believe me?” you grasped for the re-assurance.

“I believe you” he moved his eyes over your face and for a second it looked as if he was going to raise his hand to comfort you. There was a flicker in his eyes as he second guessed himself. He turned his head, letting you compose yourself. Shuffled the papers about into a pile.

“Right, these are helpful actually. You need to study these, missus. Need to get this story deep into your head. Understand?”

You nodded, staring straight ahead at the wall of boxes, tracing the grid. Line after line. Orderly.

“Then I can give them over to my guy and they can-” he let the lid clang shut and it rang out, echoing into the hollow room.

“You’re not going to disappear” he spoke, mainly to himself. A whisper. An afterthought. A reassurance. He was staring at the box, eyes stern, as though daring it to try and take you now.

“Alfie?”

A hum in response. A squeeze on his forearm.

“I’m not going to disappear”

-

[toothextract]

Using the SERP to build your keyword list

Posted by TheMozTeam

This post was originally published on the STAT blog.

Keyword lists keeping you up at night? We feel you — and so does every other SEO. There’s a lot that goes into producing a robust keyword list and having one can make the difference between seeing the whole SERP landscape or getting just a glimpse.

Because we care about how much sleep you’re getting (a healthy eight hours, please), we whipped up a useful guide on our favourite way to keyword list-build, and all you need are three SERP features: the “People also ask” box, related searches, and the “People also search for” box.

We’ll explain why you should give these features a test drive and how you can get your hands on all their Google-vetted queries for the ultimate, competition-crushing keyword list.

Watch us turn 3,413 Nikon-related keywords into 25,349 without lifting a pinky finger.

Google-approved search terms 

Each of these features are keyword goldmines — all three of them link to new SERPs from terms that are semantically related to the searcher’s original query. As a result, they provide excellent insight into how users follow-up, narrow down, or refine their searches and reveal relevant topics that may be overlooked.

Google has put a lot of effort (and dollars) into understanding and mapping how topics and queries are linked, and these SERP features are the direct result of all that research — Google is literally pointing you to how and what everyone is searching. Which is why we dig them so much.

The “People Also Ask”

You’re probably quite familiar with this accordion-like feature. The “People also ask” box contains questions related to the searcher’s initial query, which then expand to reveal answers that Google has pulled from other websites.

Not only are PAA questions excellent long-tail additions to your keyword set, they’re also a great resource for content inspiration. The various ways that they express the same basic question can help you expand on topics — one piece of content could easily answer PAA questions such as “What a photographer needs to get started?” and “What tools do I need to be a photographer?”

Just try not to fall down the query rabbit hole. While the PAA box used to surface anywhere from one to four Q&A combos, most are “infinite” now and can easily multiply into the hundreds — giving you a seemingly endless supply of SERPs to track.

Just where are all these questions coming from, though? Are people actually asking them? If you read our previous write up on the PAA, you’ll know that Google is not always selecting these questions based on actual searched queries, as some return zero search volume when tracked.

If that wasn’t enough to raise our eyebrows, errant capitalization or non-capitalization (“how many mm are there in one Metre?”), wonky grammar (“Is aperture and f stop the same thing?”), and odd follow-up question choices (“how do you take a selfie?” for the query [easy to use digital camera]) suggest that many PAA questions are the result of machine learning.

In other words, Google is doing its darndest to understand actual search queries and spit out relevant subsequent searches to save users the effort. And it makes sense for us to be on those SERPs when searchers decide to take them up on the offer.

In order to capture all the goodies hiding in a PAA, we created a handy report. For each of your keywords that return a PAA box, our .CSV report will list the questions “also asked” (don’t worry, you’ll only get the number of PAAs that exist before things get infinitely overwhelming) and the URLs that Google sourced the answers from, plus the order they appear in.

After we ran the report for our Nikon queries, we found ourselves looking at 2,838 potential new keywords. A quick scan revealed that many of our PAA boxes returned the same questions over and over again (65.57 percent were duplicates), so we set about removing those. This narrowed our PAA keyword list down to 977 topically related queries to explore.

Related searches 

Another go-to for keyword inspiration are the eight related searches found at the bottom of the SERP that, when clicked, become the search query of a new SERP.

For instance, if we’re interested in ranking for “best professional cameras,” a quick look at the related searches will reveal alternative SERPs that Google thinks our searchers may be interested in, like “best professional camera for beginner,” “best dslr camera,” and “best point and shoot camera.” They help us understand how our searcher may refine or expand upon their original query.

Our related searches report makes it so that you don’t have to manually gather the “Searches related to” yourself — it takes them all and combines them into a crisp and clean .CSV spreadsheet.

This report surfaced 12,526 keywords for Nikon, and just like with our PAA suggestions, we noticed a bunch of repeat related search offenders. After trimming out the duplicates (55.09 percent), we were left with 5,626 unique keywords to help us flesh out our Nikon project.

The “People Also Search for” box 

The term “People also search for” (PASF) isn’t new to the SERP, the feature did get a major refresh back in February, which levelled things up.

Now, instead of just being attached to a knowledge graph, the PASF box also attaches itself to organic URLs and contains extra queries (up to eight on desktop; six on mobile) related to the URL that surfaces it. It’s Google’s way of saying, “Didn’t find what you’re looking for? We’ve got you — try these instead.”

This SERP feature requires you to do a little pogo-sticking in order to surface it — you need to click on the organic search result and then navigate back to the SERP before it materializes.

Obviously collecting these terms would involve a lot of work and potential finger cramps. Thankfully, there’s a handy hack to bypass all that, which is great if pogo-sticking isn’t your cup of tea. This lovely bit of JavaScript code originated from Carlos Canterello and reveals all the PASF boxes on a SERP without all the back and forth-ing.

Or, for those of you feeling DIY-y, you can pull all the raw HTML SERPs and parse them yourself — sans pogo stick, sans hack. Since we’re card-carrying data nerds, we opted for this route — we pulled the raw HTML SERPs through the STAT API and had ourselves a parsing party.

With upwards of eight PASF terms per organic result per SERP, we had oodles of keyword ideas on hand — a grand total of 59,284 to be exact (woah). Once we took away the duplicates, we were left with 18,746 unique keywords. That’s quite a drop from our original number — a whopping 68.38 percent of our keywords were repeats.

Keyword evaluation

Once our reports finished generating and we’d removed all those duplicates, we had 25,349 brand new keywords from all three features — that’s 642.71 percent more than what we started with.

While we trust Google to offer up excellent suggestions, we want to be sure we’ve got only the most relevant keywords to our project. To do this, we conducted a little keyword audit.

First, we combined all our queries into a master list and did some work to surface what was useful and remove the ones that, straight up, made zero sense, such as: “Russian ammo website,” “wallmart,” and “how to look beautiful in friends marriage,” which is super specific and very odd, but we applaud the level of dedication.

This removed 2,238 keywords from the mix, leaving us with a grand total of 23,111 keywords to creep on.

Satisfied with our brand spanking new list, we loaded those puppies into STAT to follow them around for a couple of days for further vetting.

Since we like it when things are Monica-level organized (and because smart segmentation will be key to making sense of all 23,111 of our keywords), we bagged and tagged our new queries into groups of the SERP features from whence they came so we can track which makes the best suggestions.

With our data hyper-organized, and with our search volume populated, we then selected keywords that returned no search volume and kicked them to the curb. You should do this too if you want to minimize clutter and focus on queries that will drive traffic.

We also decided to remove keywords with a search volume of less than 100. Just remember though: search volume is relative. Decide what constitutes as “low” for you — low search volume may be par for the course for your particular industry or vertical. You may just decide you want to keep low search volume keywords in your toolbox.

The rest is up to you 

Now that you know how to acquire boatloads of relevant keywords straight from Google’s billion-dollar consumer research project (the SERP), it’s time to figure out what your next steps are, which is entirely dependent on your SEO strategy.

Maybe you head straight to optimizing. Perhaps you want to do more vetting, like finding the keywords that surface certain SERP features.

If, for instance, we’re interested in featured snippets and local packs, we’d look to the SERP Features dashboard in STAT to see if any of our new keywords return these features, and then click to get those exact keywords. (We’ve even got a handy dandy write-up on exploring a SERP feature strategy to help get you started.)

Whatever adventure you choose, you’re now armed and ready with a crazy number of keywords, and it’s all thanks to your comprehensive list-building, courtesy of the SERP.

Want to learn how you can get cracking and tracking some more? Reach out to our rad team and request a demo to get your very own personalized walkthrough.

If you’re ready to dig in even deeper, check out how to build an intent-based keyword list to get next-level insight.

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from https://dentistry01.wordpress.com/2019/04/30/using-the-serp-to-build-your-keyword-list/